Crazy Dog Chick

I work at Club Canine, a dog daycare/boarding facility. It is the love of my life. After my husband and kids, of course. Right?

I love my job so much because I love the dogs so much. This has been at the foundation of my personality since day one, according to my mom. I have the dog gene, as we say in our family. 

Today at work, my boss is out for the day, so I am up front greeting clients and taking the dogs in instead of being in the playroom. It is the middle of drop-off time and dogs and clients are in and out the door at a steady pace.

As one client walked in with her two dogs, I looked up with tears streaming down my face. This is where the Crazy Dog Chick title comes in to play. Do you think she expected to arrive to doggie daycare to a bawling woman? I doubt it, but it couldn't be helped.

And this is why.

Last fall, my boss looked up at me through the playroom window one day in much the same manner as she sat at her computer and I was in with the dogs - though hers was an expression of shock. She'd just found out that a woman she'd become online friends with through a forum for dog daycare owners had passed away in a car accident. Cristal was a woman she'd never had the pleasure to meet in person, but a friend just the same.

This morning, I happened upon something beautifully moving that Cristal's husband, Marcus, wrote recently; which is what made those tears flow at that very inopportune time. When I innocently picked up the printout from my boss's desk and began reading, I didn't know my heart would soon be caught in my throat.

What Marcus wrote struck me as both incredibly sad and beautifully inspiring. Some scoff of human-pet relationships; but as a lifelong dog-lover, I can tell you that for those of us who feel it, these relationships are very real and mean the world to us.

Marcus and his wife, Cristal, started Mile High Mutts together in Denver, Colorado. Here is what Marcus wrote:

I wanted to thank the many people who have expressed their condolences over the last six months. In the weeks after the accident I was truly overwhelmed with the outpouring of support from all over the country. I've kept my head down trying to just put one foot in front of the other. Something happened recently that told me it was time to lift up my head and reach out. A dog died at our facility! The ultimate nightmare scenario that keeps all daycare owners up at night happened to me. It didn't play out the way I imagined. No news crews and lawyers, just love . . . all kinds and so much love.

Chief was our customer for over 6 years. His mom does a great deal of business traveling so he stayed with us often. He was stubborn, independent and fierce. He was a favorite. 

He was diagnosed with liver cancer and was told he would not make it to Christmas. That was Christmas of 2009! He made it to that Christmas and the one that followed. Slowly, over the months, he withered. Fed the best of food, he was still losing muscle tissue and weight. We talked about the usual end-of-life decisions and concerns . . . no one wanted to see him suffer.

I just listened to Chief . . . really listened. He told me he wasn't done yet. He would come in every morning barking up a storm. Now, anyone who knows how we run our operation knows we jump all over barking and do not allow it. When Chief barked I would say, "sing to me!" And it was music.

Christmas 2010 came and went and Chief still had an appetite and still sought me out anytime I was in the pack. He went beyond what the vet said he could do. Six months on heart and another six months on stubbornness. The final six months was because he just didn't know how to give in.

At the end, he talked to me again. He told me he was done. He told me he would never get up again. I called his mom and said it was time. I don't think I could have said it on my own, but I was able to relay a message from Chief. She said she didn't want him euthanized at a vet clinic. She didn't want him transported home. She wanted Chief's last moments to be at Mile High Mutts. I was . . . humbled. I made the arrangements for a vet to come and she flew home. We all said our goodbyes and then Chief was gone. It was an honor. And honor to know him and an honor to help him. 

After the car accident, I didn't know what to do. Thankfully, I just listened to the dogs. In the pack, I felt some measure of peace. The daycare was our first baby. We took out a second mortgage, maxed out seven credit cards, quit our jobs and gave birth to Mile High Mutts. 

Taking care of my three babes has been all-consuming these last six months. But I think back to a day in the pack. I was so tired I wanted to sit . . . to relent. It was my first holiday season without Cristal. There comes a day when an alpha dog sits down . . . and is no longer an alpha dog. I looked across the yard at Chief . . and he looked back. I am still standing.

They have so much to teach us, these dogs. We just have to listen.

Death ends life, but often brings life in other ways. Marcus has a long road ahead raising his young sons without Cristal, but it sounds like his heart is moving in the right direction.


photo by Daniel Mohorovic

Gosh, This Really Kinda Stinks.

