Me: Can you say, "La la?"
Her: La la.
Like it's nothing.
Me: How about, "Da da?"
She doesn't miss a beat: Da.
Me: Bubbles.
Her: Bubba.
Me: Lee.
Her: Leeeee.
Me: Momma.
Her: No.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Showing posts with label autism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label autism. Show all posts
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Change of Pace
From time to time, something happens in my world that I just want to share, and then I think: well, poop...it doesn't have anything to do with The Princess or with autism, so I can't really blog about it. I'm breaking that rule today, because - while this isn't exactly about my beloved daughter or her autism - it's related. Stick with me. You'll see why.
The Hubbs and I are avid readers. No, that's not a figure of speech. The entire staff at our library knows us - if not by name, then at least by sight - as we're probably two of the most consistent users of the library system in our little rural area. We love books, and that shows in our choice of entertainment as well as the small library housed in our basement/home office.
David Sedaris is one of my favorite non-fiction writers. He publishes collections of short essays about his life and his views on whatever strikes his fancy. While I don't always agree with his opinions, I respect them, and he has a remarkable ability to make me bark-laugh while reading his work. He's clever, witty and bitingly sarcastic at times.
Yesterday, while I was on the train to work, I read the following passage in one of his essays and shared it on my personal Facebook page:
"If you don't want to marry a homosexual, then don't. But what gives you the right to weigh in on your neighbor's options? It's like voting on whether or not redheads should be allowed to celebrate Christmas." -David Sedaris
As expected, my friends and family started clicking the 'like' button. We're an accepting and inclusive bunch, and I thought this would bring a smile to many of their faces. What I did not expect was this, posted by a man I have known for over a decade:
"Marriage in gods eyes is still between a Man and a women that will not change"
My knee-jerk reaction was to delete his comment. I believed it had no place on my personal page, and it felt like he was attacking me. After further consideration, though, I decided that what I really needed to was respond:
"While I hear and respect your opinion, it also saddens me. For one human being to presume he or she knows what is right for all, and to enforce that by limiting the rights of others, is a troubling thought indeed. There are many differences between all of us; some are impressive, others confounding, many of which are messy. I look at these differences and see the beauty that is the human race. In my circle, you'll see black and white people - and every color in between. You'll see blindness, developmental disabilities, the dreaded "normal." You'll see heterosexual and homosexual, rich and poor. I, however, choose to look upon that same group and see but two things: friends and family. That, sadly, seems to be the difference between you and me on this matter."
And that, my friends, is how this seemingly unrelated post circled around and became relevant in the world of The Princess and her autism. Whether it's related to the color of one's skin, his or her personal beliefs, sexual orientation, mental or physical differences...really, whatever it is...acceptance should never be viewed as a gift to be bestowed on those different from us at our own discretion. Rather, people should have to work to not be inherently accepted.
Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace?
The Hubbs and I are avid readers. No, that's not a figure of speech. The entire staff at our library knows us - if not by name, then at least by sight - as we're probably two of the most consistent users of the library system in our little rural area. We love books, and that shows in our choice of entertainment as well as the small library housed in our basement/home office.
David Sedaris is one of my favorite non-fiction writers. He publishes collections of short essays about his life and his views on whatever strikes his fancy. While I don't always agree with his opinions, I respect them, and he has a remarkable ability to make me bark-laugh while reading his work. He's clever, witty and bitingly sarcastic at times.
Yesterday, while I was on the train to work, I read the following passage in one of his essays and shared it on my personal Facebook page:
"If you don't want to marry a homosexual, then don't. But what gives you the right to weigh in on your neighbor's options? It's like voting on whether or not redheads should be allowed to celebrate Christmas." -David Sedaris
As expected, my friends and family started clicking the 'like' button. We're an accepting and inclusive bunch, and I thought this would bring a smile to many of their faces. What I did not expect was this, posted by a man I have known for over a decade:
"Marriage in gods eyes is still between a Man and a women that will not change"
My knee-jerk reaction was to delete his comment. I believed it had no place on my personal page, and it felt like he was attacking me. After further consideration, though, I decided that what I really needed to was respond:
"While I hear and respect your opinion, it also saddens me. For one human being to presume he or she knows what is right for all, and to enforce that by limiting the rights of others, is a troubling thought indeed. There are many differences between all of us; some are impressive, others confounding, many of which are messy. I look at these differences and see the beauty that is the human race. In my circle, you'll see black and white people - and every color in between. You'll see blindness, developmental disabilities, the dreaded "normal." You'll see heterosexual and homosexual, rich and poor. I, however, choose to look upon that same group and see but two things: friends and family. That, sadly, seems to be the difference between you and me on this matter."
And that, my friends, is how this seemingly unrelated post circled around and became relevant in the world of The Princess and her autism. Whether it's related to the color of one's skin, his or her personal beliefs, sexual orientation, mental or physical differences...really, whatever it is...acceptance should never be viewed as a gift to be bestowed on those different from us at our own discretion. Rather, people should have to work to not be inherently accepted.
Wouldn't that be a nice change of pace?
Sunday, June 9, 2013
A La Ma Ma
For six years, I've been fortunate enough to be involved in The Princess's life. During the course of those six years, we've had our ups and downs, all through the magnifying lens of her autism.
My girl possesses a brand of brutal honesty rarely seen in the human race. She operates without a shred of inhibition or self-consciousness. She wears her heart on her sleeve. Unbridled joy can be closely followed by agonizing overload or disappointment.
In short, you don't have to be a neuropsych to see what my girl is feeling.
Though she is nonverbal, The Princess communicates things in her own unique way. I have never doubted her love for The Hubbs and myself, not even for a moment. How could I, when she makes such concerted efforts to show us each and every day?
Still, I admit to being just a tad envious when I hear her cousins or other little ones telling their parents that they love them. I know...I do my best not to compare, and I'm happier than I've been in my entire life, but there it is.
This morning, I walked into The Princess's room to wake her, and I ended up plopped on the floor next to her bed. Every day, I make a point of sitting down with my girl and telling her just how much she means to me. With all of the challenges she will face in her life, I want no question about this: she is special, she is kind, she is smart, and she is cherished.
As I've done every other day of her life, I told my girl in no uncertain terms that she is loved.
And, there in her room on a Sunday morning like any other, my life changed. Because just after I told her that Momma loves her, she looked me in the eye with the sweetest smile on her little face and said, "A la ma ma."
A la you, too, baby. You have no idea how much you mean to me. Thank you for - once again - pointing out exactly how big the little things can be if we just slow down and take the time to experience them with all we have.
Monday, June 3, 2013
Imperial
The Hubbs just came bounding down the stairs and barged into my home office with a huge grin on his face. The reason goes something like this, and I may be paraphrasing a bit:
He was on the verge of tears, and his impression was priceless.
