Happy birthday (and Autism Awareness)

April is Autism Awareness month.  It's special to me because I spend all year becoming more aware of autism, learning about it so I can be a better mother to my son James.  It's a funny turn of events, since James was born at the end of March, so our celebration of him turns into a month of trying to better educate those around us to understand this thing that affects how he interacts with the world.

So let's start here:
Autism is characterized by three things.
1. Social interaction.  Autistic people can be shy or outgoing, but they will struggle to know how to connect with other people, often characterized by limited eye contact, trouble taking turns, and becoming overwhelmed by the presence of "too much" (too much...noise, light, physical touch, etc).
2. Delays in verbal and nonverbal communication.  Some autistics will never speak, but this should not be confused for having nothing to say.
3. Repetitive, stereotyped behaviors.  Don't all kids flap their hands when they get really excited?  Or repeat the same phrase over and over when they get overwhelmed?  Or just make random sounds at seemingly inconvenient times?  No? 

Now let's talk about autism and birthdays.
James began using single words around age four and a half, and we were like starving people who can only be fed with verbal communication.  "Say it again!" we'd cheer.  Whatever seemed to cause him to speak would be repeated over and over so we could hear his beautiful voice.  Just in the past six months, his words have really taken off, and he's using sentences and sometimes really loudly and clearly telling his little siblings what he doesn't like (it's true, I stand outside the boys' room and do a little happy dance when I hear his scream, "No Winston!  That's James' car!  Give me that!").  I really want him to have good manners, but for now, I'm applauding what I see as the seeds of self-advocacy that will help him later on.  Okay.  So apparently when you have a March birthday, you begin inventory the day after Christmas: what you got, what you want, how many days until I get presents again?  For the past few years, James has better understood the concept of time, the months, days passing, etc, so we start our countdown to March 30th.  He's had a recent renewed interest in Pixar "Cars"; combine that with his ability to navigate YouTube and find commercials for products that are no longer sold in stores...I've been getting a very specific request for the four cars he didn't previously have (if you're interested, they are Raoul CaRoule, Rip Clutchgoneski, Lewis Hamilton, and Shu Todoroki.  He would like the die-cast models to complete his World Grand Prix lineup.  Every day).  I was thrilled to find three of these at Target (on sale, no less) about a month ago, but several trips have come up empty for the Lewis Hamilton car.  When I checked Amazon, he was available....for $12.  So I let James know that *maybe* he was getting some new cars for his birthday, and if he got birthday money from the great-grandparents, he could purchase the rest.  And maybe this all seems mundane, not worthy of note...but he's telling us this.  With his words.  That is so HUGE.

We've been talking lately about the love languages, and how we should really try to love other people in the way that they feel loved (which is almost always NOT the way that we prefer to give love).  I thought about this as it pertains to parenting, and specifically to my child who is so easily overwhelmed, so inside himself.  I really wanted to watch him open his cars today.  I wanted to see the look on his face, and, if I'm honest, I really wish he would look at me and say something like, "Oh, thank you so much mom!  It's exactly what I wanted!"  But I'm not an early riser, and I'm certainly not "together" or even really "awake" until 11am or so.  After I talked it over with Chris, I grabbed the cars from their hiding spot, unwrapped, and put them in James' bed after he fell asleep.  This kid has been looking forward to playing with these cars for THREE MONTHS.  If it was all about me, and getting some sort of response for how awesome I am at buying toy cars, then I would have made him wait until this afternoon, so I could really appreciate his reaction.  But instead, I did what I thought he would like, and just cut to the chase.  Chris heard him squealing in his room at 7am, and he had at least two cars in his hands at all times today.  I think we did it right.

Another change we've made over the years is the way we celebrate James' birthday.  My instinct is to gather together in one place all the people who love James.  Family, teachers, friends, neighbors.  Let's spend two hours at our house, talking and laughing and eating and watching James open presents.  Guess who freaks out in such an environment?  So we pulled back.  We had immediate family over for cupcakes.  We shrugged at each other.  How do we make this special FOR HIM?  Last year, we tried something new.  James' birthday almost always falls over spring break, so Chris took the week off, and we did something different every day.  We went to the Cleveland Zoo.  We played at the park.  We went to Red Robin for dinner.  Each place was fun, and then we went home to relax.  It seemed to work.  This year, I asked James for his input.  "How would you like to celebrate your birthday?" I asked him as we snuggled in his bed at night.  "I want to go to Pump It Up," he whispered to me.  Again, this might seem really basic, but this thing of me asking a question and him responding to it in a way that makes sense to me....it's a rare treat.  Okay mister, you are going to Pump It Up!  We arranged to meet another family with boys James' age for an afternoon of jumping.  It was perfect.  Then my parents asked if we could all go bowling together, another of James' favorite activities.  We brought Winston and Girl, and invited our neighbor Amanda at the last minute, and she brought her friend Katie.  At eight people, it was almost too much.  But we had a great time, and James figured out how to hold the ball with his fingers in the holes, instead of rolling with both hands.  As we were leaving, another kid's birthday party arrived.  There were at least 10 young kids, and as many adults chasing them around, helping them bowl.  It made a contrast to our quieter celebration, but I was glad we chose to do it in a way that made James comfortable.

