Once again, my little family has been dealt a blow. Again, I am trying to keep things in perspective. The news we received was not "that bad", but it isn't "that great" either.
My amazing oldest son has been diagnosed with Tourette's. Now before you go running for the hills and pulling your children away from him when you see him because you are afraid he will be shouting obscenities, he does not have the form of Tourette's that causes obscenity outbursts. That form of Tourette's is actually a very small percentage. It just seems to get the most headlines. I mean what is more appealing? To talk about a person with Tourettes that has uncontrollable obscenity laced outbursts, or the one where the person has uncontrollable facial ticks? Obscenities are more "glamorous", so it's how the disorder is known.
Once again, it's a spectrum disorder, and there is no magic pill to cure it. Griffin and the rest of us will have to learn coping and managing skills. It seems that the ticks are more apparent when he is stressed out. I noticed he was ticking during the weeks leading up to the MCAS testing. At that point, I was not sure what was going on, just that something didn't seem right. I finally got an appointment with the psychiatrist and he was diagnosed with Tourette's. I know he is capable of overcoming the obstacles that this will present. I just wish that he didn't have to. Isn't it enough that he has Aspergers? Now he has to deal with this on top of it.
I know it's not the end of the world. He doesn't have a terminal illness. It is just another thing that he will struggle with his entire life. It is just another thing that makes him different from everyone else. As he gets older and becomes more aware of the people around him, he will begin to notice. He already knows that he doesn't always fit in.
I am sure Griffin is destined to do great things with his life. I, as his mother wish that I could take away any pain and heartache he will encounter because of his conditions. He is such a smart, sweet, funny, loving boy. I say that not because he is my child, but because he is.
I can only try to do my best to help him. I am not always good at it, I admit I feel like a failure sometimes when it comes to him. My fuse is sometimes too short to deal with him, I sometimes lock myself in my room and have a pity party. A why me... but I guess that's selfish. I am not the one that has to live in his body. I am not the one fighting the inner demons. I am not the one that has issues with impulse control. The one that would get in trouble for not being able to control himself or his outburst in school. The one that was labeled a discipline problem, when he was doing things that are truly beyond his control. He can sometimes manage the behavior but he can never quiet it completely.
So we will deal with this set back. We will work on ways to cope and manage the condition.
I am glad that I have a good support system. I am thankful to the school for being right there, willing and able to help him manage his condition. I am glad that I do not carry the "not my child" attitude. I know something was not right. I listened to what the teachers were telling me, even when they couldn't formally say things. I credit Griffin's preschool teacher with being the first person to let me know that something was different. It was Griffin's inability to interact with other kids, his inability to make friends, the stress that came with trying to transition to other activities, the tailspin he would set himself in when he didn't know what he was supposed to do next. She met with me and put things in place to help him. She taught him how to go up to other kids, to interact with them. She put processes in place to help him learn to transition to other activities. She worked with him to come up with a plan so he would know what to expect next. I am forever grateful to her. She spent 2 hours 2 days a week with him, and she knew something wasn't quite right. I first chalked it up to him being an only child. Yes, he was around other kids, and he could be social, but he didn't know how to approach other kids. The kids he came into contact with were what I call forced friends. They were the kids of my friends. I took out the hard part. I brought the kids to him. I look at him today, and at 11 he can make friends (which is hard for kids with Aspergers), he can be social (albeit, he is a bit socially awkward and always will be). I see all that he has overcome so far in his 11 years, and I am amazed by his resilience. I am proud to be his Mom. I am often frustrated by him, but I am so proud of him.
If I could offer a bit of advice to any parent, it's listen to your instincts. If you think something isn't quite right, then it is possible that it's not. Listen to what the teachers are telling you. They are not always allowed to come right out and say something, but in the way they ask questions, or the little things they tell you that make you go hmm... I know that several of Griffin's teachers were telling me things that I did not immediately get. I know they couldn't tell me straight out, but I put the pieces together finally. And I look back to the way they approached me, the way they asked me questions. I have to say that Braeden has benefited from what I have learned going through things with Griffin. I noticed something seemed off with his behavior. I brought it up to the teachers and they watched for it. First chalking it up to his age, his gender, etc, but then realizing that there was more to the puzzle. So now he is getting help for things.
So start the conversation. If you have concerns about your child, talk to their teachers. They are the ones that are around your kids the most. They spend a good chunk of time with them. They see other kids and can draw a comparison. They are an amazing resource. And I feel forever grateful to the great teachers that Griffin had. He did have a couple of not so great teachers, that chose not to believe or help him. But to draw a positive from them, he learned that he had to deal with people that weren't always going to help him. They have helped him learn some skills that will be invaluable to him in life. So for that I thank them.
I know this is just a minor setback, and together we will make it over the hurdle. Life keeps throwing us curve balls, but it's our ability to deal with them that makes us who we are.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Monday, June 6, 2011
Taking a step back...
I started writing a post a week or so ago. It was pretty much a pity party for me. My second son had been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. Most kids have one of the two forms of it, either external stimuli or internal stimuli. My sweet son has both. In a nutshell this means that he gets overwhelmed with external stimuli AND internal stimuli. Someone that has external stimuli issues, can calm themselves through internal means, and vice versa. My sweet baby has both. This means, that he gets overstimulated from both. So he gets it coming and going. Life will be a challenge for him. There is no cure for this, no magic pill, nothing. It's a spectrum disorder, so severity levels are on an individual basis. He will learn coping mechanisms. Life will not be easy. One minute he can be completely happy and then with the snap of a finger, meltdown central. Fortunately, it has been caught early and is being addressed early.
Here is where the pity party comes in. I spent a lot of time thinking why me? Why do I now have TWO kids with special needs. UGH. Then I thought that somehow I caused this. That is was my fault that the kids have issues, and they will struggle their entire life. Because of ME. No one knows the effects of the fertility drugs I took. No one can clearly and confidently say it is or is not the cause of the ills that affect my children. The same drugs I had to take to have my kids, might have caused them problems.
