A visit to Channel 7

Andrew and his friend Emma had a fabulous time visiting Channel 7 (WHDH-TV), hanging out with Andrew's meteorologist buddy Jeremy Reiner, and talking to Dylan Dreyer, Adam Williams, Anne Allred, and Steve Cooper. (To show my age, I was excited to see Andy Hiller, the long-time political reporter). 

Everyone was wonderful to the kids, and it was definitely the experience of a lifetime! 

Do we listen to autism?

As parents, it's our job to listen to our kids. We don't always have to agree with what they say, but we have a responsibility to hear them out.  Today, Andrew's autism got the better of him and I tried to keep pushing him. In all my attempts to calm him, or make him re-focus, in the end, he ended up having a major tantrum and crying.  When I was tucking him into bed, he was able to verbalize that he was sorry and said "I had a bad day, Mom, I was just tired". The tears came as soon as I turned off the light and walked out, my head spinning wondering why I did such a poor job respecting the communication he was attempting to have with me.

Autism doesn't reason well.  Things are very black and white.  Things either make sense to a kid, or they don't.  Because of this rigidity, he misses out on so much.  Even things he likes, like the Wii, he has meltdowns over if he doesn't do as well as he'd like, or if his Wii "me" doesn't look perfect. It's very sad to witness.

I think about all the missed weeks and evenings when I should have been supporting him and have been more present.  Instead, I had entered the dating world.  Would it have made a difference? I have no idea.  What I do know is this all feels helpless sometimes and autism for my boy-man is more challenging than ever.

Blessings

This Thanksgiving has been one of the most interesting days of my life.  I am very thankful for my children/family and friends.  The last thing I would ever think would/could/should happen did. Life is indeed strange.  Now to try to work off all the mashed potatoes, yams, sausage stuffing, squash, green bean casserole and THE most amazing sweet potato pie ever.

Happy Thanksgiving from our family to yours!

What is the face of autism?

Many thanks to Kristin Chalmers (www.kristinchalmersphoto.com) for these great pictures, taken for her "Broad Spectrum" project.

Giving thanks

As the holiday where everyone celebrates being thankful approaches, it's a good reminder that giving thanks shouldn't be reserved for one day a year.  My family's Thanksgiving for the past 6 or 7 years has involved spending time with some of our "chosen family", dear friends and their parents and siblings.  With all the unrest and sadness in too many parts of the world, some as close as our own backyards, the fact we can have a plentiful meal to enjoy with people we love is something very special.

Blessings in my life that I am very thankful for include:

-My children who make me laugh, make my heart smile, and who bring so much joy to my life.  Despite the challenges (like autism), these four young people constantly remind me of all that is good.  Unconsciously, they bring joy and fulfilling hugs and love to my soul.

-Friends who constantly practice patience and enormous amounts of kindness.

-Good, and improved,  health & a health care system and insurance which provides quality and affordable care for my family.

-A job where I am entrusted by parents to help obtain appropriate services for their children with disabilities.  It's humbling to know people not only pay me, but they trust me, to join them on their special education journeys.

-Teachers and therapists who don't get paid in funds nearly enough for the amazing work they do with all the children, especially Andrew.  Their "other" paychecks I surmise come from seeing kids thrive thanks to their patient and competent work.

-Peace, love, and chocolate

God and whatever other powers who are out there have been watching over us. Our angels (Lynda, of that I am certain, is one of them) smiled in heaven on my family. I am certain they all played roles in second chances in my life this past year.


What are you thankful for?

An exciting weather day

My son has an ear-to-ear grin. His email buddy and special friend, WHDH meteorologist Jeremy Reiner, came to his school today to talk about the weather.  The first time Andrew met Jeremy, during a 2007 visit to Channel 7, was probably the most exciting hour of his life.

I am particularly touched by the fact that a meteorologist on a major Boston station is willing to come to Andrew's school.  This is because Andrew attends a small special education school for children with moderate to severe disabilities.  They never get visits.  Unlike when Andrew was mainstreamed in a public school and I arranged for another meteorologist to come in to talk to the students, kids with more significant disabilities who are not included with typical peers, usually don't get the same opportunities for enrichment.

Not only did Jeremy say yes when I asked him, he did so without hesitating.  All I know is this is making my kid's day, if not year. It is awesome to see Andrew so happy! If I could only get him to smile with his eyes open when getting his picture taken...

Fall ... over too fast

Today was the day to get outside and gather up all the leaves which had fallen before the snow that is predicted for tomorrow comes. Raking and then bagging leaves is back-breaking work, but you feel like you are accomplishing something.  The single moms of New England do this by ourselves (who needs men?).   In my corner of the world, we also did some fall cleaning and re-arranging as we got a new sofa.

Walking around Horn Pond has always been something I have enjoyed.   Sometimes, it's with the kids. There have been countless laps pushing a stroller, countless visits to the Lion stone sculpture.  In addition, on many lonely mornings in years past, I would walk the Pond and then "climb" Horn Pond Mountain (a very tiny mountain) and sit, sometimes for hours.  The beautiful scenery, and the fact its a place memories have been made, makes me overlook the visually un-asthetic occasional beer bottle or other teenager- left item.  Sometimes, you just want a safe place to think, maybe even to quietly cry.  When you wear your heart on your sleeve, like I had tended to do, it's easy for it to get broken and fall into pieces. 

One of the things I loved about being married, raising my kids, and having a "normal" existence, was that I had a lot of volunteer roles. Through our small church, I was responsible for the care-taking needs of the congregation.  No one *wants* to eat a casserole I, of the culinarily-challenged, have prepared.  I arranged meals for those in need, sometimes served as a listening ear when our pastor was on vacation, helped serve dinner at the local soup kitchen, many times with my kids. I loved my work with our local social service agency, coordinating the "Wish Tree" for local children in need.  Helping at my kids' school through the PTO or SpedPac was second nature.  I have always cared, an effect perhaps of being an abandoned orphan back in India.  It was second nature to help when someone needed help, or to send a card (my friends call me the "Hallmark Lady"), or listen when someone needed an ear.

It never occurred to me that all the time and effort spent helping others could reasonably be construed as taking time away from my own family.  I loved my kids more than anything, my marriage however was not very strong.  Add two kids with significant special needs (plus a preemie in the middle) and we were doomed.

I love the fall. It's a time of reflection, a time to accept the past and move forward learning from the past. I thank God every day for my son, strangely for the fact his autism maybe doesn't allow him to say much and that his understanding is pretty impaired.  It must be in some ways a gift not to have to feel the emotions the rest of us do.  What he does say, most of the time, is echolalic. "I love you Mommy. I will love you when you are 42.  Do you know how much Carol and Chloe love you?".   He repeats these phrases over and over again, he hugs me.  He is by far the most important male in my life.  I miss so much about what my life used to be, but I am trying to embrace all the goodness and joy in it now.

Winter is coming too soon, the fall has been rushed.  I continue on a quest for strength and peace.  Sometimes, I feel I am all the names people (especially those who shouldn't matter) have thrown at me. It's what happens when you've been in an abusive relationship- you believe everything that person says. All the good and all the bad.  You feel tempted to do things you know won't make you feel good about yourself.  It's not like I felt like that Carrie Underwood song.  It's not the raw emotion Alannis Morrisette sings about.  It is a feeling of not being good enough.  The hurt and sadness haven't completely lifted in the past 4.5 years since my ex-husband smothered me and choked me in front of our kids.  After that, I let myself be loved by someone else. In truth, I loved him back with all my heart.  With him, it was about emotional control (and he was far from emotionally stable).   He wanted me to break friendships. The one most important to me, he eventually succeeded in destroying.  My kids lost their friends thanks to him.  Men who promise the world, want whatever you can physically offer, and then discard you when you no longer are of use to them, should all be put on a small island in the South Pacific. 

