Angels

I know that you'll probably all think that I'm crazy, but perhaps not.  Maybe you've noticed this yourself with your own children.  When Benjamin was very small (less than 4), and a story was read to him about angels, he would comment that he liked angels.  Now, being a little skeptical, I would ask him what an angel was, and he would always respond with a description of their wings.  I'd ask if he saw angels during the day and he would always respond with "during the sunny day" (he still says this part), which means in the morning to him.  So okay, sure, why not see angels during the morning?  It's always been my favorite part of the day, and I really miss waking up early (completely well rested, mind you) and being outside.  But back to the story, the point is that he has always commented on angels, and has always seemed to know what they were.  I have no idea if he knows or has ever known what their purpose is in our lives, but he loves them.  And then a funny story...

So he loves reading out of his Bible.  I'm not even bragging about this because it isn't as if I have made huge encouragements for him to do so.  It's not ME at all, even though that would be nice if it were.  We have several children's Bibles, but one in particular is more of a big kid type Bible, and he favors that one the most lately.  It has 512 pages.  I know.  He will look at it for an hour if he's left alone with no distractions.  This is a VERY long time for him to do anything.  So the other night he wants me to read it to him before bed, and we get to one of the stories with an angel, and he says, "I wish I had wings."  And I was sort of paying attention, and sort of reading, and I said, "Oh, like an angel?"  The response was laughter and, "No, like a helicopter."  So part of laughed and part of me cringed because it was a signal that he's growing up.  There are reasons that God lets the very young see angels- they have no reason to doubt their existence.  He still loves to read about angels, but he doesn't talk about them anymore.  

He is growing up so quickly, and so many big kid mentalities are creeping in.  It's a bittersweet time, but mostly just sweet.  He sits and plays video games on his ipad, and says cool and awesome with regularity.  He wants to sit with Daddy and play his "fight man game" (which btw isn't like gruesome or anything, although the characters are a bit too shady for my liking) when he really should be going to bed.  We have pics of his birthday coming up! 

Candy

B:  (said while pulling up shirt) My baby needs candy.

Me:  Well, babies like healthy foods like bananas and strawberries.

B:  My baby certainly likes candy.

Selfish girl.

So yesterday, I realized how selfish I really am, and it was such a horrible feeling. 

Benjamin is just over the line of being completely functional, and sometimes I get annoyed by the small things in our life that are inconvenient.  For example, he has a few OCD tendencies, and nothing major (yet) like the typical hand washing or turning on lights over and over.  Most of them are actually quite common, and apply to lots of neurotypical children as well.  So sometimes they annoy me, and especially so if I'm tired, or hungry, or thirsty, or if the sky is blue, or... ha, no, it's not that bad, but it's hard being pregnant and having a baby that is getting increasingly heavy and still wakes up two or three times a night on most nights.  So my patience gets thin, and as with any child, patience is something that you really do not want to run out of at any time.  And on top of it, I had contractions yesterday afternoon, so that made it a bit worse.  (I'm fine.) 

When I say that we've been potty training for years, I'm not kidding.  He gets better, he gets great, he's at rock bottom again, he gets better, etc.  It's just like anything that we've ever had to do with him, but since it's affecting us more, it's a major issue these days.  And he's turning five in a few months, and just thinking about that makes me cry and grieve all over again.  I hate birthdays, I do.  I'm not some crazy "I hate parties" Mom, I promise.  It's just that parties bring birthdays front and center, and sometimes it's just easier for me not to acknowledge that he's another year older.  It's hard to explain to people who have "normal" children because these types of thoughts just never enter their minds.  They're usually worrying about their kid being able to read in kindergarten, and here I am, still worrying about him using the potty.  Textbooks will tell you it's just part of the grieving process, and I do agree with that... sometimes it's just harder than others.

So I'm sitting there, irritated with him, and I remember that he's so small.  And he's only small once.  And he might not ever be completely potty trained.  One day he will grow up, and I don't want him to remember the irritation in my voice.  He knows it irritates me, and he is trying... some things are just harder for him, and he knows that without having it explained to him, which brings up a whole lot of other issues about self-realization that he's different.