I then realized that I need to take a step back. I need to stop with the pity party. I need to take the focus off of myself and how hard this is for me, a single mom to 3 kids, 2 of which have special needs. I need to look at it from another perspective. My kids. They are the ones that will struggle their entire lives. They will be the ones that have to fight. I have been told that they are just wired wrong. They are the square pegs trying to fit in to the round hole. They are the ones that will constantly struggle with trying to be "normal". They will fight their entire lives with people that just don't understand them, people that will think they are just acting up. It's not like they can wear a sign that says they have special needs. That tells people that some things just trigger a bad reaction. That after they are tired or have been at something too long, they are more prone to act out. That their reactions to stress are 10x more than your own. That things you think are "no big deal", can send them in to a tail spin. Their behaviors are sometimes uncontrollable. They are fighting with an inner demon. One they can only hope to quiet, but can never quite conquer. Many times their inner battles is misconstrued as behavioral. They are often told they have to control it, and sometimes they cannot.
But at least they are healthy. And that is something I have to take comfort in. We can control through therapies and special "Sensory diets". They are healthy.
I realized in reading about some friends who have kids that are battling cancer, that my problems are nothing compared to theirs. What gives me the right to complain or feel bad about my situation, when their kids are battling for their lives?
I know it's all about perspectives. We take things for granted. It goes down to the concept of know your audience. I can sit here and feel sorry for myself for having two kids with special needs, but if I say this to the mother who has a child that is battling cancer, my problems pale in comparison to hers. I am sure she would give anything to be in my shoes. I can complain that I am broke, my house is on the verge of foreclosure, but if I say this to the person that has just lost their house, living in a shelter or their car, then I am sure they would give anything to be in my position. Because yes, I am broke, and yes my house is thisclose to being foreclosed upon, but I am fortunate enough to have had a 401k that I could cash in, in an attempt to save it. So am I broke, yes, in one respect, but I am not completely flat out.
I have been told that I have a negative attitude. By many people. And I fully admit. I sometimes have a hard time seeing the glass as half full, heck, truth be told, I sometimes even have a hard time of seeing the glass as half empty, because that is even too optimistic. I see the glass as shattered. Beyond repair.
I don't give myself enough credit. I know this. This is something I am trying to work on. I have been in therapy for a few years now. I am getting better, and I will continue to get better at this. It is hard. It's easy to go to the negative. It's a place I lived for so long. It's my security blanket. I go to this place because I know it. I am familiar with it. I can hide behind it. If I start trying to stay positive, well that's kind of uncharted territory for me. It's scary for me. I know it sounds silly, but I lived my entire life this way. I need to cut myself some slack too. I fully admit, I am very hard on myself. I have heard this numerous times and in numerous situations. I am my own worst enemy.
I need to look at the positives: we are a relatively healthy, happy family unit. My kids have many people in their lives that love them. I have many friends and family that love me. I have a great job, I am trying to provide best I can for myself and my family. I have been commended for how I handled my separation and divorce. How I can have a great relationship with my ex and his new wife. That I have managed to shield the kids from a lot of negatives regarding divorce. I have shown my kids that just because their parents are no longer together, we still love them very much. And our divorce was no way a reflection on them. We divorced to be better parents for them. It sounds funny that we separated so that we could each be happy. Happy parents make happy kids. It makes me feel good when I hear from people that they hope to be able to handle their divorce with the same style and grace that I handled mine. That I have been looked upon as a role model to them. It makes me feel good. To know that through an extremely tough time, I was able to stand tall, with my head held high.
And through it all, through the stress of possibly losing my house, and having to cash out a 401k that I worked for a good chunk of my life to have, I can see that once I get the house situation righted, I might have a little bit left to pay off one or maybe two of the credit cards, freeing up some money to save.
So there is a silver lining to this, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
And I am strong.
And I do need to remind myself of these things. I am truly blessed and truly fortunate.
Here is where the pity party comes in. I spent a lot of time thinking why me? Why do I now have TWO kids with special needs. UGH. Then I thought that somehow I caused this. That is was my fault that the kids have issues, and they will struggle their entire life. Because of ME. No one knows the effects of the fertility drugs I took. No one can clearly and confidently say it is or is not the cause of the ills that affect my children. The same drugs I had to take to have my kids, might have caused them problems.
I then realized that I need to take a step back. I need to stop with the pity party. I need to take the focus off of myself and how hard this is for me, a single mom to 3 kids, 2 of which have special needs. I need to look at it from another perspective. My kids. They are the ones that will struggle their entire lives. They will be the ones that have to fight. I have been told that they are just wired wrong. They are the square pegs trying to fit in to the round hole. They are the ones that will constantly struggle with trying to be "normal". They will fight their entire lives with people that just don't understand them, people that will think they are just acting up. It's not like they can wear a sign that says they have special needs. That tells people that some things just trigger a bad reaction. That after they are tired or have been at something too long, they are more prone to act out. That their reactions to stress are 10x more than your own. That things you think are "no big deal", can send them in to a tail spin. Their behaviors are sometimes uncontrollable. They are fighting with an inner demon. One they can only hope to quiet, but can never quite conquer. Many times their inner battles is misconstrued as behavioral. They are often told they have to control it, and sometimes they cannot.
But at least they are healthy. And that is something I have to take comfort in. We can control through therapies and special "Sensory diets". They are healthy.
I realized in reading about some friends who have kids that are battling cancer, that my problems are nothing compared to theirs. What gives me the right to complain or feel bad about my situation, when their kids are battling for their lives?
I know it's all about perspectives. We take things for granted. It goes down to the concept of know your audience. I can sit here and feel sorry for myself for having two kids with special needs, but if I say this to the mother who has a child that is battling cancer, my problems pale in comparison to hers. I am sure she would give anything to be in my shoes. I can complain that I am broke, my house is on the verge of foreclosure, but if I say this to the person that has just lost their house, living in a shelter or their car, then I am sure they would give anything to be in my position. Because yes, I am broke, and yes my house is thisclose to being foreclosed upon, but I am fortunate enough to have had a 401k that I could cash in, in an attempt to save it. So am I broke, yes, in one respect, but I am not completely flat out.
I have been told that I have a negative attitude. By many people. And I fully admit. I sometimes have a hard time seeing the glass as half full, heck, truth be told, I sometimes even have a hard time of seeing the glass as half empty, because that is even too optimistic. I see the glass as shattered. Beyond repair.
