There are days when I think it would be easier to set fire to my house rather than muddle though the extreme mess any longer! Mess goes hand in hand with children. I remember my room as a kid. I used to make trails though the clutter just to get to my bed and closet. But I was a girl. Clutter meant tiny plastic toys, wooden blocks, tons of stuffed critters and paper crafts. Anyone living with a boy will understand that the kind of mess we deal with daily is filth! Mud, dirt, sticks, snakes, bugs, dead things, leaves, more dirt, worms that have a dirt of their own, slime and our latest… slugs. Joy!

I make messes of my own and have enough time and energy in the day to make and clean up my mess, provide for my families most basic food needs and then sit down for a rest. My son lives surrounded by clutter. He feels awkward without it. It’s his compulsion to create chaos within his surroundings. I’ve become accustomed to it. Learned to look past most of it.

On occasion I secretly sneak into their bedroom or toy room at night with my garbage sack and toss broken or annoying things. I then stuff the bag far down into the outside garbage and cover the bags with at least 5 feet of the stinkiest of garbage to discourage dumpster diving. You think that the bag going into that garbage would be sufficient, but no! Not with Jonah lurking around. I cannot tell you how many times my child has brought to me broken, smelly, dirty, smashed ‘things’ that I’ve tossed and that he’s dug out of the garbage! Then I have to put on my midnight bandit gear and head back into the room late at night for a clean swoop of the things I’d already tossed that were now growing strange smelly things all over them! I’ve learned that the best time to stuff the dumpster is the evening before garbage day. It much reduces my chances of reliving the scenes from Toy Story about sad toys who know their demise. I know they are all watching me and I do feel guilty every time I toss a toy that ‘looks at me’! And the WORST example of toy tossing guilt was when I tossed no other than Jonah’s Buzz Lightyear! This poor toy had lost both arms, wings were left dangling. He was just a torso with a head and a sound box. I kept that sad, sad toy around for over a year all broken and never played with out of guilt. I finally sucked it up and tossed the poor toy down into a crevice on the right side of the garbage can. But every time I opened that garbage lid and tossed something in, it triggered his sound box and I heard him shout ‘This is an intergalactic emergency!’ Imagine my horror.

Mess is mess. I have come to accept it, although I greatly despise it. My husband literally twitches when he comes into the house. The carpet creeps him out. He complains of ‘smells’ coming from the children’s room. Says their bathroom smells like a train station. I suspect he holds his breath most of the time while in the house. Too bad there’s not an app to remove bad smells. I am only one person, and a very hard working one at that. I cannot accomplish it all and when I consider what it would take to have that tidy little pinterest house I know it’s just not worth it to constantly fret about it. There’s better things to fret about, like in just 4 short years my boy’s childhood will nearly be extinct. In a few short years my kiddos will have grown enough to hopefully keep the mess down and then it will just be me and my mess (because my husband claims he makes none) and I will miss the little people who once cluttered my house and cultivated many of my grey hairs.

I recently read a blog post about clutter and friendship. The author claimed that once the mess got out of control in her house, she felt so bad that she stopped having people over. That she might need to de-friend some of her friends because they could not accept her because of the condition of her house. She encouraged those who came over for a visit to look past the mess, sit on her laundry filled couch and have a real conversation with her as a person. This hit home! I’ve stopped entertaining because of this exact reason! Not that I was much of an entertainer to begin with, but at one point we did have people over for dinner or a BBQ or to come watch a movie. The thought of having company over hasn’t entertained my thoughts for years because I just don’t have it in me to tidy my house for the critics. If you want to come over that’s great! But understand that it’s crazy here and you might run into a few worms or even worse… a slug.

I have always lived in a sort of organized chaos. I’m sure that’s why God picked me to be Jonah’s mom. I understand the need to create and creating causes mess before it results in something beautiful. Jonah has always been hands on and has a need for open space. His vice is digging. With his hands, with a shovel, with a rock, with the cats tail. It doesn’t matter. If he can use it, he will dig with it.

Living with Jonah is much like living with a loveable Labrador. We had a few of those growing up. These dogs were kind, and smelly and messy and we loved them. Yes, Jonah is much like a Labrador. He needs lots of exercise or he’ll chew up your stuff, or cut it or smash it or tear it apart with his little fingers. So, we gave him a digging hole. And he digs a lot! He says he’s excavating and that he’s building a sidewalk. He fills his ‘work zone’ with water (his other obsession), creates the perfect consistency of mud and begins to dig trenches. He fills these trenches with his perfect mud concoction and smooths it down, pats it and lets it dry. It’s actually quite brilliant. His understanding for these things is beyond me.

