My blog has sat dormant for nearly a decade now.  I have had thoughts about what I could do with it, most of those centered around parenting, but they just never felt *right*.   As A and Bug get older, their stories become less mine and more theirs, and I don’t need to be the one to tell those struggles and triumphs on social media.  

    So if I’m not going to write about my kids, what else is there?

    Naturally life tossed something in my lap, it’s just taken me a while to accept it.  I recently went through the testing process for ADHD.  My executive functioning skills stink, I struggle where I didn’t use to when it comes to pushing through boring (but necessary) housework.  Sometimes my brain feels like it’s *buzzing* and it’s hard to pin down one of the many thoughts flitting around up there.

    The phrase “out of sight, out of mind,” has taken on a much larger role in my life.  Admittedly that has its perks.  Like when I’m finally able to focus on something, I can’t get distracted by what’s not directly in front of my face.  Unfortunately since my ability to keep up with housework is dwindling, there’s a Whole Lot of stuff right in front of my face, so overwhelm and distraction are a constant battle.

    My skin picking (dermatillomania) ramps up when I’m bored (especially when I’m tired and driving).  

    I just realized the other day that I may actually be a daydreamer.  I get so frustrated with myself because I can be deep in thought for 15 or 20 minutes.  I can compose an amazing chapter in one of the many short stories I constantly have rolling around in my head. I can come up with the perfect way to approach a hard conversation that I need to have with someone.  I can find a simple and obvious solution to a problem.  When I come out of that deep focus, though, I can’t remember anything.  Most of the time I can’t even remember what I was just thinking about.  I have nothing to show for my last 20 minutes of hard work and deep thought.  *Poof*. It’s all just gone.  I can’t even express how frustrating that is.  I feel like I could probably have solved world peace in one of those sessions, but I can’t remember.

    So I went through the ADHD tests.  Turns out I don’t have ADHD, but rather ADHD-like symptoms stemming from Complex PTSD (CPTSD) from my childhood.  Good.  Grief.  

    Now this wasn’t completely out of the blue.  I knew CPTSD was an option from the beginning.  I also knew, however, that I didn’t have anything I felt I needed to address in my therapy sessions.  I have always taken an organic approach toward counseling: if it’s important, it’ll come up when the time is right.    As a result of that philosophy, I went to several counseling sessions with nothing in mind to talk about and nothing came up.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t think I was “cured” when it came to my anxiety and depression.  I know those bad boys can come back at any time and for any reason, but at this point in life I felt like they weren’t factors in my recent inability to push through hard (which for me means monotonous, boring, and mundane) things.  As I write this, I’m realizing that I lumped depression and anxiety in with CPTSD and moved on.  I’m gonna assume that CPTSD encompasses a Whole Lot more than depression and anxiety.

    Looks like my therapist and I get to figure out what *else* is involved with my particular CPTSD.

    While that makes me want to gag, throw up my hands and say “I’m ‘All Done,’” I know myself too well.  I might spend some time in that phase, but it won’t last long.  This time it seems to have lasted a week.  I had to sit with the icky feeling of knowing there is still hard work to be done.  Thankfully that feeling of ick has given way to a feeling of triumph and victory.  Am I struggling? Yes.  Are my struggles directly my fault? No.  Can I do something to change the trajectory I’m on?  Yep.

    So, it looks like I’ll be getting back to it and working on the hard things.  My hard things.  I have been blessed with an amazing support system that continues to grow and change over the years, and I know everyone who is part of that will continue to help me along the way.  Am I the only one who can shape what my future holds?  Yes.  Am I alone on this journey?  Nope.

Stop and Think

  The other day the Hubby and I took some time to go shopping.  I was in desperate need of good dress boots, a coat, and tennis shoes, so off we went.

  As I was trying on shoes, I realized how hard I can be on A when she's picking out shoes.  Basically I'm impatient.  It drives me crazy when she finds a pair she likes, we walk to the check out line, and then she changes her mind.  Or, better yet, when we buy shoes (probably because I've rushed her), get them home, and after a few days she refuses to wear them Ever Again.

  I was ruling out a pair of boots because my heel slid up a bit in the back when I walked--when I realized grown ups can be as picky as they want to be about shoes.

  I had just ruled out 3 pairs of boots because I didn't like the way the heel looked, one pair of boots because the toe slid too much on the floor when I walked, and a pair of tennis shoes because they were too light weight.

  Kids, however, are expected to either pick something quickly, or be happy with what we bring home to them.