Happy Monday, y'all. May the force be with you.
The Princess is sitting at the kitchen table, eating her peas like a good girl. And humming The Imperial March from Star Wars.
He was on the verge of tears, and his impression was priceless.
Happy Monday, y'all. May the force be with you.
Sunday, May 26, 2013
La La Laaaaa
More and more, The Princess is mimicking things we do. More and more, those things include sounds. More and more, I'm absolutely gobsmacked by the progress she's making and overwhelmingly grateful that I am here to witness it.
About a week ago, I sat in my computer chair with an extremely engaged little person on my lap, smiling and staring into my eyes with an intensity I never would have thought possible if you'd have asked me three years ago. The twinkle in her little peepers said Come on, Momma. Let's play.
I said, "Puh, puh, puh."
She said, "Puh, puh, puh."
I said, "Tuh, tuh, tuh."
She said, "Tuh, tuh, tuh."
These are two sounds she's been mimicking for a while now. She was still all engaged and twinkly, so I got brave and tried a new one that's never worked before.
I said, "La, la, la."
She snapped her little mouth shut and looked at me - I mean really looked. She reached out and touched my lips, stuck her tongue out and I could almost see the gears turning in her head. She moved her little hand on my mouth, very effectively asking me to say it again.
Me: "La, la, la, la, la."
Her: A determined look slapped on her pretty little face, she stuck her tongue out between her teeth and said - perfectly, on the first try - "La, la, laaaaa."
About a week ago, I sat in my computer chair with an extremely engaged little person on my lap, smiling and staring into my eyes with an intensity I never would have thought possible if you'd have asked me three years ago. The twinkle in her little peepers said Come on, Momma. Let's play.
I said, "Puh, puh, puh."
She said, "Puh, puh, puh."
I said, "Tuh, tuh, tuh."
She said, "Tuh, tuh, tuh."
These are two sounds she's been mimicking for a while now. She was still all engaged and twinkly, so I got brave and tried a new one that's never worked before.
I said, "La, la, la."
She snapped her little mouth shut and looked at me - I mean really looked. She reached out and touched my lips, stuck her tongue out and I could almost see the gears turning in her head. She moved her little hand on my mouth, very effectively asking me to say it again.
Me: "La, la, la, la, la."
Her: A determined look slapped on her pretty little face, she stuck her tongue out between her teeth and said - perfectly, on the first try - "La, la, laaaaa."
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Hope
I am happy to report that The Fabulous Mrs. G. is living up to her name - no big surprise there, but reassuring nonetheless.
After the incident at The Princess's spring music program, The Hubbs and I decided to keep The Princess home from school until we reached a resolution. The Fabulous Mrs. G. called me Monday morning, and I learned a lot in the space of about twenty minutes. It seems that The Princess and Z have been paired together for most activities in school recently, and the initial solution involves pairing them off with other classmates to separate them from one another.
Starting on Tuesday, each of the girls has a new partner for each of her activities, and the classroom staff will be keeping a closer eye out for this type of behavior. The girls are also in the same ESY (summer school) class each year, and that staff will be notified of the need to keep the girls apart as well.
Long story short: I am so grateful for The Princess's support team at school. They obviously care about the kids they work with, and it shows in everything they do. I've always thought of The Fabulous Mrs. G. as a guardian angel to our family, and my conversation with her on Monday only solidified that notion.
Last week, my heart was breaking. Today, I have hope. Hope that this solution will work. Hope that Z will get the help she needs to pinpoint the cause for her aggression and help her and her parents deal with it. Hope that, someday, I can be somebody else's Fabulous Mrs. G.
After the incident at The Princess's spring music program, The Hubbs and I decided to keep The Princess home from school until we reached a resolution. The Fabulous Mrs. G. called me Monday morning, and I learned a lot in the space of about twenty minutes. It seems that The Princess and Z have been paired together for most activities in school recently, and the initial solution involves pairing them off with other classmates to separate them from one another.
Starting on Tuesday, each of the girls has a new partner for each of her activities, and the classroom staff will be keeping a closer eye out for this type of behavior. The girls are also in the same ESY (summer school) class each year, and that staff will be notified of the need to keep the girls apart as well.
Long story short: I am so grateful for The Princess's support team at school. They obviously care about the kids they work with, and it shows in everything they do. I've always thought of The Fabulous Mrs. G. as a guardian angel to our family, and my conversation with her on Monday only solidified that notion.
Last week, my heart was breaking. Today, I have hope. Hope that this solution will work. Hope that Z will get the help she needs to pinpoint the cause for her aggression and help her and her parents deal with it. Hope that, someday, I can be somebody else's Fabulous Mrs. G.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Physical Aggression in the Classroom
This is the note I had to type and send off to The Princess's teacher this evening. It breaks my heart.
***
I saw videos from the music program today, and I'm completely blown away by how far The Princess has come since the last program. I wish I could have been there, but I'm in San Francisco for work until next Friday...so it was really nice to get the videos that The Hubbs's mom took during the program.
That being said, I am extremely concerned for The Princess's safety. The Hubbs and his mom both saw Z hit The Princess - hard - twice today. Z seems to wait until you and the other staff members are otherwise occupied and then she hits The Princess. The first time was so hard my mother-in-law was absolutely shocked. You turned to talk to her and The Hubbs , and Z punched The Princess very hard in the chest. It happened again when everyone was getting ready to leave. You were occupied with something else, and Z hit The Princess again, this time with an open palm on The Princess's leg. The Hubbs and my mother-in-law didn't want to cause a scene during the program, but I can't leave this unaddressed.
One of the most concerning aspects of this, to me, is that The Princess didn't react at all. This tells me that it happens often enough that The Princess is used to it and doesn't see it as being wrong. This is not okay in any sense of the word.
Being the parent of a nonverbal child like The Princess, The Hubbs and I are extremely vigilant about keeping our eyes on her. She can't tell us if something hurts or if someone did something to her, and we rely on you and the other classroom staff to be our eyes and ears during the school day.
We do absolutely everything in our power to keep her out of harm's way at home, but I feel like there's a gap in this vigilance at school. This academic year alone, The Princess has come home with deep scratches to her face (which have since left scars - the original incident was in October), multiple bruises, bumps, cuts and scrapes. Each time she comes home with an injury, we seem to receive a similar cryptic note regarding an incident with another student.
After today's events, I have no doubt that the other student has been Z, which I suspected all along. I have nothing but respect and gratitude for you and your staff, and I know you do the best you can, but I have to insist that The Princess and Z be separated immediately. I simply cannot stand by and allow this treatment/behavior to continue.