I don't give myself enough credit. I know this. This is something I am trying to work on. I have been in therapy for a few years now. I am getting better, and I will continue to get better at this. It is hard. It's easy to go to the negative. It's a place I lived for so long. It's my security blanket. I go to this place because I know it. I am familiar with it. I can hide behind it. If I start trying to stay positive, well that's kind of uncharted territory for me. It's scary for me. I know it sounds silly, but I lived my entire life this way. I need to cut myself some slack too. I fully admit, I am very hard on myself. I have heard this numerous times and in numerous situations. I am my own worst enemy.
I need to look at the positives: we are a relatively healthy, happy family unit. My kids have many people in their lives that love them. I have many friends and family that love me. I have a great job, I am trying to provide best I can for myself and my family. I have been commended for how I handled my separation and divorce. How I can have a great relationship with my ex and his new wife. That I have managed to shield the kids from a lot of negatives regarding divorce. I have shown my kids that just because their parents are no longer together, we still love them very much. And our divorce was no way a reflection on them. We divorced to be better parents for them. It sounds funny that we separated so that we could each be happy. Happy parents make happy kids. It makes me feel good when I hear from people that they hope to be able to handle their divorce with the same style and grace that I handled mine. That I have been looked upon as a role model to them. It makes me feel good. To know that through an extremely tough time, I was able to stand tall, with my head held high.
And through it all, through the stress of possibly losing my house, and having to cash out a 401k that I worked for a good chunk of my life to have, I can see that once I get the house situation righted, I might have a little bit left to pay off one or maybe two of the credit cards, freeing up some money to save.
So there is a silver lining to this, there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
And I am strong.
And I do need to remind myself of these things. I am truly blessed and truly fortunate.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
G.A.C.
Yes. That's me. G.A.C.
What is G.A.C. you might ask.. Guilty As Charged. I have an admission. I have used this blog to admit a lot of really and truly personal stuff. I have seen the purpose of this blog to explore feelings and emotions that I was too afraid or ashamed to admit out loud. I have always used this blog to try to get the core and the root of whom I am, and who I want to be. I've put out there where I have been and where I am going. I have listed my missteps (I almost wrote "mistakes", but I changed it, no mistakes.. no regrets...) and my successes.
This might be the hardest thing I have had to admit. But I feel that I need to put it out there. Put it in to the universe. Throw it out, see what happens with it. Once you admit to something, you can't take it back. Once the words leave your lips, once your truth is out there, it cannot be stricken from the record. It can't be taken back. There is no erasing it. It is there. It exists. For the world, for the universe to see.
Why put this out the there. Why let this admission in to the universe? Why should I go there? Because I feel that admitting things, putting them in the the universe, putting them in print, on my blog, will help me to understand it.
I have been struggling with this for a while. The thoughts that keep bubbling up to the surface. The feelings that I keep trying to push down. It just doesn't make any sense. This can't be me. Can it? Have I secretly been holding this in? Afraid to put it out in the universe. Afraid for people to see the truth? Does this admission change who I am? How I am viewed by others? I am sure some people will embrace it, and others will cast looks of disdain. I am sure there will be whispers and how could she. Is it true?
I have been struggling with it for a little bit now. Not knowing where to go with it. Not knowing how to process this feeling.
It's time to rip the bandaid off. It's time to stand here, exposed. It's time to admit to my faithful followers. A realization. After some soul searching. I need to just take a deep breath. And just let it go. Put it out there.
Judge me as you will after the admittance. But this is me. This is who I am, or who I have become.
So here goes...
I
Like
COUNTRY MUSIC....
Phew.. That wasn't so bad. But it's hard. I got a new radio in my car, and it had a country station preprogrammed. I have been flipping through the stations and find myself stopping more often than not. I am particularly liking Keith Urban. His songs are really deep and beautiful, and he isn't bad to look at.
I particularly blame this song:
He has an amazing voice, and songs that are pretty deep. So I guess I am now "in to" Country? I don't know. I have always prided myself liking all types of music, but Country was an exception that I could never get my head around. Ok, so I did listen to Kenny Rogers growing up, listening to him in our van on Sunday drives. Singing along with my parents. Kenny will always hold a special place in my heart. He will always bring back fun happy memories of my childhood. I liked Randy Travis too. But I was never in to country. It was never my thing. But now. It seems I am starting to gravitate towards it.
Judge as you want. I won't make apologizes or hide from it. I am going to embrace it. I may even buy a bandana and a cowboy hat. :)
What is G.A.C. you might ask.. Guilty As Charged. I have an admission. I have used this blog to admit a lot of really and truly personal stuff. I have seen the purpose of this blog to explore feelings and emotions that I was too afraid or ashamed to admit out loud. I have always used this blog to try to get the core and the root of whom I am, and who I want to be. I've put out there where I have been and where I am going. I have listed my missteps (I almost wrote "mistakes", but I changed it, no mistakes.. no regrets...) and my successes.
This might be the hardest thing I have had to admit. But I feel that I need to put it out there. Put it in to the universe. Throw it out, see what happens with it. Once you admit to something, you can't take it back. Once the words leave your lips, once your truth is out there, it cannot be stricken from the record. It can't be taken back. There is no erasing it. It is there. It exists. For the world, for the universe to see.
Why put this out the there. Why let this admission in to the universe? Why should I go there? Because I feel that admitting things, putting them in the the universe, putting them in print, on my blog, will help me to understand it.
I have been struggling with this for a while. The thoughts that keep bubbling up to the surface. The feelings that I keep trying to push down. It just doesn't make any sense. This can't be me. Can it? Have I secretly been holding this in? Afraid to put it out in the universe. Afraid for people to see the truth? Does this admission change who I am? How I am viewed by others? I am sure some people will embrace it, and others will cast looks of disdain. I am sure there will be whispers and how could she. Is it true?
I have been struggling with it for a little bit now. Not knowing where to go with it. Not knowing how to process this feeling.
It's time to rip the bandaid off. It's time to stand here, exposed. It's time to admit to my faithful followers. A realization. After some soul searching. I need to just take a deep breath. And just let it go. Put it out there.
Judge me as you will after the admittance. But this is me. This is who I am, or who I have become.
