Magic Switch

I feel as though all this blog has become is complaints about my broken kids. It's like everyone else has been ordering their kids from Mercedes and I just got three Pintos assembled by people who's only contact with cars were from watching Bullitt dubbed in Mandarin.

Milly eats odd things. She chews on the corners of the walls. She digs out drywall and eats it. She chews sidewalk chalk like it's a stick of candy. She eats dirt. We thought it was a phase but it began escalating. She knows that she's not supposed to chew. She startles and runs when we catch her. She hides to chew longer. It seems almost like a compulsion. Sunday school teachers, Mother's Day Out teachers, babysitters and others have commented on it. No one has any advice. We asked our pediatrician for help. She suggested an iron deficiency that is forcing her to go in search of the minerals she needs. We had her tested and she is anemic. We start iron supplements tomorrow.

Milly still rarely talks. We have been approved for ECI but we've never been able to schedule anything because of the new baby, bedrest and moving. Now that we're settled, ECI is reviewing her file and she'll start once-a-week sessions.

She's learned autistic behaviors from her older siblings. She's never been around her peers. She's not autistic. We've had her evaluated and I don't see the same things I see in Sophie and Gideon. Those behaviors must still be unlearned. She's in a day camp two days a week around other two year olds.

We address every concern. We pounce to fix anything physical and begin coaching the not-easily-fixed. It's a battle. I feel like so many look at me as though its my fault. Like they need to know the name of the prenatal vitamins I took so they can avoid broken kids, too.

People, I read to my kids in the womb. I stared them in their tiny infant faces and talked to them. I avoided baby talk just in case it was detrimental. I didn't eat hot dogs while I was pregnant and I only had sushi once. I did everything right! And still I battle. I look at Rory with so much fear. What's wrong with this one? It's hard to enjoy your baby when you're examining every response to see if it's "normal".

Ultimately, God gave me Sophie, Gideon, Milly and Rory. He will give me what I need to raise them. I must remember that.

Quiet Time

My quiet time with God is never at the same time. I don't sit down at the table with a journal, a cup of coffee and my Bible app ready to spend a quiet hour contemplating the scriptures. I have four kids under 5. My quiet time is usually one of the following:

• I'm on the potty and they haven't found me yet.
• In a hot bath trying to work the kink out of my back after picking up the playroom.
• When I wake up an hour before my alarm because the baby started fussing and I'm trying to assess just how urgent her needs are.
• In the car when I'm going back to Target because Milly threw a fit yesterday and I blanked out on half of my list while trying to keep her from exploding in the dairy aisle.
• During the kids' quiet time when everyone is in their rooms and the baby is finally asleep in her swing.

When I do have these times with God, I usually just talk to Him like a friend. It always feels like a conversation. I pray about those that need something. I pray about the names He gives me but I don't know why. I pray about my kids. I pray that I won't fling my kids off of the roof. I pray over my husband. I pray that my husband won't fling the kids off of the roof.

Sometimes everything is serious:

"Lord, I want to go back to college so badly. I want to get a degree in Biblical Studies. I feel like You would like for me to do this. But that's ridiculous, right? I can't start until all of the kids are in school full-time and I wouldn't be done until I'm in my 40's. What would You do with a 43-year old mother of four who hasn't worked in 20 years?"

Sometimes I get curious:

"So, lettuce has no real nutritive value. Iceberg lettuce, I mean. I know that there are some dark, leafy greens that I'm supposed to be eating all of the time. But, lettuce? Are we doing it wrong? Did You actually make it for some other purpose and we just started eating it because it's crunchy and good with ranch? Are You looking down on us and chuckling at your adorable little children like I do when Milly wears her Easter basket like a hat?"

What this really boils down to is that I am constantly talking to God. I feel close to Him and that helps me when I need direction. He wants this, too. You don't need to make an appointment to talk to Him. You don't need to only come to Him with giant life-changing questions. You're His child. He just wants to talk to you.

Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole

It started with drooling over Pioneer Woman's Ranch Style Chicken. Then I found this honey mustard chicken dish from Six Sisters Stuff. (I LOVE THAT SITE.) So, I started brainstorming how to make this my own. Here's what I came up with. I served it with cheesy bacon potatoes from the same site. I also put peas and corn on the side because we're just healthy like that.