The Princess has made amazing progress in the three years since she started in your program, and I think we would both agree that this is largely due to the fact that we - her parents - and you - her support team - have always been on the same page. It's taken four and a half years, but she is now completely potty-trained. Things take a long time for her to learn, but once they're ingrained, she has a memory like a steel trap. I'm afraid that Z's behavior is teaching The Princess that volatility and violence are acceptable, and this is the exact opposite of what we are teaching and enforcing at home.
We've all worked too hard to get The Princess where she is today to see any regression or bad habits come out of inconsistency at school. Like I said, I'm concerned for her safety at this point. I cannot allow her to continue to be in the same classroom with a child who is physically abusive toward her.
Please let me know what can be done to solve this issue. The Hubbs and I are prepared to keep The Princess home in the interim if needed, and I'll be happy to talk to whoever I need to talk to at the special education district or the local school district. I just can't have my baby bullied. I hope you understand.
Thanks for your time,
Amy
***
Hi Mrs. G.,
I saw videos from the music program today, and I'm completely blown away by how far The Princess has come since the last program. I wish I could have been there, but I'm in San Francisco for work until next Friday...so it was really nice to get the videos that The Hubbs's mom took during the program.
That being said, I am extremely concerned for The Princess's safety. The Hubbs and his mom both saw Z hit The Princess - hard - twice today. Z seems to wait until you and the other staff members are otherwise occupied and then she hits The Princess. The first time was so hard my mother-in-law was absolutely shocked. You turned to talk to her and The Hubbs , and Z punched The Princess very hard in the chest. It happened again when everyone was getting ready to leave. You were occupied with something else, and Z hit The Princess again, this time with an open palm on The Princess's leg. The Hubbs and my mother-in-law didn't want to cause a scene during the program, but I can't leave this unaddressed.
One of the most concerning aspects of this, to me, is that The Princess didn't react at all. This tells me that it happens often enough that The Princess is used to it and doesn't see it as being wrong. This is not okay in any sense of the word.
Being the parent of a nonverbal child like The Princess, The Hubbs and I are extremely vigilant about keeping our eyes on her. She can't tell us if something hurts or if someone did something to her, and we rely on you and the other classroom staff to be our eyes and ears during the school day.
We do absolutely everything in our power to keep her out of harm's way at home, but I feel like there's a gap in this vigilance at school. This academic year alone, The Princess has come home with deep scratches to her face (which have since left scars - the original incident was in October), multiple bruises, bumps, cuts and scrapes. Each time she comes home with an injury, we seem to receive a similar cryptic note regarding an incident with another student.
After today's events, I have no doubt that the other student has been Z, which I suspected all along. I have nothing but respect and gratitude for you and your staff, and I know you do the best you can, but I have to insist that The Princess and Z be separated immediately. I simply cannot stand by and allow this treatment/behavior to continue.
The Princess has made amazing progress in the three years since she started in your program, and I think we would both agree that this is largely due to the fact that we - her parents - and you - her support team - have always been on the same page. It's taken four and a half years, but she is now completely potty-trained. Things take a long time for her to learn, but once they're ingrained, she has a memory like a steel trap. I'm afraid that Z's behavior is teaching The Princess that volatility and violence are acceptable, and this is the exact opposite of what we are teaching and enforcing at home.
We've all worked too hard to get The Princess where she is today to see any regression or bad habits come out of inconsistency at school. Like I said, I'm concerned for her safety at this point. I cannot allow her to continue to be in the same classroom with a child who is physically abusive toward her.
Please let me know what can be done to solve this issue. The Hubbs and I are prepared to keep The Princess home in the interim if needed, and I'll be happy to talk to whoever I need to talk to at the special education district or the local school district. I just can't have my baby bullied. I hope you understand.
Amy
Monday, April 22, 2013
Celebration: A Day (Mostly) In Pictures
In case you missed it, The Princess just turned six years old on the 11th of this month. Since she was a wee one, she has not been able to deal with crowds, noise or parties in general. Because of this, the last birthday party with more than five people in attendance was when she turned one.
Lately, though, The Princess has been showing off her developing self-calming skills and an amazing ability to cope with - and even, in some cases, enjoy - family parties. Feeling adventurous, I decided a couple of months ago that we'd throw her a big party for her sixth birthday.
The party was this past Saturday, less than 24 hours after I stepped off a plane after spending the week working in San Francisco. The festivities took place at Nana's house, where she and Auntie J absolutely knocked it out of the park. Their parties are always amazing, and I have to say I am so thankful to the two of them for pulling this together for me. I never, ever would have been able to do this without them...and not just because we live in an 800 square foot house!
We had about 20 people there, and The Princess did amazingly well. She retreated to quiet spaces a few times, but for the most part she was involved in the party. Running full tilt back and forth across the great room counts as being involved, right? Right. It's her party. She can run if she wants to.
The theme was polka dots, and Nana and Auntie J found some amazingly adorable stuff. Without further ado, here are a few of my favorite pictures:
I can't even begin to tell you how proud I am of this little girl. She did an amazing job at her birthday party, and I absolutely adore the fact that she is feeling more and more comfortable at these family gatherings.
Thanks again to Nana and J for pulling this together for me. I owe you, ladies.
And, Pop? Thanks for taking over my camera so I could be in the action.
Lately, though, The Princess has been showing off her developing self-calming skills and an amazing ability to cope with - and even, in some cases, enjoy - family parties. Feeling adventurous, I decided a couple of months ago that we'd throw her a big party for her sixth birthday.
The party was this past Saturday, less than 24 hours after I stepped off a plane after spending the week working in San Francisco. The festivities took place at Nana's house, where she and Auntie J absolutely knocked it out of the park. Their parties are always amazing, and I have to say I am so thankful to the two of them for pulling this together for me. I never, ever would have been able to do this without them...and not just because we live in an 800 square foot house!
We had about 20 people there, and The Princess did amazingly well. She retreated to quiet spaces a few times, but for the most part she was involved in the party. Running full tilt back and forth across the great room counts as being involved, right? Right. It's her party. She can run if she wants to.