So here goes...
I
Like
COUNTRY MUSIC....
Phew.. That wasn't so bad. But it's hard. I got a new radio in my car, and it had a country station preprogrammed. I have been flipping through the stations and find myself stopping more often than not. I am particularly liking Keith Urban. His songs are really deep and beautiful, and he isn't bad to look at.
I particularly blame this song:
He has an amazing voice, and songs that are pretty deep. So I guess I am now "in to" Country? I don't know. I have always prided myself liking all types of music, but Country was an exception that I could never get my head around. Ok, so I did listen to Kenny Rogers growing up, listening to him in our van on Sunday drives. Singing along with my parents. Kenny will always hold a special place in my heart. He will always bring back fun happy memories of my childhood. I liked Randy Travis too. But I was never in to country. It was never my thing. But now. It seems I am starting to gravitate towards it.
Judge as you want. I won't make apologizes or hide from it. I am going to embrace it. I may even buy a bandana and a cowboy hat. :)
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Practice makes...
I know the old saying goes... Practice makes perfect... This is a saying I try to avoid like the plague in my house. We say.. Practice makes better. As a parent of a child that has Aspergers life for him can and will never be perfect. Part of having Aspergers is that in his mind he sees things one way, but can't always translate that to paper. This was a source of much frustration. Everyone would tell him that practice makes perfect. The idea of being perfect to him is black and white. You either ARE perfect or you're not. So that means you are either good or you're not. Kids with Aspergers tend to have perfectionist tendencies. You might never know it because they live their lives in a constant state of flux. They are constantly doing an internal battle. Telling them to be perfect will set them in to a tailspin. Asperger kids and adults lack the knack to be organized. I often wondered why my sons desk at school was a giant mess of papers, he could never find anything and was constantly getting in trouble from teachers for this. His therapist one day said, you see how his desk is, just a heap of papers and information thrown about? Yes I replied, thinking where is she going with this, this is part of the problem, he can't keep a clean desk. She gently said, picture that mess, but in your brain. Picture everything you have ever learned in your life, not organized in any fashion. Just a heap of information piled all around, floating around. "Normal" people can organize thoughts, they can compartmentalize what is the relevant information they need from what is useless. Asperger kids can't do this. They can learn to trick themselves in to it, but it's not natural for them. It can be why they obsess over one certain thing. My son had a love of all things Godzilla, he knew every single Godzilla character, who made the toys, what movies there were, he collected all the movies, a ton of toys, and countless facts. Obsessing over one thing, they have control over that thing. To them ALL the information about a favorite subject of theirs is useful. There is no need to sort and organize and file it away for a different time. ALL the information is useful.
I was thinking about this in terms of my home too. I don't have a perfect home. I never will. My furniture is old and falling apart, the walls still have crayon drawing remnants on them. Sticker art graces the walls where my kids thought we needed a pop of color. The rugs are screaming to be replaced as they are all stained with 11 years of living. Half of my windows don't have curtains, the blinds have been ripped by the cats. My room is strewn with clothes, both clean and dirty. There is too much dust on the entertainment center, the windows need a good cleaning. There are too many toys floating around everywhere. I could never win any awards for my decorating style.
With all this though, I know my kids are happy and healthy. They aren't the ones that are complaining about toys strewn about, no curtains on the windows. None of this bothers them. They don't need to live in the perfect house. They are happy to be in a house that is filled with love. The one that when you enter it, you immediately know kids live there. I guess we have cornered the "lived in" look.
Somedays I wish I lived in a McMansion. I wish I had the means to buy new furniture, fix the back door that is in desperate need of being replaced. Buy curtains for every room of the house, paint the walls, get a new carpet. I am coming to terms with the fact that I am a single mom to 3 kids, that I am living on one income and that I guess I would much rather live where I live the life we have, enjoy the small things we can than have a new couch or new window treatments.
I admit I need to get better at the house upkeep. I need to not feel so overwhelmed when I walk through the door. I need to learn to purge some of the toys and the mess. I need to prioritize what is most important in the upkeep. Is it the new back door, new carpets, paint the walls, new furniture? If I sit and think about it I would say the door needs to be replaced first before I can get new carpet, because this defeats the purpose, and maybe before new carpet/flooring, the room could be painted. Then comes the new furniture.
I tell the kids all the time that I want to live in a grown up house. I don't want the toys invading all my space all the time.
Someday we will get there. For now we need to take it one day at a time.. and I need to always remember that practice makes better.. not perfect. No one should have to live up to the thought that things need to be perfect. To me, perfect is unattainable, perfect is something that no one can ever be. because the minute you get to where you think things are perfect, there is something that throws a wrench into that plan. There is no perfect life, there is no perfect house, there is no perfect child, there is no perfect relationship (altho don't tell my guy that....).
And what is perfect anyway? I see people that act like they have the perfect life. They portray that everything is perfect to people looking in from the outside. The wrapping is perfect, but at the end of the day, what lurks inside this perfect package is broken. It's a big old mess. I often wonder why people do this? Why portray that things are perfect? Is it done so that these people can feel superior to you? They get pride in making others feel inferior? Are they secretly jealous of your life. Of the love they can see. The love that comes from stickered walls, dirty faced kids, handprints on the windows, Popsicle wrappers strewn about. I lived the life where people thought I had the perfect relationship. The husband that adored me, the freedom to go out when I wanted to, the respect of a partner. What was never shown were the cracks that were on the inside. The cracks that became valleys, that became too big to overcome. When the marriage ended, it was a shock, because no one saw the cracks. They saw what I wanted them to see. They say the vase that Brady kids had glued back together. If they had stayed around a bit longer they would have noticed, that once the water was put into the vase, the cracks were evident. My advice is to let go of the image of perfect. Let people see the real story. The world would be a much better place if we all stopped pretending we were something we aren't.. If we stopped trying to be perfect, and aimed to be better.
I have enough internal struggle trying to be better than I am today, I can't put that much stress on me or my kids to be perfect.
I know this post is kind of all over the place (that's right people.. its not.. wait for it.. PERFECT...) . it's a lot like me though.. sometimes makes sense.. sometimes, not so much.