Jonah has a boss. He’s had him since he was 2. His name is Kink.  I’m sure his boss is really his alter ego. This man does amazing things! And he’s great at construction. The things this man has done. He’s brilliant! Jonah also has workers. Gotta have someone to boss around right?! His workers are Box and Rocks. They aren’t around as much anymore. Maybe they have moved on to a new construction company? One time Box was involved in an accident in his white truck. It was fatal. But he miraculously came back to life ‘just like Jesus’ at the hospital! It only took him hours to heal up and get back on the job. Awesome for Box!

Jonah has his needs to dig, to feel the sun on his face and breath the fresh air and to make those amazing boy messes. So we let him. It causes problems at times, can be destructive and travels from yard to house, but I have to let him dig. He deserves his space. He’s not a scrapbooker, he’s a mudder. He doesn’t make cards, he makes mud murals. There’s beauty in that too. Beauty in the way his mind works. Beauty in his vision to build a hospital. These developing skills will benefit him in the future. He is channeling his interests and showing us his ‘love language’.

I’ve learned so much from this boy through simply observing him. He needs his workers and his boss to build his confidence. He role plays construction situations that are so similar to the real world. I’ve been commended by the autism specialists for allowing him to dig and giving him an outlet and space to be… Jonah. That’s what’s important to me. To allow my children to be themselves and to enjoy what they do best. This confidence in excelling at home, at something he loves, will help him build a foundation of success in the ‘real world’. His skills are practical and I am very excited to see what he does with himself as he gets older!

Mess is mess and it is temporary. I have future plans for new furniture, clean carpets and lots of entertaining dinner parties, but that can wait for now. I really do understand the cheesey quote ‘ Please excuse the mess, the children are making memories.’ It’s enough of a part of my life it could be my motto! So, I rest easy tonight amongst the clutter and the dirt on the carpets and the thought of that slug that did not remain in it’s container. Because outside, on the wall of the house my children left me a love note. Something so messy, that will be so hard to clean up, but also something so precious that I plan to keep it there for just a little longer 🙂 I love my kids and I choose to accept their mess.

~Tracy

My daughter has a skirt that she absolutely loves. She wears it on all occasions, but she favors it most over her grey leopard print jeggings. I bought her this skirt just before Halloween from Walmart. It had no price tag so I got it for $4 with the warning that I would not be allowed to return it. No worries. I knew from the beginning it was not going back. There was only one, just like there is only one Mickey.

It has a tye dye under layer and a black spiderweb mesh that hangs over the color. It’s soft and light and she loves it! She knows it’s a Halloween skirt, but I predict she will be wearing it until it simply does not fit any longer. All winter she has worn this skirt, her leopard print jeggins, her royal blue kitty shirt and her pink and blue heart rain boots. And she trots around with her curly hair bobbing down over her shoulders with a spunk like no other. She is my Mickey. She is unique in every way and an inspiration to me to live life to it’s fullest and to not fear to be who I enjoy being!

Mickey spent the first 15 months of her life strapped to my back in a backpack. She was not a happy baby. She didn’t laugh much, nor did she smile. She cried and fussed… a lot. The backpack was my only solution. So what was that little baby doing for all of that time on my back? I believe she was watching. From the very start she watched her brother. She watched him play, watched him scream, watched him smack her across the face with his drumsticks (ouch!!). She watched everything I did. And apparently she learned.

Aside from her extreme timid nature, Mickey was a normal baby. She developed her skills right along with the other babies. She learned to talk at an average rate. But at 21 months she did something not so average, at least for me. We had just come home from a week long vacation in Sunriver and the week before vacation she was trying to use the potty. I assumed she was just being curious and didn’t allow for any of that on vacation, but the day after we got back, she took herself to the potty and said,

‘This is how we do it.

We pee on the potty.’

And that was it! A week later she was awarded with her very own pretty pack of panties and not long after that she refused a pull up at night because Jonah wasn’t using one! I understand now that all of her watching was also the result of a lot of learning and a lot thinking. She spent the time to put two and two together and has continued to watch, think and learn at this same rate.

I have had the joy of having a ‘bonus’ year with Mickey this past school year. Her 5th birthday was in December so she missed the cutoff for Kindergarten by a few months. She is ready for preschool, but we simply could not afford to send her. I think that’s okay. Mickey has grown in wit and confidence in just this past year. It was once my fear that she would never adjust to social situations. We spent many hours trying to adjust her to the church nursery, leave her with a babysitter, leave her with grammy, sometimes even her daddy wasn’t welcome to hold her! I didn’t leave her with a sitter for the first two years of her life! It was extreme. So extreme that I despised her! She overwhelmed me in every way. She physically and mentally drained me. But that has changed. Those clingy years seem so long ago, but as I think about them they bring back the difficult memories.