  If we (I can't be the only parent out there who does this...Right?) spend more than 30 minutes in a shoe store we start pulling tricks out of our bag to hurry the process along.  Really playing up a pair *I* like--check.  Bribing her with the pink sparkles on another pair--yep, done that, too.  Pointing out how incredibly soft the inside of another pair is--guilty.  If she brings a new pair into the decision making process, it's all I can do to keep steam from coming out of my ears.

  And yet here I was ruling out one pair of shoes after another.  Trying on shoe after shoe after shoe.  My patient husband re-shelving one shoe box after another--all without complaining.

  Suffering from SPD, myself, I'm reminded from time to time how unsettling certain things can be--especially to a kid who's trying to navigate the world around her.  Clothes are an issue, too?  Goodness!  I'm sure I've said this before, but if there's something I can do to make life a bit easier for A, then I'm game to give it a try.

Clean Up, Everyone do His Share!

  I've been doing loads of self reflection lately and have been learning so much about myself!

  For instance:  I'm naturally a lazy person.  In my free time, I like to just sit, or watch TV, or read a book, or peruse Pinterest, or sleep...
  On one hand, that's ok.  That's how I unwind and relax.  On the other, it's not ok when I'm unable to stop doing nothing, be a grown up, and force myself to do un-fun stuff like sweeping, and laundry, and purging junk.
  That's where my childhood didn't lend me any favors.  I learned early on that if I yelled loud enough, I wore Mom down and I didn't have to clean my room.
  The laws of assumption (I'm sure that's a philosophy...) told me that it wasn't necessary for me to see my bedroom floor for me to know it was there.  It was a floor--they don't move (besides, all the toys would have fallen into a gaping hole if the floor ever did go somewhere...).

  And guess what those precious 10 years of not being forced to pick up after myself taught me?  That it's Much harder to learn those life skills as an adult than as a child.
  It would have been so much nicer for me to develop these good habits as a kid than to have to force myself to do it while I nag my kids to pick up after themselves.

    So, as much as I'd love to avoid my kids' dramatics (sometimes complete with sobbing, hysterics, yelling, and pouting on their beds) when I tell them to put their shoes away, take care of their laundry, carry their dishes to the kitchen, etc, I know they will thank me in 20 years.
  Well, they'd thank me if they knew how hard the other side of the coin is.  Luckily for them, I know how hard it is, and I shall save them the frustration in learning the hard way.

  There will always be something else we'd rather be doing when it comes to chores and work and such.  Self discipline is so very important for our kids.

  I have to chuckle when Bug whines about picking up toys he didn't play with and says something like "I didn't play with it, why do I have to pick it up?!"--I find myself thinking something along the lines of, "hey buddy, I didn't play with those toys and I don't want to pick them up either."
  But they have to get picked up, and even though sometimes it'd be so much easier (ok, quieter) if I'd just skip the 5 minute whine fest and say "you go play, I'll get it," or worse yet, "never mind," and just leave the mess (not to say that Never happens--I'm not perfect), that's not teaching him any kind of responsibility.

  I totally get that as adults they may choose to keep their house a bit messier or more cluttered than what I taught them, and that's ok.  At least I can be confident in knowing they have the Skills to reduce the mess and clutter if they so chose.

What's Mine is, Most Certainly, N-O-T His

  Tonight I walked to the sink to get the kids's toothbrushes ready.
  I grabbed a tube of toothpaste and got A's ready.  Then, naturally, I did the same for Bug.
  I was aware that I was taking a Huge risk.  But I chose to live life on the edge.

  You see, earlier in the week Bug's preschool class took a field trip to a dentist's office and the kids got goody bags.  There were extras, so A got one, too.
  They were identical: toothbrush, tiny toothpaste, flossy-stick things, a sand timer.  The only difference: A's toothbrush is purple, Bug's is blue.

  Last night I used each child's tube of toothpaste individually for her/his toothbrush.

  My cardinal sin tonight?  Using A's toothpaste for Both brushes (and, yes, I labeled both tubes of toothpaste and both timers so we Know whose is whose).

  [insert terrified gasp here]

   She wasn't in the room.  It was easier.  I caved to laziness.

  Annnnnd as she was brushing her teeth, she asked if I used Her toothpaste on Bug's brush.

  I took a deep breath before I answered.  Do I lie or tell the truth and face her wrath? [if you think this is a bit dramatic, keep reading to her Her side...]

  I chose to tell the truth.

  A immediately stomped her foot, balled her hands into fists, and shouted (as best she could with a mouth full of toothpaste), "How Could You Do That?!"  Followed by a few more rounds of disgusted "How Could You?"

  I answered honestly: it was easier for me to use one tube of toothpaste (ok, I *may* have mentioned something about being a horrible mother who enjoys making her kids suffer by using The Same tube of toothpaste--complete with dramatic flair--before giving my honest answer...)