I was thinking about this in terms of my home too. I don't have a perfect home. I never will. My furniture is old and falling apart, the walls still have crayon drawing remnants on them. Sticker art graces the walls where my kids thought we needed a pop of color. The rugs are screaming to be replaced as they are all stained with 11 years of living. Half of my windows don't have curtains, the blinds have been ripped by the cats. My room is strewn with clothes, both clean and dirty. There is too much dust on the entertainment center, the windows need a good cleaning. There are too many toys floating around everywhere. I could never win any awards for my decorating style.
With all this though, I know my kids are happy and healthy. They aren't the ones that are complaining about toys strewn about, no curtains on the windows. None of this bothers them. They don't need to live in the perfect house. They are happy to be in a house that is filled with love. The one that when you enter it, you immediately know kids live there. I guess we have cornered the "lived in" look.
Somedays I wish I lived in a McMansion. I wish I had the means to buy new furniture, fix the back door that is in desperate need of being replaced. Buy curtains for every room of the house, paint the walls, get a new carpet. I am coming to terms with the fact that I am a single mom to 3 kids, that I am living on one income and that I guess I would much rather live where I live the life we have, enjoy the small things we can than have a new couch or new window treatments.
I admit I need to get better at the house upkeep. I need to not feel so overwhelmed when I walk through the door. I need to learn to purge some of the toys and the mess. I need to prioritize what is most important in the upkeep. Is it the new back door, new carpets, paint the walls, new furniture? If I sit and think about it I would say the door needs to be replaced first before I can get new carpet, because this defeats the purpose, and maybe before new carpet/flooring, the room could be painted. Then comes the new furniture.
I tell the kids all the time that I want to live in a grown up house. I don't want the toys invading all my space all the time.
Someday we will get there. For now we need to take it one day at a time.. and I need to always remember that practice makes better.. not perfect. No one should have to live up to the thought that things need to be perfect. To me, perfect is unattainable, perfect is something that no one can ever be. because the minute you get to where you think things are perfect, there is something that throws a wrench into that plan. There is no perfect life, there is no perfect house, there is no perfect child, there is no perfect relationship (altho don't tell my guy that....).
And what is perfect anyway? I see people that act like they have the perfect life. They portray that everything is perfect to people looking in from the outside. The wrapping is perfect, but at the end of the day, what lurks inside this perfect package is broken. It's a big old mess. I often wonder why people do this? Why portray that things are perfect? Is it done so that these people can feel superior to you? They get pride in making others feel inferior? Are they secretly jealous of your life. Of the love they can see. The love that comes from stickered walls, dirty faced kids, handprints on the windows, Popsicle wrappers strewn about. I lived the life where people thought I had the perfect relationship. The husband that adored me, the freedom to go out when I wanted to, the respect of a partner. What was never shown were the cracks that were on the inside. The cracks that became valleys, that became too big to overcome. When the marriage ended, it was a shock, because no one saw the cracks. They saw what I wanted them to see. They say the vase that Brady kids had glued back together. If they had stayed around a bit longer they would have noticed, that once the water was put into the vase, the cracks were evident. My advice is to let go of the image of perfect. Let people see the real story. The world would be a much better place if we all stopped pretending we were something we aren't.. If we stopped trying to be perfect, and aimed to be better.
I have enough internal struggle trying to be better than I am today, I can't put that much stress on me or my kids to be perfect.
I know this post is kind of all over the place (that's right people.. its not.. wait for it.. PERFECT...) . it's a lot like me though.. sometimes makes sense.. sometimes, not so much.
Friday, April 22, 2011
My miracles...
I am a few days late in posting this... but my "babies" turned 6 on Tuesday. 6 years have gone in the blink of an eye. I still can't believe it. I can fully remember clear as day being pregnant with the twins. I can actually back this up even further...
My twins... my miracles... my journey to have you begin when your brother turned 3. Your father and I decided we would pursue having another child. We started on the fertility road again. A road that I thought was going to be a cake walk. I mean, we knew what worked to have your brother, so it should be a breeze. Boy was I wrong. After months and months of shots and stopped cycles, I got the call that I had not been prepared for. I had to move to IVF. I remember crumpling into a heap on the floor crying. The fertility doctor telling me the news, apologizing profusely because I was such a nice lady and he was sorry that he could no longer help me in my quest for a child. I would need to start over at a new facility. We had started back down this road in February, it was now November and I was no closer to having a child. I look back and am not sure why I took the news that I would have to do IVF as such a death sentence. it wasnt like he uttered the words that I would NEVER have another child. I guess I was in shock that my body had betrayed me and gone further down on the conception scale. This would mean harder more intense procedures.
I booked my appt with the new center, I couldnt get in until January. UGH. 2 more months to wait. But then again, I had been going on this road for 9 months, what's two more to wait. Well this was just the initial consultation. Once I started on the path of the drugs and the retrievals. Well the clock starts ticking again. Your brother turned 4. Our quest was still ongoing.
I was put through a whole host of tests again, I was poked and prodded by everyone and anyone that was walking down the hall at the time. I learned to give myself shots and was subjected to shots twice a day at times. I went through 2 IVF transfers, only to have them fail. The 3rd try was the charm. This time I had 3 really good embryos, and a bunch more to be frozen. The decision was made to put back 3 embryos using assisted hatch. I know it was risky, the thought of triplets. Yikes. But I decided to throw caution to the wind. The transfer took place on August 14th. 7 months after my initial consult. And 1.5 years since we had gone back to try again.
I remember waiting the 2 weeks for the blood test. I remember wiping myself raw checking for blood in that time frame. This was always a dead give away that I wasnt pregnant. I always knew once the bleeding started. So I remember clearly the day I went in for blood work. They said they would call with results. This is one of the longest days of your life. Waiting and waiting all day. As I waited I wiped and wiped. The hours ticked on 12. 1. 2. 3. I was practically in tears when no call by 3. UGH. This could NOT be good news. Finally before I was ready to leave the office, I got the call. Congrats! It's positive. and the number is HIGH. This means it is most likely multiples. UGH.. Multiples? REALLY? I went in to make sure the number doubled. Oh it did. It skyrocketed. Then there was the ultrasound to confirm.