Honey Mustard Chicken Casserole

The Stuff:
2 chicken breasts, cubed
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup mustard (I used yellow but Dijon would be great.)
2 pinches of house seasoning*
1/2 tsp dried rosemary (Fresh would be wonderful.)
6 slices of bacon
1 TBSP butter
shredded cheddar cheese

*House seasoning is what I call my mix of kosher salt, black pepper, garlic powder and onion powder. I use it in everything. Except cake.

The Process:
Throw the chicken cubes in a freezer bag and cover with the mustard, honey, house seasoning and rosemary. Squish it around to mix everything. Marinate or freeze for later.

When you're ready for dinner, preheat the oven to 375. Fry your bacon in a skillet until it's crisp. Remove to a plate to drain but keep the bacon fat in the skillet. Add the butter to the bacon fat.

I know. I'm not doing Weight Watchers yet.

Saute your marinated chicken in the bacon-butter mixture and laugh devilishly. Once it is browned, pour it into a casserole dish. Crumble the bacon on top of the chicken. Sprinkle a generous layer of cheese over the top. Bake this bad boy for about 12 minutes until it's brown and bubbly and amazing on top.

Serve this to your husband and listen to him groan with delight and demand that you make it every week.

For Mama

My mother taught me...

• to keep a closet full of classics and accessorize with the trendy.
• to be kind to everyone, including those who mistreat you. You don't know their story.
• to use your hands to pat out biscuit dough because a rolling pin will make them too flat.
• that stay-at-home mothers need not feel like they're freeloading non-workers. There are many ways for us to save money at home.
• to trust in God's timing and provision. But it's still OK to call your mom and tell her that you're scared.
• that mascara, lipstick and a little blush can completely pull together your look.
• to breathe deep whenever you feel overwhelmed.
• that you don't have to try to go to sleep but you do need to close your eyes and be still.
• to belly laugh at funny things.
• to encourage my children to take new steps while reassuring them that I'm here if they fall.

My mother is my inspiration, my friend, my role model and my safe place. I know that I have always been loved and I can never do anything that will make my mother turn her back on me. Her arms will always be open and ready to embrace me.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama.

Rory's Story

When last I left this blog, we were waiting. We didn't have to wait for long.

Aurora Hoshi Dyer - March 28, 2013

The day after I wrote my last post, I went to my doctor for a somewhat routine checkup. While she looked at the sonogram we talked about what had happened over the last few weeks. We talked about my blood pressure and heart rate spikes. We talked about the swelling in my hands and feet. Then we looked at Rory and my doctor got a funny look on her face.

"Let me measure this fluid level again."

Rory was surrounded by more fluid than should be there. This is another symptom of pre-eclampsia though I was still testing negative. My blood pressure was high again. Everything was just borderline or right over the line so as not to be an emergency but still concern us all. I was 37 weeks. Typically doctors don't like to induce without an emergency until 38-39 weeks. Ben was back there with us and the three of us talked about our options. Doctor Monti finally said that she wanted someone else to look at me. She was sending us right over to a high-risk doctor who would get a closer look at Rory and possibly back her up in the choice to induce.

At that doctor's office, we watched as the high-risk doctor looked all over Rory. She was measuring almost 9 pounds. She confirmed that there was a lot of fluid. She agreed that Rory needed to get here sooner rather than later. She also agreed that it wasn't safe for my water to break on it's own.

I went home confident that my doctors were taking great care of me and my baby but nervous. This was a problem we had never seen coming. I have scrawny little babies that demand to be released early. Rory was content to settle in and grow larger with every day. My body was just giving out and couldn't hold her much longer.

No one could pinpoint why there was so much fluid. The high-risk doctor said that some heart problems will be the cause so we went on Wednesday back to the office for a fetal echo. Her heart looked beautiful. There was still no answer to what was happening. All we knew is that a large amount of fluid made it dangerous for my heart and upped the possibility of stillbirth or cord compression. We scheduled the inducement for Thursday the 28th.