  Then I decided to turn this into a great lesson.  I went on to explain that I could have lied to her.  It would have made things Much easier for me.  I wouldn't have had to see her grumpy face, or listen to her angry shouts.  However, knowing all of that, I chose to tell the truth, because that's what mommies and daddies do.  We tell the truth.  We don't lie to our kids.

  She frowned, and went to spit in the sink.

  End of story.

  *Sigh of relief*

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

  The one thing about SPD and childhood anxiety that I can count on is that just when I feel like things are settling down and we've found a good routine, something changes.

  Take Tuesday for instance.  A woke up and was just plain Angry.  Her fists were clenched at her sides, she had a huge frown on her face, she yelled at everyone about everything, she argued about nothing, and I couldn't make her happy.  Later she told me she was angry and didn't know why.

  I called her counselor to see if we could get her in this week.  We made an  appointment for the next day.  By Tuesday afternoon, she was doing better.

  Wednesday morning we woke up and things were back to normal.  Which worked well, because her appointment ended up getting canceled.

  Then there was yesterday morning.  She was back to being angry.

  She was arguing and frustrated and just plain, Angry.  I ended up carrying her (yes, she's 8) from the kitchen table to her room so she could settle down.

  She was quiet for a while and I had to make the tough decision to either go in to check on her or wait until she came out.  We had places to be but I knew *bothering* her could be dangerous.

  I decided to go in.  She was curled up in her sleeping bag, which was on the floor, and partially under her bed.

  My heart sank.

  I knew she was miserable.

  It was back to the drawing board.  I called the counselor's office and made sure we got things taken care of so we could get her in and got an appointment for the next day.  I called her psychiatrist to see if we could get her in earlier (and we did...a whole week!) and I started brainstorming.

  Her SPD has been getting more intense...her chairs don't stay on 4 legs (they're rarely even on 2), she's constantly spinning while she walks, jumping up and down while she watches TV, the amount of clothes she can wear is dwindling (not because she's outgrowing them, but because they itch/hurt/tickle/etc), and she is becoming very rigid in her need to keep to routine/structure.

  I have noticed a few patterns to her behaviors and it looks like we may need to make some changes to our home school calendar.  It also looks like her meds may need to be tweaked.

  Whew.  At least I feel like we're catching it close to the beginning, instead of being sidelined for a month before realizing there's something more to her behavior than being tired/sick/etc.

  I suppose I *am* getting better at this.

She's so Fancy. We already know.

  Anyone who knows A knows that she Loves all things fancy and frilly.  Those people have also begun to learn that A loves the glittery, sparkly, lacy things from a distance.

  On the surface A is the kid one could buy all the cutesy, girly things for.  The inside, however, is another story.
  You see, A loves the idea of being fancy.  She loves clip-on earrings, high heels, hair accessories, and clothes.  The unfortunate thing is that despite how much she loves all that glitters, she just can't handle wearing it.

  Her hair is always in a ponytail because she's uncomfortable with her hair done any other way (including a low ponytail)--not because I'm a lazy mom who couldn't care less about appearances.

  Her hair has little fly-aways because of her beautiful natural curl, but she doesn't wear clippies.  She has a drawer full of colorful hair bows and cute clips, but she doesn't wear them.  Not because they've been forgotten, but because clippies pull and dig into her scalp and hair bows can be itchy, heavy, and get caught in her hair.

  Her closet is full of pretty dresses and cute sweaters, but she always picks the home-made skirts and shirts (sometimes--ok, fine, frequently--the shirts don't match because I have a hard time keeping up with the laundry she deems acceptable to wear).

  She wears socks that are yanked clear up to her knees because she finally found a brand and style she can handle (but knee socks don't come in cute, frilly, lacy styles)--not because they're the current fashion trend.

  She has a 100 pairs of shoes that she loves, but just can't physically wear.  She wears snow boots in the summer and sandals with socks in the fall (she'd wear those year-round, too, but I stopped allowing that a year or so ago).

  She loves to go clothes shopping, but rarely wears anything that is bought brand new.  She likes the feel of things that have already been washed and worn.  Including shoes.  *If* we do get her new shoes (I can't remember the last time we bought her new shoes...all the ones she currently has are either hand-me-downs or consignment/yard sale buys), we buy them a size too big because she can't stand them the slightest bit snug.

  Her eyes light up when she sees shirts with sequins, dresses with some of that can-can material, even dress-up costumes with glitter and sheer sleeves.  But shortly after putting it on, she's frantically tugging it off because it hurts.  There's either a seam, tag, or thread that tickles/pokes/hurts/itches/irritates.