I recall the tech saying. Oh there are 2. But one of their heartbeats was weak. I had to come back in a few days to watch and see if both would be viable.
It was a scary time. Waiting. I went back and both heartbeats were strong. I was pregnant. With twins. And so my journey began.
I had a great pregnancy. I looked fantastic, I felt fantastic. I had two little beings growing inside of me. I was deemed high risk so I went weekly to the doctor, and at 28 weeks I was pulled from work. It was nice to have the time with your brother before you were born. We spent a lot of time going to our favorite store. Target.
I spent every monday at the hospital having an NST done. Miss Ava you were always the little dickens. You would kick your brother something fierce. I always said to the nurses, oh she's a spitfire that one. And you sure are. You are definitely sassy. Braeden was always my laid back and content one. He just took whatever it was that Ava gave him. Like he still does today.
In the mean time your brother turned 5.
I cant believe it has been 6 years. I remember the Csection and the doctor delivering you both. I was in the hospital because my blood pressure had sky rocketed. I had a scheduled Csection for the next week. The doctor came to check me and said I was a time bomb. He needed to take the babies NOW. Within the hour you were born. I was in a panic because your father was on his way to the hospital. I had no way of reaching him. Would he make it to witness the birth?
Braeden came out screaming, Ava in true Diva form had to give everyone a run for their money, and came out not making much of a sound. I panicked that something was wrong. But then I heard it. The sounds of my two babies crying.
I loved you from the moment I saw the picture of you as embryos. I was so happy when I learned I was having twins. I had your names picked out before I even knew you were boy-girl twins. You have been loved from the beginning.
My sweet Braeden, you have your struggles with your sensory issues, but I am so proud of you. You are my saving grace. You melt my heart with your big freckles and infectious smile. You are my truly sweet sensitive boy. You give me the biggest hugs and love to snuggle with me.
My beautiful Ava. My gorgeous daughter. You are so smart and full of life. You know what you want and are not afraid to take it. I hope this spunk continues throughout your life. You are definitely not a shrinking violet. You have an opinion and you let everyone know it. You are a force to be reckoned with.
Mommy loves you both so much. I look at you and hear your laughter and no matter what stress I am feeling, I melt. Nothing else matters but the love that we have for eachother.
I know the past few years have not been easy. Our family has gone through many changes, you were little when it all happened. I have felt guilty for disrupting your little lives. For creating all the changes and the strife. But I am proud to say that we have gotten through the hump together. I will not and cannot say that there will not be other times of struggles in our future, but I know I am giving you the tools and the love to get through anything. Together we can do whatever needs to get done.
My babies... 6 years old.... You kids are my love and my life. My little miracles. I never thought I could have enough love for 3 kids, but I do. I have more love for all of you than you can ever know.
My twins... my miracles... my journey to have you begin when your brother turned 3. Your father and I decided we would pursue having another child. We started on the fertility road again. A road that I thought was going to be a cake walk. I mean, we knew what worked to have your brother, so it should be a breeze. Boy was I wrong. After months and months of shots and stopped cycles, I got the call that I had not been prepared for. I had to move to IVF. I remember crumpling into a heap on the floor crying. The fertility doctor telling me the news, apologizing profusely because I was such a nice lady and he was sorry that he could no longer help me in my quest for a child. I would need to start over at a new facility. We had started back down this road in February, it was now November and I was no closer to having a child. I look back and am not sure why I took the news that I would have to do IVF as such a death sentence. it wasnt like he uttered the words that I would NEVER have another child. I guess I was in shock that my body had betrayed me and gone further down on the conception scale. This would mean harder more intense procedures.
I booked my appt with the new center, I couldnt get in until January. UGH. 2 more months to wait. But then again, I had been going on this road for 9 months, what's two more to wait. Well this was just the initial consultation. Once I started on the path of the drugs and the retrievals. Well the clock starts ticking again. Your brother turned 4. Our quest was still ongoing.
I was put through a whole host of tests again, I was poked and prodded by everyone and anyone that was walking down the hall at the time. I learned to give myself shots and was subjected to shots twice a day at times. I went through 2 IVF transfers, only to have them fail. The 3rd try was the charm. This time I had 3 really good embryos, and a bunch more to be frozen. The decision was made to put back 3 embryos using assisted hatch. I know it was risky, the thought of triplets. Yikes. But I decided to throw caution to the wind. The transfer took place on August 14th. 7 months after my initial consult. And 1.5 years since we had gone back to try again.
I remember waiting the 2 weeks for the blood test. I remember wiping myself raw checking for blood in that time frame. This was always a dead give away that I wasnt pregnant. I always knew once the bleeding started. So I remember clearly the day I went in for blood work. They said they would call with results. This is one of the longest days of your life. Waiting and waiting all day. As I waited I wiped and wiped. The hours ticked on 12. 1. 2. 3. I was practically in tears when no call by 3. UGH. This could NOT be good news. Finally before I was ready to leave the office, I got the call. Congrats! It's positive. and the number is HIGH. This means it is most likely multiples. UGH.. Multiples? REALLY? I went in to make sure the number doubled. Oh it did. It skyrocketed. Then there was the ultrasound to confirm.
I recall the tech saying. Oh there are 2. But one of their heartbeats was weak. I had to come back in a few days to watch and see if both would be viable.
It was a scary time. Waiting. I went back and both heartbeats were strong. I was pregnant. With twins. And so my journey began.
I had a great pregnancy. I looked fantastic, I felt fantastic. I had two little beings growing inside of me. I was deemed high risk so I went weekly to the doctor, and at 28 weeks I was pulled from work. It was nice to have the time with your brother before you were born. We spent a lot of time going to our favorite store. Target.
I spent every monday at the hospital having an NST done. Miss Ava you were always the little dickens. You would kick your brother something fierce. I always said to the nurses, oh she's a spitfire that one. And you sure are. You are definitely sassy. Braeden was always my laid back and content one. He just took whatever it was that Ava gave him. Like he still does today.
In the mean time your brother turned 5.
I cant believe it has been 6 years. I remember the Csection and the doctor delivering you both. I was in the hospital because my blood pressure had sky rocketed. I had a scheduled Csection for the next week. The doctor came to check me and said I was a time bomb. He needed to take the babies NOW. Within the hour you were born. I was in a panic because your father was on his way to the hospital. I had no way of reaching him. Would he make it to witness the birth?
