Friends Forever

The friendship we have with these people is one of the greatest blessings of our lives.  When we have a whole weekend to catch up, it’s a treasure.  

When the Little Things are a Big Deal

When you’re on the autism spectrum, little things can become a really big deal. Take, for instance, tolerating goggles.  

Crash has been in multiple swimming programs for several years.  He has never been able to handle the sensation of wearing goggles.  We’ve tried over and over again without success.  It’s not a huge deal for him to swim without them, but I did believe that putting his face in the water could be more pleasant for him with his eyes protected. So, periodically we’ve been giving it a try.  

Last Monday, we put them on and he kept them on.  He took them off part way through, but this was a huge success in my book.  

So many things we’ve taken for granted with our other kids are major accomplishments for this little guy: putting on his own pants, getting into his booster seat on his own, putting away his toothbrush...  It’s not lost on me that slowing down and noticing all these seemingly small movements toward independence is a blessing.  We are grateful for you, Little Man.  

He and Spike are able to swim at the same time in the same program, which I LOVE.  Here they are:

Trick or Treat

Well, I got a picture of 1/5 kids in their Halloween costumes!  Could have been worse!  You know you’ve entered a new phase of parenting when 4/5 kids are doing their own thing, and it’s just you and your littlest walking the neighborhood on All Hallow’s Eve.  Little man has a fascination with lizards right now, hence his costume choice.  

Another sign that you’ve crossed a proverbial bridge is that a couple kids went to All Saints Day mass by themselves because it didn’t work with their schedules to attend with the rest of us.  😳 

I love seeing growth and development in my children, it just takes me a minute (or decade) to get my mind around these things...

Have a blessed feast of All Souls!! Praying for our departed friends and family today...

A Click and a Prayer

I clicked 'submit.'

For 17 years, we've watched you grow, learn, make mistakes, correct yourself, accept guidance, follow your own path.  We made an early decision that your education would be home-based.  You thrived, reading voraciously, spending countless hours exploring nature, orchestrating plays and shows and writing your own scripts, generally exuding joy at the life you were fortunate enough to be living...  We gave you an option to attend a small private high school, but you have loved identifying yourself as a homeschooler.  You adamantly chose to stay at home.

Submit a counselor report.  Tell us how this student stands out from others.

Is that even a fair question for a parent?  Yet, I attempt to summarize in 40 to 1000 words what your childhood has been, what potential I see for  you as a student, a professional, a human being.

It's funny, really, that I list your class size as 1.  Your GPA is the top GPA for your class (another question we must answer).  You are the majority, the minority, the best, the worst.  How do we summarize what you are to our family, our parish, your friends, the world?

So I type.  I wonder if we've done enough.  With any outside teacher we've hired, you've excelled.  That should give us confidence, I suppose, as we forge ahead with these college applications.  I have confidence in you, my child.  I see your God-given talents and the way you make the best of them.  I hope you can trust in Him who has given you much.

It's daunting, following a call to home educate and now writing it all down for someone else to evaluate.  Have we said enough?  Too much?  Can you see, dear admissions personnel, the soul behind the grades and course descriptions?

So we submit, to the best of our ability, a picture of who this child is.  And we trust that the One who created her will guide her path as he has directed ours throughout this parenting journey.  Have we heeded the call?

We fill out the forms, click the necessary boxes, and pray.

Brotherly Bond

When our youngest son was born, Kid118 was elated to have a little brother.  At age 4, this cherished little brother received an autism spectrum diagnosis.  Of course, a label only meant that we could begin accessing therapies to help him with the areas in which he struggled.  Day to day life and our interactions with our sweet little man were largely unaltered...  

The big brother pictured above has a unique ability to communicate with our littlest son.  When he struggled to engage with other kids, big brother could always connect with him in a pretend world of ‘bad guys.’    

This year, Kid118 attends a small conservatory and is gone from home all day long.  Crash misses him fiercely, asking repeatedly where he is and when he will be back.  It’s been quite an adjustment.  

We were at the pumpkin patch the other day, and I was encouraging little Crash to hold hands with his brother in the parking lot.  He was either not understanding my instructions or not interested in doing what I asked...  Big brother offered, “Young boy, place thy hand thus,” reaching out his hand.  Crash immediately placed his hand in his and walked safely to the van.  They speak a unique language, those two...

Kid118 sometimes mentions that perhaps he and Crash will grow up and join a the same religious order.  Imagining that possibility makes this mama’s heart happy.  

Pumpkins make me happy

Saturday brought beautiful weather and a couple of unexpected free hours for apple and pumpkin picking!!!  Hands down my favorite activity of the fall, a trip to the orchard with the kids  is an annual tradition.  Spike had a bad cough and stayed home to watch football - a real sacrifice😉.  

So far, we’ve enjoyed two rounds of gluten-free apple crisp made from our haul of Jonathons.  

I’m dreaming of tilling a big section of our yard for a pumpkin patch.  In my dream, this garden would weed itself and attract zero squash bugs.  

 

I'm back

So, blogging.  I thought you were a thing of my past.  But after nearly a year of separation, I'm ready to come back to you.

Having readers is nice.  It's fun to connect with people and receive feedback from near and far.  However, the reality is that this space serves as a family journal of sorts.  Posts on F*cebook and Insta fade into cyber-oblivion with no hope of retrieval.  Here, we can look back, even print a hard copy of the moments I happened to deem noteworthy.  It's a valuable endeavor even if the only readers live in the very house from which I currently type.

And, creative outlet is a healthy, necessary part of life.  This is mine.

So, here and now I recommit to writing a little bit each week, maybe more often, about thoughts on our family life, hopes and dreams, funny stories and basic news from our homestead.

For starters, let me just say that certain realities are hitting us full force at the moment:  Life and death, for instance, as our parents age (and we, too) and health fails.

Our oldest child is now a senior in high school.  St. Therese is one of her patrons, and I realized today that this could be the last time she celebrates this occasion with us at home.  (Let me note for the record that our feast day parties are not elaborate - usually a special dessert and an extra prayer.  No one need assume that over-achievement is happening.)

I sat in a preschool event last spring with our youngest and noticed all the young moms sans makeup and sporting sweats and ponytails while jugging babies, toddlers, preschoolers, strollers, sippy cups.  I noticed myself, relatively put together (as much as is possible for me) with my 13-year-old son as my sidekick along with my (at the time) 5-year-old.  My hands were free.  I realized I had crossed a bridge.  I had become the mother of big kids.

So, life marches on, and this little space on the world wide web allows me to capture glimpses for posterity.

Feel free to read along.