  She loves fancy bedding, but despite the fact that she has some nice sheets, her mattress is currently bare.  Some sheets are too cold, certain blankets aren't soft enough, and the list goes on.

  The silver lining?  She's learning what she likes, what she can handle, why she can't stand some things, and she's developing her own style.

  Perhaps I will design clothes for kiddos like her--tag less, uber soft, affordable, but super cute, girly and fancy....

Cinderella and Her Shoes....*sigh*

  Saturday was my grocery shopping day.  We were also going to a basketball game for the local team.  It just so happened that The Hubby, Bug, and I all had a shirt/hat/jacket/scarf with the team's logo.  A, however, had outgrown her only team t-shirt over the summer, so I thought that on our way into town we could stop at a consignment shop to look for something for her to wear.

  On the way in I told the kids my plans.  I explained to Bug that since he already had lots of team stuff, we weren't looking for things for him and probably wouldn't buy him anything.

  His response: a very calm, "mmm hmm, yes ma'am."

  I was elated.  No fit.  No whining. I didn't feel like beating my head on the steering wheel.  I spent the next 10 minutes of the drive reveling  in the joyful atmosphere.

  We got to the consignment shop, found A something she could wear (I have recently found a new appreciation for dressing rooms--I love them!  It's so nice for A to be able to try something on and decide then and there whether she hates it and can't wear it because of her SPD) and the entire 30 minutes, Bug was quiet and patient (a great feat for a 5-year-old boy who doesn't love shopping).

  As we headed to check out a sweet voice piped up, "Mommy, can I get something?" It was Bug.  *No!  I shall stick to my guns* I thought.

  "No buddy, remember, you don't need anything," I reminded him.  Then I remembered he did need something.  He was in desperate need of tennis shoes.  His current shoes were so worn through, I could actually stick my finger through the toes.

  I told the kids my plan.  And immediately I was sorry.  So, very sorry.

  "WHAT?!  YOU'RE BUYING HIM SHOES?!," A not-so-calmly yelled (as she stands there with her hair in a messy ponytail--yay for natural curls-- in a khaki skirt, t-shirt, and pink/black snow boots on a 70* day...).

  My shoulders drooped immediately and I mentally kicked myself in the rear (repeatedly).  Why couldn't I have remembered he needed shoes earlier so I could have prepared them before we left?  Why?  Why can't I be perfect?

  See, A is my gift/possession obsessed kid.  That, combined with the fact that she just pushed herself to the limit sensory-wise by trying on clothes and enduring weird fabrics/smells/tags and the fact that she hadn't had her Celexa (anxiety med) before we left (she usually takes it with breakfast, and while I'm not sure that that made a difference in her response, but it certainly didn't help) and the fact that she is shoe obsessed made for a miserable 20 minutes.

  She tensed, crossed her arms, scowled at me and proceeded to tell me in a not-so-calm way that she Loves shoes and that it wasn't fair that I was buying Bug shoes and not her.

  Judging by this reaction, one might think I'm the kind of parent who gives her kids any and everything they ask for.  I don't.  I have never been that parent.  A is 8.  Eight.  We have been having the following conversation for years now.  Just because one kid genuinely needs something doesn't mean the other automatically gets the same thing  That being fair is not equality.  That fair is getting what one needs.

  I reminded her that she has So Many shoes they don't all fit in her shoe drawer (I left out the fact that of the 15 pairs she has, she can only actually wear about 5 thanks to SPD).  I also pointed out the fact that Bug actually Needed shoes...that I could stick my finger through the toes of the ones he had on.

  Now, I would expect that most rational 8 year olds would hear that and think, "oh.  I guess he does need shoes.  I just want them.  Ok, fine." pout a bit, but understand nonetheless.

  But not A.  Oh no.  She continued to present her case.  Over. And over.  And Over.

  So, after explaining the need vs want of the situation and telling her that it was ok for her to be mad, but that her behavior was not acceptable, I quit engaging in *conversation* (argument, really) with her.

  And we survived.   Although I'm quite sure that once we get these kids raised I'll have a permanent facial tick.

There May be Money in Our Future

  Tonight the A and Bug were playing in their room.  Bug asked me if I wanted to come see his office.  I did, and sat down on the makeshift sleeping bag/chair.
  When I asked what his job was, he said "prescriptions."
  He then asked me what prescription I needed.  The first one that came to mind: Prozac (easy name to spell, short word, easy to remember).

  "How do you spell that?" he asks, as he prepares to write each letter as I tell him.
  A said, "what about Zyrtec, Momma?"
  Ah, yes, that would have been a better choice....

  So he wrote me my scripts and I was done.  Future pharmacist?  Perhaps.