Braeden came out screaming, Ava in true Diva form had to give everyone a run for their money, and came out not making much of a sound. I panicked that something was wrong. But then I heard it. The sounds of my two babies crying.
I loved you from the moment I saw the picture of you as embryos. I was so happy when I learned I was having twins. I had your names picked out before I even knew you were boy-girl twins. You have been loved from the beginning.
My sweet Braeden, you have your struggles with your sensory issues, but I am so proud of you. You are my saving grace. You melt my heart with your big freckles and infectious smile. You are my truly sweet sensitive boy. You give me the biggest hugs and love to snuggle with me.
My beautiful Ava. My gorgeous daughter. You are so smart and full of life. You know what you want and are not afraid to take it. I hope this spunk continues throughout your life. You are definitely not a shrinking violet. You have an opinion and you let everyone know it. You are a force to be reckoned with.
Mommy loves you both so much. I look at you and hear your laughter and no matter what stress I am feeling, I melt. Nothing else matters but the love that we have for eachother.
I know the past few years have not been easy. Our family has gone through many changes, you were little when it all happened. I have felt guilty for disrupting your little lives. For creating all the changes and the strife. But I am proud to say that we have gotten through the hump together. I will not and cannot say that there will not be other times of struggles in our future, but I know I am giving you the tools and the love to get through anything. Together we can do whatever needs to get done.
My babies... 6 years old.... You kids are my love and my life. My little miracles. I never thought I could have enough love for 3 kids, but I do. I have more love for all of you than you can ever know.
Monday, April 11, 2011
Passing the torch...
This weekend I did something that I know very few can fathom. I stood witness to my ex husband getting married. I was one of the few people invited to the wedding. Yes, I was there for the kids sake, but I was actually invited to the ceremony, not just invited to bring the kids to it.
It was a very simple ceremony and it was really lovely. It was weird to stand there and watch someone pledge to someone else, what they once pledged to you.
I have always prided myself on being able to put the needs of my kids before my own needs and feelings. My marriage ended, and while I was never bitter from it, I was severely damaged by it. It was a lot to go through, and I am still going through it. I still feel the aftershocks of the earthquake. Yes, the earthquaked happened almost 4 years ago now, but still, the aftershocks still have an affect on me.
My ex and I have a great relationship. We have managed to do what so many cannot do, we have maintained a civil and loving relationship for the true benefit of the kids.
It was really hard to go through the separation and divorce and watch the kids suffer for it. There were definitely times when I didn't think any of us would make it out alive.
But we did. And we did it together. All of us. Both my ex and I. We made sure to handle the situation as civil as we could. Neither of us believed in belittling the the other one. We always treated each other with the utmost respect.
Our marriage didn't work out. We were not destined to have the fairytale ending. Our series had a finale. We were not ones to go the complete distance. We did the half marathon. If was all that was written in our story. Our book was only supposed to have the set amount of chapters. Our story had a beginning, a middle and an end.
I was glad to be able to go and stand there and witness my ex, the father of my children, marry someone that is probably better suited for him. To watch him start the new book of his life. This book will have some of the same characters, but it goes in a completely different direction.
I was so proud to stand there and watch our three kids be able to participate in this special day with their dad. They were so grown up and I was able to look on and watch with love. To see how much love my ex has for our kids, and to see how much love my kids have for him and their new stepmother.
Saturday I officially passed on the torch of Mrs. Roberts. I am no longer Mrs. Roberts. My turn at playing Mrs. Roberts has ended. It's anothers turn. I wish my ex and his new wife a world of happiness. I can only hope that they will go the distance, and that the kids will know only happiness when it comes this marriage.
I want the kids to see positive strong adult relationships. I want them to see what a happy solid marriage looks like. I never want them to view marriage and relationships in a negative way. I have taken great pains to avoid that. I have taken great pains to not have them be witness to the negativity. When I would be upset or hurt about the demise of my marriage, I never let the kids see that. I never once talked poorly about their father. I never want them to ever think anything but good positive thoughts about their father and his new wife.
My family is now considered non traditional. My kids have a mother and father, yes, that's traditional, but now they have a few extra people thrown in to the mix. When they question what life will have in store, how this new person fits in, I tell them that there are more people to love them. And being loved by a lot of people, that is a great thing.
Life is hard. The kids have learned this lesson at a young age. You try your best to protect them from harm. I carry guilt for inflicting a lot of the harm on them, but at the end of the day, I know that I have tried to do my best for them. To keep them safe, to love them, to protect them to the best of my ability. I could have easily stayed for the sake of the kids. I chose to go for the sake of the kids. and in the end, that was the best decision for all of us. We could have stayed together and tried to pretend, but I think had we attempted that, then the outcome would have been different. There might have been less civility. There might have been resentment. There might have been fighting and disrespect. There might have been nasty comments made, and put downs. There might have been so much tension you could cut it with a knife. Silence that was so loud its deafening. Before any of that had a chance to happen, we parted ways. We continued to move the ball forward and get in a better position. A position that would benefit and help shape the lives of our kids. Some things aren't worth saving, some things need to be ended in order for new and better things to begin.
And this is where I am today. New and better things are in store for me. The torch is officially passed.
In closing I wish my ex and his new wife, a lifetime of love and happiness.
Here are some pictures from the wedding.
It was a very simple ceremony and it was really lovely. It was weird to stand there and watch someone pledge to someone else, what they once pledged to you.
I have always prided myself on being able to put the needs of my kids before my own needs and feelings. My marriage ended, and while I was never bitter from it, I was severely damaged by it. It was a lot to go through, and I am still going through it. I still feel the aftershocks of the earthquake. Yes, the earthquaked happened almost 4 years ago now, but still, the aftershocks still have an affect on me.
My ex and I have a great relationship. We have managed to do what so many cannot do, we have maintained a civil and loving relationship for the true benefit of the kids.
It was really hard to go through the separation and divorce and watch the kids suffer for it. There were definitely times when I didn't think any of us would make it out alive.