And this rarely happens, but I wished my life different... and it's such a horrible feeling.  Benjamin is such a sweet child, and God gave him to me specifically.  So basically, I wished that God had given him to someone else.  Given my Benjamin to someone else.  I was heart broken for myself for even thinking of such a selfish notion.

I am reminded that all children are a gift.  

fairness

Sometimes I wonder what is fair for my child in terms of explaining his disability.  Should I just tell people?  Or should I just let him be who is, and then let them wonder?  Part of me wants to do both, but usually I just inevitably say nothing and hope for the best.  I'm way past making excuses for his behavior, and I have the luxury of doing so because he is still a young child.  Not that I'm fearful for the future (Well, obviously I am a tiny bit.  I doubt that you'd find any parent who isn't at least a little fearful.), but I know that there will be a time in our future where people will start to notice that he's a bit different.  People do notice now, of course, but most people can't quite put their finger on it since his language skills have progressed so nicely.  So I never really know what the best answer is when we meet new people.  I'm always thinking in my heart that the best answer is that he's special, but that has such a bad connotation because people use that to mean "slow."  Benjamin is most emphatically not slow.  Neurotypical learning impaired, yes.  Slow, no.  Special?  Most definitely.

(as I'm being backwards bear-hugged)

Socialization?

So Benjamin had his yearly checkup with his developmental doctor a few weeks ago.  All is well- in fact, we don't have to go back for two years unless we have issues arise before then.  The interesting part of the visit was that the doctor was surprised that we were homeschooling this year.  (He is still in pre-k, just FYI.)  Her concern was that he needed to be in a group for socialization.  Why do all doctors think that this is the best choice for children with Autism?  What skills are we actually teaching by this so-called socialization?  Children in school are really only permitted to socialize in lunch (if they're uber quiet) and at recess (which is waning by the minute in every school around the nation).  I don't understand this mass socialization that is supposed to help my child learn how to relate to other people later in life.  Do we as adults socialize in groups of 8-30 on a regular basis?  And I'm saying 8 as the minimum number of children in a class, although in reality the number is much more generous than that in almost all classes.  I never understood this concept of mass socialization as it does not encourage real friendships, but rather fleeting conversations that never amount to anything but getting invited to three thousand birthday parties where the parents are forced to stand around and make small talk and referee the children from each other.  Because honestly, most parents of children have nothing in common (or so they think) with each other other than the fact that their children are in the same class.  Very few people actually want to befriend other parents in the classroom.  They want to live their busy lives, keep the friends they have, and leave it at that.  (I'm not saying that is a terrible thing, but rather just reality.)  But what this leaves us with are forced friendships amongst our children that never amount to much of anything.  So why is this socialization at SCHOOL so important?  I thought that school was primarily for learning, and isn't that exactly why children tend to get into trouble at school?  For socializing when they're supposed to be paying attention in class?  This concept just escapes me.

I just smiled and said yes, he is properly socialized and has real friends whose parents I know and love.

Funny day.

Some of you may have read this on my fb page, but I'll tell it again just in case. 

We were at the zoo today, and yes, I am rather crazy as it is the middle of July and we went to the zoo that opens at 10am.  Why does it open so late in the morning?  Kids are up early, ya know.  I can only guess that the animals are up early.  Who wants to see miserable, hot animals?  I could just do that for free in my backyard.  So anyway, we were walking along the new exhibit with tigers, bears, and orangutangs and when we got to the bears, Bp said, "Look Mommy, those bears are eating those bamboo shoes."  So funny.  Refused correction!

Faithful readers...

Seems like everyone has dropped off the blogosphere these days, huh?  We're all still around, but too busy to post.  I think I've had about a millions posts go through my head, and yet they never make it on to this page.  I miss this page though, I really do.  There are so many wonderful things going on that I need to take time to write them down or else I wake up one morning and be 45 and my child will be grown and I'll never have a record of those precious moments except for in my mind.  I'm ever so grateful for blogs, and I do realize that people used to actually write in journals, and that is how they used to record things, but I'll never be one of those people.  Maybe I should try though as there is something to be said about the written word.  Seems to hold more meaning, doesn't it?  Anyway, I digress. 