Mickey has always looked to Jonah for her confidence. I believe they both owe each other greatly for the people that they are. They are a symbiotic pair that would not have ever developed as individuals without each other. Jonah exudes boldness. He has no fear and lacks tact. My biggest fear for my children was that they would follow in my footsteps of crippling childhood shyness. Mickey is the perfect storm for the ultimately shy child, but her brother has rescued her from this demise. She’s watched him interact with people and she’s mimicked every move with wit and boldness. She is confidant because her brother has been the best teacher in the world of personality. He’s given her the ‘okay’ to come out of her shell and embrace life in a way I would have never predicted. Praise God for Jonah! I believe that God placed him in her life for just that reason. To rescue her from a life hiding in the shadows. He is a direct answer to my pleading prayers to not have shy children.

Now that Jonah has been in school and struggles socially, I believe the tables have turned and that Mickey has been Jonah’s rock. Her love, acceptance and tolerance for her brother has given him that strength to keep trying in school even though some days are so, so hard for him. He defined friendship to the autism specialist as:

‘someone who will listen to me, play what I want to play and loves me like my family. My sister is my best friend.’

Her impact on him is just as powerful as he has been for her. Together, they have created an inseparable bond and rely wholeheartedly on each other even though they now claim they do not always need each other. Well okay, they will grow apart, but they will also always posses a bond that is the foundation to who they are now and who they will become.

So, back to that skirt. Mickey’s baby and toddler years were rough. Without an understanding of where she’s come from it’s hard to appreciate who she is now. She is who she was meant to be and because of her tenacity and influence from those closest to her she is now growing into her personality.

This past weekend we went to Redding as a surprise trip for our kiddos. They were ecstatic! We stayed in a motel with a pool and took them to Turtle Bay where they got to see lots of animals and feed the lorikeets! While playing in the water feature, Jonah got a bit out of control and splashed a large girl dressed in all purple. She was at least 10 years old. In response to being splashed, she literally soaked my kids! This must have been an acceptable practice in the family because her mother, who stood no more than 10 feet away, watched in approval. My kids gasped out in a chorus of screams and tears as they came sobbing to us. ‘That big girl got us wet! She soaked us!’ Jonah’s response was that he hated her. He wanted to smash her face. Mickey was very unhappy as well, but took a different approach. She wanted to go into the reptile house and see the animals. She knew she needed to find a solution to her wet clothes and move on. After taking a few moments to compose herself she said, ‘Oh okay! I have an idea!’ She then ripped off her soaked shirt and pulled that little tye dye Halloween skirt up over her chest giving herself a skirt tube top! I could not help but laugh and thank her for her attitude and take plenty of pictures! What a refreshing twist to a sour situation. No face punching. Just a little attitude shifting and we were off to the reptile house!

This is what is so precious about my Mickey. She is practical. She is flexible and she is kind. Her love for life and animals and her family are evident. She tells me daily, sometimes hourly, how much she loves me. She is also honest, but in a 5 year old innocent sort of way. Just tonight she said, ‘daddy I love you, but I really love mommy more because she’s my mommy.’ Funny thing, I was the same way. I loved both of my parents, but I related to my mom the most and still have a bond with her that will stand the test of time. My Mickey sees life with a twist. I’m not sure where her comments come from. If I ask her to repeat them she can just like she was saying them for the first time! She is hilarious and truthful. Here are just a few Mickeyisms that I’ve remembered to record:

We saw a man walking into Target the other day wearing pink pants. Mickey’s response? ‘A man in pink pants?! What will they think of next?’

Tonight I told her the dentist wanted her to start flossing every night rather than every other night. ‘Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.’

Last week she caught the cats sniffing each other: ‘NO! Don’t do a butt sniffing contest!’

After playing with her beanie boos: ‘If my head was as big as a beanie boos… It would fall off! If my head was as big as a T-Rex… It would wobble off.’

On a Saturday morning when I just wanted to sleep in: ‘Why does it take you so long to get up in the morning?’ Me: ‘Because I’m an adult and I like to laze around.’ Mickey then says, ‘Daddy always sleeps around!’

After seeing a large pile of leaves this fall: ‘Holy nugget jumping cats!’

And the final silly story from a while back… We were in Portland at a hole in the wall eating establishment and Mickey had to use the potty. She proceeds to have a poo, looks down into the toilet and says, ‘It looks like a flower! I’m not done yet. I need to put another petal on it. Okay, I’m done making art now!’ Tmi? Maybe, but it was hilarious!

Childhood is fleeting. All parents feel that twinge of pain in their hearts as they consider how quickly their children have grown. Babies do not last. Toddlers toddle into children and children quickly move into preteens. It’s history from there! I cherish my littles, but daily I am focused on 18 and 21 and 25. Not because I want to rush them, but because I want every influence and impact I have on them count for that day that they start making those adult decisions on their own. Every day marks a world of growth in my children, but it also marks a day of growth in me. They are as much a part of me as I am them and they are forever changing me. I think different, act different and cherish time (or lack of) differently. And my dear Mickey, at 5 years old, imparts such wisdom in me that she stops me in my tracks. She is an old soul.