  A also had an office.  Her profession?  Therapist.
  She invited me into her office.
  A: So do you have any anxiety?

  And the conversation went  on from there...

  Future therapist?  Maybe

  Now A is writing prescriptions for her patients and those imaginary patients are taking them to Bug to be filled.

  I'm glad I have the ability to see the humor in this whole scenario.

She's "All About that Snack. 'Bout that Snack. No hunger."

  Yesterday was a beautiful day where we live!  We were able to take a picnic to the park, ride bikes, walk some trails, and throw some rocks into the creek.  At the end of January!
  On the way home from the aforementioned outing, and after listening to A yell and sob about snack, the following *conversation* ensued:
  Me:  Ok, you can have some of this peanut butter-and-jelly sandwich.
  A: No! I don't want that.
  Me: it has protein and it's a little sweet, it's the perfect snack.
  A: No!  I don't want that!
  Me:  It's all I have.  It's either that or nothing, kiddo. *talking to the Bug and his friend in the back*: You boys want some of this pb and j?
  Them:  yeah!

  I divided one fold-over sandwich in half and passed it back to the boys.  When they were finished, I faced the following dilemma:  I had one fold-over left.  Do I offer the boys seconds or do I save it just in case A decides she wants some?
  I waited a few minutes and then offered the boys seconds.
  Sure enough, A decided she wanted some.
  I divided the fold over into thirds and passed it back, explaining that this was all I had.

  A:  What?  But I want seconds!  That's not fair that the boys got seconds and I don't!

  *Insert a 5 minute fit about how unfair it was that the boys got seconds and she didn't [on a snack she didn't want in the first place]*

  Whew.  SMH.

Routine or Bust!

  In my blog post yesterday, I mentioned that A had been clinging to our routine lately.
  Today I wanted to share a shining example of how drastic things got.
  With all the holidays we've had lots of time at home together.  The Hubby, A, Bug, and me.  We had a few lazy mornings (your typical stay-in-your-pajamas-all-day-and-eat-breakfast-at-11 kind of day).
  By the second day (not in a row--we aren't heathens ;) ) I found myself thinking "this is nice!  We don't have nearly enough of these days in our lives."
  My peaceful, lazy morning quickly came to a screeching halt.
  You see, the kids watch a show when they first get up.  They also have snack on the couch.  That particular morning the kids had eaten saltines.  I needed to go into town, and as I was getting ready to leave, A asked for seconds of snack.  I knew she had eaten plenty--but had never had "official seconds."
  She was adamant that she was starving, so I asked how many crackers she had.
  Twelve.  She'd had 12.  Now that might not seem like much, but I always give the kids 5 to start with and 5 for seconds (annnnnd there's a reason for that, too....but that's another story).  She had already had more than that and wanted seconds?!
  I noted that it was 11 a.m., so I said "If you're that hungry, go ahead and eat lunch."
  Looking back I see what a ridiculous offer that was to make.  Hindsight and all...
  "I can't have lunch! I haven't had breakfast yet!"  was A's not-so-calm response.
  Breakfast?  It's 11 o'clock and you've been eating saltines All morning...?
  I tried to reason with her, but soon discovered that it was useless.  Logic and reason are among the first things to go when she starts her downward spiral.
  I finally told her she was welcome to have breakfast.  When I left, both of my adorable children were eating breakfast basically at noon.
 
  I got home about two hours later, during rest time, and A came running up to me, crying.
  "Daddy won't let me eat lunch!" she sobbed.
  He was dumbfounded.
  "I thought they were eating lunch when you left" was his (logical) response.

  Nope.  It certainly wasn't as *simple* as that--so she sat down to lunch at 2 in the afternoon.

  Take away from this:  we don't skip meals in this house.  Ever.  Even if we wake up at noon, there's a certain order to things: breakfast, lunch, snack, dinner.

  Whew.  Lesson learned.

Birthdays. Who Knew?

  A just had a birthday, but the preparation for it began months ago.
  I don't mean the prep on my end. Sure, I am making a Ton of things for the party, but I began my projects about a month before the party--so I'm in pretty good shape.
  It was the preparation on A's part that wasn't coming together well.
  A few weeks ago that I noticed an increase in meltdowns.  Thankfully I was able to see that they weren't as bad as they used to be, but they still left me scratching my head.  She was clinging to our routine, and the smallest change was Not acceptable.
The problem was that I couldn't see what had changed.

  I finally did some analyzing and realized that these meltdowns were similar to her "transition meltdowns" (going from one activity to another was a big deal) that we struggled with desperately  when she was younger.    

