She came home from school....

...and said her head hurt. Of course the first thing the Huz and I do was to ask her HOW and WHERE she got hurt (she's been really, really good about telling us those details - with enough patience and prompting), so it was a bit confusing when she simply said, "My head hurts, I'm sick - I need my doctor." Note: she's been saying the doctor thing for a few weeks now, since the cold and coughing deal's been circulating throughout our household!

But this was different. The Huz realized it first when he said he thought she had a headache, and quickly administered a dose of children's motrin for our poor, pained, and complaining NBear. :(

My heart sank when I noticed that her headache showed all the signs of a migraine in the making - a genetic flaw she unfortunately couldn't help but inherit: she was stripping her uniform off (heat often triggers my episodes) and wanted to get into a super-thin sundress, she refused to stay in her brightly-lit room (opting instead for mommy and daddy's dimmer retreat), and - perhaps the most obvious clue to the cause of her suffering - she lay flat on her face and buried herself underneath our quilt. As all migraine sufferers know, LIGHT is the enemy when our heads are pounding. She cried for a good 10 minutes after that, and headed to the bathroom to throw up, and then was able to sleep for a bit.

The Huz was beside himself. (My poor NBear! She's just a kid. Why does she have to have so many things against her?) To which I replied: Well, she does have one thing to her advantage! (What?)...US! *smiling* I mean, you're looking at one of the MIGRAINE experts in the world, honey! I know how to make her feel better. *I mean, what do they say you do when life gives you lemons, right?*

Fortunately, her episode was short-lived. Whew! The Huz went to check on her a few hours later and she had not only emerged from her nap much happier, but greeted him with this wonderful group of sentences: "I feel better. Thanks Dad! You're the BEST!"

No, NBear....YOU are:)

Isn't he supposed to be cute and fuzzy?

Dear *** Mall Easter Bunny,

Oh boy. I really don't know where to start.

I am SO VERY sorry for the cold reception you received from my three (otherwise fun-filled and friendly) daughters during their photo session with you today. The entire event took them COMPLETELY by surprise, as I'm sure you were able to tell from their rather drab garb. *I made a mental note to myself to remember your schedule by HEART next year, so as to avoid last-minute closet raids which result in photos that look more like kaleidescopes, than keepsakes.* Alas, it was all mommy's fault.

NBear's refusal to sit by your side was not meant to be an insult. She was simply wondering why you happened to be brown. You see, she always "knew" that the Easter Bunny was white with a pink nose and a puffy tail -- you were, err...well...different. You had gloves on. It was a bit freaky for her. Thank you for allowing her to stare you down for a good minute before she decided to sit as.far.away.from.you. as possible. *clearing throat*.....Moving on...

Yes, MBEar has severe mood swings. While she was waiting in line for her photo op, she was unbelieveably excited and happy! After all, this was to be her FIRST Spring picture with the infamous buck-toothed Easter hero :) I really don't know what happened in the 5 seconds it took for her to go from the front of the line, to the side of your bench - but wow. Whatever it was, really did a number on her mood. I'm sure it wasn't your fault....well, alright - alright! Don't feel bad, but she thought you'd be a little...smaller. And cuter.

Lastly, I must apologize for my littlest angel SBear. The SECOND she got a good look at you, her eyes became as wide as Mr. Bean's and (as she stared at me) she worriedly uttered the word "DOG!" In fact, I think she may have even said it twice before I mercilessly plopped her down on your coarse, carpet-like lap.

It took the photographer girl TWO shots before we called it a day. I'm so glad she had a puppet handy! It certainly helped to get their attention away from...well, you. *nervous laugh* Ultimately, we had our pic a full second before Sophie was about to do a full-on cry. *whew* Not bad, huh?

Perhaps next year, after you've had a makeover (don't they have Extreme Hare-overs somewhere?), it will be a much better experience for ALL of you. Until then, happy hoppin!

Sincerely,
Mommy Bear
p.s. My brother said you reminded him of Chewbacca.

yes, there can. :(

A few months ago, I had a visit from a childhood friend whose son had also been diagnosed with autism. He's three, and has had / is currently receiving early intervention services (thanks to his diligent parents).

In the course of our catching up, she said she was still concerned because he walks off-balance, and I wasn't sure how to react to that - the reason being, it's not exactly a classic symptom our kids have.

So what do I do after she tells me that they're going to bring him back to his pediatrician for further evaluation? The...dumbest...thing...possible. I cringe just thinking about how utterly and incredibly idiotic I was to think I was reassuring her! *kicking myself*

I told her that "there could be nothing worse than getting a diagnosis of autism, so you will definitely be okay!" Well, there WAS something worse. Much worse. This.

My lesson is learned. I must remember that the world does not revolve around my kid's issues. I must remember that in this world, one cannot close oneself in a bubble of egocentricity because it prevents an empathy for parents who also suffer dealing with other conditions. In this world, one can't heal hearts by starting with the words "Well at least..." or "It can't be any worse than..." because a parent whose child is not considered "typical" could very well care less.

But most importantly, I must remember to pray, to love, to pray, to beg, to cry, to pray, to support, to educate others.....not just for MY issues, but for THEIRS as well, because the hard truth here is - we are all in this together. All of us.

Please accept this big hug, and this apology from the DEPTH of my heart.
I am truly sorry.
Truly.

Bowling, Birthdays, and Back-thens...