The theme was polka dots, and Nana and Auntie J found some amazingly adorable stuff. Without further ado, here are a few of my favorite pictures:
 |
| The party room, including some of the coasters I crocheted (my contribution to the polka dot decorations). The Princess's cousin K had fun running around and matching all the colors. |
 |
| One of the lovely tables, decorated with polka dot whirly flowers, polka dot runners (handmade by my wonderful MIL and SIL), squiggly balls, Skittles, Smarties and Gummi Worms. Oh, and some of my coasters, too. |
 |
| I loved the whirly flowers. What a cute idea for centerpieces! You can also see the paper lanterns hanging from the chandelier in the background. These gals are so clever. |
 |
| Auntie J asked me eons ago for pictures - she had seen an idea online of putting up a banner of the birthday girl at all ages up until now, and I loved the idea. Of course, I totally spaced on the pictures and completely forgot about it until I got there to see she had gone ahead with pics she already had. Thank you, doll. This is something I will cherish forever. |
 |
| The dessert table: Oreos and Rice Krispy treats on the left, and homemade German Chocolate cake and yellow cake with cream cheese frosting (my contributions) on the right. I love to bake, and I make everything from scratch because of my extremely inconvenient soy allergy. It's nice to b able to share some of this stuff with more than just my little crew. |
 |
| Loot pile! She made out like a bandit. Check out the fabulous polka dot birthday banner. |
 |
| And here we are ripping into the presents. This particular gift is from a beloved great auntie and great uncle, and it's a super-cool kid friendly MP3 player with an internal speaker and headphones. The Princess smiles when I start the music and put the headphones on her, but she doesn't leave them on very long yet. We'll work on using this a few minutes a day until she gets used to it. I'm hoping it will join the ever-growing ranks of self-calming techniques she has begun to collect...and it would fit nicely in my purse! |
 |
| I just had to include this one...from another beloved great auntie and uncle, she received a Fisher Price remote control and a V-Tech phone. Both have buttons that light up and play music when pushed. She is in love. |
 |
| Singing to our girl. I have to admit I got a little emotional here. In the past, we've always sung Happy Birthday in our whisper voices. This year, there were about 20 of us, and we sang at a normal volume. She clapped with the rest of us and ran around for the rest of the afternoon singing the melody until we left to go home. |
 |
| Another first: blowing out her birthday candles. She has just learned how to blow within the last couple of months. We brought out the cake, showed her what to do, and she did it. Did you hear me? She did it. That last candle? She blew it out all by herself. |
 |
| Who doesn't love cake? |
 |
| The four cousins. From left to right, it's E, A, K and C (The Princess). I just realized that if we were to put them in order from oldest to youngest, their initials would spell CAKE. And, again, who doesn't love CAKE? |
Thanks again to Nana and J for pulling this together for me. I owe you, ladies.
And, Pop? Thanks for taking over my camera so I could be in the action.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Seeing Clearly
In every life, there are events which - when looking back - obviously change a person forever. They say hindsight is 20/20, and as I look back I realize they're right; in fact, I've never seen anything more clearly.
1985: I'm four years old, walking hand-in-hand with my daddy. Momma Lady and Hambone lead the way into the roller rink where we're about to attend our first lesson. Little do I know that I will grow up in this building, visiting it at least three times every week until just after my sixteenth birthday, making lifelong friends and discovering a love for physical activity. And speed. Especially speed. The kind that leaves the boys in my dust with their mouths hanging open in amazement.
1996: On a CB foxhunt with Hambone, I meet a boy. I'm fifteen, and he is intriguing, edgy and a little bad. He drives a Camaro and teaches me about rebuilding engines. He feeds my need for speed by helping me learn to drive cars and ride a motorcycle. Together, we race headlong into some really scary territory where we really don't belong. The wind feels great in my hair, right up until we learn what it's like to hit a metaphorical brick wall at 240 mph. I see now that while all this speed can be fun, it's also dangerous...and maybe not always worth the risk.
2001: I fall into a job, working as a temp at a database management company. Keeping with the theme of moving fast, I quickly master the skills necessary to do the job. Over the next eight and a half years, I keep moving fast, advancing through the company and pay grade at breakneck speed. Out of nowhere, after nearly nine years of service with the company, I'm thrown under the bus. They need a scapegoat, and they choose me.
2005: After a year and a half of the easiest dating of my life, things fall into place. I'm not running anymore. I'm walking hand-in-hand with the man you all know as The Hubbs. We fit. There's nothing to run from, so we slow down.
2007: The Hubbs and I ecstatically welcome our third child, the only human kid we have at this point. The Princess brings joy and light into our lives in ways we never thought possible.
Today: Our girl is six years old. I can hardly wrap my head around this concept; it feels like she was just born yesterday...but in so many ways, I can't even remember what it was ever like without her.
***
Princess,
I am so proud of you. Honestly, you have no idea. Your smile and spunk break my heart and cause me to burst at the seams with pride, all at the same time. I look at you and wonder how I ever thought anything was important before you existed. You are absolutely everything to me.
I tell you this every day, and I will continue to do so until I can no longer speak: you are my favorite person in the whole, wide world. I love you with every fiber of my being, a love so fierce it scares me sometimes. This is big, Kid.
Thank you for being you. Thank you for allowing me to witness the incredible, awesome, amazing events that make you you. I feel so privileged to be a part of your life, and I know I stand up a little bit straighter every day because of you. Being so near greatness can cause a gal's self-esteem to skyrocket just a little.
You are kind. You are funny, sweet and caring. You've taught me so very much more than I could ever hope to teach you, including how to slow down and appreciate the little things...because, in this house, the little things are oh so very big.
Six years ago at 4:43 pm, my world shifted forever. I stopped to smell the Roses, and - looking back - it's amazingly clear that I've never in my life accomplished anything nearly as awe-inspiring as being Momma to such a very special little girl.
I love you to the moon and back.
Happy, happy birthday, my sweet girl.
~Momma
1985: I'm four years old, walking hand-in-hand with my daddy. Momma Lady and Hambone lead the way into the roller rink where we're about to attend our first lesson. Little do I know that I will grow up in this building, visiting it at least three times every week until just after my sixteenth birthday, making lifelong friends and discovering a love for physical activity. And speed. Especially speed. The kind that leaves the boys in my dust with their mouths hanging open in amazement.
1996: On a CB foxhunt with Hambone, I meet a boy. I'm fifteen, and he is intriguing, edgy and a little bad. He drives a Camaro and teaches me about rebuilding engines. He feeds my need for speed by helping me learn to drive cars and ride a motorcycle. Together, we race headlong into some really scary territory where we really don't belong. The wind feels great in my hair, right up until we learn what it's like to hit a metaphorical brick wall at 240 mph. I see now that while all this speed can be fun, it's also dangerous...and maybe not always worth the risk.
2001: I fall into a job, working as a temp at a database management company. Keeping with the theme of moving fast, I quickly master the skills necessary to do the job. Over the next eight and a half years, I keep moving fast, advancing through the company and pay grade at breakneck speed. Out of nowhere, after nearly nine years of service with the company, I'm thrown under the bus. They need a scapegoat, and they choose me.
2005: After a year and a half of the easiest dating of my life, things fall into place. I'm not running anymore. I'm walking hand-in-hand with the man you all know as The Hubbs. We fit. There's nothing to run from, so we slow down.