So we've finally finished moving and Benjamin took the entire experience with ease.  Even Ethan did who was literally strapped in his car seat for hours on end every single day while we worked like dogs shlepping boxes from one house to the other.  What the heck do you do with kids when you live states away from family and have no childcare?  You strap them in their car seats and turn on the a/c, that's what you do.  Life does go on, and in perspective, it was only for about a week of complete madness.  People used to go on cross-country road trips that lasted two weeks with their kids strapped in car seats (actually, they probably didn't use them back then if I'm going to be accurate) and they all turned out all right.  Or I guess they all did, who knows? ha.  We've had grace in abundance with our move, and I can say that now that we're completely done with living and maintaining two houses.  That was a complete JOY, let me tell you.  Anyway, I digress, again. 

I read the previous posts, and no, we're still not anywhere closer to being potty trained.  I'm sort of done stressing about it though.  What can I do other than everything I've already done?  There are books upon books on the subject, and I've read quite a bit, and there really aren't any other methods to try than the ones we've already tried.  So... enough of that.  I suppose the kid will pee in the toilet every time when the time comes.  Or maybe not, sometimes I completely forget that he might not ever get there.  It's times like that that remind me our lives aren't normal and that's okay because that is just life. None of us are really normal anyway, we just all learn to conform.  If conformity is normal, then I suppose I'd rather my child not be normal.  Of course when it comes to personal hygiene, I think I'd rather have normalcy.  You know, just to keep my sanity.  Or maybe preserve my sanity the way in it's current state- I'm sure that I've already lost some of it as it is.  I'm sure that I'll be that crazy lady out in 111 degree heat index mulching her front yard one day because she's sick of looking at boxes.  Wait, I think I'm already there.  Alas, I digress.  AGAIN.

So on to the important bulk of this post, Benjamin.  My beloved, sweet Benjamin.  Man, is he sweet.  I wish that I could accurately portray how wonderful it is to have a 4 1/2 year old who still behaves with child-like bewilderment.  Benjamin is so advanced in so many ways, and yet behind in lots of areas- definitely textbook.  How do you test a child on creativity or their abilities to understand the world around them?  For example, I'll put a shirt on Benjamin and he will remember what he did the last time he wore that shirt (if it was a fun day, I mean he doesn't remember boring days too much), and ask me for something that he had on that day like a tiny part of a big toy or he'll look at the shirt and ask me if the baby giraffe will be at the zoo.  If I weren't with him literally all of the time, I'm sure that I'd not understand him most days.  It's just so amazing how his mind works, and I'm sure that I'll never completely understand it, and sometimes I find comfort in that.  His mind is so much more advanced than ours in so many ways, and yet we try to suppress it just for the sake of conformity.  Sometimes when he is in a situation in which he is supposed to respond and he knows, he'll get angry because he knows that he is supposed to say something in which he does not understand.  I fear that the older he gets, the lonelier he will get.  That of course makes me sad, and I try not to dwell on such sad things, but sometimes it is difficult to suppress those feelings.

Our new house has a nice garage with a room attached that is completely finished (well, it will be once we wire it to the house), and it occurred to me while I was painting his room upstairs (the lovely orange) that if we stayed in this house until he reaches adulthood, the room outside might turn into Benjamin's room.  I am forever haunted by these thoughts, and it does always make me sad, but then I look over at him in all of his 4 1/2 yearoldness and smile as he engineers something spectacular with his toys.  Who cares if he never reaches maximum intelligence according to some test?  The people who write the tests are NORMAL.  Let an autistic write a test and I assure you that we'd all fail it miserably.

The sad moments are quickly filled with precious moments when he notices flowers or a different kind of grass.  I'm elated that he finds joy in the smallest of things.  It is such a blessing, and I'm always learning from him.