  After thinking about it, I had a major Light Bulb moment!  She was afraid to turn 8.  She was scared of her birthday.  It made total sense to me!  Anxiety stems from a fear of the unknown.  She's never been 8.  She is the first one of her group of friends to turn 8.  From anxiety's point of view, there are tons of unknown variables involved with age and unknown = scary.

  I resorted to what I do best, and began research.  Guess what?  There aren't any fantastic books (parenting or juvenile fiction) to help prepare a kid to be 8--or any age.  Several parents on an SPD Facebook page said they have the same problem, but no one had answers.
  I e-mailed A's therapist, and started brain storming.  All of a sudden, I realized the answer was incredibly simple.  I decided to just ask her.  I chose a time when she and I were sitting at the kitchen table together and the house was quiet.  She was working on an art project, and I was working on some birthday party stuffs.  I just said "So, A, how do you feel about turning 8?"
  She stiffened a bit and said "When's my next Paula [her counselor] appointment?"
  It obviously bothered her, so I dropped it--as far as talking about it goes, anyway.  Instead, I made an appointment for her with Paula that week (instead of waiting another week for her next appointment), and then I made a point to comment on all the "Big Kid" things she was doing.  She has made her own drawings and snowflakes as decorations for her party, she made an incredible tent in her room, she asked me to teach her how to sew and I did (and she totally rocked it!).
  I made a point to say, "Wow, you're so ready to be 8," or "Building a tent like that is definitely something an 8 year old would do." I could see her self confidence increase, and then I heard it.  I asked if I could take a picture of her and the amazing tent to post on Facebook, and she said, "Sure.  And I'll look proud of myself because I am proud of myself."
  Let me tell you, that was one Proud Momma moment for me!  Internally I was cheering and turning cartwheels.  But on the outside I just smiled, took the picture, and posted it.
  She's an amazing kid and she's going to rock this whole being 8 business!

Let The Good Times Roll

  There has been much drama in my life lately and it's been stealing my sunshine.
  I decided to drag the family on a vacation (not really, we were all actually excited to go!) so I could re-center myself.  My focus needs to be My immediate family: The Hubby, A, and Bug...and me, of course.
  It's been hard to keep that perspective with so many other things trying to demand chunks of my time.
  Vacation was just what we needed.  Even though we were tired when we got home, we had a wonderful week together.  No other worries, just spending time with each other!
  Things have been falling into place for me since our return home.
  I was really struggling with A and found myself doing more research, reading, digging, discussing, etc, to try to find a solution.
  She grew 1.5 inches in about 5 months, and as a result, her psychiatrist increased her anxiety medicine about 3 months ago in order to catch up with her growth spurt.
  I saw some difference at first, then we stalled out, but the last 4 days have been amazing!
  A has been happy.  Genuinely happy for more than 30 percent of the day!  She's giggling, making up her own jokes, and acting goofy.  Quite honestly, the first day she was like that, I was convinced I was living in the Twilight Zone.  It really threw me off not having to tiptoe around her.
  She has been taking initiative.  This kid who had to be regularly coerced into doing even the piddliest of chores is now racing me to the kitchen so she can set the table without being asked.  She's putting away laundry without being asked.  She's cleaning up without being asked.  Notice a trend?  Initiative.
  A has been helpful.  She has done what I ask when I ask without whining and carrying on like I'm killing her.
  She has been affectionate.  Running up to me, The Hubby, and Bug at random times and giving us hugs, kisses, or words of encouragement--"You're the best little brother, ever!"
  Honestly, even her hugs and kisses were awkward for me because it was so foreign.  She's never enjoyed giving or receiving kisses--I always assumed it was an SPD thing.  Perhaps it still is, but it's obviously not as big a deal anymore.
  It's times like this when I remind myself *this* is why I never stopped asking questions, digging, searching, and getting evaluations when I wasn't happy with the answers I was getting.
  *This* is why I sort through my own traumas and work hard in my counseling sessions: so I can be there for A and support her like I need to.
  *This* is why I'm ok with my 7.5 year old seeing a therapist regularly, being on anxiety medication, and seeing a psychiatrist.
  *This* is the A who has been buried under SPD, anxiety, timidity, etc.
  I live for moments when I get to see that precious, kind-hearted baby girl.
  The last 4 days have been well worth all the struggles we have endured together over the years.
  I love my little girl!

Logic In My House 101

  I found this gem in a journal entry of mine from about 5 months ago.
  Since the last post was a bit heavy, I thought I'd follow it up with a funny story.
  A little history before you read: A had been struggling with her SPD, which led to this (something I can laugh at now...)