2007: The Hubbs and I ecstatically welcome our third child, the only human kid we have at this point. The Princess brings joy and light into our lives in ways we never thought possible.
Today: Our girl is six years old. I can hardly wrap my head around this concept; it feels like she was just born yesterday...but in so many ways, I can't even remember what it was ever like without her.
***
Princess,
I am so proud of you. Honestly, you have no idea. Your smile and spunk break my heart and cause me to burst at the seams with pride, all at the same time. I look at you and wonder how I ever thought anything was important before you existed. You are absolutely everything to me.
I tell you this every day, and I will continue to do so until I can no longer speak: you are my favorite person in the whole, wide world. I love you with every fiber of my being, a love so fierce it scares me sometimes. This is big, Kid.
Thank you for being you. Thank you for allowing me to witness the incredible, awesome, amazing events that make you you. I feel so privileged to be a part of your life, and I know I stand up a little bit straighter every day because of you. Being so near greatness can cause a gal's self-esteem to skyrocket just a little.
You are kind. You are funny, sweet and caring. You've taught me so very much more than I could ever hope to teach you, including how to slow down and appreciate the little things...because, in this house, the little things are oh so very big.
Six years ago at 4:43 pm, my world shifted forever. I stopped to smell the Roses, and - looking back - it's amazingly clear that I've never in my life accomplished anything nearly as awe-inspiring as being Momma to such a very special little girl.
I love you to the moon and back.
Happy, happy birthday, my sweet girl.
~Momma
Monday, April 8, 2013
Autism Awareness Month
April is an interesting time for those of us closely connected to autism. Recognized as Autism Awareness Month, this time of year puts a large aspect of our daily lives in the forefront of mainstream media. Speeches abound, as do news features that tend to speculate wildly about many facets of the disability. Unfortunately, many of these speeches and features are taken as gospel by folks who don't understand the first thing about autism, people who don't take the time to fact check or put things in context. Calls and emails pour in from well-meaning acquaintances who saw a two-and-a-half-minute TV spot and now fancy themselves experts on the subject.
In short, April is hard.
And I'm just gonna go ahead and say the thing we're not supposed to say as parents of children with a disability: I'm tired. When left to my own devices, I begin to question the wisdom of constantly looking for teachable moments and making it my life's mission to correct all of the poorly researched, dime-a-dozen rhetoric people spout off to me every day. Sometimes it seems as though I'm just picking fights with people who don't really give a fig about the nuts and bolts; they just want to parrot their mass media tidbits and pat themselves on the back for being so accepting.
Don't get me wrong: I will continue to advocate for The Princess and others like her; of course I will. I guess this is really just a long-winded way of telling you that I'm not going to be preaching the same canned tidbits you see on your local news spots this April.
I will, however, talk about awareness in bite-sized pieces for the rest of this month. And, if I'm being perfectly honest, probably for as long as I live. Because I'm an autism momma, and that's what we do...whether we mean to or not.
In short, April is hard.
And I'm just gonna go ahead and say the thing we're not supposed to say as parents of children with a disability: I'm tired. When left to my own devices, I begin to question the wisdom of constantly looking for teachable moments and making it my life's mission to correct all of the poorly researched, dime-a-dozen rhetoric people spout off to me every day. Sometimes it seems as though I'm just picking fights with people who don't really give a fig about the nuts and bolts; they just want to parrot their mass media tidbits and pat themselves on the back for being so accepting.
Don't get me wrong: I will continue to advocate for The Princess and others like her; of course I will. I guess this is really just a long-winded way of telling you that I'm not going to be preaching the same canned tidbits you see on your local news spots this April.
I will, however, talk about awareness in bite-sized pieces for the rest of this month. And, if I'm being perfectly honest, probably for as long as I live. Because I'm an autism momma, and that's what we do...whether we mean to or not.
Monday, April 1, 2013
IEP and Rumblings: Part Two
Just a day after that phone call from The Fabulous Mrs. G., The Hubbs and I had a date with The Princess's team at school for her re-evaluation and IEP meeting.
Once again, I was awed by the caliber of human being that makes up our local special education district. These people get it. They really do. They love our kids and see them as people, rather than inconveniences or disabilities.
Her speech therapist was so excited to tell us about her plans that she was literally getting tongue-tied. Her mouth couldn't keep up with her brain and all the things she wanted to communicate to us, and she was unbelievably adorable. The first thing out of her mouth was how much she adores our girl.
The rest of the meeting went just as well. The special ed coordinator from our home district was there, and she assured us that The Princess would not be transferring out of the special education district. The next piece of good news we got was that The Princess will be staying with The Fabulous Mrs. G. for another year. Her school day will lengthen by another hour, since she'll be entering first grade. Overall, the input from the staff was positive. She's been making progress, and we have a plan in place to help her continue to succeed at her goals.
Unfortunately for some of the people in that room, our special education district just had to lay off almost 50% of their staff due to cuts at local school districts. It just breaks my heart. I can't imagine being one of the parents who is standing on the edge of the great unknown right now. At least we know that the people working with The Princess have her back, and that they really, truly understand her.
I'm choosing to look on the bright side. Though we don't know yet where The Princess will be going to school next year, we do know with whom. Things are going to change for sure, but at least we have the security of knowing The Fabulous Mrs. G. will be there to guide our little girl through it.
Once again, I was awed by the caliber of human being that makes up our local special education district. These people get it. They really do. They love our kids and see them as people, rather than inconveniences or disabilities.
Her speech therapist was so excited to tell us about her plans that she was literally getting tongue-tied. Her mouth couldn't keep up with her brain and all the things she wanted to communicate to us, and she was unbelievably adorable. The first thing out of her mouth was how much she adores our girl.
The rest of the meeting went just as well. The special ed coordinator from our home district was there, and she assured us that The Princess would not be transferring out of the special education district. The next piece of good news we got was that The Princess will be staying with The Fabulous Mrs. G. for another year. Her school day will lengthen by another hour, since she'll be entering first grade. Overall, the input from the staff was positive. She's been making progress, and we have a plan in place to help her continue to succeed at her goals.
Unfortunately for some of the people in that room, our special education district just had to lay off almost 50% of their staff due to cuts at local school districts. It just breaks my heart. I can't imagine being one of the parents who is standing on the edge of the great unknown right now. At least we know that the people working with The Princess have her back, and that they really, truly understand her.
I'm choosing to look on the bright side. Though we don't know yet where The Princess will be going to school next year, we do know with whom. Things are going to change for sure, but at least we have the security of knowing The Fabulous Mrs. G. will be there to guide our little girl through it.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Rumblings: Part One
The past couple of months have been interesting. With The Princess's annual IEP coming up, along with the looming 3-year reassessment, there's been a lot to do.