Some things that help me are long walks, good thoughts, and accepting love and joy from those around me.  I think I'll put on Toy Story 3 for Andrew and me.  There's got to be nothing nicer than cuddling up with my little boy, watching a wonderful movie, and maybe eating some popcorn, too.  A perfect fall evening, indeed.

Meeting autism halfway

Tomorrow, I go for the very professionally-named "Parent Feedback Session" with the two highly respected neuro-psychologists who have been working with my kid.  They will discuss the hours of testing, record review, and parent input they've been given and present to me a picture of how A thinks.  This isn't even like the parent-teacher conference you go to when your 11 year old kid has been bringing home A's and B's, or to complain to the teacher about your kid  negotiating with you for phone privileges in the evenings because they have friends who are calling.  For my eleven year old, there is a certain element of dread.   I don't want to hear what the doctors have to say because it is depressing.

Arguably, autism has been a part of A since birth.  However, for years, with successful interventions, he was doing as well as could be expected.  He may not have had friends in the typical sense, but other kids, from school and church and certainly his sisters, loved him and accepted him for the quirky kid he was.  He was enrolled in a high-quality school program, off to speech and occupational therapy after school once a week, attending gym classes and swimming classes (we have fond memories of Mr. David from the Woburn YMCA), and going to play therapy with a peer or a sister.  There had been a girl in his class every year who nurtured him: Thank you April, Kaylee, and Kristin.  People loved A, included him in birthday party invitations, came to his birthday parties, and played with him.  He was just "one of the students" in his elementary school.

Then, he moved schools and arguably his rates of academic and social success started to slip.  He stopped being able to learn most things.  The new school didn't have the right tools to help support him.  He didn't have friends. When he misbehaved, they sent him home.  In a collective nutshell, they didn't help him.

Which all leaves us, three years and a whole lot of knowledge later about who Andrew is, trying to figure out how to turn everything around. I'm an advocate, I do this for a living. Let me tell you, it's a hell of a lot harder when it is your own kid.  I know the graphs are going to show regression and that makes me ANGRY.  Nothing like a school district who should have known better, and having the testing showing Andrew was not making progress there.  The bright side is he somewhere else now, no longer are there incompetent people to "advocate" for or "teach" him.

Mostly, what A needs is love and hugs and gentle care, care which needs to be firm a lot of the time.  Our lives are highly structured, designed around autism and its quirks.  I know all of this.  I just am scared to know the data: the numbers.  Will my kid test as mentally retarded?   In some ways, data is boring and meaningless when compared to an actual child.  In other ways, a lot of what will be said will guide me as to how to best advocate for A. What kind of school will he go to? Will he ever be able to go back to inclusion with success?  Will he ever want to be friends with other kids? Play baseball, or talk meteorology, with peers?

Autism is no crueler than many other disabilities. Some kids have it a lot worse. I get that. What I don't get is why the change in his developmental trajectory.  He was going to Sunday School with a helper (an "A's Angel"- thank you Lynda for that term), he was participating in typical peer activities. Now, he just wants to stay close to home. He hates his grandparents and one of his sisters. He doesn't have a church.

Please send some good karma tomorrow as the adults talk about what's going on with A and figure out some ways to help him as we move forward.  Maybe that is meeting autism halfway- not embracing it, but not ignoring it, either.  Just living, sometimes very sadly, with it.

Dreams

When I was 11 years old, an awkward middle schooler, I wanted to be a singer and was regularly appearing on a local kids-oriented TV show called "Ready to Go".  I took modeling classes, thinking that I, this big-boned, adopted Indian girl, could be a famous actress or model.  (This was somewhere in between wanting to become a US Senator and changing the law to allow non-American born citizens like me to run for President).  I swam on the swim team, making it to the States in backstroke.  I was socially pretty awkward with boys, but had a small and good group of friends.  I had my whole life in front of me. I had dreams and aspirations. I thought I would make something grand out of my life. (Footnote: clearly that didn't happen.)

Today, reality struck  as I sat in the waiting room at NESCA, listening to my 11 year old son intermittently scream while undergoing psychological/IQ testing by two very talented clinicians/testers.  He couldn't even cope- it was too hard for him.  During a break he had earned, we decided he needed the Leiter instead, which is a non-verbal intelligence test. A is verbal, he used to test with an average IQ despite his autism.  Not nowadays. Whatever is going on in his brain, he tests with an IQ in the 50's or 60's:  mental retardation for those older, intellectual or developmental disability for those of us now.

A's aspirations. Most involve being married to a girl who is a family friend who probably just looks at him as a unique kid, certainly not as her "boyfriend". Andrew has mapped out their lives together to age 30.  He writes detailed forecasts, sometimes for months, with ease.  He screams when he doesn't like "Mother Nature's" forecasts.   He wants to work at Channel 7, alongside his email/meteorologist buddy Jeremy Reiner. That fantasy world is the grand sum of Andrew's dreams.  He should dream high, every kid should.

I wonder if A will ever live on his own someday.  I wonder if he will ever have a real relationship.  Heck, I wonder if he will ever have a real friend again.  It breaks my heart to see how much he wants normal things, yet realize he can't really learn in any normal fashion anymore and certainly isn't able to be tested as functioning as anywhere close to his age. It's kind of like having a 6 year old in an 11 year old's body. Maybe it will be that way forever.

My dreams changed over the years. All it turns out I wanted was to be a wife and mother and have a happy family.  I just want Andrew to attain all his dreams, and today was a reality check I was not ready for.  Parenting a child with autism and intellectual disabilities sucks sometimes.

God, I love him and his quirks to pieces.  Tonight, my heart just breaks, maybe more for me and what I want for him than for the simple things he wants for himself. 11 year olds should have big dreams and hopes. I am mourning the little boy I lost to autism somewhere along the way.

Pure joy

This pretty much says it all about how great being a mom can be.


More pictures can be found here.

Practicing Kindness

If I had to choose one life lesson that I hope my kids carry with them as they grow into adults, it would be practicing kindness towards others.   It's not hard to be nice.

At Wendy's (insert "Laurel is severely culinarily challenged" jokes here), there was a gentleman,who happened to have a modified wheelchair next to the table. He was enjoying dinner alone.  As he struggled to get up from the seat and into his wheelchair, it broke my heart because you could see (I think) ) he was in pain and discomfort.

Sitting right next to him was a rather  preppy looking family with 2 preteens texting on their cell phones, all with Polo/designer clothes, and the requisite dye job on the mom, Dad talking loudly on his cell phone about some financial deal wearing cufflinks that probably cost more than all my jewelry combined.   The "perfect little family".  (I perhaps have my own work to do on being judgmental).

I was eating my baked potato with my girls. The man was having an awful time maneuvering his wheelchair, while holding the tray that he was trying to throw away.  The aforementioned family's girls stared at him, while the parents intently looked at their food. He was a foot away from their table.  No offer of help came from them.

I walked over and asked if I could take his tray for him.  He got tears in his tears and said thank you and apologized for some purported inconvenience , with very garbled speech.   I said, loud enough to let the family and the staff and my kids hear it, "It's my pleasure.  You have nothing to be sorry for.  Have a good night".

People should help people. It's not that complicated.  The entire episode reminded me that our kids learn by example.   My girls (whose backs were to the situation and didn't see anything until I went over to help) asked me why the other people did not help.  I reminded them to not worry about what other people choose to do because we don't know why their hearts don't tell them to.  I reminded them how good it makes one's heart to provide someone a little TLC and care.