Instead of a cake, this year Chris suggested putting a candle in James' birthday donut.  We all sat at the table while he sat on the heating vent in the kitchen, and we sang "Happy Birthday".  When the song ended, James stood up and blew out the candle with a big smile on his face.  I was smiling too.  Our journey as parents has been influenced by the children we've been given.  A while ago, I started praying that God would show me how to be the best mom for James, for Winston, for Michael.  Not to be the mom that all the other moms want to be, or the mom with the best facebook photos, or even the kind of mom I think I should be.  Just who they need me to be.  I swear God is speaking through my kids every day.  And I'm finally learning how to listen.

Diary of a Mom shared this facebook status today, which I feel echoes how we celebrated James' birthday:
"Today, we celebrated her eleventh birthday. She was having a blast until she became overwhelmed. When she did, she said, "I'm going into the den because there's too much here." This time, I fought the instinct to convince her to stay. This was her party. She'd enjoy it in her way.

She left her guests in the kitchen and went into the den to bounce on her peanut. When the next animal came out, I called her. She came to look, was the first one to pet it, then went back to bounce again. When the next animal came out, so did she. It worked for her. She knew what she needed. And I, finally, knew enough to understand that there was nothing sad or "disastrous" about giving it to her.

After she blew out her candles, she said to no one and everyone, "This has been my best birthday of ever!"

I dare say we're all getting the hang of it."

On Your 31st Birthday

On our way to Prom, 2001

If you met your husband when you were both 17, you may be so impressed with the person he has become by 31 that you have to wonder if he's the same person.  Because you remember that boy who made your insides vibrate when he looked at you, talked to you, made you laugh.  You remember how strong his pull was, that you just wanted to be around him all the time.  And then your flirtation became a Relationship, and you went from being two lovely, perfect creatures to real people with flaws and differing points of view.  And you watched him spend his graduation money on CDs at Best Buy, and then hide them under his driver's seat because his mom would lecture him about it and you wondered if someday you would be the one he would hide things from under the driver's seat.  And he made friends with a ridiculous group of guys at college, and you were grateful for the distance because it meant you didn't have to go with them on group outings and when he told you stories about them over the phone he didn't see how many times you rolled your eyes.  And you wondered if they would ruin him, this sweet boy who gave you the cherry off his ice cream sundaes and waited weeks to kiss you, who wrote you silly poems and insisted that you had to have A Song because all couples have A Song, and when you decided on one you both liked, he preferred the one from the Notting Hill soundtrack and you were adamant that it had to be the Alison Krauss version.  So you weighed these things, the douchebag friends and the daddy issues and the conflict avoidance and the fact that he was really cute and had a nice car and loved you and when he held you it was like the earth shifted so that everything was right at last.  You didn't know which was more important and you wanted it to be like a math equation, except math was always your worst subject and this wasn't an algebra test, this was real life, this was maybe the most important decision ever, whether to fall head over heels or turn and run.  And then suddenly, it wasn't a choice anymore, it was inevitable that your life was going to merge with his, and so when he got down on one knee, you barely listened to everything that he said, you just waited for that question so you could say YES!  And then the day came when you said your vows, you were both still so young, but you'd been to weddings where the bride and groom were both younger than you, and it made you feel like you were old getting married at 22.  And it didn't take two weeks before you realized just how vulnerable you had made yourself, that you had given this person your life and your heart and he could destroy you completely.  And every time you passed one of those billboards for "when a diamond isn't forever", you prayed that you'd never have to call 1-800-DIVORCE, that you would treat each other as tenderly as the cake you placed in each others' mouths in that rented hall as everyone looked on.  Because he was still a boy, so much so that when you opened a drawer to put your clothes with his you found a note from his mom that said "Don't forget to shower and put on deodorant" and you couldn't believe that the person who held your heart had trouble remembering something so basic.