Here's the thing; all of my other labors started in the middle of the night. My water broke with Sophie at 12:15 AM. I began contractions with Gideon at 2 AM. Milly's water broke at 12:30 AM. This was the very first labor where I was able to eat a good dinner, go to bed early, sleep as soundly as possible and then eat a good breakfast.We were able to give the other kids to Grandma the day before so she didn't have to make a mad dash an hour away in the dead of night. We were able to plan! It was divine! We got the hospital and I was hooked up to Pitocin. I was already dilated to a 5. I was nice and hydrated. There was no possible way this wouldn't go quickly!

Yeah.

After hours of painful but barely productive contractions, my doctor came in to break my water. I had two nurses that day. One was a veteran and one had just graduated and was training. They were amazing. The three ladies surrounded me and my doctor said that she was just going to prick a tiny hole in my bag of waters and let it slowly trickle. Just to be safe.

3 seconds afterward, all three leaped away and for the stack of towels as the bed and floor were basically flooded. The look on my doctor's face was priceless.

OK! So I'm relaxed from the epidural, the Pitocin is still going and now my water is gone so she can start moving down and I'll dilate quickly and we'll get her here in no time!

Yeah.

Every thirty minutes, Doctor Monti would come in and stare at Rory's heartbeat on the monitor. Then she would check me again. Then stare again at the monitor and mutter. Rory wasn't going anywhere. Her heartbeat began to slow down with each contraction. I watched as my doctor got more and more worried. Finally I spoke up;

"I think you're going to have to go get her."

Let's back up to the Sunday before. We had been watching the Bible miniseries along with everyone else in the Bible Belt. We had just seen the episode with Jesus in Gethsemane. I watched as Jesus became aware that it was time for him to die. He went into the garden, begging his friends to just be near him, and he prayed that God would let him out of this. Did it really have to happen this way? It was too much. He sobbed and pleaded that he wouldn't have to do this thing. Then he wiped away his tears and said three times that he would do this if it was God's will.

I am not comparing myself to Jesus. This was just a baby. However, I've always been of the mindset that there was no way that God would put me through a c-section. It just wouldn't happen so there was no reason to even concern myself with the thought. Then I realized that God had his hand on my heart. He was telling me that He may ask me to do things that I never thought possible. He might ask me to do things that I hate or that would hurt. I had to be open to this possibility and follow Him no matter where He might lead. He would be there. I sat in the bath and cried. I read through the Gospels as Jesus begged the same way I was begging. Then I dried my tears and gave up. I put myself in God's hands and asked that He would carry me through whatever happened.

Sure enough, Dr Monti came in around 6:00 PM and said that they were going to go get her. I felt only relief. There was no fear. It was almost over. Rory was going to be safe. We would all be OK. He had promised.

There was a flurry of preparation as Ben was whisked away to get scrubs and my epidural was cranked up to 11. They wheeled me into the operating room and I waited and watched as everyone moved around with purpose. Ben came in and sat down by my head. They already had the drape up, thankfully. Poor guy was really nervous and he doesn't do well with medical stuff. Especially bloody medical stuff. We talked and waited as everyone got to work.

At 7:11 PM, we heard a little cry.

8 pounds 5 ounces of furious cute.

The little cry soon turned into screeches of anger so I knew it was our girl! I sent Ben over to monitor her progress and coo over her cheeks. Meanwhile, Dr Monti made sure that this was the last time I would use her OB services. That's right folks, we are officially a family of 6. All done. No more.

This time, though, we feel complete.

We're the Dyer family.

Ben, Kelly, Sophia, Gideon, Millicent and Aurora.

Waiting

Last week got a little interesting. By interesting, I'm using Wash's definition.

Wash: "This landing is gonna get pretty interesting"

Mal: "Define 'interesting'."

Wash: [deadpan] "Oh God, oh God, we're all going to die?"