While we've been preparing for these meetings, we've heard some rumblings concerning the programs available to special needs kiddos in our area. Nothing has been released officially, but we keep hearing rumors that a town in our county has decided to pull all of their autistic children out of the special education district programs in favor of fledgling programs that will be initiated by the local school district come this fall. To save money. They never even ran this past the parents.
Needless to say, we hoped these were just rumors.
A day or two after we filled out the grueling 3-year re-evaluation (a twenty-two page packet of depressing questions and observations, a truly nasty document that requires copious amounts of chocolate to deal with), The Hubbs received a phone call.
The Fabulous Mrs. G. was calling to talk about what's going to happen next year. Evidently, the rumors are true. All of the kids in a district two towns over have been pulled from the special education district, and their home district is going to start their own autism program. This is in progress all around the county. The parents have no choice. Mrs. G. wanted to let us know, because our little town apparently had yet to make a decision one way or the other.
I immediately started researching who I should talk to, which offices to call, which feathers to ruffle, in order to make sure our girl continues to get the level of care and service she has become accustomed to during her three years with The Fabulous Mrs. G., who - by the way - has been doing this for twenty-nine years. I can't imagine changing everything up on her now, not after the amazing progress she's made with this team.
Once I finished breathing in and out slowly into a paper sack, I started to form a plan of action. I'd start with the special ed coordinator at The Princess's home district, as well as the superintendent. I was armed with all of the contact information for the members of our county board who represent our district. I just couldn't trust my voice not to break or my tears not to flow.
I had to do this right. And that meant it would have to wait.
While we've been preparing for these meetings, we've heard some rumblings concerning the programs available to special needs kiddos in our area. Nothing has been released officially, but we keep hearing rumors that a town in our county has decided to pull all of their autistic children out of the special education district programs in favor of fledgling programs that will be initiated by the local school district come this fall. To save money. They never even ran this past the parents.
Needless to say, we hoped these were just rumors.
A day or two after we filled out the grueling 3-year re-evaluation (a twenty-two page packet of depressing questions and observations, a truly nasty document that requires copious amounts of chocolate to deal with), The Hubbs received a phone call.
The Fabulous Mrs. G. was calling to talk about what's going to happen next year. Evidently, the rumors are true. All of the kids in a district two towns over have been pulled from the special education district, and their home district is going to start their own autism program. This is in progress all around the county. The parents have no choice. Mrs. G. wanted to let us know, because our little town apparently had yet to make a decision one way or the other.
I immediately started researching who I should talk to, which offices to call, which feathers to ruffle, in order to make sure our girl continues to get the level of care and service she has become accustomed to during her three years with The Fabulous Mrs. G., who - by the way - has been doing this for twenty-nine years. I can't imagine changing everything up on her now, not after the amazing progress she's made with this team.
Once I finished breathing in and out slowly into a paper sack, I started to form a plan of action. I'd start with the special ed coordinator at The Princess's home district, as well as the superintendent. I was armed with all of the contact information for the members of our county board who represent our district. I just couldn't trust my voice not to break or my tears not to flow.
I had to do this right. And that meant it would have to wait.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Sorry
I'm sitting at the dinner table, minding my own business, when - zing, SPLAT! - I find myself the victim of airborne marinara sauce.
Turning to my left, I see a little girl who is just bursting at the seams with the effort she's putting forth. Tears have popped into her eyes, and she's trying with all her might not to laugh.
But I'm no fool. Her empty spoon is held high. Think catapult.
Me: Princess, we NEVER throw food at the table. That is NOT funny.
The Princess: Heh.
Me: Oh, no. This is not funny. It makes me very sad that you would throw your food at me. Please say you're sorry. (Showing her the sign for "sorry")
The Princess vehemently shakes her head from side to side, cackling.
The Hubbs is turning purple.
Me: Excuse me, Princess! We never act like that. You hurt my feelings. Please say you're sorry. (Showing the sign for "sorry" again)
The Princess points straight at me and grins, on the verge of giggles.
Me: ... (Shooting daggers out of my eyes)
The Hubbs is doubled over in his seat. I think he may need to start breathing into a paper bag soon.
The Princess carefully forms a fist with her left hand, placing it against her chest and moving it in a small circle, perfectly displaying the sign for "sorry" while pointing her spoon at my face and belly laughing.
What do I choose to take from this? The fact that she said she was sorry. So she didn't mean it. What five-year-old does, really?
Turning to my left, I see a little girl who is just bursting at the seams with the effort she's putting forth. Tears have popped into her eyes, and she's trying with all her might not to laugh.
But I'm no fool. Her empty spoon is held high. Think catapult.
Me: Princess, we NEVER throw food at the table. That is NOT funny.
The Princess: Heh.
Me: Oh, no. This is not funny. It makes me very sad that you would throw your food at me. Please say you're sorry. (Showing her the sign for "sorry")
The Princess vehemently shakes her head from side to side, cackling.
The Hubbs is turning purple.
Me: Excuse me, Princess! We never act like that. You hurt my feelings. Please say you're sorry. (Showing the sign for "sorry" again)
The Princess points straight at me and grins, on the verge of giggles.
Me: ... (Shooting daggers out of my eyes)
The Hubbs is doubled over in his seat. I think he may need to start breathing into a paper bag soon.
The Princess carefully forms a fist with her left hand, placing it against her chest and moving it in a small circle, perfectly displaying the sign for "sorry" while pointing her spoon at my face and belly laughing.
What do I choose to take from this? The fact that she said she was sorry. So she didn't mean it. What five-year-old does, really?
Monday, February 25, 2013
Gap
Not to beat a dead horse or anything, but there is nothing cuter in my book than the gap between her teeth.
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Monday, February 18, 2013
Loose
For nearly the last week, The Princess has had a new pastime: playing with her loose tooth.
It weebles.
It wobbles.
It wiggles.
And, apparently, it falls out. Sometime during my flight to San Francisco for work, my girl lost her first tooth. I found out when I called to check in with The Hubbs as my plane was taxiing to the gate.
You know what kills me? I missed it. I know there's no way to regulate these things, but there's a small part of me that really wishes it would have happened just a few hours earlier so I'd have been there.
But maybe if I'm really, super sweet on the phone, The Hubbs will send me a picture. Ahem, cough, cough. Hint, hint. NUDGE.
I can't believe how big she's getting. Our little girl isn't so little anymore. And when I talked to her from the hotel, she busted out laughing when I mentioned her tooth. I don't know which is bigger: the loss of the tooth or the fact that she actually listened to me on the phone.
It weebles.
It wobbles.
It wiggles.