We decided to make it a Sunday FUN day for the fam, so the Huz thought it was time we dusted off our bowling bags, and head for the alleys! The last time we had gone, just a few months ago, NBear did a GREAT job! Seriously, it was nice to see her (although she did cover her ears every time the ball would inch near the pins - like she was bracing herself for an explosive collision) go up there and hurl her ball onto the wooden floor. LOL! I really do think that bowling is such good practice for our A-club kids, in that it helps with depth-perception practice (you know what I mean), and focus. Not to mention turn-taking:)

Unfortunately, we didn't have a camera handy (and you can forget about us taking pics with our phones and uploading them. Sounds just as easy as building a nuclear fusion machine!). Too bad! It would have caught the funny moments she had swinging the ball a good 5-7 times before deciding she wanted one of us to help her with the "letting go" part. She actually held people up because she would take SO long to let the ball go! *frustrating but funny!* After a few practice runs, though - I had my bowler back. This time it was even better: no more ear covering, and she remained focused on the ball as it made its painfully SLOW trip down the slippery road. Yeah, Mommy! I did it! I did it! :)

We celebrated her 3rd birthday party at the same bowling alley.
A few months after these photos were taken, she was officially diagnosed with autism.

I love this picture - I had just woken her up from a long nap, and she was not amused. Despite the beautiful braids and daddy's "Look at the camera!" requests, it was very difficult to get my future photographer to see the sense in needing to do such a simple task as...looking.

...but we never gave up, never stopped treating her like a regular kid, and the Huz took her up to the magical aisle for the FIRST time that day.
He gave her the ball, and they held on together...
...and even though (at that time) she didn't respond to the thrill of the moment, didn't smile when we all cheered her on, didn't seem to understand the happiness that swirled around the celebration of another year of her life, or didn't interact with her confused peers,

...she was still able to experience rolling the ball down the alley, and got a HUGE hug from the person who would - four years later - be the same one giving her DOUBLE HIGH-FIVES for scoring a 56. :)
I was right there with him!

good--bad days

Thank you, HopeFaithBelieve, for this - another story of yet another child whose life (we all hope) will one day be our child's.

Or at least, I do. :)

It's funny because just now I asked the Huz, "Honey - when NBear has her BAD days - are they GOOD--BAD days?" I laugh just seeing myself type that up, knowing how ridiculous that may look to anyone else. RIDICULOUS! It's either good or bad, right? Black or white? Hot and Cold? Yes and No? In and Out?...oh wait - too much Katy Perry does not a good blogger make! (NBear LOVES that song to death, by the way).

The Huz replies by telling me that she can at least verbalize what she wants now (I know), as opposed to being non-verbal (I know). She knows what she wants, and how to express that (I know), and for that we should be thankful (I am). *sigh* When my friends ask me how she's doing now that she's pretty much off her regular biomeds routine, I answer with a very honest, "I don't notice too much of a difference - I mean, she's still doing fine!" - and then I need to step back and look at the bigger picture: can she be doing BETTER? Did we make a mistake and pull her out too early? It is nerve-wracking indeed.

My gut tells me that we need to wait to replenish our funds first, before plunging back into another DAN! session. But, is it doing her any good?

THAT - is what kills me. :( Bummer.

March already?

*My how time flies*

I'm currently enduring an NBear not-so-hot moment. *sigh*

What would you do if your child decides to strap on her hot-pink in-line skates, play roller skating rink in the kitchen (which is hardly what we would call spacious), all the while JUMPING repeatedly (though impressive, quite irksome when Mommybear is trying to suppress an impending migraine), and "crashing" herself into the lower cabinets as she zooms along?

Oh - I forgot. Add the following to this scenario: She's been doing this for the past 20 or so minutes, all the while adding her notorious TV talk and endless stream of yellswhinesscreamsyellsyipeeswhoaswhines. *I will not scream, I will not scream, I will not scream....*

My choices?
1) Give in and scream.
2) Rip the skates off her feet myself.
3) Take my anger out on the real root of this problem: The Huz - who gave her the skates in the FIRST place!

............I'm so glad writing soothes me.
...and that my laptop was here.

Sorry *pout*. Just one of those darn days - err, nights.

Ashes to ashes, dust to BUST!

Aaahhh...Ash Wednesday - the beginning of the Catholic community's Lenten season. It marks a period of selfless sacrifice (*sob* Do I REALLY have to give up my coffee? How about I give up Oreo cookies instead? You haven't had an Oreo since you were in the 5th grade! That's not selfless enough!), courageous fasting (must....ignore...smell...of...juicy...burger...), and -of course - the humbling ceremonial rite in which the ashes are placed on our eager foreheads.

Or, in NBear's case - NOT SO eager.

I don't want STAMP on forehead! No Mommy! No daddy! No stamp on forehead anymore! NO!
[That was BEFORE the ashes]

I want take off! *sobbing* No STAMP on forehead! Noooooo! *sob* I want take off!
[...and, after.]

Yup. Need I also mention that the second she was face-to-face with Father Dan and he was ready to place his blackened finger on her face, she (very politely) said "No thank you, sir!" I didn't get a chance to see his reaction, though - but the sigh the Huz let out behind me (we sandwich the kids whenever we have to line up for anything. Great strategy to prevent runaways) was enough to convince me that Father was probably NOT impressed.

Hey - at least she followed directions and didn't rub it off when the Huz told her not to. PLUS, she allowed me a rare photo-op, despite the teary evidence.

Of course, the smile didn't last very long so MBear compensated. (Who else? She looked at the ebony smear like it was the Hope Diamond in tattoo form!)

Well, at least our first-time ash-ee was all smiles!