On Thursday, my nurse came out to give me my progesterone shot. It's the last one. Hooray! She got out the doppler and began searching for Rory's heartbeat. She couldn't find anything. I kept twisting and turning to see if we could get her to turn or move but I wasn't feeling anything. Finally, we found her and got her to kick. Her heartbeat started at a normal 145 BPM but then dropped down to 90. Alarmed, my nurse called my doctor and said that she thought I needed to come in and be monitored. Doctor agreed and Ben and I took off.

I was supposed to go to the doctor that day at 1:30 so it wasn't much of a difference to go to Labor and Delivery Triage instead. They hooked me up to the monitors and began some tests. My heart rate was too fast. Rory's heart rate was too fast. Blood was taken to check for diabetes or preeclampsia. I laid on the bed and tried hard not to let my mind run away. I wasn't having many contractions and they were still mild. Finally, everything came back normal. My heart rate had come down and so did Rory's. They did a quick sonogram and Rory looked great. Her fluid level was right on the borderline of normal/high but it wasn't enough to warrant any intervention. I'm dilated to a 2. I was sent home with orders to take it easy but that I was off of bedrest.

The next day was officially 37 weeks. This was the day I had Milly. There were already a lot of labor warning signs and I assumed that this would go much the same way. My mother had taken the kids the night before in anticipation of Rory's possible arrival. Ben took me to breakfast and we did a little shopping. I came home to rest and then went out with Mom and Milly. We shopped around and I realized that contractions were getting stronger and closer together. It's working! We're almost done! Look at the cute Easter headbands that make your daughters look like giant flowers!

Grandma left before the kiddos came home on the bus from school. We played a bit and made dinner. Suddenly those kind of contractions became double-over-and-nearly-scream contractions. They were 2 minutes apart and lasting for over a minute. I could barely breathe between them. We called my parents and they came back over. We loaded up and took off for the hospital assuming that we would be a family of 6 in no time.

We make it into Labor and Delivery and start getting hooked up. The doctor checks me and I'm dilated to a 3. That's it?!? After all of this? I feel like I'm being torn in half! They check me and realize that I'm pretty dehydrated. Rory still sounds fine but she's not turned down correctly. She's hitting my pelvic bone. My bag of waters is right there but Rory's not hitting it enough to break it. They hook me up to a saline IV and unhook the other monitors. They tell me that I'll go home after getting hydrated. So...we're not having a baby? I "get" to go labor at home? Well...alright. I get three bags of saline and the contractions all but disappear. The dehydration was making them seem 10 times worse than what they were. So we go home around midnight and try to sleep.

Ben takes me the next day to breakfast and then to get a pedicure. He goes and buys a birthing ball. The man is a flipping saint. We load up the car and go pick up the kids from the grandparents. Here we find out how hard Gideon is taking things. The night before he had started fussing when my Dad got there. Papa cuddled him and Gideon fell asleep on his shoulder. When Grandma and my sister came over, they got everyone loaded up to take them to dinner. Gideon began crying when he woke up and didn't stop. They passed him around at the restaurant trying to soothe him. My mother finally held him and covered him up with a jacket to block everything out. He fell asleep again. He cried when they left and passed out that night. We came to get him on Saturday afternoon. He was clingy and needed so much extra reassurance. For the last week his life has been upside down. Mama and Daddy keep disappearing for some reason. Sometimes Daddy picks him up from day care and sometimes it's Grandma. One night he'll sleep at home and the next he'll sleep at Grandma's. He just doesn't understand what's going on and it's making him upset.

We spent Saturday night out on a date. The kids went to a Parent's Night Out that we had registered for a week ago. Ben and I went to dinner and then came home to rest. I took a hot bath and stayed off my feet. We called his parents and filled them in on everything that's happened. Ben went and picked up the kids and we put them to bed. Then we tried to go to sleep. From 11:30 to 4 AM I could not sleep. My heart kept racing, I was having bad contractions and I could not lay down without intense pain. I sat up at 2 AM and drank 32 ounces of apple juice to see if hydrating would make the contractions stop. They stopped but I was still in a lot of pain. At 4, I woke Ben up crying. I just needed sleep and I couldn't sleep. He convinced me to take some sleeping pills and to not worry about the kids in the morning. I could sleep as long as I needed. I took the pills and finally drifted off. I got on-and-off sleep until noon on Sunday. I got to cuddle my oldest for an hour. I played with Milly and watched as Gideon stayed in a quiet room with his iPad for hours. My babies were OK. I cooked dinner that night. Sunday was a great day.