So, it's been awhile. Probably due to the contents of the previous post. Not much has changed.

I am focusing my emotions on things that are sure bets right now for sheer survival.

Sure bet #1: I love my job. No matter how obnoxious and chaotic it is at work, I am happy. Yesterday we had 40 dogs by 9:00 a.m. It seemed that most of them either forgot we have a dog door or were uninterested in going into the potty yard that is a wet mess right now due to all the melting snow that the city of Carmel transported and dumped in the parking lot that we share. The playroom seemed as great a place as any for all of them to pee and poop and puke in. All. morning. long.

The barking was out of control - as out of control as I let it get with my outstanding use of the shrill fingers-in-the-mouth whistle that I perfected as a teenager. Our two biggest howlers were on site yesterday trying their best to out-shrill my whistles. This gets the whole group going into "howl fests" which makes you want to crawl into a hole and dig to China when you have the noise sensory issues that I do.

But this all makes me happy because it is an escape. Plus these dogs love you no matter what. And they listen better than human kids do.

Sure bet #2: My husband is my best friend; and we cling to one another like plane crash survivors floating in the sea sharing a raft. We are both feeling completely defeated right now, but to turn on one another like so many spouses do in times of turmoil has never been our style. We are the ones who, floating on that raft, joke about the sharks circling us and make fun of that one's weird, bent fin. A little maniacal, yes, but that's just us. Ever hear us joke about autism? This is why. Caught a piece of a completely inappropriate conversation we are having and laughing about while walking through Sam's Club? This is why. We are surviving the best way we know how - by making light of it - or anything - for a laugh. Because laughter is our life support.

Sure bet #3: My family. My mom and dad, brother and sister - they are more than anyone could ask for. I can tell my sister that a mental breakdown is imminent, and the next thing I know, she is here. And we are laughing and peeing our pants in a restaurant and crying over emotions surrounding her recent trip to visit one of her adoptive sons' birth family. She doesn't try to solve anything, or tell me what I'm doing wrong or shake her finger at how I'm acting or feeling. She just listens, and hugs me, and laughs with me. I can text with my brother that I just received yet another teacher email, and he's texting right back with me no matter what he's doing at the time. I can call my mom and dad, and no matter which one of them answers, I can just start unloading or come undone without worrying about what they will say or do. I know they understand because they spend so much time with my kids and us that they feel it, too.

Sure bet #4: I know I have certain people praying very hard for my family. And no matter how much faith I am losing myself, they are rock solid for us.

Beyond these things right now, I'm not feeling very emotionally confident about much of anything else. In fact, losing confidence in just about everything else is what I'm doing. I feel incredibly lonely.

The sharpest bite right now is the bitterness over the feeling that much of what I do is one way. Meaning, when I stop doing what I'm doing, then it becomes painfully obvious that I was the only one moving - the only one pouring myself into whatever it is. I can plug this algorithm into a number of areas, and the outcome is, well, just like you think it would feel.

The good thing about that is this (see? still trying to find the good ...) - my house is a complete and utter trashed disaster. Since I can't tell you the last time another adult - anyone - came to my house besides my mom, dad, and sister - and my family for Christmas (see sure bet #3), it's not so bad that it's so out of control. I know that no one will ever see it.

So I go, go, go. I go to the church and do my volunteer job. So I see people then. And I go to work - so I see people then. I go to run errands, so I see people in stores. I go here and I go there. I go because if I don't do the going, I don't have the interaction. But you know what? I've recently become tired of the going. And the planning. And the doing.

I have started not doing the going unless I have to. Which, of course, isolates me more, which amplifies the feelings, which makes it all the more painfully obvious that I do all the doing. But, that's just the way it has to be. I'm sitting back, getting a clear, true picture of my life - taking stock, taking score, seeing what's true and what I thought was true but was really all just me making something work - and moving from there.

I don't know where it will take me, but a clear picture is coming forth. And no matter how painful it is, it's something that is true and unmanipulated by me. This is what I need to see. Because you know what they say - when you keep doing the same things and getting the same disappointing results, why are you surprised? Right now, I am doing what I have to do and that is it.