We have a person with a disability in our family.  My daughters certainly already get "it" a lot more than most kids do.   Last night, I was in a really grumpy mood.  I needed an attitude adjustment.  I got one from such a small event. My daughters saw kindness in action.  All was good.

The biggest success in my life? Thoughts on my birthday...

My dear friend's kids have threatened to call me at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow and sing "Happy Birthday".  It's not an important birthday by any means, but it has been an incredible year.

What am I most proud of accomplishing? Being a mom to these four amazing kids.

I have done really good work for clients and helped a lot of kids and feel fortunate to have such a great job.

I lost God, but found happiness and peace elsewhere.

My extended family is gone, but the family I get to choose, my wonderful friends, are the greatest support system ever.
 

 I love Andrew's big smile, especially when holding his very special bear, Tucker. Tucker went to college with Andrew's best big friend Chip. Tucker arrived back at our house the other day having graduated from Elon, just like Chip.  Chip, a kid who I used to babysit, who then did the same for my son, is now in grad school.  I just read the college recommendation I wrote for him.   I feel old.  Kind of like the world's oldest thirty-something.

My oldest is a teenager, which makes me officially ancient. What a bright, beautiful smile she has. 

Life isn't perfect, or healthy. There's a lot of being alone and I am not an alone person. But I am a survivor and I am grateful for making it through the year a lot wiser, a bit stronger, and markedly more at peace than before.  I miss my "old life", my birthday dinners with my girlfriends (especially the one they took me to when my preemie was still in the hospital), but I've accepted this new chapter and am a lucky girl.

Somebody asked me my birthday wishes. Except for the most important "happy and healthy kids and happy and healthy me":
1) Someone to scrub the bathrooms and kitchen in my house (boys are messy!)
2) A facial
3) A massage (preferably by a cute guy by candlelight, but I'll settle for a great massage therapist)
4) An amazing cut and color
5) A bunch of kick-ass personal training sessions
6) An Edible Arrangement with chocolate covered anything
7)  Flowers (since no one buys them for me but, well, me).

World peace, or at least peace in my family, is high on the list, too.

Strange but true fact... No one has any idea when my real birthday, or age,  is.  I was left at Mother Teresa's orphanage, where the nuns randomly select birthdays for their orphans.  

"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless."
~ Mother Theresa

4 pounds to 10 years

It's hard to believe 10 years ago, I was 32.5 weeks pregnant, getting dinner ready and putting kids to bed, having made plans to drop off A with my mom in the morning so I could go in for a routine non-stress test. The baby flunked...

A day of tests, an expectation of a week or two hospital stay to let baby cook more, and then the specialized ultrasound which babies are supposed to score 6/8, she got a 1/8, which led to an emergency c-section... 

We welcomed Emily Elizabeth (no, not named after Clifford's friend). A bit loopy from the drugs and the surgery, looking at this little 4 pound baby in an incubator in the special care nursery, I could hardly believe this tiny being was here. After all, she wasn't due until November and there were no problems with my pregnancy except for the expectation of pre-eclampsia setting in somewhere around week 36/37 as it had before.

E was beautiful, and remains so, her skin was dark (like mine- one came out looking like they had an Indian mom!), but she had "no meat on her bones".  Just don't tell her she looked like an under-nourished chicken as she takes great offense.  She had a hard time eating (and pumping was a disaster), gaining weight, and keeping her body temperature up.  She was the size of a doll.  So many friends sent flowers, quite a few came to visit her (have the pictures of everyone suited up in gowns to come into the NICU), and more than I know were saying prayers.  

That tiny preemie is going to be "double digits" tomorrow.  She is the kindest kid you will ever meet and brings so much joy into our family.  She truly is everyone's "best friend".

Happy 10th Birthday, E! I love you very much.

Joy

Everyone deserves to have JOY in their life.  Something that is not under-stated, that makes you smile inside and out, and gives you a reason to feel hope.  Today brought the unadulterated joy of seeing my son happy, going to his new school, and coming home grinning from ear-to-ear..

To provide the counter-balance, I also saw someone I love in a whole lot of pain. Pain I can't take away, seeing her process things no one should have to, more or less someone her age should ever see.  I could feel the sorrow inside her, and tried to help soothe it.

Finally, I realized that people move on. The only adult relationship which is supposed to be permanent is marriage, and that one doesn't always work out.  Seeing someone has moved on without you is indescribable agony, even if all you wish for is peace for them.  I wonder why hearts don't heal.

Joy is subjective, it shows up when we least expect it, and fails us in times we really need it.  Yet, sometimes, the day redeems itself and I find peace curling up with my cat, watching mindless TV (tonight's choice: Parenthood), or snuggling with a little boy whose spirit has been renewed.  Joy came back, in small ways, but I am grateful it made its presence known.

In fact, today autism didn't suck. I'll take that for once.

A September 11th blessing

At 10:42 p.m on 9/11/97, I gave birth to a beautiful 6 pound, 15 ounce baby girl.  Three months later, she almost died after her heart stopped working.  She has faced so many challenges in her life.  Today, we celebrated her entrance to teenage-dom with a small party with her friends, teachers, and those who love her.

On her 4th birthday, our country was attacked. That evening,  we muddled through a birthday celebration with our close friends J and J and K and J and their baby. Once the kids were settled, we adults all sat down, in shock,  and watched a Presidential Address "from a secure location"  in my living room.  J, soon thereafter, drew a picture of what she described as a "plane crashing into a building".  I still have that picture.  The comments people made to her which followed in the days and years were not fair.  She's just a kid.  What happened on that day is awful and evil, but it doesn't define her or her birthday.

It is my prayer and biggest hope that she is happy and thrives and accomplishes all she wants in life.  I love you, J.  May you have a very Happy Birthday and a year filled with many blessings and much joy.

Life is good, no GREAT

The TEAM meeting I was so anxious about, and scared of, was pleasant and agreeable.  Deep down, I had a feeling the special ed director (who I have gone toe- to- toe with on many occasions as a parent and advocate) was going to do the right thing. And she did.  Not only will Andrew be attending a great school program at a collaborative (25 kids total, he'll be in a classroom of 3), the new school really wants him there and has some wonderful ideas.  There was an air of cooperation in the room- very peaceful.

It was very touching to see the sped director lead Andrew over to a computer in the room and help him get started looking up weather, or one of the other quirky things he does. This woman has known him since he was 3 and I really believe she cares about him.  It's not my place to put words in anyone's mouth, but there was a certain under-lying air of "what happened to this kid?".

One amusing moment was when I relayed that Andrew's old (AWFUL) school on a few occasions sent him home for behaviors. (Basically, THE worst thing to do to a kid with autism because their behavior is reinforced--- they get what they want, escape from the demand).  The BCBA from the new school joked "We make the kids sign a contract that no matter what they do, they won't get sent home, they are stuck with us all day, maybe all night, too".  Love her.

I came home to a barrage of cards and gifts for Miss J, who turns 13 tomorrow.  So many people love her and wanted to celebrate her milestone.  My friends, her classmates, teachers, even my clients.  The child could put a serious dent in the Apple Store after her birthday party at the mall (pizza and cake!).  Then, she could go across the street to Barnes and Noble and do some damage there.  What is really sweet are the messages in the cards.  A bouquet of balloons came from friends we barely know, a flower cake is being delivered by a friend and client of mine.  This "13" is going to be the best birthday ever.  The moms who called me from her class were all so sweet, their kids, similar to her, never get invited to birthday parties, so everyone is coming.  How many pizzas does it take to feed 9 hungry middle-schoolers and a bunch of adult friends?