In the midst of all of this, we've been trying to buy a house. I'm not even kidding. We found one house that we really like and we're submitting a bid. We would move in May. It's exciting but it's adding a layer of HOLY MOLY to our lives.

Today is quiet. Milly is twirling while she watches Mickey. The kids are at daycare. I feel fine and haven't seen much labor signs so I think she's staying put. I'll see my doctor tomorrow.

Now we just wait.

Battles

ECI just left after evaluating Milly for the second time. She can hear now and she's making good progress.

Kind of.

Milly has qualified for ECI services regarding speech and cognition. Milly has almost no attention span. Her motor skills look fine but she doesn't answer or even acknowledge people. She doesn't play or interact much. She threw a million tantrums in the hour they were here.

Yes, she's tired from the Daylight Savings Time change. She's on antibiotics for a red ear that's hurting. She's still working on those frakking molars. And she's two. Two year olds are temperamental.

Or are they? I don't know what the typical development of a two year old looks like. My kids don't work that way. She acts similar to how Sophie was at two. Does that mean it's autism? I don't think so. I think it's a combination of learned behavior from her siblings and no social interaction.

Milly needs to be with her peers on a regular basis. A play group, Mothers Day Out or preschool would do wonders. It's just not happening right now. We're in a holding pattern until the new baby gets here and I can actively participate again.

I think that's the hardest part right now. I feel that this is all my fault. I can't be the mother that my kids need. I have to tell them to wait. Am I neglectful? No. My kids are fed, clothed, clean and loved. I just can't go the extra that I know they need.

A battle is looming. I'm ready to fight but I'm waiting on my body.

What's My Line?

Gideon has moved into script-talking. There is a little spontaneous speech but the majority of what he says is a litany of preset scripts gleaned from normal situations or TV.

When Gideon asks for something he wants, he will say "Pweash?" and sign. A normal response is "Yes, you may!" followed by the item of desire handed to him. (iPad, cup of drink, food, toy, etc.)

Lately, he's been purposely dense if the response is anything other than a hearty agreement and handing over of the item.

Example:

[Gideon hands me an empty sippy cup.]

G: "Miyuk? Pweash?"
(Milk? Please?)

Me: "Not right now, buddy."

[Gideon furrows his brow. Leans in to me.]

G: "Yesh, you may!!"

The implication behind this:

"Mom, DON'T BE EMBARRASSED. You just forgot your line. It happens! Lets try that again."

Nice try, Dude.

To Care and Be Cared For

Since my children were born, I have been the one to care for nearly all of their medical needs. I tracked what the two oldest ate in their respective NICU stays. I'm always the one to take them to regular check-ups. I know their medical histories and can tell a doctor when they started barfing and how high the fevers got. I was the one to stay with Gideon in both of his hospital pneumonia stays. I've held each kiddo down for shots and wiped tears after. I know that when passing out stickers and suckers that Sophie and Milly like any kind of sucker but Gideon prefers orange and that Milly eats stickers.

Last week, I had to give up my usual position. On Monday, the girls went to the doctor for their 5-year and 2-year check-ups. My mother took them. She was the one to hold Sophie's hands while the doctor looked in her ears. (Sophie hates people touching her head.) She held Milly during her shots and cuddled her after.

On Thursday, we got a call from the school nurse saying that Gideon was listless and running a fever. Ben went to get him and laid him down for a nap. I can't drive and I'm not supposed to pick him up. I held him during breathing treatments that night and let him sleep on my chest. On Friday, he was worse and my mother took him to the doctor. His fever had spiked to almost 103. Both ears were infected and the strep test was positive. She brought him home and whisked the girls away for the weekend. I was able to give him medicine and cuddle but Mom was the one who held my feverish baby while the doctor swabbed his throat. How that must have scared him! Ben was the one who held him down for medicine he refused to take. Ben took him to the duck pond on Sunday when he was feeling better.