This is me not doing the same things and hoping for different results. So far, the results are even more disappointing - but they are different. This is what I need to see and figure out.

And I will, with my best friend and a lot of inappropriate laughter.

Broken.

 Hello, internet. How are you?

I've been seriously bogged down with life lately. I have so much to write about on here, but no time with which to write it. Life with two kids on the autism spectrum alone makes life in this home spin out of bounds. Add to that the normal things of everyday life - seven-year-old's basketball season, the new dog and his training, working part-time, volunteering, running a household with three boys, and trying to get fundraising up and going for the 12-year-old's mission trip - and there is little left over.

I've been trying my best to get through it with my chin up, but this past couple of weeks have been overwhelmingly discouraging in the parenting arena. I feel like it's Sean and me in one corner and Goliath in the other, but neither of us has a sling shot or enough faith to even get out of the fetal position.We are defeated.

So we just cling to one another and keep trying. But the trying is losing steam. Fast.

I know I can't just give up. But I am out of reserves and am feeling like I'm wandering through the hot, sunny desert in need of just a drop of water. I see mirages in the form of weekly therapy and meds that cost us over $600/month. But lately those seem just like that - something that looks to be effective, yet in the end things don't change. Leaving ourselves with nothing left after each paycheck with little obvious return right now is a hard pill to swallow.

I want to scream at teachers that I DON'T KNOW anymore. PLEASE DON'T CALL ME OR EMAIL ME. I want to be one of those parents who sends their kids to school with the attitude that my kids are their problem from 7:30-2:30 and that education and behavior there is not my deal.

So apparently I want to be completely irresponsible.

All of this sounds awful and horrible and so unlike me. This is what I am saying. I am not me right now and am having a helluva time finding a reason not to chuck it all and just say whatever. There are tons of rotten parents out there whose kids somehow turn out great. And my trying to be as excellent a parent as possible is turning out a lot like turning on a full blender without the lid.

A gigantic mess.

There is so much more than I am willing to write about here. Our home is not a happy one right now, and this saddens me the most. Because all Sean and I really want at the end of the day is peace in our home. Laughter with our kids. Fun. Contentment.

I know the most important thing is one to focus on. Every person in this home is a Christian. To that end, we have done our job as parents. We have given our children the gift of God and what he has for us and they have each chosen his path.

I know that life here on earth is messy and may be horrible every day until we go to heaven. I know these things. But really? Just a little easier for a little while would be so nice.

I know this is all very selfish and whiny. For that, I'm sorry.

Now I will go hug a puppy.


photo by Bartek Ambrozik

It Was All About Me

God snatched me away from my reality and put me somewhere else while something very bad was happening at home. He knew what he was doing; and because of that, I got to live five days that were all mine. Not mentally or emotionally (with all that was going on in my home without me), but physically. All. Me.

I:
drank my weight in coffee (and found out where to get the greatest coffee drink I've ever had).

slept much less than I thought I would (didn't want to miss anything).

leaped from a still-moving vehicle to run after members of my favorite band walking down the street.

had a "Modern Family" marathon with my brother and sister which may have caused a hernia ("DON'T CALL ME A RAT! SHE KILLS RATS!").

tried to sweet-talk my way with a security guard at Raleigh/Durham airport back into a restricted area for the sake of Starbucks (didn't work).

ate some jalapeno hush puppy funnel cake. Wrap yer mind around that.

learned how to make homemade Kahlua. Homemade Kahlua!.

got pulled aside and searched by airport security because of a jar of baby food.

carried on a conversation with an old man on a plane about Butler U. basketball. Those of you know me know how ridiculous of a concept this is. He was half deaf and so am I, so it worked out fine.

sat back and let my brother and sister take care of me. Because life would still be here, waiting on me, when I returned home.

What Happened? Part 1.

A little over a month ago, while texting with my brother, whom I’m very close to, about how downhill things have been going recently with middle dude (who has Asperger’s and a mood disorder) and other life issues, he apparently concocts a plan within his cunning mind right then and there. He is determined to shuttle me out of my life for awhile by flying me to Raleigh, NC (near their home), taking me to see my favorite band in concert (for the 7th or so time) and spend a couple of days in Asheville, and making me spend time being taken care of instead of doing things for others.
 