First Father's Day 2007

But you built a home together, one that was filled with garage sale furniture that you proudly brought home in your tiny Saturn, and the Dave Matthews posters decorating your bedroom, and the ceiling above the bathtub that caved in so you could wave up to the couple who lived upstairs and fought constantly until one day the lady was gone and it was silent up there and the ceiling was fixed and you didn't see anyone anymore.  And you learned together, and when he got the call that his aunt died, you knew that as much as your heart was breaking, his was breaking worse, and so you held it together and packed his black pants and sport coat and held his hand.  And when you peed on that stick and the two pink lines popped up, and you felt dizzy and sick and completely overwhelmed, he hugged you and insisted on going out for steak to celebrate because this was Good News, and he held it together while you puked and cried and threatened to shove a peanut butter sandwich down his throat, so help me God I wanted crunchy peanut butter, not creamy, and he drove to Taco Bell at 1am because you just had to have a crunchy taco (what was with the crunchy cravings?).  And when you held that baby in your arms, that life that you created together, you looked at him and didn't see a boy anymore, he had somehow become a man, a father, and he took that title so seriously and went to work without complaining anymore, and said, Yes of course you should be home with the baby, I'll make the ends meet all by myself, and suddenly you were home owners and he was cleaning out gutters and mowing the yard.  And you tried not to be surprised every month when he paid the bills on time, but it was still hard to believe that he was prioritizing the mortgage over a new Playstation.  And then another baby came and he shocked you even more by cleaning the bathroom without being asked and he learned to cook really good food and suddenly he was switching from Sports Center to the Food Network and was so confident and in charge.  And so you returned to the math equation, the listing of the good and bad, and his hair was disappearing every day, but so was Prince William's and if its okay for a prince then it should be good enough for the love of your life, and beyond the looks you noticed integrity and honesty and maturity, handling difficult situations and refinancing the house to get a lower interest rate and getting up in the middle of the night to clean up the kids' puke and then coming in and cleaning up your puke and you knew that you couldn't do it if the situation was reversed.  And he updates your phone and finds educational apps for the iPad, and even after all these years, he makes you laugh.  And when your car breaks down on vacation and your aunt dies and your sister moves across the country and the doctors say there is something wrong with your son, he holds your hand and there is no one you would rather be with when everything is falling apart.  And when your bank account is overflowing and your best friend comes for a visit and the flowers that you planted are blooming, there is no one you would rather be with.  And then you discover this common desire, this wish to give a child a home, and together you fill out the endless paperwork and go to the classes and then suddenly the phone is ringing and there is a baby for you, and together you nurse this little life and make him your own and you see that the love he has for the new child is just as fierce and strong as the love he has for the ones you made together.  And you hear him at night, tucking the kids in bed, praying with them, reading from the storybook Bible, and you know that he is sharing his deepest self with them.

Family picture 2012

You wonder.  Where is that 17 year old boy?  Of course he is still there in the face, if you Wooly Willy some hair back down his forehead and trim the beard back so its just a goatee, and when the radio station plays hits from the 90's, you see him in the man bobbing back and forth and rocking out to the songs you both loved from the time when you were falling in love.  And he's there in the laugh that still shakes his whole body and the earnest eyes that are all-too-often weary and frustrated these days, when the kids won't go to bed and the appliances need to be replaced and there aren't enough hours in the day.  And you realize that he needs to get away, to take a few days and relax, and so you book a cabin for two and you get your parents to watch the boys and once again you pack his bags because he is threatening to only bring a toothbrush and you know that the people you pass by on your little trip will definitely not want to be seeing all of that.  And you try to think of a way to let him know just how much he means to you, how much better your life is because he's in it, and you hope that he feels the same about you.  You hope he still sees glimpses of that 17 year old girl you used to be, the one who loved to watch movies and eat ice cream and laugh at all his jokes.  The one who always had a hard time saying the Real Stuff out loud, who never quite got the right tone of voice to say "I love you" and didn't know what to think of a boy opening doors for her and offering to hold her purse.

The second son

Just a few weeks old

Last year, I sat at the computer, trying very hard to write a loving blog post about my Winston.  I didn't expect it to be such work, such a challenge, to put together all the good stuff and leave off the bad.  I kept dismissing "He's a terror at bedtime" and "He unspools all the toilet paper when I'm not watching", thinking there had to be something enjoyable about him to share with the world.  And really, what does it say that I found it easier to think of all the things I love about my autistic son, by definition the one who should be difficult, and came up blank for his typical brother?

I'm glad to say this year is different.  I couldn't wait to sit down and put Winston together here.  Part of it is probably the difference between a boy turning 3 and a boy turning 4; there is much more participation and creativity than defiance and destruction.  But I've also given him more attention this year.  I've scheduled out the day so that he gets one-on-one parent time almost every day, and tried to make sure we do the things he likes at least as much as we do what everyone else likes.  I've purposefully scaled back the yelling.  I wish I could say I don't do it at all, but sometimes the evil mommy that lives inside me roars out and still makes tears rolls down those smooth white cheeks.  The good mommy punches her and forces her back into her cell, then scoops up 36 pounds of future man and makes the calming "shhh" noises he likes and wipes the tears.