And, apparently, it falls out. Sometime during my flight to San Francisco for work, my girl lost her first tooth. I found out when I called to check in with The Hubbs as my plane was taxiing to the gate.
You know what kills me? I missed it. I know there's no way to regulate these things, but there's a small part of me that really wishes it would have happened just a few hours earlier so I'd have been there.
But maybe if I'm really, super sweet on the phone, The Hubbs will send me a picture. Ahem, cough, cough. Hint, hint. NUDGE.
I can't believe how big she's getting. Our little girl isn't so little anymore. And when I talked to her from the hotel, she busted out laughing when I mentioned her tooth. I don't know which is bigger: the loss of the tooth or the fact that she actually listened to me on the phone.
Monday, January 28, 2013
These Boots Are Made For Clompin'
Somebody stole her momma's boots, and she is currently clompin' around the house.
Mere minutes after snapping this picture, The Princess and I were face-to-face in the middle of a monstrous community giggle fit. She snorted like a pig and then found that so hilarious that she flailed around like only she can do...and whacked my nose so hard I saw nothing but a flash of white for a moment. Now it's numb. Here's hopin' I don't end up at the office with two black eyes tomorrow.
But, ya know, even if I do, it'll totally be worth it.
I am simply amazed every single day by this little girl. It's all of the little things, really, that are just so BIG in our house. Even a year ago, I don't know if I would have been able to take a picture of my girl looking at the camera. At that time, she wasn't so engaged. If I laughed, she usually didn't. Her idea of playing pretty much consisted of sitting alone in her room and stimming on one object past the point of obsession, screaming bloody murder when she finally realized that she simply couldn't stop what she was doing, that the activity had taken over and she didn't know how to move onto something else. Interactions by that point largely consisted of prying the object out of her fingers while she screamed and cried and ran away.
So you see why this would be worth two black eyes, right?
Yeah. Me, too.
Monday, January 21, 2013
Cousin E's Birthday Party
Where does the time go?
I can hardly believe it's been a year since our beautiful goddaughter, E, was born. Okay, well, it'll be a year tomorrow, but her party was this Saturday.
This generation of girls, with The Princess being the oldest and E the youngest (so far), well...they amaze me. I love seeing how they interact with each other and assert their independence in their own little ways. It seems like their personalities are ingrained almost from day one, and it really is a joy to sit back and observe them.
The more of these parties we go to, the more comfortable The Princess is with the huge rowdy group of folks we're lucky to call our family.
And, though I don't like to dwell on the negative, I've kind of felt as though I've been missing out the last few years. The last big party we had for The Princess was at her own first birthday, for what should be fairly obvious reasons by this point. I freely admit to my crying jag last year when I realized I wouldn't be able to throw a big party for her fifth birthday. Five is one of the big milestone years in my family, and it broke my heart that I couldn't have the party, but it was more important to me for her to be comfortable.
Now, seeing how well she is interacting with everyone and self-regulating when she needs to, I'm starting to think there may be hope yet.
That's right. We're going to have a birthday party this year. Lord help us. We'll probably ask everyone to sing in whispers, and she likely won't last more than a minute or two opening gifts, but we're gonna try it.
Here's hopin' there are half as many smiles that day as we saw this weekend.
I can hardly believe it's been a year since our beautiful goddaughter, E, was born. Okay, well, it'll be a year tomorrow, but her party was this Saturday.
This generation of girls, with The Princess being the oldest and E the youngest (so far), well...they amaze me. I love seeing how they interact with each other and assert their independence in their own little ways. It seems like their personalities are ingrained almost from day one, and it really is a joy to sit back and observe them.
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| E, the Birthday Girl, showin' off her bunny ears. |
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| K helping E out with the cake...E really wanted to see what she was doing. |
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| The Princess and Nana |
The more of these parties we go to, the more comfortable The Princess is with the huge rowdy group of folks we're lucky to call our family.
And, though I don't like to dwell on the negative, I've kind of felt as though I've been missing out the last few years. The last big party we had for The Princess was at her own first birthday, for what should be fairly obvious reasons by this point. I freely admit to my crying jag last year when I realized I wouldn't be able to throw a big party for her fifth birthday. Five is one of the big milestone years in my family, and it broke my heart that I couldn't have the party, but it was more important to me for her to be comfortable.
Now, seeing how well she is interacting with everyone and self-regulating when she needs to, I'm starting to think there may be hope yet.
That's right. We're going to have a birthday party this year. Lord help us. We'll probably ask everyone to sing in whispers, and she likely won't last more than a minute or two opening gifts, but we're gonna try it.
Here's hopin' there are half as many smiles that day as we saw this weekend.
Monday, January 14, 2013
Keeping a Straight Face
Okay, you're all aware of The Princess's shiny new ability to mimic. She's parroting actions, gestures, facial expressions, even some sounds. It's amazing.
But.
How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face when I'm trying to scold her and she mirrors my stance - hands on hips, stern eyebrows, the whole nine yards?
The answer: I'm not. It's cool. It's new. It's fun. And there's no way I'm keepin' a straight face. At least not yet.
My girl, who will be turning six in three months, is finally starting to play some of the games we've been trying for since she was a baby. I think I'll just soak it all up and enjoy every moment, thank you very much.
But.
How the hell am I supposed to keep a straight face when I'm trying to scold her and she mirrors my stance - hands on hips, stern eyebrows, the whole nine yards?
The answer: I'm not. It's cool. It's new. It's fun. And there's no way I'm keepin' a straight face. At least not yet.
My girl, who will be turning six in three months, is finally starting to play some of the games we've been trying for since she was a baby. I think I'll just soak it all up and enjoy every moment, thank you very much.
Monday, January 7, 2013
Age Appropriate
If you're anything like me, those two words together make you cringe, grind your teeth a little, and - perhaps - start to twitch around your right eye. Not that I would know anything about that.
As moms, we all have those pet peeves we can't seem to get over. While they may seem trivial to some outsiders, they are very real and very big to those of us who take issue with them. "Age appropriate" is one of mine. You know, those seemingly harmless little numbers on every toy on the market...the ones that guide the consumer by telling them what age group said toy should be appropriate for on a developmental scale.
I vote we do away with these damned things altogether. Who's with me?
This Christmas, The Princess received a gift card to Toys 'R' Us and some cash from a couple of her great aunties and uncles. A couple of months before Christmas, The Hubbs' iPad crapped out, so our girl had been without her touch-screen educational apps for a while by that point.
Thinking we were doing something good, we threw in about $30 of our own money along with the gift card and cash, and we purchased a LeapFrog LeapPad2 from our local Toys 'R' Us. The age range on the package was 3-9 years. The Princess is going to turn 6 in April.