On Sunday, Sophie smashed her finger at Grandma's house. My mom and dad calmed her down, cleaned it and put ice packs on it while she curled up in her Minnie Mouse blanket. When she came home, I didn't like how much it was still bleeding and I called the after hours nurse who said to get her to the ER. Ben took her. He held her and told her how brave she was. He and two other nurses and a doctor wrestled her to get her bandage off. (Forget soccer. I'm putting her on a wrestling team.) He held her for an X-ray which showed a broken fingertip. Her first broken bone. He dried her tears, praised her bravery and carried her out.

Three times this week I was reminded that there are many other people that can care for my children. Ben told me that God was possibly doing this on purpose to release my sense of control. Perhaps God was asking me to take care of Rory since I'm the only one who can right now.

It truly does take a village!

Desperately Seeking my Son

The two older kids started morning day care about a week and a half ago. Since I'm supposed to be staying off of my feet it was getting harder to entertain them in the mornings before school. Those few hours have been a lifesaver. It's a great place. There are lots of kids to play with and the teachers are wonderful. It's very structured which is very important for spectrum kids. My kids need to be given a task and a time to stop. They need those boundaries. "Free play" is too abstract a concept for them.

Each day I look online at the webcams that are set up in their classrooms. Sophie runs around with the little girls. They giggle and wiggle as they go to the bathroom in groups. (Already?!?) She chases after boys on the playground. (ALREADY?!?) She sits quietly when they do table work or go to Circle Time. She's doing beautifully.

Then I pull up Gideon's classroom. The first few days, he cried when Ben dropped him off. I would see him holding the hand of his teacher and following her everywhere. He would sit in another teacher's lap or right beside her during Circle Time. After a few days, the tears stopped but he would still attach himself to a teacher for a while. Slowly he's been inching away. However, the inching away has been to just go play by himself with no interest in what the others are doing. Today I watched as 29 kids sat in a circle and a teacher handed out some paper. They all waited as patiently as 3-year old kids could but all stayed seated. Then I saw my little boy over by a bookshelf with a ball. He was turned completely around from the kids and teachers. He was fully absorbed with this bouncy ball. One teacher passed out papers and the other was laying out plates for lunch time.

I don't begrudge the teachers working like this. This is not a PPCD class. There are two teachers and 30 kids. I'm not expecting a personal aide for my child. It just stung to see my little boy so isolated. He seems to walk alone in his own little world.

Gideon's PPCD teacher sent home a picture taken in class. I've never seen one so perfectly capture my Little Prince. He's incredibly handsome - those eyes! - but also seems...just lost or trapped. Not in a bad way but unavailable to me. I wish I knew how to explain.

I get glimpses of my boy. Sometimes we can reach him. He looks Ben in the eye every morning to say "Hi!" and kiss him. He tickles me the same way I tickle him and giggles while fully engaging me. When he is tired or hurt, he comes looking for me and snuggles against my shoulder.

But they are short little looks. A few minutes later, he is intensely focused on something else. (iPad, toys, reciting a script from a show.) I feel like the door is closed again and I begin waiting for it to open again. We'll just keep working on it.

In My Head

Do I love my kids? Yes.

Do I hate being a parent of kids with autism? You have no idea how much.

My kids were given to me for a reason. I know that. I also know that whatever challenges God gives me, He will also give the resources needed to meet them. He has never once said that it would be easy. In fact, He says that it's more than likely going to be hard.

A battle.
A struggle.
A trial.
A valley of darkness.

All leave me tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

I'm tired of people watching my 5-year old have a meltdown and then looking at me like I'm a permissive parent who spoils my bratty kid.

I'm tired of people asking me why my son covers his ears, doesn't make eye contact, flaps his hands and babbles.

I'm tired of people asking me if Milly is "normal" and then saying that she's two and ready to be potty trained.

I'm tired of people asking me if I'm worried about Rory being normal or ignored.

Most of all? I'm tired of people acting like I'm a saint for taking care of these poor unfortunate souls. They are my kids. They are the most amazing little beings I have ever seen. There is no other option. However, I'm still allowed to be tired, frustrated, and angry at this whatever-autism-is disorder that causes me to be cut off from my incredible kids.