Against every protest coming from me regarding money and anyone’s ability to pay for plane and concert tickets for me at this time, he is determined. He reprimands me for arguing with him like I’m 9 and he’s 18 again. Before the end of the day he has made airline reservations, purchased concert tickets, and I’m going regardless of my near inability to accept things like this from others.
 
As my trip approaches, I find out that it has been a combined financial effort of family members to get me away. I honestly can’t wrap my mind around someone else wanting to do this for me – even my own family. But these people love me like no one else. They never get in a snit and decide I’m not worth their time. They never turn on me, no matter how much my life’s issues splatter all over them. They recognize my strengths and praise them; they see my weaknesses and try to help fill in the gaps. They make me feel like I matter. They do not say the words, “You matter,” to me; their actions show me that I matter.
 
Do you have any idea what it feels like to have someone see a need that you have, step in to fill it regardless of all they have going on in their own life – simply because of the love they feel for you?
 
This is the blueprint for a family. And it’s what I try with all my heart to show to others whenever I can.
 
By the day before my trip, I am in such need of time away from my own existence that the uneasiness of accepting such a huge handout has been replaced with overwhelming gratefulness for such a blessing.
 
Life recently has been relentless. The parenting special needs issues have been like a hail of gunfire. You run one way, you run another, but it matters not. You’re getting hit from every direction. Just survive. Keep moving. I’ll survive if I keep moving. I have no idea which way to go, and I’m going to be hurt no matter what. But if I do nothing, I’m dead. 
 
Other issues unrelated to the special needs have been like salt on the open wounds of my life lately, as well, rendering already-difficult emotional terrain nearly impossible to navigate. You know when your prayers evolve to “Please just make it all stop, Lord,” that you’re close to the edge. I know this because I have skidded beyond that point before – and what lies beyond is a steep, dark, narrow crevice that’s much easier to fall into than to negotiate your way back out of. 

This trip was my family acting as a pile of boulders placed in the path between me and that crevice. But we all know (or we should) that even the most well-thought-out plan is no match for God’s timing and his own idea of how things are going to go down.
 
No match, indeed.
 
It all started with my mom waking me up the evening before I was to fly out – at a little after 6 p.m. I hadn’t realized I’d fallen asleep sitting straight up in my bed while making a packing list, and she’d arrived to begin being “Nana-mom” the next morning to my two younger boys and two dogs (Buddy and Heidi) while I was gone and Daddy was at work all day. I could hear middle dude (12) and youngest dude (7) yelling at one another downstairs and asked what was going on. 

“Apparently Buddy has thrown up somewhere and they’re fighting about cleaning it up. You don’t worry about it. I didn’t come to sit and do nothing!”
 
Oh, the providence of that my mother's words.

Round And Round

Life is hard. It really is - even for the people with the seemingly easiest of lives. Life on this side of heaven is . . . just . . . hard.

Add to this the fact that what is difficult for one person is not what is difficult for the next, which makes it all the more difficult for all of us to be understanding with those we interact with every day. We are dealing with our own circumstances, those around us are dealing with theirs, the world keeps spinning, and the price of gas keeps going up.

I honestly don't know how anyone keeps their wits about them. Which brings me to my next point.

Within all of this life going on every day fall each of our individual personalities and the tools and skills that God has given each of us - like monkey wrenches being thrown into the spokes of a very fast-moving bicycle.

Let me stop here and tell you about my experience with this.

One warm summer day when I was 11 or so, I was riding my bike home from softball practice with my mitt hanging on the handlebar. You remember, right, that the point of riding your bike, at the age of 11 or so, is to go as fast as you can, as recklessly as you can, without actually killing yourself in the process. Remember? That wasn't just me, was it?

I was flying along, sweating, happy, care-free, right up to the moment that my mitt slid - unnoticed - down the handlebar. It slipped cunningly between the frame of my bike and the wildly spinning front tire, acting as an instant brake that could surely stop a moving 18-wheeler. That front tire went from moving around something like 3,000 MPH to a dead stop while the rest of the bike and my entire body kept moving at the original speed - right over the front of the bike - like I was filming an episode of Jackass. Only there was no one around jumping up and down yelling, "DUDE! That was a-w-e-s-o-m-e!!"