She told me the other day that it would not be fair for me to not let her grow up and move away. That it was her choice to make and her life to live. She promised to come visit, but said, ‘It’s my life to live. Enjoy me while I’m little because I won’t be little for very long and you should enjoy me for me now.’ Her 5 year old wisdom is deeper than many adults I know. Yes, it is her life to live and live well. It’s her time to discover, grow and challenge. She is a treasure, but just knowing that she understands this fact, that she will grow up and move on from me, breaks my heart! I almost felt a panic to grab her and demand she take it back! But she is right and I am proud of my girl for knowing and being brave enough to tell me. She is a treasure. Someday she will understand her impact on her mommy, her brother and all of those lucky enough to know her. I love my baby girl!

~Tracy~

When this time of year comes around I approach it with thoughtfulness and contemplation. Valentine’s Day. A day that never held much significance for my husband and I. It always seemed a little forced and more like a ‘Hallmark Holiday’ and we never had enough funds to scrape up for gifts and dinner anyway. If we celebrated, it was simple and we didn’t ever go out to the crowded restaurants. No need to make a fuss.

Now that we have children we are ‘forced’ to celebrate Valentine’s Day in a small way. My kids seem to find a reason to celebrate any day for any reason. The other day they celebrated the marriage of their toy Beanie Boos who were cousins and loved each other dearly. Well okay then…

Valentine’s Day does hold a significance for me now. It has since 2006, because it was the day that my father passed away. I remember that time like it was yesterday and although the pain of losing him from a 5 year agonizing battle with cancer at the time was bad enough, it is so much more evident these past few years. My children have no grandfather. They hardly have family. My mother has been a bright and shining light in their lives and has carried the role of grandparent, but until this past year, my son had no clue what a grandfather was. I explained to him that a grandfather was a man grammy. Lol! It took a while to sink in, but he has friends who have grandpa’s and after a while he not only understood, he longed for that missing figure in his life. While putting him to bed tonight he told me, ‘I wish I had grandpa all to myself. I wish he was here.’

As my children grow older, I often question God’s hand in taking my father home so early. He was only 60 when he died. He was full of life, active in his church, loving to his children and ready to take on the next chapter of his life with my mother. Why take him before he is finally blessed with a boy?! Why did he have to miss out on a grandson who is the spitting image of him with the exact love and passion for life? And why, oh why was it that I became pregnant with my little boy only two months after my father passed away?! A baby that we had waited to have for over three years was finally within our reach and the man who we thought would be enjoying this child with was gone. It was not a coincidence. It was an on purpose. It truly was God’s will, whether I or my mom or the rest of his friends and family wanted it or not. I accept that every day and instead of mourning his loss all these years later, I have tried my hardest to process those feelings of sadness and loss into creating memories of him for my children, so that he is real to them.

A month before Christmas this past year, Jonah came to me asking about fishing. Fishing has been a hot topic in his six year old boy ‘to-do’ list and something I was supposed to teach him last summer, but that goal for me was overridden with a busy wedding season. I’m committed now. He’s gotten me to promise to teach him as soon as spring hits the valley! When my father passed, I was given his most treasured possessions… his fly fishing vest and his fly rod. I was always my dad’s fishing buddy. Long after my dad had given up on the fish for the day, I was the one that kept us out on the water until the moon started to raise above the horizon. My father and I experienced many sunsets together, over pristine lakes and wild skies or the huge irrigation ditches of the Bosque Del Apache Wildlife refuge in New Mexico, where we fished for those huge catfish with fishing rods baited with nasty chicken livers. My dad didn’t fear the stuff. He lovingly baited my hook every time and would then hand the line over to me and say, ‘Go get the big one’. Maybe that’s why I’ve convinced my son that you fish with a fly and bobber. Not as messy and smelly!

As Jonah pelted me with questions about fishing and about his grandpa, I decided that I would introduce him to a few of his grandpa’s things. I got down the vest. It was full of brightly colored flies that my dad had tied himself. I showed Jonah the little forceps that my father used to remove the hooks from the fish’s mouth and the clippers that he would use to tie on a new fly. I explained how grandpa made the flies and how he managed to catch fish, about deep cool water where fish loved to rest and when the best time of day to catch a fish might be. He soaked it up. He asked more and more questions and begged to go fishing like grandpa. He then asked me about grandpa’s gun. My father’s other most treasured possession was his shotgun. He even had it specially designed for his short stature so the barrel is shorter than a normal shotgun. Jonah was amazed that I’d gone dove hunting with my dad a few times as a kid. Amazed that his mom could do something so exciting! This kid needs a grandpa! This kid is his grandpa! I put the vest over his little shoulders and it hung handsomely off him. Then we got out the shotgun. I explained safety briefly. Told him there was no ammo, but never to point it at anyone and that when he was old enough, his daddy would take him shooting. I let him hold the gun and carry it around. The kid was in heaven and hasn’t stopped talking about it since!!

