He Didn't Strip in Applebees: Progress!

Wednesdays are my long day at work.  I work between 9 1/2 to 10 hours.  The last thing I want to do when I get home is make dinner.

So last night I took the boys out to Applebees.

Everything was going fairly well.  When all of a sudden Brian stands up in the booth and says quietly, "Ohno, ohno, ohno, ohno. Imma imma imma wet!"  I look down and there is a tiny spot of liquid on his shorts.  He didn't spill anything, just the condensation on the outside of his cup had rubbed against the fabric.

Trying to use my calmest voice I reassure him, "Oh it is a little wet.  It's fine though Brian."  Inside my head I'm thinking, "Once again I didn't pack extra clothes.  The kid is going to strip and I'm going to have to take off my cardigan and figure out how to make shorts with it." (True story, actually it's happened quite a few times.)

Brian's voice becomes a bit louder, "Imma Wet!!"

A couple of minutes pass and he yells it really loud, "IMMA WET!!"

People are starting to look over at us as I'm trying to blot the nonexistent-wet spot and my seven-year-old child is jumping on the seat and flapping his hands and repeating, "IMMA WET! IMMA WET!"

I place my hands on his cheeks, pull his face to mine, and say, "I know you're wet but we're inside and you need to use an inside voice.  It's all dry now.  You need to sit down."

He smiles at me, like a laughing smile, and whispers, "Imma wet", and then sits back down.  He sits down and just starts giggling.

I think he got a kick out of his little show he put on.

I want to celebrate that he didn't strip in public.  However, I'm a tad fearful that he is starting to find his public outbursts humorous.

The Never-Empty Nest.

Tuesdays Corbin has speech therapy.  Brian and I go and we stay in the waiting room (though now we get to hang out in the office since I'm an employee there).  He packs his iPad and is giddy with excitement that he gets to watch a movie on it for an hour.  I cherish the time to just read a magazine.  Just relax and fill my head with nonsense.

Usually I make mental lists of things I want to buy, but then never buy.  Or make notes of an easy exercise routine that I also never do.  Today was another story.

I picked up a copy of a happy looking Good Housekeeping and ended up being sucked into a story about a family with two adult children with Fragile-X syndrome.  My hour a week that I cherish to not think about anything too important turned into a sob-fest.  For real, I had tears in my eyes.  I was very thankful I was tucked away in the office away from the prying eyes of other parents.

The Never-Empty Nest.  That's what the title of the story was.  That should give you an idea right there of why I was crying.  Yes, the story was beautiful in a way.  The love the mother has for her children is so touching and so real, especially the part of the story where she says that she'll listen to the same verse in a song 87 times back-to-back because she wants to give them happiness while she knows she can.  She doesn't know if their future will be happy, when she is gone or unable to care for them, so she wants to make sure their present is as great as it can be.  I warned you- tearjerker!

It's nice to see stories like this popping up, even if it makes me face my own demons and fears.  I really am frightened about the future of our children (not just mine) as the numbers continue to climb for those who have disabilities, not just autism.  For parents like the mother in this story, and for myself, there are no acceptable placements for our children.  It's immensely scary.

But for now I will take advice from the mother in the story and steal her mantra- "I never think past dinner time."

Our New Babysitter

Today marked another first for our family.

It was the first day with our new babysitter.

We've never used an outside babysitter.  I've always just had family or close friends do the job for me.

I found a wonderful girl who has just finished up her teaching degree in three years.  She's the oldest of six children who were all home-schooled.  She is a volunteer with the adult literacy program at the library.  And she's going back to school in the fall to get her Masters in Special Education.

Could she be any more perfect?

Today was only half-a-day of work and when I came home she was building a train track with Brian.  She told me that he gave her a hug during the day and even did some foot-tapping to her.  (Foot-tapping: one of Brian's OCD behaviors where he needs to tap both of your feet with his own feet.)  I think that's a good sign.

Then she tells me, "Corbin discovered one of my little quirks."

I stand there, waiting, thinking to myself: I knew she couldn't be perfect.

"He found out how much I like picking up rooms and finding homes for all the toys."

Sweet.  Jackpot.  She can clean any room in the house if she really wants to.

Seriously, I really like this girl.  She gives off such a great vibe.  She is certainly making this transition easier for the person who was having the hardest time with this change....ME.

I Don't Always Think Things Through.

Who was the genius that told her sister she should buy Brian balls that we could put inside of his BodySox for some sensory-type activities?

Yup, that was me.

Doh.

Absence

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Not that I was ever at any loss for love for my two boys.

But seeing them yesterday after seven days of them being gone was surreal.

A grin spread from ear to ear that I couldn't lose no matter how I tried.

I hugged them so hard that I heard Brian gasp for air.

I didn't want to let them go.

Corbin kept repeating, "I've missed you so much Mom.  I've missed you so much Mom.", while snuggling into the familiar crook of my arm.

Brian kept doing his OCD routine of touching both arms, both cheeks, both feet.  Then starting all over again.  Checking to see if it was really me.

My babies are back home and everything seems right in the world again.

How Good is Your A-dar?

Would you know he has autism?

If you are not familiar with autism, I don't think you would.

I think if you are a parent of a child with autism, you might.

Just look at the position of those hands.

Really that's the only thing that gives it away.

But to me, that is a real telltale sign.

What do you think?

I mean, besides the fact that you think he is the most adorable little boy on the planet.

Strange Places.

For a boy who demands comfort in so many things...

Comfort in clothing....

Comfort in routines....

Comfort with thumb-sucking.....

You sure do pick the STRANGEST places to lie down and relax.

Our new kitchen table has become a favorite resting spot.

Hanging out inside the van during one of Corbin's rainy baseball games...
Brian decided to lie across the top of the seat for a lengthy period of time.