I have a rock, a strength, a refuge in my God. For this, I am grateful. He knows the outcome and is already stretching out his arms to embrace me before I even know that I'm about to break again. He anticipates my needs. He lifts my burdens if I am willing to give them up.

For this, I am thankful.

Bed Rest Conversations

Me: *contractions are hurting so I lie down on my right side*

Rory: "Don't like this side. Roll over."

Me: *sigh and turn to lay on my left*

Rory: "Don't like this side. Turn over."

Me: "Kid, I have no more available sides."

Rory: "Don't like that kidney."

Me: "Leave the kidney alone. It's not hurting you."

Rory: "It's touching me."

Me: "Deal."

Rory: "Don't like this side."

Me: "It's going to be a long 7 weeks."

Ways I've Been That Mom

10. I regularly let my daughter walk around without pants. It's just us here, we ain't fancy and I don't want to have a half hour talk/fit trying to convince her to put her pants back on.

9. I've wiped noses with my shirt. In public.

8. My kids know the opening to The Simpsons and my daughter says "D'oh!"

7. I take advantage of my kids' echolalia by getting them to say funny things. Then I hope that they don't repeat it at school.

6. When my daughter obsessively smooths every single wrinkle from the blanket she's laid out, I smile proudly at my little OCD nutcase.

5. I have held my sobbing daughter through a particularly hard poop.

4. I sing along to Sesame Street songs and try to get the kids involved. There's visible eye rolling.

3. I've licked my hand to smooth down the boy's hair.

2. Sometimes it's just easier to serve noodles 5 days in a row than argue.

1. I've already considered grounding the littlest for making me spend 2 months on bed rest.

Frustration

I don't know any other ways to try.

• Sticker chart.
• Put her in panties.
• Leave her bare butt.
• Try to explain that she already goes tee-tee in the potty. Why not poop?
• Leave her on the potty for over 30 minutes.
• Go to the potty every 20 minutes.

People, I have NOTHING ELSE. She goes to the potty. She just flat out refuses to poop in the potty. If you leave her bare butt then she waits and holds it until nighttime when we put a pull-up on her for the night. If you try to talk to her about it then you either get a completely blank stare or she gets angry because you're taking her away from something that she wants to do.

I'm frustrated. I'm angry. I'm so freaking tired of autism. I hate it. I love my daughter fiercely. She is brilliant and there is so much locked away from me.

Focus on the Good

Philippians 4:8 tells us to focus on that which is good and pure and right.

I will focus on getting to hold my small boy. His hair is getting shaggy and he loves it when I scratch his head. Right now, he needs his Mama to help him get to sleep. There is nothing wrong with that. It makes me slow down and hold my son. It gives us quiet time to breathe together. I can put my hand on his back and feel him breathing that sleep-rhythm. I can say one last prayer over my baby before I put him down in his own bed.

I will know this. I will love this time I have with him.

Listen to Me

I'm pregnant with my fourth kid. You would think that by this point, I'm used to the Mom Things. This one was new and a little unsettling.

So, we're at a playground and the precious little minions are running around like goobers. The big one is going down the big slide and that's a BIG DEAL, MAMA. It's the BIG SLIDE. So I let her go nuts as long as she doesn't knock anyone out of the way and gets out of the way of the bottom as soon as she goes down. The Boy has decided that Papa's iPhone is much more interested than any of this play equipment that is surely disease-ridden and used for torture purposes. The baby is waddling around the 3-and-Under play area trying to put everything in her mouth. Luckily, everything is attached to the floor. Unluckily, that just means that I have the kid that keeps licking the McDonalds Toddler Play Area carpet.

Note to self: Get tetanus shot for the baby.

Suddenly, three big kids (8? 9?) come barreling into the toddler area. They race up the teensy little slide and surf down. Toddlers scatter like chickens. Without a thought, I look up and BELLOW at these boys.

"Nuh-uh! No big kids in the baby area! OUT! NOW!"

Those kids jumped a mile and ran like their butts were on fire.