Well. You can see where this is going, can't you?
The LeapFrog LeapPad2 is lightyears ahead of my girl's abilities. Forget the fact that you have to purchase games and apps separately...I'll just focus on the developmental challenges.
On-off switch? Fine.
Login screen where the child has to choose his or her picture and name from a field of at least 5 choices, even if he or she is the only user? Discouraging.
The fact that the Internet cannot be accessed on the machine itself? Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.
Level of verbal instructions given for each and every game/app the thing came with? Far too advanced.
General process for getting into desirable locations and getting things done? Way too complicated.
Thankfully, our local Toys 'R' Us agreed to let us return the tablet for a cash refund and $25 store credit that same day. I was feeling about "this big" by that time. You know how it goes. The fact that they were willing to work with us made it a little better.
Once I got over myself, we made another trip to the same store a couple of days later. This trip was miles better than the one before. The Princess found two toys she absolutely loves. The fact that they each have an age range of 9-36 months does not bother me in the slightest. In fact, I believe I've learned a little lesson here.
I'm done with age range labels. Who the hell are you, you pretentious, colorful cardboard box, to tell me what's appropriate for my kid. She smiles, it's all good. And you can shove those age ranges where the smiley-face yellow cartoon sun don't shine.
As moms, we all have those pet peeves we can't seem to get over. While they may seem trivial to some outsiders, they are very real and very big to those of us who take issue with them. "Age appropriate" is one of mine. You know, those seemingly harmless little numbers on every toy on the market...the ones that guide the consumer by telling them what age group said toy should be appropriate for on a developmental scale.
I vote we do away with these damned things altogether. Who's with me?
This Christmas, The Princess received a gift card to Toys 'R' Us and some cash from a couple of her great aunties and uncles. A couple of months before Christmas, The Hubbs' iPad crapped out, so our girl had been without her touch-screen educational apps for a while by that point.
Thinking we were doing something good, we threw in about $30 of our own money along with the gift card and cash, and we purchased a LeapFrog LeapPad2 from our local Toys 'R' Us. The age range on the package was 3-9 years. The Princess is going to turn 6 in April.
Well. You can see where this is going, can't you?
The LeapFrog LeapPad2 is lightyears ahead of my girl's abilities. Forget the fact that you have to purchase games and apps separately...I'll just focus on the developmental challenges.
On-off switch? Fine.
Login screen where the child has to choose his or her picture and name from a field of at least 5 choices, even if he or she is the only user? Discouraging.
The fact that the Internet cannot be accessed on the machine itself? Perfect. Exactly what I wanted.
Level of verbal instructions given for each and every game/app the thing came with? Far too advanced.
General process for getting into desirable locations and getting things done? Way too complicated.
Thankfully, our local Toys 'R' Us agreed to let us return the tablet for a cash refund and $25 store credit that same day. I was feeling about "this big" by that time. You know how it goes. The fact that they were willing to work with us made it a little better.
Once I got over myself, we made another trip to the same store a couple of days later. This trip was miles better than the one before. The Princess found two toys she absolutely loves. The fact that they each have an age range of 9-36 months does not bother me in the slightest. In fact, I believe I've learned a little lesson here.
I'm done with age range labels. Who the hell are you, you pretentious, colorful cardboard box, to tell me what's appropriate for my kid. She smiles, it's all good. And you can shove those age ranges where the smiley-face yellow cartoon sun don't shine.
Monday, December 31, 2012
2012: Looking Back
Looking back over the last year, I can hardly believe the blessings in my life. The Princess's accomplishments alone absolutely amaze me.
Each year, I make a special photo book of all of the things that have happened with our girl, which we give to our families as Christmas gifts. The books follow her progress and growth throughout the year, and there's always a recap at the end, written from her perspective. As I sit here and look back at 2012, marveling at all we've done, nothing seems more appropriate to share with you than this year's book recap:
I am so unbelievably proud of my girl, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have such a fantastic support system. Since the going got tough around here a few years ago, so many of you have stepped up and really proven to me how wonderful human beings can be. I've also found out how selfish and insensitive people can be, but y'all more than make up for that. I didn't need those other folks, anyway.
One of the things that people said left and right around the time of The Princess's diagnosis was that God never gives us any more than we can handle. I wrote this off as a canned response parroted by well-meaning people who love us and don't know what else to say. Now, more than three years after her diagnosis, The Princess shows me every day that this is true. I can't imagine what my life would be like today without her and her autism. I've grown in ways I never knew were possible, and I am very proud to stand before you as the person I am today.
I feel truly blessed, and I am looking forward to this coming new year with a glimmer in my eye and hope in my heart.
Each year, I make a special photo book of all of the things that have happened with our girl, which we give to our families as Christmas gifts. The books follow her progress and growth throughout the year, and there's always a recap at the end, written from her perspective. As I sit here and look back at 2012, marveling at all we've done, nothing seems more appropriate to share with you than this year's book recap:
This was a really big year for me. Momma and Da are very proud of the things I've accomplished. Some of these things are:
Potty training...I haven't worn a Pull-Up (except at night) in months.
Mimicking...this is the first step toward language, something doctors and other professionals have been watching and hoping for since I was really, really young. I now mimic many actions, and one of the major things I've learned is how to wave bye-bye.
Following directions...this is a biggie. One really good example is that I can now walk on the trails at the state park without holding Momma or Da's hand. With a lot of practice, I've learned to follow simple verbal directions when we are out and about.
Swimming...this is the best part of this whole year, as far as I'm concerned. This summer, I spent so much time in the water. Momma and Da worked with me every single day, and by August I could swim from one parent to the other when they stood ten to fifteen feet apart in water that was over my head.
And now comes the sappy. Nana, grab your tissues. You know how you get.
If you're reading this, it's because you're very special to me. I may not speak English on my own yet, but Momma feels confident in telling you that I love you very much. You accept me for who I am, and I don't think I could ever ask for any more than that.
I am so unbelievably proud of my girl, and I feel so incredibly fortunate to have such a fantastic support system. Since the going got tough around here a few years ago, so many of you have stepped up and really proven to me how wonderful human beings can be. I've also found out how selfish and insensitive people can be, but y'all more than make up for that. I didn't need those other folks, anyway.
One of the things that people said left and right around the time of The Princess's diagnosis was that God never gives us any more than we can handle. I wrote this off as a canned response parroted by well-meaning people who love us and don't know what else to say. Now, more than three years after her diagnosis, The Princess shows me every day that this is true. I can't imagine what my life would be like today without her and her autism. I've grown in ways I never knew were possible, and I am very proud to stand before you as the person I am today.
I feel truly blessed, and I am looking forward to this coming new year with a glimmer in my eye and hope in my heart.
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