We ended the day with a visit from a new respite person for Andrew. My friend's son is a perfect match for Andrew.  Yay for connections with men who have "been there". Welcome to our fun-loving, chaotic family, Sam.

Life is indeed really good.  We are crazy-blessed to have such a village of community and love and care.  My faith in humanity has been restored and I am so happy to have found such joy in my kids and all they are accomplishing.

One question: How again did I get old enough to be the mother of a teenager?

Friends

I have been blessed to have made some amazing friends. From those who were there when my child was diagnosed with PDD-NOS, when we had to learn how to welcome autism into our family, to being there after our daughter was born nearly two months premature, to what seems like the small task of being willing to come to the hospital and help me walk post c-section, I am forever indebted.  

Someone who has been a steadfast friend for five years, starting while working with my daughter, is my rock and the one person I know I can always count on no matter what. She has a no-BS meter which keeps me in check.   There is someone who I have reconnected after 5 years with who loves me and my kids, who thought nothing of spending an ER visit with after a winter night, who has opened her family's homes to my family.  To my friends who spent numerous mornings and afternoons in very unhappy places supporting me during a crappy few years, who made sure I had a place to live and to be with my children, I am grateful.  My old church in many ways taught me what friendship was--- I cherish the years of celebrating birthdays and Christmases, and even having cookouts, with people who loved God like I did and who happened to love my kids. There is much photographic evidence of this group of friends- wives, husbands and kids.  How different all our lives have turned out.  I'd be remiss not to mention the prayers of so many which I believe were heard.


There are long-distance friends in Florida, New York,Washington and of course locally here in MA who showed me love and understanding and compassion when my heart and spirit were broken. An invitation to supper, or a walk together, or getting brunch at Soundbites.  Not to be mitigated, the hundreds of playdates with kids at parks and our homes, hikes in the Fells, time spent with people who I really enjoyed being with.

I always thought (pre-2007, that is) that the biggest obstacle I would face would be my kids' challenges: mitochondrial disease and autism (prematurity seemed easy compared to those).  My daughter almost died in 1997 and in 2001, a diagnosis was assumed that meant my son would never do the things other kids did. Thanks to my friends, we live each day to the fullest and consider every day a victory.  

Three things stand out in my memory as particularly touching....

When Julia was critically ill, there was a prayer circle/service at my church which dozens of people participated in, praying for her strength. It worked, she left the ICU soon after.


When Andrew was diagnosed with autism, so many people provided love and support. Love for Andrew was felt from Colorado ( a friend's family)  to California (our dear friends P&T whose daughter had been diagnosed two years before with the same thing).  For 5 years, our friends and family walked as "Andrew's Team" to raise money for autism research for Autism Speaks  Everyone walked for their own reasons, many had been affected by autism in other parts of their lives, but dozens of people can together in the name of Andrew.  I was so proud to see so many people wear his face on their green and blue t-shirts. Raising upwards of $35,000 was a bonus!

Finally, when Emily was born, so tiny and so unexpectedly, there were more visitors to Mount Auburn than I could count.  Many friends donned plastic aprons and and came into the NICU to meet this tiny 4 pound (by this time, 3.5 pound) miracle.  There were flowers covering one side of my hospital room.  Perhaps most special, while Emily was still in the hospital, my girlfriends took me out for my birthday (how unimportant that seemed), I think that normalcy meant so much (birthdays out were a tradition).  My dear friend took me back to visit Emily, still in the NICU, after our dinner together. People really became a village to help us through such a traumatic time.  At some point afterwards, friends from church gave us a $500 giftcard for food so we wouldn't have to worry about meals. To this day, I don't know who coordinated that.

Last year, my girlfriends were amazing.   From accompanying me to appointments, to making meals for the kids and their friends., to just listening, they were my rock. After a summer spent dealing with so much stress, my heart was spitting out weird EKG's, I had syncope spells, I was breaking out in hives for no reason.   After two years of hell, I thought I had paid my dues to the penance club.  Fall 2009 didn't bring much of a break.  Something as simple as being invited to share a meal, or cup of coffee, meant a lot.  Then, there are the ladies from my special moms group who aren't touchy-feely, but are amazingly supportive and always kind. Love you E, J, T, J,. M, C, S, and everyone.


I am forever indebted to all the women who have played such special roles in my life.  I hope I have been able to give back even 1/2 of what they have given to me.  I would, and did, do anything for a friend. Frankly, I never could understand how a good friend would do anything but.  It takes a village to raise a child and I am indeed very blessed there is a large village enveloping my family.

Technology and connections

Running into old friends, either in person or online, has become a regular occurrence in what was my incredibly boring and predictable life.  Last week, thanks to LinkedIn, I reconnected with my friend Linda, mom of two boys Julia and Em's ages, who was for a short time part of the social circle we had at our small church.  She and her husband lived close to us and our kids played together.  I found some pictures from two baby showers, one thrown for me by a friend, the next thrown by that friend for me, that L was in holding her then-little one (who turned 10 today!).

As it is every time I run into an old friend from church, there are some *interesting* discussions about what has transpired since people knew me as a boring, married mom.  In this case, there was no surprise, and L has an equally *interesting* life story over the past few years. (Nothing equals the shock value of another old friend from church who was having an affair with her hubby's best childhood friend when their daughter was a baby, left the husband, and proceeded to have a baby with the boyfriend...).   Heather, another old friend from church is a nurse-midwife (a very cool job), with 4 kids of her own (like me),  one of whom has autism like Andrew.  It was great to open my inbox and read a note from her.

Last month, Karen, my former editor at the Burlington Union found me on LinkedIn. Karen gave me my first break writing. I love reading my portfolio of columns (25 of them in total).  A successful lawyer now, she is a special part of my past.

In a perhaps overzealous effort to spend a gift certificate a friend gave me, I brought Andrew with me to the local nail salon. What a champ he was while I got my toes and fingers pampered. A voice called "Laurel" from behind me as the polish was drying. I couldn't place the face for a few seconds, and was surprised to find a friend from middle and high school I hadn't seen in 17 years.  She is a ski instructor up at Waterville Valley (lucky her!) and happened to be down in Burlington visiting family.  We had a nice conversation (Andrew was good company) and the experience made my day. Of course, we both had our Blackberries and friended each other on Facebook right away.

Whether it be running into someone at a local haunt, or seeing a familiar name in my inbox, the connections that are being renewed are certainly fun.  It almost makes up for the fact that there are others I'd like to re-kindle friendships with who I am not running into online or in person.  The world is small indeed and, for once, friends and connections and family seem to overshadow autism. Maybe that balance is coming back because this sure seems like what it feels like to be happy.

A letter to my son

Dear Andrew,

Today is your 11th birthday. (For the record, it's sunny and 75 degrees out.)  I think you are the bravest and hardest working boy in the world.  Your autism holds you back sometimes, but it's also brought so many fun and wonderful things to our lives. Some of your interests aka obsessions have included: the most amazing drawings of houses a preschooler can make, home-made calendars, Presidents, Blues Clues, Weather forecasts and, of course, Build a Bears.  You have an amazing gift: memorization.  You can tell someone  born on April 4, 1967, what day of the week that was without blinking.  Pretty neat, indeed.

Some of the things that make me smile when thinking about you include: the Buzz Lightyear tent with a bean bag in it to sleep on, stuffed animal forts, you saying "I love you" back to me for the first time when you were 5, the purple tutu, and many tender and fun moments with Emily, Sarah & Julia, too.  Lots of squishy hugs, body socks, brushes, lotion, and your beloved  bear hug vest have all brought you joy.