Evidently, I now have the Mom Voice. AND IT WORKS.

Not a Morning Person

Me: "Do you want yogurt?"

Sophie: *dying buffalo grunts and fling body on the floor*

Me: "Sophie, you just say 'No, thank you!' if you don't want something."

Sophie: "N'TANKOO!"

Me: "OK. How about toast?"

Sophie: *flop and whine*

Me: *warning* "Sophie..."

Sophie: "N'TANKOO!"

Me: "OK. Would you like toys or a book?"

Sophie: *with defiant flop* "N'TANKOO!"

Me: "Would you just like to be a little fart for a while?"

Sophie: "N'TANKOO!"

Me: "Too late."

Specifically

Sophie: "May I cheese?"

Me: "Cheese? Sure!"

*go to the kitchen*

Sophie: "Issa yeh-no cheese!"

Me: "OK."

Sophie: "Issa yeh-no stick cheese!"

Me: "Got it."

Sophie: "Issa yah-no stick cheese for Sophie!"

Me: "WORKING ON IT!"

*deliver yellow stick cheese*

Sophie: "May I drink?"

Me: "Oy."

Hold Them Tight

Ben brought Milly home from Mother's Day Out this afternoon. It was raining so he carried her under the umbrella. She grinned when she saw me at the door and I smiled back. She threw off her backpack and began looking for a toy. Her daddy made her some chocolate milk and I gave her a cherry cookie from the batch we picked up at the Collin Street Bakery. I picked her up and we sat on the couch while she played with the iPad. Her little belly was full of milk and cookie, her thumb was in her mouth and her beloved taggie blanket was in her lap. She grinned and giggled as we read the Grover and Elmo book.

At 3:30, the bus honked outside to let us know that Sophie and Gideon were home. I stashed the iPad so they wouldn't fight over it. They ran in and tossed their backpacks to me. Sophie took off her shoes and socks like she does every day after school within 2 minutes of walking in the door. Gideon still had his hoodie on with the hood up. He likes the safe and cocooned feeling. I hugged them tight and passed out drinks. We watched Mickey Mouse Playhouse and laughed.

There are parents in Connecticut that will never hug their children again. They will never hear giggles and belly laughs. Christmas will forever have a new meaning for them.

Psalm 91:4 says "He will spread his wings over you and keep you secure..."

Matthew 23:37 says "...I have often wanted to gather your people, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you wouldn’t let me."

God wants so badly to keep us safe under His wings. However, He knows that we were given the free will to leave the safety of those wings. I believe that God wants us to exercise that free will. He wants us to venture from the nest to learn and grow. We take with us the lessons He has taught us and do our best to live by them. When we are hurt, tired or under attack then we are always welcomed back under His wings.

This is what I believe.
This is what I will remember.
This is what I will tell my children.
This is what I will imitate for my children while here on Earth.
This is where I will run.

Breakdown

During my usual non-pregnant time, I'm on a careful cocktail of antidepressants, anti-anxiety and other meds. I'm barely allowed to take half of my antidepressant while I'm playing host body. This makes it hard to cope with life in general.

I have a bad anxiety disorder that manifests itself with agoraphobia. This is hard to admit because it just seems...silly. Why am I afraid to go outside? I've never been the victim of a crime like mugging or carjacking. We don't have open war, soldiers in the street and bombs going off. I've never walked outside to a hail of spiders. The grocery store is pretty tame.

I don't like feeling this way. It feels like I wear an iron cape everywhere. My thoughts and responsibilities wrap around me and weigh me down. I feel worthless and unable to function. I become convinced that people would be better off without me, especially my family.

On Tuesday night, I broke. I cried for an hour after reluctantly agreeing to let Ben comfort me. My thoughts were screaming 'Burden! Don't be a burden to him!'. Then I relaxed and let my husband just be my husband. He's kind, loving and wants nothing more than to hold me. I am blessed to have a partner like that. After I talked and cried, I felt light. I felt loved. I felt safe.

I believe, without a doubt, that God loves me. I believe that He paired me with Ben so that I would have a tangible example of that love. I'm grateful for a husband that follows God's word and loves his wife the way God wants.