Jonah and Mickey are at the age where family is everything to them. Not just mom and dad. Jonah craves close relationships with his extended family. He craves a relationship with his grandpa. But in a strange way, he has one. I knew my dad as a physical being. We fished together, lived together, fought together and grew up together. I miss him. Jonah knows a different person. He knows his grandpa is in heaven, that he died before Jonah was born and that his grandpa did cool things in nature. He has his own idea of what his grandpa is, not was. And interesting enough, I believe that because of my father’s once being alive and now living in heaven has helped Jonah understand the concept of God. He has never seen his grandpa, but knows he’s real and lives in heaven. Being able to understand this, has made God real to him as well. He’s told me so many times, ‘how can God be real if we can’t see or hear Him’. I’ve explained in various ways, but used the example of the wind. We can’t see or feel the wind, but it’s there and we can see the affects of the wind. The same is true with his grandpa. We can’t talk to him or hear him, but he was there and he was amazing and I’m here because of him! My husband and I knew him, he was married to grammy and we all have stories about him. I almost wonder if that was part of God’s plan for taking my dad so early and giving me my baby just weeks after his passing. Maybe it had something to do with Jonah’s faith. Jonah’s understanding of who God was because of his grandfather’s legacy.

I will never know God’s purpose for taking my dad at that moment, but I choose to persevere and work with what God has given me. He’s given me a little boy and a little girl who long for family. Where family togetherness is everything. A little boy who bears the physical crooked grin of my father and a little girl who has the same soft hazel eyes. I see him every day in my children. I hear him every day in my son’s loudness. I laugh from him every day in my daughter’s quirky sense of humor. I feel him everyday in my conviction and determination to stand up for what is right and make a stand for what I believe in. He was a strong man. The strongest I know. He has embedded in me an inner foundation of strength that leads to my odd comments and firm stance on issues. He probably had no idea what he imbedded deep down into my inner being, but I owe him everything for the woman I am today. And to honor him, to carry on his legacy, I plan to embed those same convictions and strengths into my children. His legacy will live on in me and in my children and God willing, in their children. Happy Valentine’s Day.

~Tracy~

Some days just do now flow well. This was one of those days. More so, one of those evenings. I had to run to the pharmacy after my husband came home from work today. The expectation back at home was to clean up from dinner, work on a little homework and have the kids in the bath so that we could make an easy transition into bed by the time I got home.

I was gone for about 45min. I should have stayed out longer. It is no secret that boys love worms. They love dirt too and water. My boy and his sister love these things and it is my son’s obsession to bring some sort of combination of them into the house. We have had the recreation of a swamp in our living room, complete with snakes and grubs. The bathroom sink has been transformed into a mud pit where secret bucket loads of material from Jonah’s outback digging pit have traveled into the house. This evening, as I returned from picking up my blood pressure medicine (wonder why I need that?), I walked into a house covered in mud and dirt with occasional worms. Muddy footprints tracking from the back door to the living room. Rich black dirt all over my recliner in the living room. An egg crate filled with dirt and worms on the couch. Little muddy hand prints slimmed down the front of the dishwasher and my kitchen table. And the best part? Some sort of water, black dirt, worm pit all over their bedroom.

No momma wants to see this, especially when they trusted that hubby was holding down the fort while she was gone for a bit. But hubby put it down straight when I demanded to know why this had happened under his watch. He simply said, ‘they do these things so fast and although I knew some of it was happening, I choose to walk away and let them play just like you let them do.’ That’s all it took to diffuse most of my frustration toward him because it’s true. You see, the boy acts so fast that you choose to pick your battles with him. Sometimes, we as parents just want a break. If you hear your children playing joyfully and know that they aren’t fighting for just a few moments, you take those few moments to give yourself a break or take that time to pay a few bills or check your facebook. I’m not saying it’s right, I’m just saying that we’ve learned to tune out some of those things that should be listened to!

To add to the frustration of the evening, the kid lost his homework. It’s gone. I had it last night… it’s fallen into that homework abyss that children love to lose things in. So, as they got into the bath to clean off some of that lovely worm dirt, I dove into cleaning up the bedroom. It was worse than I thought. I should have taken a picture! Worms and dirt mashed all over the carpet and their little table. Containers of muddy, wormy water placed all over the room. Mickey’s little wooden doll bed (something to never get wet let alone hold water) was now filled with enough water to house a fish. Yuck!! Are you kidding me?!! My final step after dumping water, confiscating items and wiping off mud, was to vacuum the nasty floor. But the black dirt was too wet to vacuum up. Instead, the rocks got sucked up and the dirt smeared into the carpet! It. Was. Horrible! And my feet and legs hurt so much from a day at work of constant standing that I was nearly in tears. Thanks to our carpet cleaner and my diligent husband the floor got a much needed shampooing and looks much better. We powered through, the kids got their lectures about no mud, dirt or worms in the house again… ever. Yeah right!