"This morning we were getting ready for Church and A wore a new dress.  She tried it on without an undershirt first.  Then she put a t-shirt under it.  That worked, but it was a VERY delicate situation.  
Apparently I messed that up when I touched the tag. It took her 10 minutes to settle down after completely melting down.  When I fixed her hair, she *gently* reminded me to be careful of the tag.

So I was very careful.  And when we were done (we made it without a complete meltdown) I said “look, I didn’t even touch the tag.”

Ya know what she said?????

“What tag?”

What the….?

What just happened there?????  

I know, “WHAT TAG?!”  The blasted thing wasn’t touching her because she had an undershirt on to serve as a buffer.

Oh for crying out loud."

  And that's how logic works in my household...

Tough Love

  My family seems to be getting a head start on the whole "winter is the season to be sick" mentality and so we've started in late August/early September.
  Over the last six weeks, I have noticed that while the maternal instinct in me wants to cuddle A and pull her onto my lap when she says "I don't feel good," I can't do that.  Not with A.  We, as mothers, can easily fall into the trap of thinking that we are a bad mother if we don't pay attention to our child's every ache and pain.
  For a lot of parents, that's an ok approach.  Unfortunately when it comes to me and A, I can't afford a reaction like that.
  Let me explain:  A comes to me multiple times a day with various complaints from tummy aches (could be anxiety, could be gas, could be a stomach bug), to her eyes not working right (she saw an eye doctor last year--her vision is perfect), to bumping her toe on something and now not being able to walk right, to miscellaneous scrapes/bumps/bruises.
  Don't get me wrong. I don't brush her off.  I know that won't send the right message.  I do, however, have to make sure that my reaction is a good balance of loving concern and confidence in knowing she'll be ok.  I acknowledge her discomfort and offer an appropriate low-intervention (read: not medication) solution (usually ice or rest), and go on.

  Not only have I had practice in tough love w/ A lately, but with my mom, too.  Life hasn't been easy for the past month, and one of the issues has involved Mom's health.
  I have come to the hard realization that I don't actually know how to love my own mother (another post for another time).  As a child I was shown conditional love.
  Over the past month people who know my history have been saying "hey, you've gone above and beyond the past few weeks for your mom,"  while the child in me says, "she's your mom" and encourages me to say yes to things I shouldn't agree to.

  I've had to set some hard boundaries that seem cold to others.  I've had to stop being concerned with what other people might think of my choices, and draw the line.  I've come to realize that this is in the best interest of everyone involved (me, A, Bug, The Hubby, and Mom).
   The best way I can show my mother deep, unconditional love is to set boundaries and let her figure some things out on her own.  Enabling her to be dependent on others isn't helping anyone.
  Whew.

  Positive take away:  I'm doing what's best for everyone involved...even if it is hard.

A Bit of Creativity

  I am naturally a creative person.  In the past I've been so bogged down by emotional junk, that I haven't been able to accomplish much...or I would go through spurts where I was productive, shortly followed by being intimidated by projects.
  I finished a project a few weeks ago, and true to my nature, I put off the finishing touches for a while (not avoiding it this time, just busy).  I'm finally Almost finished (just waiting on The Hubby to hang it).  So in honor of this momentous occasion (I may be exaggerating slightly ;) I thought I'd post pics.
  One reason I'm so pleased with it is because I only had a picture I found on line (I'll post that, too) to go off of.  No how-to instructions.  No tutorial.  Just a photo.  And I'm happy with the outcome.
  IF any of you beautiful readers would like a written tutorial for this (or any other project I post...because I plan to post loads now that I'm so productive!), let me know and I'll do my best to put one together.
  I have another project to work on, and will be excited to share it with you when it's done.  But it may be a bit time consuming....

  This one is the image I found on line.

 

                          This is my version (PS--It's a peacock, in case you had a hard time seeing it... AND it's made out of toilet paper rolls!)