It wasn't pretty; and neither is it sometimes when we are all moving around life like a bunch of tops spinning at all different speeds in all different directions and bump into one another. Sometimes the contact is positive and it makes us spin better, or we start spinning in the same direction and create positive momentum. Other times we make contact with others that sends us spinning out of control in the opposite direction, slamming into others who are then affected and sent spinning away from where they were content to be. At times the contact can cause us to stop spinning altogether, unable to get going again without help. This puts us in danger of being trampled by those who are still spinning. And the domino effect goes on and on, day in and day out.

We are all spinning within our own lives, within our own circumstances; but we are not living this life in a vacuum. What we do and do not do does affect other people whether we intend for it to or think it will or not. When we think we are being put upon, abused, or otherwise "victimized" with someone else's behavior, actions, or words, we need to remember that on the other side of that spinning top is the top that we ran into earlier and sent reeling. Did I intend to send someone else down a path of negative thinking, upset, or frustration? Probably not. So it may be very true that the person who is sending me spinning right now is not intending to, either.

Furthermore, on top of this is the fact that we are all equipped differently to deal with these issues. Some are strong, both mentally and emotionally. These people can analyze a situation rationally, see what really matters and what does not, make clear conclusions and decisions and move on from there. Others are ill-equipped emotionally to deal well with all the spinning and crashing and, therefore, are less able to cleanly and succinctly move through difficult situations. This makes for a lot of misunderstanding and a huge lack of empathy for others' abilities to deal or not deal well with life and everything it can throw at us.

This is what makes life so difficult much of the time. Beyond the illnesses, the parenting issues, the dirty house, the dirty boss, the job disappointments, the money worries . . . are simply our everyday interactions with those around us that can send us and our emotions - and other people and theirs - in 50 different directions in one day. 

So what can we do to make it all a bit easier? Heck if I know.

Okay, so here are a few things I have figured out but continue to need work on.

1. My way is not the only way. Life will not crumble into a million pieces if I sit back and shut UP when I really want to judge, scream, pout, or come undone about daily life not unfolding in the way I have it mapped out in my mind. God made me a certain way as well as he did the other people in my life. Who am I to have it in my head that the way I think this or that should be is the right way and everyone else must yield to that? And by the way, this does not mean shut up, but act like a mad, torqued-off jerk to make my point. This does nothing but make everyone around me miserable, which very much undoes the original sentiment of sitting back, shutting up, and recognizing the validity of someone else's way of thinking and doing things.

2. That being said, also be strong enough to assert when someone in your life is pushing you, emotionally, in a direction that is no longer positive for you. If you are bending so far to accommodate someone else and their way of doing things that you are no longer yourself, or that almost every interaction leaves you feeling worse than the last, then it's time to re-evaluate the relationship. Life is too short to spend it living within someone else's idea of what you should be instead of what you actually are. And if you are the one dictating who you think someone else should be and what they should be doing, see #1.

3. Act unconditionally. Whether you are someone who feels led to offer support to people financially, with your talent or skills, or with your time, do it unconditionally. Do not lend yourself with strings attached, because that is not authentic.

4. Quit making life more difficult for yourself by having unreasonable expectations - for yourself and for others. This can infect your life on so many levels and at the same time is something that we actually have control over and can change.

Life is hard. Remember the spinning tops.

I'll Take Heebie Jeebies for $200, Alex.

Death By Mortal Wound or The Heebie Jeebies?
My 7-year-old son is "star of the week" this week in his 2nd grade class, so he had to fill in a poster with photos of things he likes, his family, etc., as well as fill in a few questions. When he showed me what one of the things on his "wish list" was, I told him it was inappropriate and that he needed to change it. Am I wrong? Being a boy and the youngest brother of a Marine-bound 19-year-old, he'd written, "I wish I had a shotgun." Nice. No bueno, young lad. No bueno. So what did he replace it with?


"I wish I had a pet spider."

On second thought, I'd rather you have the shotgun.

At Least My Sons Have . . . Style?
So the only female in the house thinks less about her hair than each of the males. I haven't had my hair cut by a professional in one year and 10 months. I cut it myself. I haven't used any type of hair appliance that plugs in for, probably, a year. I put more time and effort into picking out my socks than I do my hair. I wash it and let it dry. And then the next few days, I put it up. Then I repeat the process. Sometimes I use mousse.