I know there is a lot you can't do now, and maybe won't be able to do. Some are even things you used to be able to do.  Have friends, going to a regular school, or your prom, or college. But, there is so much I know you can do and will do.  Part of me wants to scream, "Screw autism".  It doesn't define you  anymore today than on the cold February morning the neurologist at Mass General officially gave you the diagnosis. I am very grateful  to the many wonderful people (the list of Andrew's "people" throughout the years would go on for pages), who have helped you along the way.  Your sisters love you, despite the sometimes unflattering and unkind behaviors.  Our friends love you and accept you for the quirky kid you are.  Your dad and  I love you to pieces.

Of course, I wish you were home with us to celebrate.  You will be soon.  I know how much you want to be 11, as you told us for months how awful 10 was. You are a very perceptive kid.   Emily and I will bring a chocolate-chocolate birthday cake to the hospital and tell you how loved you are and how happy we are to celebrate your birthday.  The question is: will you hear it?  I hope so.

Love always,
Mom

Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and his best friend make a fabulous birthday celebration!

A weekend in the Berkshires

I started writing this while sitting on the porch watching the kids play badminton in the vast backyard of our friends' home in Western Massachusetts.  It's far too easy to forget that the Commonwealth stretches beyond Worcester.  We've now visited the Berkshires for two very fun and relaxing weekends, once in the winter during the kids' school break, where there was lots of playing in the snow, and now in the summer.  It's beautiful to be in the foothills of the mountains, with swimming and outdoor play at the door.

Yesterday, we went to Mount Greylock, the highest peak in the state.  We hiked with the kids, collecting blueberries for pancakes and bugs for our little friend the insect-collector.  The top of Mt. Greylock features a tower built in the 1930's as a memorial- very neat.  The day was clear and the views were gorgeous- we could see the Green Mountains to the North and Wachusett to the East.  It was not too hot and the kids are finally old enough to do some exploring further than a hands length away from me.  Seeing their independence makes me so proud of them.

On our hike, we also came across the wreckage of a small plane. The signage notes this 2 engine Cessna went down during a routine flight from Manhattan to Albany to deliver newspapers.  The crash happened in August and the wreckage was not discovered until December, by hunters.  It was an interesting piece of history to come across during what was a leisurely hike for 4 kids and 2 adults.

The children obtained Passports issued by the DCR, where each landmark offers a stamp.  We have lots of sight-seeing and traveling to do to fill the books with stamps. Some venues are close to home (ie: the Middlesex Fells), but many are scattered in parts of the state we haven't traveled ever or recently.

One of the nicest parts of this weekend was the cool weather we had last night... I love the feel of sleeping with an open window and a heavy blanket on top of me. If only I could lose my reliance on white noise to sleep (it was a habit I picked up when I got married and it never left).  Seeing my youngest daughters with friends, so happy, makes my heart smile indeed.  The fresh food from the garden (think tomatoes, mozzarella and fresh basil or homemade pasta sauce and meatballs--- yum).

In the same vein, I really miss my little boy.  It's all a balancing act, I suppose.  A break from autism that was not wanted at least gave the siblings a few days to make some great memories.

Moments like these are all too rare, taking time to sit, breathe in the fresh air, and just be, enjoying time with dear friends and family.  On the way home, we laughed so hard, singing very loud and off-key to all variety of 80's music (anyone for the Eurthymics, Wilson Philips, or "Play this Funky Music"?). No one can dance while seated quite as creatively as my youngest.  My girls have colored, clip-on hair extensions in, are tanned and happy, and their mom is happy and exhausted and feeling very grateful indeed.

things which make my heart smile

1.  my kids laughter and smiles.
2.  seeing advances made in the treatment of autism.  hoping that these things will help other families to not go through what we have with our little boy.  i am proud of the small things i have been able to contribute to this: captain-ing "andrew's team" for autism speaks/naar, raising over $35,000 for autism research. also, testifying at the state house on behalf of a bill which ensured all the needs of children with autism would be addressed by a child's school-based iep team.
3. the beauty of both a sunrise and a sunset. knowing someday i will share those with someone i love again.
4. the sound of my daughter, who struggles mightily with reading and writing, reading me her bedtime story.
5. the sound of my Em, plotting with her friends and just being a 9 year old, and not her brother's keeper.
6. A talking to his bears or saying "i love you mommy". these moments are all too rare, nowadays.
7. J talking about normal things kids worry about when they are about to be teens, like boys. she is such a beautiful young woman.
 8. any conversation with my kids' dad which is peaceful and well-reasoned. it hasn't always been like this and the opportunities are appreciated.
9. hearing from my doctor today "do you still have your gallbladder" and being totally calm.  if i need it removed  to make the sharp, searing pain in my chest go away, so be it. not a big deal.
10.  losing another 10 pounds on the scale- bringing a grand total of weight loss to 34 pounds since january.
11.  really meaning it when i say i am doing well.
12. a well-mixed margarita and a good friend, on my back porch, like tonight...
13. a purring cat who knows where her litter box is.
14. looking through photo albums at so many memories of my family and friends.
15. knowing the future holds only positive and good things.
16. friends who don't sugarcoat things, make me laugh, and are my chosen family.

Playing tourist for the day

Today, I took the T into the city and explored.  Not very exciting, right,  since I have lived here for three decades and been into Boston hundreds of times. However, I discovered new things that I hadn't seen before (there is no longer a highway running through the city, imagine that),was reminded of the things I really don't care for (the T not running on time), as well as many of the gems the city holds.  For years, the city has been a place I went to for appointments, the occasional North End dinner out with friends, or the even more occasional show at the Wang Center.

Finding clothes that fit is challenging nowadays, but I donned a comfy skirt and tank top for my tourist adventure.  There is an MBTA express bus which departs at the top of my street and delivers one directly to the Old State House/Fanueil Hall area.  For years, this area was a place to explore when I was a teenager, getting on the T for adventures into the "big city".  I bought my dress for our 8th grade "Final Fling" at a boutique in Quincy Market and took many trips with friends to the very long Food Court there. It is a tourist trap, however, and I steered clear of it.

What I did spend some time doing was walking around the area between Quincy Market and the Aquarium. What used to be ugly (the Central Artery) is now a place for families to walk. It took a few moments to even place in my mind this general location I had been in many times previously.  It is amazing how relatively quiet it is.  The waterfront is a quick walk and it was indeed bustling on this hot, humid summer day.

Walking towards Downtown Crossing, past "the Lollipop building", where I worked while at Fidelity, I felt markedly out of place with the dozens of business people in suits.  Downtown Crossing is allegedly much safer now (the so-called Combat Zone is gone), but gone as well is Filenes and other former mainstays.  The Corner Mall still looked, and smelled, suspiciously the same when I went in for a quick iced coffee from DD's.

My adventure continued on Newbury Street after an Orange Line ride to Back Bay station. The apartments there were the scene of many nights after working on one campaign or another, crashing at my friend Megan's place (gorgeous and financed by her Wellesley parents). It was so funny to walk through Copley Place, location of many drinks and meals at Chili's where my friend Regan waitressed. After walking through Copley, I eagerly explored the Farmers Market in Copley Square. So many yummy treats!

On Newbury Street, where the only thing I ever purchased was music and food, it was fun to "people-watch".  Women in 4 inch heels and designer clothes, attractive teenagers with cash to spend... A trip to the used bookstore proved a nice, air-conditioned break, as well as a place to play.  After getting my hair done at a fancy salon, I walked towards the Public Gardens.

Seeing the small figure-8 shaped pond brought back so many memories, of my own childhood and of taking my own kids for rides on the swan boats and seeing the "Make Way for Ducklings" bronzed statues. What wonderful symbols of Boston, and the innocence of childhood, these figures are. I treasure the copy of the Robert McCloskey book my kids' uncle gave my oldest when she was born.