Never a Dull Moment

  So in light of me feeling better, I thought I'd write about something funny instead of the usual "heavy" stuff.
  So today I had 5 kiddos which makes my van Full (all are boys, except A).  But we like to get out and go whenever we can.  There was a park play date I was planning to go to...
  Things didn't quite go according to plan so we ended up arriving at the park 15 minutes before it was "over."  I figured it was a laid-back kind of thing, lots of families were supposed to be there, so my crew would just enjoy the park even after the others left.  We had a picnic lunch and were set to go.
  When we got there, I discovered there was only one other mom who came.  Oops.  They sat with us and chatted, and then had to get on with their day.
  My kids finished their lunches and then begged me to take them on some walking trails.  I had never been to this park before, but some friends were leaving the trails earlier and assured us that their 2 yo made it just fine.  We should just stay to the left and it would just make a nice loop back around.
  I figured, we're in the middle of the city, a 2 yo can make it, what can go wrong?  So we headed out.
  Well the first 20 minutes were enjoyable.  It was shady, there were bridges over a creek.  The kids dipped their hands in the water.  We even saw an owl in a tree.
  The unfortunate thing was that about 3 feet into the hike there were 4 forks.  We went left (the lower left, I think).  We stayed left-ish.  But there were Tons of intersections and such that had at least 3 options.  No maps.  No "easy trail, this way" arrows.  No "snail trail .10 of a mile that away" signs.
  Finally I decided we should turn around.  We took a break.  I encouraged the children to sit, drink their water, and chill.  What did they do?  Played tag.  Then we started walking...and walking...and walking.  The kids were sweaty, tired, and whiny.  We found the only other trail head and a map!  It was THE WORST map EVER.
    I took a picture of it with my phone in case I needed to refer back to it.  According to that, we stay right... So we did.  I even stayed so far right that I led us all up a steep embankment (I promise you, it looked just as worn as the paths we'd been following), only to find it was a dead end.
  So the kids trekked back down.  One was in flip-flops, one was in rain boots, one was in tennis shoes, one was in crocs, and one was in well-worn play shoes.
  We wandered and wandered and wandered.  And wandered.  The kids were whiny.  Their legs were tired.  We were dripping with sweat.
  There had been absolutely no other people on the trail, but I found myself thinking "if only we could find someone to point us in the right direction."  And around the next bend (to the right.  We were staying right!) there were 3 teen-age kids putting hammocks up.  YAY!!!
  I totally interrupted them and admitted my stupidity and begged for directions.
  Turns out we were a stone's throw from our trail head. One of the kids started to give me directions, and then just said "here, I'll just show ya.  I'm headed back that way."
  And naturally the minute we arrived back at the park the kids had tons of energy and ran around like little lunatics (cute little lunatics) asking if we could stay around for a while to play.
  After 40-ish minutes of wandering around in the woods, Miss Alexis went with "no."
 

Still Alive...

  So some of you might be wondering where I've been.  To be honest, I've been avoiding my blog.  I was intimidated.  Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I really liked the 30 day photo project I did.  There were several reasons, but we'll just leave it at that:  I really liked the project.  Just the thought of trying to come up with something to follow that was intimidating.  So I did what I do best:  I avoided it.
  Thankfully, even though I've been quiet on the blog, I've done a Lot of self examination.
  I've had a couple of great counseling sessions, and I've made a lot of changes in my perspective.  Somewhere in the last 3 months I hit a major turning point, and it's been nice!
  I realized that these past few years I've still been depressed, just not nearly as badly as I was initially.  Now I'm even coming out of that and it's nice.  It feels good to be happy.  It's nice to have a clean house.  It's nice to have happy-ish kids and a happy dog (yes, on bad days I even felt guilted by the dog).
  I am blessed to have a husband who has loved me when I didn't even love myself.  I've always thought he was amazing, but to realize that he saw something in me that I didn't even discover in myself until 10 years after we got married....that's almost unfathomable.
  I feel like I'm finally coming into my own.  I'm becoming happy with the person I am.  I'm a little socially awkward, and that's ok.  I have quirks, but that's what makes me fun!
  In some ways I feel like I have been mature beyond my years, but in other ways (like being comfortable with who I am), I feel like I was Very immature.  I've finally started to grow out of that phase in my life, and I like it.
   

Hello Monday!!

  Ok, so technically today is Tuesday.  I must admit, I forgot about posting yesterday.  Oops!
  But I'm only one day off, so I thought I'd go ahead and post for the weekly segment =)

  This week I am saying Hello!! to:

• Getting the ball rolling on taking care of A's cross bite, even though it's not going to be an easy process for her (or us...).
• Making some potentially hard personal discoveries that will help take care of these anxiety-induced chest pains.
• My birthday.
• Doing some more spring cleaning and organizing.
• Crocheting.  I have a fun project I've been working on for the kiddos in my life and am looking forward to Finishing it!

  What are You saying Hello!! to this week?

  ~Alexis

Hello Monday!

  Good morning!
  I'm not sure what the weather is like where you are, but it snowed and sleeted here.  Again.  It's done that enough this winter that even A is ready to see the snow go!
  But in keeping with the optimism of this segment,  I shall focus on the positives of this week (even the snow has it perks).

  Here is what I am looking forward to this week:

• Playing in the snow with the kids
• Crocheting a few small projects
• Tapping into my creativity to make some changes our master bedroom
• Taking care of some more de-cluttering
• Getting into a good home-schooling groove 

  What are You saying hello to today?

  ~Alexis

Picture #30