But we did. And we did it together. All of us. Both my ex and I. We made sure to handle the situation as civil as we could. Neither of us believed in belittling the the other one. We always treated each other with the utmost respect.
Our marriage didn't work out. We were not destined to have the fairytale ending. Our series had a finale. We were not ones to go the complete distance. We did the half marathon. If was all that was written in our story. Our book was only supposed to have the set amount of chapters. Our story had a beginning, a middle and an end.
I was glad to be able to go and stand there and witness my ex, the father of my children, marry someone that is probably better suited for him. To watch him start the new book of his life. This book will have some of the same characters, but it goes in a completely different direction.
I was so proud to stand there and watch our three kids be able to participate in this special day with their dad. They were so grown up and I was able to look on and watch with love. To see how much love my ex has for our kids, and to see how much love my kids have for him and their new stepmother.
Saturday I officially passed on the torch of Mrs. Roberts. I am no longer Mrs. Roberts. My turn at playing Mrs. Roberts has ended. It's anothers turn. I wish my ex and his new wife a world of happiness. I can only hope that they will go the distance, and that the kids will know only happiness when it comes this marriage.
I want the kids to see positive strong adult relationships. I want them to see what a happy solid marriage looks like. I never want them to view marriage and relationships in a negative way. I have taken great pains to avoid that. I have taken great pains to not have them be witness to the negativity. When I would be upset or hurt about the demise of my marriage, I never let the kids see that. I never once talked poorly about their father. I never want them to ever think anything but good positive thoughts about their father and his new wife.
My family is now considered non traditional. My kids have a mother and father, yes, that's traditional, but now they have a few extra people thrown in to the mix. When they question what life will have in store, how this new person fits in, I tell them that there are more people to love them. And being loved by a lot of people, that is a great thing.
Life is hard. The kids have learned this lesson at a young age. You try your best to protect them from harm. I carry guilt for inflicting a lot of the harm on them, but at the end of the day, I know that I have tried to do my best for them. To keep them safe, to love them, to protect them to the best of my ability. I could have easily stayed for the sake of the kids. I chose to go for the sake of the kids. and in the end, that was the best decision for all of us. We could have stayed together and tried to pretend, but I think had we attempted that, then the outcome would have been different. There might have been less civility. There might have been resentment. There might have been fighting and disrespect. There might have been nasty comments made, and put downs. There might have been so much tension you could cut it with a knife. Silence that was so loud its deafening. Before any of that had a chance to happen, we parted ways. We continued to move the ball forward and get in a better position. A position that would benefit and help shape the lives of our kids. Some things aren't worth saving, some things need to be ended in order for new and better things to begin.
And this is where I am today. New and better things are in store for me. The torch is officially passed.
In closing I wish my ex and his new wife, a lifetime of love and happiness.
Here are some pictures from the wedding.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Back in the day....
I stumbled upon a CD of mixed songs from "back in the day"... Well I had no choice but to "stumble" on them, as the radio in my car is on the fritz... (sad sad sad...)
I have spent the better part of the day reminiscing through these songs and the songs of my youth. I have been reliving my life through these songs. It's pretty amazing how a song can bring you back to some place. It amazes me how music can really move you.
I have been thinking back to my highschool days. All the fun I had with my friends. What is truly mind blowing is that I am friends with this same group today. The fact that our friendship has stood the test of time. It really is something.
I can see these girls and we can still laugh and engage the same way that we did back 20 years ago. I wonder how many people can say that?
These are the girls that have been with me through thick and thin. They are the ones that stood next to me and held me up when I was down. They are the ones that laughed and cried with me. They did this for me 20+ years ago, and they are still doing it today.
They are the same group of girls that stood with me and cried when I cried at the death of my Nana. They are the ones that were there to pick up the pieces of my failed relationships. The crushes in High school to the demise of my marriage. They have stood there and been side by side with me through it all.
Whenever a call is made that one of us is in trouble or needs something, we all come running. No matter what is going on in our own lives, we make the time to be present when one of us needs the other.
I am truly blessed. I am so blessed that I have the memories with these girls and more importantly that I continue to make memories with them.
We still all bring something unique to the table. We still have our own opinions and thoughts and ideas. We are all still unique individuals.
I am proud to have had these girls there celebrating my marriage and then subsequently my divorce.
It's a testament to our bond. I am not sure how many people can truly say they have had friends for a good 20 years. Someone they can call or chat with at a moments notice. Of course I have added some new friends to the mix. Friends from College, form various jobs, from later in life, but I still have the core group I had in highschool. We are still a force to be reckoned with. Forget it if you are on the dance floor and we step in the room!
Here we are through the years:
I have spent the better part of the day reminiscing through these songs and the songs of my youth. I have been reliving my life through these songs. It's pretty amazing how a song can bring you back to some place. It amazes me how music can really move you.
I have been thinking back to my highschool days. All the fun I had with my friends. What is truly mind blowing is that I am friends with this same group today. The fact that our friendship has stood the test of time. It really is something.
I can see these girls and we can still laugh and engage the same way that we did back 20 years ago. I wonder how many people can say that?
These are the girls that have been with me through thick and thin. They are the ones that stood next to me and held me up when I was down. They are the ones that laughed and cried with me. They did this for me 20+ years ago, and they are still doing it today.
They are the same group of girls that stood with me and cried when I cried at the death of my Nana. They are the ones that were there to pick up the pieces of my failed relationships. The crushes in High school to the demise of my marriage. They have stood there and been side by side with me through it all.
Whenever a call is made that one of us is in trouble or needs something, we all come running. No matter what is going on in our own lives, we make the time to be present when one of us needs the other.
I am truly blessed. I am so blessed that I have the memories with these girls and more importantly that I continue to make memories with them.
We still all bring something unique to the table. We still have our own opinions and thoughts and ideas. We are all still unique individuals.
I am proud to have had these girls there celebrating my marriage and then subsequently my divorce.
It's a testament to our bond. I am not sure how many people can truly say they have had friends for a good 20 years. Someone they can call or chat with at a moments notice. Of course I have added some new friends to the mix. Friends from College, form various jobs, from later in life, but I still have the core group I had in highschool. We are still a force to be reckoned with. Forget it if you are on the dance floor and we step in the room!
Here we are through the years:
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