Boston looks different through the eyes of a wandering native, than it does of a seasoned city dweller or of a tourist.  What a nice, if sticky, day was had. I would be lying, however, if I didn't admit it is might nice to be sitting on my back porch with ice water and a breeze as I type this.  I intend to make a point of going back to the city, 10 miles from home, more often and getting to know it better.

Imaginary friends, silly songs, & random Saturday thoughts

The kids and I have been having very interesting on-going discussions about their imaginary friends through the years. (It's been a welcome diversion from the stress that life has brought as of late!).

Julia had Sally Squeak. (Strangely enough, her preschool friend Jaye also had a pretend friend with the same name.) Sally was a long-term IF who lasted all 3 years of preschool and went to Mrs. Kelly's kindergarten class with her. Sally had 100 brothers and sisters and a pet mouse. I distinctly remember that Sally wore a matching Gymboree outfit on Julia's "first day of school" and rode Ruthie's big yellow bus with her.  As an infant, Julia was, by her dad's description, an enchilada, taco, burrito, and perhaps some other types of Mexican cuisine.

Andrew had Spandrew.  I don't know quite how to describe the IF of my autistic child, except that, when drawn, he bears a canny resemblance to Andrew and at one point existed in the form of a beanbag doll.  Just like Andrew's "blue blanket", Bear Collins, and Chip, Spandrew has been an integral part of Andrew's decade-long life. My ex's biggest comment about Andrew is that he "will someday rule a vast empire and millions will tremble at his name. Andrew! Andrew! Andrew!". Don't know if Andrew realizes the bar has been set so high. Amusing ancedotes of the day regarding my little guy... He calls me a "super-hero", a "baseball player", and "Boops Mommy". When asked why, he points to a picture of he and I and his orange bear Chloe. I don't get it.

Emily had Jacob. Jacob was always with her in preschool and disappeared around the time she started kindergarten with Mrs. Kelloway at the Reeves.  It was always amusing to me that Em's IF was a boy.  Em used to have a meaningful friendship (read: she was the role model) with a little boy with autism named Harry, and she has always been her brother's special friend. She still is always asked to go along on day trips and vacations with her buddies.  She doesn't always understand why Andrew now has a love-hate relationship with her (heck, it's a love-hate relationship with EVERYONE and EVERYTHING). . I keep reminding her that at least he's nicer to her than he is to Sarah. Emily was the lucky beneficiary of not one, not two, but three silly songs made up for her by her dad: "Schpembelina, Schembelina"," Schpetmtissima", and "Schpem-Bot". You'll have to ask Will about those. I distinctly remember holding her with one hand- easy to do when a kiddo weighs 4 pounds at birth and shows up 2 months early.

Sarah has the most creatively named imaginary friend: Hannukah. (Nope, we're not Jewish.) No matter how many times we said, "Hanukkah is a holiday, not a person", she told colorfuk story after story about her friend. From her days in Claire's preschool class to her year in  with Miss Debbie, Hannukah followed Sarah around. Everywhere. Hannukah is apparently eating chicken nuggets and fruit for dinner with her as I type this.  I made up a silly "Good morning to you" song for Sarah when she was a baby.  I'd sing it every morning when I came in to take her out of her prison, I mean crib.  I have nowhere near the silly creativity of her dad, however, so my song is lame in relative comparison.

Dammit, I am in my thirties and I have missed out on all this Imaginary Friend stuff.  So, I have now decided to invent an imaginary friend. I'll call her Grace. She's there to remind me of all the good things in my life and how much love has been and IS in my family.  She is always there to give me a boost when I need some encouragement.  I certainly hope Grace will always find a way to be with me.  Without silliness and singing, sometimes very loudly when I am driving, I probably would be mush by now. I, too, am capable of being silly and finding humor in funny places.  I wonder if Grace will help me with the dishes and laundry...

What is a "snazz"?

Andrew is a quirky kid. After he attempted to pat our one remaining cat, Maddie, he declared to me, "Maddie snazzed at me."  "What on earth is a snazz?", I wondered. I asked Andrew to demonstrate, and he makes a hissing sound and face.  Apparently, Maddie asserts herself when Andrew gets too close or too rough. I think the term "snazz" is hilarious- I love these "Andrew-isms".

The progress he has made is wonderful to see, but the increases in behaviors and anxiety, both of which seem to have peaked in the past few months, are painful to witness.  From the ear-piercing screams, to the anxiety-ridden few hours before a transition, to the complete disgust he has for his sister which manifests anytime he is alone with her (and an adult) in the house ("it's Andrew and Sarah time"- yelled frantically followed by stimming) it sometimes looks like he is crawling out of his own skin.  He doesn't have any friends either.  The lack of social reciprocity is much starker now that he is a 4th grader.

In some ways, maybe the autism has been a blessing. He has been unaware of a lot of challenges and stressors, in stark contrast to his sisters.  His future is something I have been doing a lot of thinking about recently. Will he be able to take care of himself independently? Will he go to college? What kind of job will he have?  Gone are the hopes he would "lose the diagnosis", as I was told he might many times when he was younger. 

I'll hold onto the moments Andrew wants to talk and engages in wonderful conversations, the times he crawls into bed next to me for a snuggle, or when he spouts off his "Andrew-isms".  There is an amazing little boy inside whose autism sometimes holds him hostage.

Out with the old

The coming of spring is a good reminder in my house that it's time to de-clutter! Moving 3 times in two years has done wonders for the amount of *stuff* (ie: junk) that I own, however there are some things that never seem to get thrown out that should be:

1) Shoes-  How do you know when they have accounted for every cent of what you bought them for? Seriously, the kids' shoes from Stride Rite cost a fortune and mine are not far behind.  Today, 5 pairs of kids shoes and 3 pairs of mine (all about 5-10 years old) made it to the trash can.

2) Pots and Pans and other kitchen utensils- I have had most of these items since I got married 11+ years ago.  I'm not even much of a cook, but one frying pan had been cooked in and washed enough it made it into the garbage. One of the knife blocks and accompanying knives also joined it.  Thank God for Corelle dishes- they never seem to get old.

3) Jackets- If a winter jacket hasn't been worn all winter long, it's time to donate it to someone who actually might wear it.

4) Outgrown kids' clothes- Given that my son is the pickiest dresser on planet Earth, I have more boys size 8 clothes than he will ever wear and I have space to store.  The girls also have a healthy assortment of size 10 and smaller clothes. Wish I owned my own consignment shop.

5) Kids schoolwork- There are literally boxes of this in my house. However, I can't bear to throw any of it away. Ditto for IEP's, progress reports, and even Early Intervention reports.  There are at least 3 boxes for Andrew alone.

6) Exercise clothes-  There is nothing as unforgiving as bike tops and bottoms. Every ounce can be seen when you wear these spandex-y items. I went down a size from last summer/fall- so I desperately want to get rid of anything in an XL.  Need to keep one item and pitch the rest of 'em. (And remember the yo-yo weight gain and loss needs to stop. In three years, I lost and gained the same 25 pounds like 5 times. Now that I am 25 pounds lighter than that- it would be oh-so-nice to maintain this or lose more!)

7) Stuffed animals- Anyone of you who have kids know what I mean and require no further explanation.  The creatures seem to multiply :-)

8) Food in the fridge and pantry- As I might have mentioned before, I am not much of a cook.  I am also a really bad grocery shopper. A full quarter of what I buy that is perishable goes bad before we eat it. There are items in my pantry which have gone through my previously mentioned 3 residences. Ok, I think I just answered my own question of how to determine what of that I need to pitch.

Happy spring cleaning and de-cluttering! Warm wishes for Happy Easters and Passovers, too. (Went to my first Seder this week!).