1 year old summer 2010

A few weeks ago, we were getting ready for bed and Winston asked that I come lay down with him for awhile.  I said ok, although usually it makes him more hyper and he only really starts to settle down for sleep when I leave the room.  But I climbed in his bed and started straightening out the covers.  "This needs to be a bed, not a nest," I said in frustration.  "We are two little birds," came Winston's response.  I cracked up.  Where did that come from?  That wonderful, silly sense of humor?  Why did it take almost four years to notice it was there?

The past several months have given us the opportunity to play games together, starting with Candy Land, which my infinitely more patient husband taught Winston to play.  Then, with basic game-play established, I came in with Chutes and Ladders.  We branched out to Connect four and UNO.  For his birthday, we purchased Hungry Hungry Hippos.  I have to admit, I've been looking forward to this since I became a mom.  Family movie night.  Family game night.  Popcorn.  Candy.  Laughter.  Bonding.  Winning and Losing.  Enjoying my children.

Choking his brother to get some Sprite

Winston also loves racing.  He runs around our yard, challenging each of us to race.  I can only do two before I need a break.  Michael ambles along, outpaced in the first two steps, but determined to follow.  When we met up with friends and had 9 kids playing together, Winston asked that we establish a course, and could the others race him?  So we convinced 6 of them to make a lap around the yard, and the "big" boys (ages 5 and 6) were delighted to come in first and second place.  Winston pounded up behind them, followed by the less agile, shorter-legged competitors.  There was joy on every face as the crossed the finish line (aka, gave me a high five and jumped over a log).  Because of Winston.  I love his initiative.  I love his desire to play with others.

I also love his excitement to eat vegetables.  I have no idea where it came from.  When he sees lettuce, he happily grabs the "trees" and chows down.  It makes me look good, like I'm a mom who serves her children veggies, who maybe even inspired this behavior by eating so healthily while pregnant.  That is so not the case.  If Winston loved to eat bowls of mashed potatoes and Big Macs, then I would say, "Oh, yeah, probably because I ate so many while I was pregnant."  But lettuce?  Carrots?  I have no idea why he likes them.  His brothers certainly don't.  His father grimaces whenever forced to eat them.  His mother smiles and pretends to like the healthy stuff while secretly imagining she is biting into a molten chocolate cake.  If it weren't for Winston, we wouldn't even have that kind of food in the house.  So thank you son, for making us look good and elevating the contents of our fridge a little.

Walking for Autism September 2012

For all the ways he delights and challenges us, for the love he shows his brothers and the unique person he is, for the mind that is as quick as his feet.  For my second son, a huge section of my heart is yours.

On Turning 30

Big moments in my life always cause weeks of introspection, looking back and then looking ahead and then back again. Is this where I want to be? who I want to be? and now turning 30 is no exception. I have literally been thinking about this day for the last 6 months. The conclusion is that I am happy to be getting older. I'm proud of who I am today, and the direction my life has taken. I'm glad that living means moving forward. And so these are the things I wrote in a notebook while I waited for James to get done with school, with Winston begging me to let him go down the slide and baby sleeping in his carseat.



A snapshot of me at age 20:
I'm looking pretty good in those size 6 jeans. On my days off, I can (and often do) sleep for 14 straight hours. When it rains, I go to Borders and spend the afternoon reading. When I go out with my friends, we go to the movies, go dancing, sit at restaurants for hours, but everything is decided a moment before it happens. I think I've moved out of my parent's house FOR GOOD, but it will actually take a few tries to stick. I think that my future career will be the greatest accomplishment of my life. I have just finished college and I have the world all figured out.

10 years later, I look at that young woman and sigh. She has NO IDEA.

She wants to see the world, and will become a flight attendant to accomplish her goal. She will see the Pacific Ocean. She will spend a week in Europe with her mother and it will meet her expectations and disappoint her at the same time. Because she thinks that someday she will live abroad, or quite frankly, anywhere but here, but everything that she wants will be in that little city in Ohio.
She doesn't know that the boy she is dating will become her husband in just a few years. That they will buy a house in Canton and fill it with children. That creating a family is something that she's actually good at. She can barely lift a 30 pound box, but one day she will carry a 50 pound child in one arm and a 30 pound child in the other when their strength gives out.
She will learn real love and real patience, not through some cosmic gift, but through painful and persistent trial and error. She will be more content and more confident when she turns 30 than she can even imagine being at 20.

I can't help but quote the Brad Paisley song that plays at the end of "Cars", and not just because I've seen it every day for the last four weeks: "Sometimes when you lose your way, its really just as well. That's when you find yourself."