What are you thankful for?

I am always a day (or so) late and a dollar (or a lot more) short, but after a 3-stop Thanksgiving tour, here's my short list.


The way my boys love parades, but are just as excited to watch them on TV. Snuggled with Mommy and Daddy. In a king size bed. With flannel sheets. And a down comforter. All warm and toasty. The air with the smell of freshly bathed little boys and crisp coolness.

Coffee.

Only having 3 places to go on Thanksgiving, which is down from 4 places.

Wine.

Knowing that no matter how cruel kids may be, my boys always have each other. To love. To fight. To entertain. To be brothers.

Having friends that get me or if they don't, still letting me be me.

Realizing that home is still there for me even though I spent most of my life trying to get away. It may still be dysfunctional, but sometimes it's just good to be in the familiar. Sometimes.

Lots of wine.

Having a husband who loves me. Who thanked me last night for staying home and taking care of the boys. For knowing that I needed that validation. That approval. That understanding. That I am doing what is important right now. Even though it is difficult. Even though I have doubts that I am doing what is best for everyone. And we are approaching financial hardship. And Hubby hates his job. But we are still happier and more in love than ever.

Cheap wine.

A near 8-year-old who has recently started to take showers. And wash his hair. With minimal assistance or prompting. And not emptying shampoo bottles. For this week anyhow. A little boy who all of a sudden is choosing to read at bed time. Dr. Seuss. Curious George. Clifford the Big Red Dog. To his brother.

A near 4-year-old who did not shut up during Thanksgiving dinner. Who is now speaking 3- to 4-word sentence approximations very loudly. When he could not produce more than an "ahhh" sound less than a year ago. And then just a few words here an there. Who could only randomly do ending consonants 6 months ago for most words. Who no longer chooses to use sign language as his primary means of communication. Who enjoys his voice. Who is learning how to dance. When his brother sings.

Blogs to read. To make me feel not so alone on days I forget how lucky I am. And to remind me of human kindness, human diversity, and what really matters.

My sisters.

Coffee.

I would be really thankful for a house that cleans itself, if that was a possibility.

The ability to make choices. And to learn from bad ones.

Family. Immediate. Extended. Those I get. Those I don't get. Even those I don't want to get. Those who live nearby. Those who don't. Just knowing that they are there.

Not having to go Christmas shopping today. Not having money does have its upside.

The Flipside

Sometimes I crash, usually in the fall (that is, 'autumn'). And when I do, I don't have enough energy to write about it. I mull over my thoughts again, and again, and AGAIN, but they usually don't make it on this blog.

Let me clarify, posts are saved in the drafts folder, but they rarely are published. I have nearly twenty-five half-written posts on everything from medication to modification. Something usually holds me up, usually my own self-doubt, confusion, grappling for understanding. So there it waits in the drafts folder, but really there it waits in my subconscious ready to permeate my brain at any given moment.

Sometimes, my thoughts tumble out of me when I read other people's blogs. They tumble out in spite of misspelled words and incomplete thoughts. And sometimes that's important, although I know many people who read my blog who know me, don't see that side. So I thought I'd show you by pasting a few of my comments here. Someday the well-thought-out posts will come. Some day.

I need to vent. I need to analyze. I need to process and rediscover. And yes, sometimes I just need to feel sad and overwhelmed and not know why. But please know that even though there are days, many many days, where I need support, when it comes to my life, my husband, my family, my children... I don't need sympathy. Well sometimes I do regarding my husband... have you met my husband? [If you don't get my humor well, too bad...]

Comment 1

I really felt your pain regarding the police officer story. I can hold it together when Bubba is in full meltdown mode. We are both outside of our bodies. Him floating without boundaries, not knowing what to do or aware of what he is doing. Me almost like a robot, my movements and voice very monotone and even. But if someone breaks in, even with a simple look or an “Are you OK?” or worse “Someone needs a spanking!” then I am painfully thrust back into myself and the feeling comes back, emotions flooding to the surface. Sometimes it’s anger, or exhaustion, or saddness, or worthlessness.

My kids don’t fit the stereotype of “autism” so I have no one word to say when I need a “get out of jail free” card. If I say “autism” I get the “autism diagnoses are handed out like candy” look. I could say “agnesis of the corpus callosum” or “developmental disability” or a slew of other things that mean nothing to an onlooker. If I say nothing, I get the “your kids are out of control [or weird]” look. I tend to say nothing because I don’t think I need to label my child for them. I only explain where they need some modification and understanding if they are people we will see again and again. But sometimes the child in me screams… when you see it enough, hear it enough, feel it enough… sometimes you begin to think it’s true, that you really are an incompetent parent with out-of-control spoiled brats. What’s worse than thinking that of course is letting that way of thinking permeate my children.

Sorry. It’s been an off month.

Comment 2

It's a long ride... I just wanted to give you some serious hugs because it's tough! I have two that are autistic, aren't autistic, maybe autistic. And I'm like I really don't fucking care, just give them the modifications and supports they need to be successful little boys in their own big ways. But technically, I really DO care... because I'm tired of people coming up to me and saying "Hey, your kid is weird." and then turn the corner and someone else says "Hey, your kid is so normal!" and then turn another corner and "Your kid is autistic." and then turn another corner and "Your kid is SO not autistic." It gets really tiring. Doctors, therapists, teachers...no one agrees.

Truth is both of my kids are different in different situations, different times of days, different times of year......you know!

My older one is seen as a behavior problem and no matter what he is dx with (there is no denying he is missing his corpus collosum) he is still seen strictly as a behavior problem. The younger one has so much more problem solving and impulse control ability than his older brother, but because he 'stims,' for some reason he gets away with stuff and isn't considered a behavior problem. But because he is social now at nearly 4 and is starting to become verbal, his PDD-NOS dx MUST be wrong. Maybe it is. But why are we so hung up on it? Just give him what he needs!

Sorry for the vent, but I totally empathize. Elementary school really sucks. Unfortunately what bettejo says is so true.

Thankful

Moosie's expression (and some interpretation) of "giving thanks."