So I find it incredibly funny that I have three boys who care about their hair and how it looks. The 7-year-old is always trying to get his into a "fauxhawk" or combing it just right after it's washed. Today middle dude (12 years old) came home from spending the weekend with Nana and Papa with a freshly-cut flat top. In 2010.

Lastly, oldest dude (19) recently clipped his into a mohawk of sorts (leaving a thin layer on the sides) to honor an agreement he had with one of the youth leaders at our church. They both agreed to do it if the junior high kids raised a certain amount of money for the 30-Hour Famine, a World Vision ministry that fights world hunger. This is my son who used to have long, flowing red hair - which he cut off (16 inches total) for Locks of Love.

I used to think since I don't have any girls, that hair wouldn't be an issue in my house. This is not the case.

Well, There Ya Go.
This evening when I was helping youngest dude print out a couple of pictures for his "star of the week" poster, I printed one that was too small for his liking. After I made it larger and sent it to the printer again, he came walking back into the room, picture in hand, and declared, "Now that's my girl! This one is just right."


 

Losin' It

I am losing faith. Faith in what, you ask? I'm not entirely sure. I'm trying to pinpoint what exactly this feeling is; this something-is-slipping-from-me-and-I-can-feel-it-but-not-stop-it feeling.

Faith in people? Faith in the process of life on earth? Faith in fairness? Faith in my continuing belief in doing the right thing when it seems to be an exercise in futility much of the time?

Have you ever been hit so hard with the realization that you are having absolutely no effect on a situation that you felt as though you'd just had the wind knocked out of you? Furthermore, have you ever been hit so hard with the realization that someone you thought knew you well is so far from knowing you and your heart that it makes you question your interactions with everyone else you know? Like - if this is what this person sees, what does everyone else see of me? Is this what I portray? Is this who I am to other people?

For instance, I was once told by someone I thought knew me very well that I act as though I think my family is better than anyone else's. If you've spent more than one hour with me and know anything about what I deal with and how little self-confidence I have in my abilities as a parent, this has to be as laughable a statement to you as it is to me. Right? But it happened. This was what someone close perceived of me.

More recently, when I was in a conversation with someone and mentioned, " . . . with the issues I have to deal with every day [with my two younger boys' diagnoses and issues] ..." I was mocked for portraying my life "as a big sob story" and called a martyr. To my face.

I am losing faith. In what, again? Well, I suppose I'm losing faith in, among other things, my own ability to do life in a manner that is anywhere in the zip code of what is appropriate to others. I am losing faith in being able to sustain a relationship outside those of my marriage and with my parents, brother and sister.

As I said in a previous post, I cannot seem to keep things to myself. Because if I could, I would have kept these incidents - that have stayed with me deeply - to myself. It is humiliating to know that is how someone sees me. It is disheartening to know that all my actions and beliefs in how to act and treat people and what to do with my time and energy seemingly amounts to this - at least to some. And it makes me want to shut down.

Why? Why would I let something like this dictate what I do or say or how I act? Because things like this affect me deeply. Yes, I am emotionally weak. You can take me down very easily, and I can stay down for awhile. Yes, I give away my power and give others a lot of control over how I feel. Not on purpose - it just happens to be the awesome way I'm built. There. I am not a strong person. Yes, I am stubborn and hard-headed; this is true. But stubborn and strong are not one and the same.

I am losing faith in the process of life as I am knowing and living it. I am losing faith in realizing any kind of remote fairness in the random way some families have so much to deal with while others do not. I am losing faith in getting through. I am losing faith in having any type of positive impact on any of it at all. I am losing faith in trusting that any of this that I divulge to anyone else is doing anything positive for anyone.

I am losing faith in trying.

If the above incidents are any indication at all of who I am and what I'm accomplishing in being authentic about my life as a parent, then I've been doing a whole lot of nothin' for a long time now.

If I live an average life span, then that means I'm half way through my time here on earth. And if this is all I've accomplished and the manner in which I've impacted those around me, then I'm doing it wrong. Very wrong.

