In a Rush to Wait

January 09 2012

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Buzz, of course, school

The first day at Buzz’s new school went shockingly well. I’ve said the boy has a way of surprising me, and he did yet again. The second day, however, started with a bit of a hitch.

Buzz’s new school begins half an hour earlier than where he went before, and where Jedi still goes, so I gave us an extra 20 minutes in the morning. There’s a new routine to learn, and it could have a few kinks to work out. As such, I woke Buzz first and set his bowl of Lucky Charms in front of him while I went about dragging everyone else out of bed.

His bus would be at the end of our driveway by 8:10, they told me.

Constantly aware of the clock, I did my best to make sure we made good time. His teeth were brushed, his hair was combed, the pen he marked on his hand washed off. Pleased with myself for adhering to schedule, I bundled him up in his coat with his backpack on his shoulders and opened the front door, hurrying up to wait.

And there we stood, staring out the screen door. Waiting.

And waiting.

Hmmm… the bus should be here by now.

When some more minutes passed as if in slow motion, still hopefully and pathetically waiting like an anxious teenager being stood up at prom, I knew the time had come to accept that the bus should have definitely been there already.

I made a few calls and the bus finally arrived, eventually. He bounded aboard, glad to be on his way. But the second day at his new school and I already feel like stuffing myself with donuts to suppress this feeling like we’ve been dumped.

A Terrible Shirt

January 05 2012

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: Jedi, type 1 diabetes

We were led back to the radiology department, but first Jedi needed to change his shirt. You can’t wear buttons for an x-ray and the doctor wanted to make sure the wheezing in his chest wasn’t any more serious than the need for an asthma inhaler. As such, he first had to disrobe into a gown. The sight of which flashed back to when he spent a week in the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit.

I helped him remove his button-collar shirt and went about sifting through the stack of familiar hospital gowns for one in blue. For a boy who is growing ever more concerned with his appearance, this still bordered on disastrous. I at least wanted him to have his favorite color, though nothing would have been enough to make it fashionable.

“Oh this is embarrassing”, Jedi whispered as I tied the strings in back.

“It’s fine. Look, it’s blue!”, I tried to reassure.

With a sigh, we went to sit to wait his turn. An attempt was made to take his mind off the necessary style catastrophe, but he wasn’t about to be swayed. A marked difference from when he was at the hospital in August 2010 and didn’t even notice what he was wearing, or really where he was.

“This shirt is terrible”, my 8 going on 16 year old sulked. “It doesn’t match my pants. It doesn’t match my socks. It doesn’t match my shoes. It doesn’t match my face. It doesn’t match my personality.”

Later, Jedi admitted, “You know, this shirt is kind of comfortable”, as we’re getting ready to go home. “But it’s still terrible.” And it was, but garments are easily changed and forgotten. It’s the memories that catch you.

Hard Change

January 04 2012

Posted in: The Kids · Tags: autism, Buzz, letters, school

Dearest Buzz,

You start a new school today. Because no one wanted to listen to me.

It’s not my choice. I would have preferred you stay at the school you’ve known, with your brother by your side, at least until the end of this, your first, school year. Your progress there has been amazing, surpassing my expectations. They taught you how to write your name, and beginning words. You know your letters and can count to 100, though you skip a lot along the way. It’s the little things that most your age have known how to do for awhile but you’ve struggled with. And now you’re learning. Not just learning, but loving.

In switching schools after you’ve just begun to feel comfortable, I’m afraid that will change.

I also know, however, how you’ve surprised me in the past. You manage to work in mysterious ways. You’ve taken actions in stride after I’ve already braced against the aftermath. You rise and you fight, even when your fear is palpable. I left you crying mercilessly on the very first day of school, I’m terrified I’m going to leave you the same again. It breaks my heart to do this to you twice.

But you are strong. And you are bright. And you’re going to do wonderful. I know change is hard to understand, but I’m trying to do what’s best for you, even when it’s not my favorite choice.

Although if you want to raise hell just for the first few days, you have my support. I’d kind of like to say I told you so.

With so much love,
Your Mom

Suzy Poops-a-Lot is Not Funny

January 03 2012

Posted in: Daily · Tags: Abby, family, potty training

For the first time in 8 years, I do not have the overwhelming feeling of dread when I smell the air only to realize someone needs changed. There are no more wipes, no more rash ointment, no more plump saggy bottoms. Just a toilet that has seen its use triple in this past month and a toilet paper roll that can’t seem to ever stay full. Charmin is making a fortune off of my family alone.

We are diaper free. During the day, anyway. Because Abby still doesn’t stay dry at night. That’s a small hurdle that we’ll jump over in time.

I would like to say that it’s a relief, this new-found diaper freedom. Except I am still an integral part of my children’s bathroom activities. They call me in to show off the product of their hard work, like I’m supposed to be impressed. Reminders have to be given, public restrooms scouted at first entrance, extra clothes packed just in case. I still have to wipe to make sure bottoms are clear. After 8 years, my hands remain far from clean.

The last thing I need is another kid that poops its pants.

My daughter made this past Christmas the year of the doll. She asked for 2 baby dolls from the big jolly guy, and her wish was granted. And then some. My mother noticed the easy opportunity in front of her, and took it.

“I couldn’t tell, is that one of those dolls that wets itself? Because I was hoping it is”, my mother wondered with a clever smirk as Abby covered herself in unwrapped paper and I glared her down with a look of pure evil.

My mom thinks she’s so funny.

She’s not.

Finding My Happy 2012

January 02 2012

Posted in: Me Myself · Tags: life, this sucks

So, 2011 sucked.

There’s no sense pussyfooting around it. Last year sucked, excessively. It sucked hard. It was a terribly awful year where every time I turned around another bad thing was happening, to where I just wanted to throw my hands up and surrender at life. Come to think of it, 2010 wasn’t much better. It’s hard to make lemonade when all the juice has already been sucked dry.

Cue the tiny violins.

Because then, there’s perspective. Everyone I love and that matters is still here. It’s not easy, but we’re making it, together. My children are resilient and flourishing. And even though I’ve been knocked down, repeatedly, I’m still standing. Beat up black and blue, but on my feet.

I believe 2012 has to be better.

Dear lord, it has to be.

Which is why I’m making 2012 about finding my happy.

In case I didn’t make it clear yet, last year wasn’t filled with many happy moments. I have not been happy. For a long time, my days have been barely functioning. Something has to change. It’s not a resolution. I don’t expect anything miraculous. I just need to find my direction. To begin taking the right steps, wherever I’m supposed to go, towards a better place of happier. Because essentially, I just want to feel like I can laugh again.