And then the kids get out of the bath… because there is broken glass in the bath! Really?! For whatever reason, Jonah brought a glass cup into the bath and Mickey dropped it. I’m surely relieved they didn’t get cut. I’m also thankful that they had the sense to get out instead of trying to pick it up themselves. It’s what happened next that summed up the entire evening. Jonah came out sulking in great hesitancy of telling me what had happened. This is when I know that he is powering though his guilt. Wrestling with the pain of disappointing me and his obligation to tell the truth. This is when I have to put on my pleasant face and push aside my anger and frustration. I have to look past the situation and look into the heart of my child. This is where the learning takes place and where character is built and it’s my duty to provide an atmosphere of acceptance and praise so that my son will choose the right choice instead of hiding in his guilt.

I reassured him that he can tell me the truth about what happened and he did. I accepted his answer, but also aired some frustration and Jonah melted down. He blamed himself and told me that whenever there’s a problem it’s because of him. That he is blamed for every thing that goes wrong at school and because of him and the things he does he has no friends at school. That he wants to have friends in class, but he ruins everything and no one wants to be around him or be his friend. If there is a problem, it is Jonah’s fault. This is the burden my little guy lives with everyday at school and at home. He then told me that because kids don’t want to be around him, he gets angry and hits them. I am both devastated by what he’s telling me and elated that he is processing these thoughts and emotions so clearly! Good job Jonah! You just explained a world of hurt and emotions that you experience daily at home and at school instead of raging and attacking me! Awesome job Jonah.

We can clean up the messes. We will address the issues. In time, they will calm. It is a process. Some days are much more difficult than others. But as my little guy shared with me what was really going on inside of him, I was able to take to heart what was important tonight. There’s no need to hold a grudge and hang the messy, muddy, wormy house mess over his head. We discussed the situation with him. He knows that level of mess is not welcome. He will try it again. That’s just what he does. But he also knows that he can trust his family. That we accept him for whatever he does and that we love him unconditionally. That’s what it’s all about in the end. Growing a child who is accountable to his actions and who can process his emotions and feelings. These are very difficult for Jonah, who has so often muddled though his emotions and lets them fly out with rages rather than words. As he went to bed tonight he was noticeably shaken. Still trying to process everything that had happened this evening as a result of the worm garden. But tomorrow I will try harder to accept my child and take notice of his good choices and give him responsibilities that he can acheive and compliments to help him feel good about himself. And I will go to bed tonight wondering if I’ve done enough and if I’ll be strong enough to keep it up tomorrow.

~Tracy~

I remember a specific time, when Jonah was 3, that I needed to make a trip to the local craft store to gather fabric for a Halloween costume that I was working on with a friend that evening. I had just put baby down for a nap and had a small window of time to go to the craft store, get my fabric and head to my friend’s house. For some insane reason, I offered to bring my son with me. I wanted to spend time with him. I explained to him that we were going to my most favorite store and that he needed to be a good boy and obey mommy. Looking back, I realize that I was either dreadfully naive or completely insane! Probably both because I suffered from major sleep deprivation and fantasy ideals of bringing my son into an environment that I enjoyed so he would too.

I let him look around the store and he ended up playing on the foam mats. But 3 year old boys quickly escalate semi-fun situations to ultimate-fun-destructive-crazy-loud (and embarrassing their mother) situations. Before I knew it, he was crazily pulling out twin sized foam mats onto the floor and jumping on them like a scene from WWF and dragging them throughout the isles, caking them with store floor dirt! Ahhhh!!! In my favorite store! My reputation was at stake here. I frequented this store! People knew who I was! I couldn’t risk getting kicked out!

It probably took me over 15 minutes to get him away from those mats and redirect him (kicking and screaming) to the fabric area. Once there, the fun continued. Jonah played peek-a-boo running crazily in and out of crowded fabric isles. I ran after. Tried to cut him off and catch him and finally gave up. I had to get my fabric. I was on a mission and a time constraint of course.