Compassionate Professionalism

Today, I was invited to speak to a great group of  neuro-pyschologists.  I didn't prepare formal remarks (a la Powerpoint slides). I did, however, talk about the work that I do helping students with special needs. My practice, I explained, is based on the principles of something I call Compassionate Professionalism. Meaning, in a nutshell, that I am good at listening, formulating strategy, listening, advocating in a TEAM meeting, listening, and following through to ensure my clients get the help they need. Did I mention I am good at listening?

It's either my greatest quality, or my biggest curse, but I am compassionate by nature. I always want to help people, and care a lot about the quality of work/friendship/commitment I give to others.  A few friends used to jokingly refer to me as "the Hallmark lady" because I always remember birthdays and anniversaries, and often take the time to send a card "just because".  I am sure a shrink could trace this quality back to my infancy and having been left at an orphanage in some "pyscho-babble-ly" way. But, I care a lot about people, don't seek to hurt anyone, and *think* people who know me would say I am friendly, warm, and kind.

In my work, like any other, you have to draw boundaries. That's a challenge, because I do make a point of getting to know my clients and their families.  I share my own stories of advocating for my kids, saying what worked as well as the mistakes that I made.  But, always, without fail, I listen.  By nature, I truly believe that all people who are struggling want to be is "heard".  It is not only the compassionate response to listen, it is the "right" one.

In addition to wanting their child to succeed and get the right services, all parents truly want is to have their opinions, as equal members of the team, respected. People come to me broken by the system and frustrated.  They have been told "no" by schools systems which (usually) aren't doing their jobs. These dedicated parents think that they are a) going crazy to think their kid needs something when the school doesn't see it, or b) so angry, they can't have a productive relationship with their school district. No one is happy to call a special education advocate- I get that. Be it the emotional turmoil parents of children with disabilities all go through to varying degrees, or the financial implications hiring an advocate brings, or both, people are stressed when they call me.

My job is, first, to listen with compassion and kindness. Next, my ethical obligation is to tell them I can't guarantee outcomes, but rather explain what I will do first, which is take a detailed look at their child's records. Sometimes, I am faced with telling parents that what they want in their hearts for their kids is not realistic.  I always tell people to get second and third opinions, and I insist (usually to their amusement) that potential clients check my references.  I don't do this work for money or prestige (neither are to be had in this line of work), I do what I do because I care about people and also because I am good at it. 

In the end, I try my hardest to help kids. As in my life, I never seek to hurt anyone, but I don't shy away from sticking up for my interests, or those of my clients, when the opposing party is unreasonable.  I wonder what my clients think about my "style", my work, and just hope they know I will always be there to listen. And, as a bonus to them, I usually forget to bill for it!

Happy Birthday Miss S

We're celebrating Miss S's birthday tomorrow afternoon. While her actual date of birth is a few weeks off (being born in the middle of April vacation every year is not schedule-friendly for your friends to come to your party), it is amazing that my "baby" is going to 8!

Sarah is a completely wonderful mix of funny, vibrant, intense, & joyful. She has created the most unique dance that we have dubbed "the Sarah dance".  Being keenly aware that she is indeed #4, Sarah fights for attention without apology. She makes everyone around her laugh.  She also gives 110% to everything-- and is fighting like crazy to overcome some weaknesses in writing and reading. By far the most creative of the kids, she stretches this creativity and makes the most lovely projects. As I write this, she is creating birthday cards for some dear friends.

She has "gone with the flow" during a *really* awful few years, and gives the most wonderful hugs. I worry a lot about her, about how the divorce and subsequent events would affect her, but she is so smart that she seems to know what is right and what is wrong almost intuitively.

I know she hurts sometimes and wishes for her family to be together again. My heart aches for the things she won't grow up with. But, I do know she has a lot of love from me (and from her dad) and we will stay constant in her life.  Maybe it's the bond of having nursed her for so long (ok, well long for my babies, I consider 7 months a *really* long time), but she and I share a very special connection.  In many ways, ok most ways, losing my last pregnancy, as crappy as that was, was for the best.

I know I have the option of having another baby, but today I just want to think about Little Miss S and remember that the day she was born was one of the happiest days of my life (ok, minus the lack of an immediate post-delivery morphine drip at MAH).  She brings so much love and light into our family's world, I can't imagine my life without her in it.   Happy 8th Birthday Party S.

Happiness

I recently read The Happiness Project: Or, Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning, Clean my Closets, Fight Right, Read Aristotle, and Generally Have More Fun by Gretchen Rubin. The book certainly gives its reader a whole lot of ideas.

There have been lots of "happiness"experiments the past few years-- some successful, others not. Come to figure out that exercise (that endorphin thing...)  plays a big role in my physical and emotional health. But--- downhill skiing will never be my thing as I can't seem to conquer my fear of heights (and ski lifts!).  In contrast, I realized that cross-country skiing, especially with a friend in tow, is a lot of fun.  Also not my "cup of tea", outdoor activities where there is no electricity or real bathrooms.  Almost as a (physical and mental) challenge to myself, I took up biking. Through this, I realized that biking far away from cars is best for everyone's safety's sake. But I am having a blast riding and exploring.

Alas, I have concluded that I never have been, and never will be, someone who is "artsy and crafty" and can find her way around Michaels or AC Moore with so much as a clue. Scrapbooking became another (expensive!) failure.

On the other hand, I can do 6000 pounds of weight resistance/lifting in an hour and feel great about it afterwards, something I never did before. Going to the gym a few years ago meant using the treadmill or the bike, or it was just doing a yoga DVD in my living room.   Now, it's about working on my core and strength, in addition to the cardio stuff.  I'm loving it!

Working & volunteering has provided much happiness recently in my life.  I get a real high (there go those endorphins again...) when things go well and I am able to help a kid with special needs. Today, I was told a district with a reputation for being pig-headed and stubborn, was either very impressed or very scared of me. LOL. Kids get what they need with my help. I have a job where I don't just push paper around (no offense to those of you who do).

My kids provide me with enormous joy. Seeing the amazing people they are, and knowing they are growing up with the guidance of a mother, and others, who love them unconditionally, is humbling.  But, also knowing they they don't always like me because of the limits I impose, makes me happy.  I don't want to raise spoiled kids and I don't want to raise mean kids (you know those kids, the ones who throw rocks and sticks at the other kids and turn into bullies).  If I am doing a respectable job balancing all the things one is supposed to provide their children, most of all love and stability, I can be happy.  (Notice I am trying very hard to stay away from the a-word: "autism"?.  Parenting a child with a disability, while finding happiness at the same time, is something my friends like Sue Senator do much better than I.)

Getting pets has made me happy. My cats are sweet, playful, and mellow.  My previous experiments with animal ownership had been pathetic-- fish that died quickly (how do you kill a betta fish???).  The kitties make my heart smile on the days I don't get to see the kids.  Bonus: they are always up for a snuggle.

Being happy doesn't mean you're perfect. In fact, I love how the author writes about how all her quirks play into who she is. Being a completely imperfect person who has not always treated people the way I want to be treated makes me normal. It doesn't make me happy to know I've not always been the person I wanted to be, but it does make me happy to know that you learn from the past as you move forward.

What truly makes me happy? The entire concept of "paying it forward" does. Passing on the love and support shown to me, or resources, to make someone else who needs them. Maybe more than me, maybe not- that part is irrelevant. Oftentimes, you can pay it forward with your knowledge. I think of the countless families I have just talked to about how to help their kids, never actually being hired, and the many families who I have provided pro-bono or reduced fee services to. Hopefully, my time has made their journeys a bit less rocky.