I finally picked what I needed and went to take my number realizing that there was a sea of faces surrounding the cutting table. I think I was number 725 and they were currently helping number 2! Ahhhh!!! Everyone in the entire valley had come to buy their last minuet halloween fabric. They were all clutching their precious 40 percent off coupons in their sweaty little hands. I considered leaving, but knew I was there to get the job done and was on a time constraint. How hard would it be to wait there with an antsy 3 year old? Again… insane and naive. We would have to wait. And wait. And wait. I believe it took around 45 miutes of waiting. It was a great bonding experience with my son. That’s what I wanted right? I ran after him through isles and isles of fabric, returned to the foam playland over and over again, and once I finally had a proper restraint on my son, he proceeded to lay on the floor and jam his little 3 year old foot into my crotch and kick me over and over and over!! If I picked him up, he punched me in the back, face and stomach. As soon as he was down on the ground the kicking to the crotch continued and out of my child came maniacal little laughs from a messed up little face that was torn with boredom and overstimulation.

And the people watched. All 724 of them. They scowled and looked disapprovingly at this mother that could not discipline her son properly. And I felt like a pile of slop being poured out all over the ground. Unfit and unworthy of being a parent and knowing that somewhere I had screwed up bad enough with my child, that I could not even control him in a simple fabric store! Overwhelmed with feelings that I was such a bad mom because I choose to bring him with me there, instead of the park. And because I had no choice of leaving and coming back without him. We were stuck and I had defeated my intentions to love and spend time with my son. Devastation, anger, resentment… I wanted to scream at the line of disapproving onlookers and say ‘Why can’t I go next?! Do you not see what I’m dealing with?!! I don’t know what’s wrong with him! It’s been like this every moment of my life since he was born! Don’t stare! Help me!! Help me!!’ But I said nothing. I suffered in silence. Sucked back the tears and put on a plastic face of calm and disinterest.

After a lifetime of waiting and a sore crotch, I walked up to the cutting counter. My son immediately took off back into the fabric. The onlookers continued to stare. I told the lady the dimensions. Did not engage in eye contact or conversation. But something did happen at that counter. My ‘inner red’ or my inner strength emerged. It was a defining moment for me. You see, I knew I was being judged. I knew I was being watched. I knew I had disappointed everyone in that fabric line. But it didn’t matter. They did not live my life. They didn’t see his turmoil, feel helpless for him during his inconsolable rages, love him more than life itself only to get attacked over and over and over. They didn’t matter and they were not kind. My son mattered and teaching him to control himself mattered and showing him unconditional love even when I wanted to knock him to the floor mattered. So I took my freshly cut fabric,  tackled the kid as he ran out of an isle, forcefully slung him over my shoulder and marched him to the checkout counter as he flailed, laughed maniacally and screamed guttural screams hanging backward over my shoulder. You’d think I was carting around a mini demon!

And then we got to the check out line… and all 724 people that had recently cut their fabric were waiting in at least a 45 minuet line, clutching their little precious 40 percent off coupons in their sweaty little hands. They all looked at me with my demon child slung over my shoulder as I walked to the front of the line and announced (very difficult for a major introvert) ‘I’m going next. You DO NOT want to wait in line with this child’. No one said a word. They looked at me in shock. I turned away, went to the next check out stand, forcefully plopped my kid down on the counter and made my purchase. The clerk did not exchange words with me and nor I with her.

I’m sure there were words exchanged after I left the store that day, but I don’t care. I’m still proud of myself for standing up for my rights as a mother to know when enough is enough and to put my foot down in front of a disapproving audience. You see, parents of children with disabilities struggle with more than any onlooker could ever, ever understand. What you see from an autistic child’s melt down at a store is something that parent sees every hour or every day, or so it seems. When my child is raging, he is absolutely inconsolable and has very little control over his impulses, actions, words (if he can form any) and physical reactions. It is terrifying to me and to him and over 7 years of experiencing this, I have learned to cope and calm him, but this behavior still cripples me momentarily. I have endured him raging in his room for what seemed like hours slamming his head into walls. Or having him lay at my feet, back arched, eyes rolled back, foaming at the mouth and uttering guttural screams like a demon possessed child. All in the name of autism and at the time explained by everyone as normal ‘boy’ behavior. Seriously?! Even the professionals were hesitant to put a name to the behavior and so this mother formed many, many coping strategies. Life was stressful in those early years and there was a constant level of tension that I carried around daily.

I became the ‘super calm’ emotionless mask of a mom because any form of emotion seemed to set my child off. We thrived off of routine and I feared even an unexpected trip to the grocery store because even that had the potential to make him absolutely crazy! I did smile and play and get frustrated and yell…, but when I could see him physically change, I knew we were in for a rage and my coping strategies took over. My reaction was misconceived by my husband and mother as a lack of discipline. Absolutely not! You see, I knew that the ‘normal’ way of dealing with certain behaviors didn’t seem to work with mine. He understood his world differently, explored it in great detail and raged if things were out of order. Looking back, I wish I would have had that one person step in and point out his rigid behavior. I didn’t have a smart phone at that time in life, so easy googling of these symptoms wasn’t routine, but I was also being told by everyone that it was ‘normal’ boy behavior.