Having been hurt, and knowing how awful that feels, makes me strive to do things which will brighten someone else's day, will help them through a personal struggle, or might just make them smile. Sometimes just listening to someone can markedly improve their day. I'd like to think I have played some small role in healing rifts in relationships some friends have had.  Lesson number one in my own personal quest for happiness as it relates to my friends' lives:  if they are in a bad relationship, I need to set limits or else one can *easily* get drawn into someone else's life and drama.  But, you can always listen and choose to dispense advice (sometimes requested, sometimes not).

I am blessed to be able to offer gifts. No, never large sums of money.  Rather, my time and a listening ear. I'd like to think that what makes me happy is being a good friend.  The enormous joy that my friends, my "chosen family" if you will, bring to me is something which has been sustaining through even the darkest days of the past few years.  (Part of me remains confused by how the best of friends, be it platonic ones or romantic ones, can just disappear from your life without warning. Life is too SHORT for regret.)

How do you define happiness in your life? What could you do to smile more, feel less stressed, and be happier? Think about it. 

I'm not there yet, far from it probably and the last 4 years almost to the date have been an uphill climb, but I'm certainly working on it... Ironically, the simple act of "helping" those 4 years ago is what caused a lot of unhappiness in the long run.  Rest assured, there are lots of things which make my heart smile that I never thought would and some things which I thought I needed to be happy which apparently I *can* live without.

Happiness is a gift I try to give to myself. It's a gift I hope I provide to my kids. It's a work in progress... but my happiness project is underway...

Childhood reflections

The rain pounds against the windows, the chill in the air hasn't subsided in quite a few days.  The outside elements have perhaps put a damper on lots of people's spirits.  I can't get into watching the Olympics, which is neither here not there. I don't watch American Idol. Conclusion: My current pop culture awareness is pretty low.

However, today came the news that an actor named Andrew Koenig from the 80's/90's hit show "Growing Pains" had taken his own life after a long battle with depression. This has bummed me out inexplicably. Koneig played "Boner", Mike's friend. The actor who portrayed Mike, heart-throb Kirk Cameron, made a plea to Koenig the other day: "Call me. Mike and Boner can get through anything".

The tragedy of losing this young actor is sad, but it's also a reminder that I am old. The shows I grew up watching (Growing Pains, Who's the Boss, Webster, Perfect Strangers, The Cosby Show, Family Ties, Facts of Life, Different Strokes, and if I "really* think back, Eight is Enough and Little House on the Prairie) were integral parts of my growing up. I rode my bike in my neighborhood and sometimes made it up to Mountain Road. I played in the woods and made forts. I had a friend who lived on the end of Mountain Rd. towards Winn Street that I visited a lot.  My childhood was very simple, and very sheltered in a good way.  I was smart grade-wise, not very comfortable or smart socially (the brown skin and lack of coordination did not help), and for many years got along with pretty much everyone. I still remember completely freaking out when walking into Kim MacDonald's backyard and getting covered by caterpillars that were falling off their trees and running home screaming. But, we also had good times in the clubhouse in Mary Ellen's back yard, and exploring the woods.

Life seemed pretty darn simple. Now, the shows my kids watch are mostly reality-based (18 Kids and Counting, Deliver Me) or insipid Disney shows like "The Suite Life of Zach and Cody: On Deck".  The kids don't get the same kinds of opportunities for outside play. The world is not as safe as we thought it was 20 or 25 years ago and kids can't stay out till the streetlights come on. My kids love to hear stories about my childhood (which wasn't quite as idyllic as this post makes it sound).

I loved my TV shows, and on Friday nights, I would escape to watch my favorite shows, armed with a bowl of Heavenly Hash ice cream with a broken up Kit-Kat on top. (No, not very healthy, I know.)  Shows like Growing Pains, watching the banter between Mike and Boner, seeing important issues covered like drunk driving when Carol's boyfriend died, they all shaped who it was I became.  There were no iPods or handheld DS games. We were lucky if we had video console systems, and I remember being thrilled to go to Anjali's house to play Frogger on her Atari a zillion times. I remember watching "The Breakfast Club" and "Dirty Dancing" on our new VCR. Every Sunday, I would take my battery-powered radio up to the top of my back-yard, swing on the swing-set, and listen to Casey Kasem's "American Top 40".

The untimely death of Koenig (aka "Boner") makes me remember how important I considered that show, and all the pieces of pop culture, while growing up in a white-bread suburb like Burlington.  However, I still hold onto small pieces of it. On my iPod, I have Belinda Carlisle and Bon Jovi-- a hair band and a former Go-Go. What could be more 80's than that?

Finally... a real vacation

The kids and I packed *many* bags of stuff and loaded the mini-van with said bags, movies for the DVD player, snacks, assorted Build-a-Bears and other stuffed animals, the iPod, left the cats in the trusted and good care of our wonderful neighbors, and escaped to the Berkshires for the weekend.  Despite the fact I have lived in Eastern Massachusetts my entire life, I had never spent any real time in the Berkshires and I now know I was missing a lot.

Despite the challenges autism can present, my Boy ended up having a fantastic time and the Girls each had a friend to themselves for 3 days straight.  They were in Heaven.  I so enjoyed spending time with my friend. (Her husband mixed some great adult-drinks after the kids went to sleep every night. He also is an avid outdoorsy-person and tired the kids out playing in the snow). My girlfriend and I hung out, we talked, we outlet-shopped in Lee (loving my new pink Coach bag and keychain, which cost nothing after using my Christmas Visa gift card and my Verizon Fios Visa gift card), ate Mexican food in a hole in the wall place, and admired the signs for the Canyon Ranch and Tanglewood. We also saw breath-takingly gorgeous scenery. Specifically, on the drive home, we elected to take the "long" way, a bunch of country roads to Route 2. Well, when you are that far out West, Route 2 is a country road for a long ways, too :-)

Driving through these quaint small New England towns, seeing ice-covered rocks and currents in the winding rivers which followed the roads, admiring the snow-covered mountains,  the icicles which hung off the sides of the roads, the farms and the animals, going over the bridges, glimpsing at all the cute houses... it was lovely.  It felt like we were  in the middle of Colorado or the Northern White Mountains in NH-- very much in the "middle of nowhere".  I loved every second of it.  Had some weird flashbacks on Route 2 past 91, driving through towns which were eerily familiar, BUT the kids were actually enjoying the scenery.  I produced kids who can like long car trips. Wow.

We don't have the money to go on real vacations. Storyland for a day, or two, have been the biggest treats for my munchkins since 2005.  Besides gas and some groceries, I didn't really *have* to spend money on anything since we were staying with friends.  Their family vacation home was amazing, and had a hot tub to boot. The kids loved that, although you couldn't have paid me $1 million to put a swimsuit on and go in. Sometimes, it's just more relaxing than anything to hang out with friends.  Friendships between the kids were formed and solidified, my friend and mine's girl-bonding time was fun, and we even had a very sweet dog to keep us all company.

Relaxing and getting away from it *all* is a good thing. The only downside is that I couldn't bring my skis since my new Craigslist-procured Thule rack has no way to get attached to my new mini-van without the help of one or two tall adults with experience with this sort of thing.  There is a small place to go skiing there , which would have been fun to ski with at least two of the kids.  It is small, but has quite a few trails, and is relatively inexpensive.

Back to the daily grind... three team meetings with clients this week to prepare for and lots of loads of laundry to do. But, I have great memories from this vacation week (including being put in a VIP suite at Disney on Ice at the Boston Garden, which is about the only perk of autism I have found; a very brief glimpse into how the "other half" live). The most important memory is all the precious time with my family.  I am truly blessed.

Hope your week was as lovely as ours!