But I digress. This past year has been so much calmer. I find myself understanding the temper, successfully communicating actions and feelings and seeing very positive results from my big 7 year old. His diagnosis (although devastating at first) was the biggest relief since the day that child was born! I have finally been able to forgive myself for his behavior and accept him for the little man that he is. It’s not his fault, it’s not my fault, it’s not societie’s fault and not his daddy’s fault (well, maybe a little). NO one is to blame. But everyone can help. You see, autism is being more readily diagnosed, but it is still socially very misunderstood. The parents and family members who experience an autistic child in their daily lives are forced to see the world in a completely different way. I believe that over time, our society will begin to understand and hopefully embrace autism instead of fear it, embrace these brilliant little God made people. The change starts on an individual level. If you see a child raging out of control in the store, don’t stare… ask if they want to go in front of you in line. Give them your spot in the fabric cutting line or let them have some space when playing at the park. If we can all be aware of our surroundings and actually notice that there are kids with special needs around us, we can become more sensitive to their needs and just understanding and offering a kind word means the world to a parent who lives daily in the darkness of autism.

~Tracy~

Change is an inevitable part of our lives, but there are certain aspects of life that experience more drastic change than others. For me, the change from longing for a baby to the mother of two young children was enough to throw my mental self into a search for my identity. As responsible parents, my husband and I choose to ground ourselves with jobs, house and experience before we tried for a baby. Although you can never be fully prepared in any way for what adding children to your relationship will bring, we were more mentally grounded than many and prepared ourselves as much as possible for life with baby.

After 3 good years of trying and one devastating miscarriage, we finally received our right into parenthood! Less than two years later we were the owners of two beautiful little beings, but when my daughter was about 6 months old this mommy felt the tragedy of complete loss of who I used to be and the sadness of what I had been reduced to. I figured motherhood was a death sentence at times, and I say that with a sense of humor, but also in all seriousness. You see, it wouldn’t be revealed until 4 years later, that my son was autistic. He was violent to my daughter and myself and we suffered daily from his ‘demonic fits’ that left this mommy in horrified terror. My daughter (whom is the love of my life now and my mini me) was so clingy that she spent the first 18 months of her life attached to me on a backpack. My knees hurt, my back screamed for a break, I was up almost every hour of the night and each new day I got to look forward to a 2 year old boy who melted my heart with joy at one moment and was attacking me with fits of rage the next. At the end of the day I was one mentally and physically exhausted mother who felt like I was just a shell of what I had once been. I had been reduced to something I had never imagined and that time life was very, very dark.

I share this not for sympathy. Not in any way. I share this because I know there are moms and dads out there that are at loss with their newly acquired parenthood. Mom’s who have given their all and have no more to give and wonder how long this can last before they are done. I was at that point of devastation. Where day and night blended together into a huge lump of exhaustion and defeat. The good news is that those days are behind me and that through prayer and support I have embraced change and been able to raise above those very dark first few years of parenthood. Which leads to the red hair!

When my daughter was just over a year old, I decided I needed some sort of outlet from my stay-at-home day to day. I joined the local Curves and started getting out for some exercise in a social atmosphere. It was difficult to make a commitment with my needy littles. Just leaving my husband home with them for an hour seemed to him like a lifetime and gave me just enough time away to contemplate my get away plan 😉

Working out, eating right and losing weight is a difficult enough task when you’re able to dedicate yourself to it and nearly impossible when you have the constant demand of little people tugging at your pants and screaming in your ears all day long. I did eventually get into an effective grove and started to get back into a weight that I felt comfortable with and with that came an inward confidence. One that grew slowly and once it was established enough inside, it started to once again flow out of me.

And that’s when I got a little more daring with my hair. I had it cut short and added red highlights! I believe that the red highlights signify my inner me or my inner confidence. I refer to them as my ‘inner red’ and the bolder I became inside the more my true personality has come out and the redder the hair has gotten. You see, in September of 2013, I went all red and that truly does correlate with the inner confidence that has grown inside of me. It will come out more and more as I share with you what has built this confidence, but I will say that once I was able to embrace some of me and establish who I was inside, I was able to slowly shed that feeling of despair and replace it with that feeling of self worth. And I know now that the very children that tore me to bits and destroyed me in the beginning have been the very people that have poured into me a new level of confidence that has allowed me to love deeper, try harder and fight for what I believe fiercer than I have ever fought before.

I am a changed person. I feel like the start of parenthood was like being put into a fire, but God has used those early years to forge me into something beautiful, something powerful, something that has given me more meaning to life than ever before. And for that I am truly thankful. I encourage every mother who faces these struggles to find her ‘inner red’, embrace it and let it come out. Change is hard. Downright devastating. But it is more powerful than anything to use that change to find a stronger person on the other side.

~Tracy~