Thank you, God, in all seriousness and honesty, for the awesome opportunities you've put before me. I've apparently completely derailed them. And for that, I'm sorry. I truly thought I was doing a good job for at least some of the time so far.

What can I do at this point? I'm not really sure. But I do know this. If these are the perceptions of my life and how it's lived, then I need to shut. up. about. it. I'm either obviously not portraying it accurately or, quite frankly, saying more than anyone can even fathom or believe. Or care about hearing.

I have been told over and over how people appreciate my "realness" and how authentic I am about my life being what it is, being honest about how I try to deal with it, and that I've even helped a few people who thought no one else in the world felt that way.

But it only takes one or two small things of the opposite manner to take me down.

So here it is. At least for now. I don't feel qualified or even comfortable talking about my parenting life in detail. I feel gun-shy, at this point, writing about my boys' lives being lived on the autism spectrum and about how things are spinning around here in any detail for fear of sounding like I'm searching for sympathy.

I really only feel even remotely okay right now writing about myself and my own emotional journey because it is mine and not another person on earth can tell me what is and is not true and accurate about that.

So if you'd like to hear about my own journey of ups and downs and of how I got to be where I am today, tune back in. That's all I'm promising for now.

Timmmmmme Is Not On My Side . . . No It's Not ...

I have two kids on the autism spectrum. I talk about it a lot. It's never been a secret; I actually don't have many secrets. Everyone has a few; and this girl does - just like everyone else. However, my secret bank has a low balance because, as we all know, I just say what I say and tell what I tell and that is who I am. The secrets I do have are not anything that anyone would find funny, amusing, or useful; therefore, I keep them to myself. Hence, the secret designation.

Besides, who really wants to hear about when my friend, Joel, and I (at the ages of about 7 and 5) used to hide behind parked cars on my street and throw dog food at passing vehicles?

See? You don't want to know my secrets. They are deep, dark, and very incriminating.

So. Two kids. On the spectrum. It's no fun, but as they say these days - it is what it is. But I'm here just to say out loud that this life I have as the mother of kids on the spectrum keeps me from being able to adequately participate in other, useful areas of life; therefore, I rely on people around me. I trust those around me and hope that they understand that I am not lazy or apathetic, just emotionally overloaded.

I feel the need to say this because, on the morning after mid-term elections with so many talking about the results, I feel like a very intelligent idiot. I could not tell you what candidate stands for what at this point. I cannot tell you that I'm glad or mad this person or that was elected or not elected into office. I am completely mortified saying this; and I know it makes some want to throw tomatoes at me. But I'm just being honest. I could keep it a secret, but I would rather use this opportunity to explain something that may open up a few to the reality of special-needs parenting.

First, this disclaimer: I am not speaking on behalf of special-needs parents everywhere. I know that a good majority of special-needs parents are very able to deal with all the issues they must deal with as well as become intelligently informed about the candidates representing them. In fact, many make it a priority because the candidates representing them have some say in issues that directly affect special-needs families. So, just to be clear - this is my experience, and not meaning to be representative of any other special-needs folks but myself. This doesn't even include my own husband. Just me.

So here it is. I have two boys on the autism spectrum; one diagnosed at two-and-a-half with PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder-Not Otherwise Specified), and one diagnosed first with ADHD at 9, then a mood disorder at 10, and finally Asperger's Syndrome at 11. It is a rough ride around here. Sometimes we're on top of our game, other times we are struggling just to keep our heads from exploding. This is the reality of our family.

I am the kind of person who, when faced with something I'm unfamiliar with, researches the topic to within an inch of its life. I need to know all I can; talk to whomever I can; find good, knowledgeable people and use them. I do not sit idly by and let what happens just happen. I will do all I can, in my power and within what is reasonable, to navigate toward the best possible outcome. And when it comes to my boys, you can multiply that tenfold. I'm not saying it always works, and I'm not saying it's always the most positive process. But I am a mother. And being a mother, to me, means doing everything that falls within what is feasible to help my boys overcome their challenges.

This takes time and a whole lotta energy - physical, mental, and emotional energy that must come from somewhere within me. We all have an energy bank, and every person's is different - just like our financial bank accounts. You earn only so much, and then there's only so much to go around. Some have unbelievable amounts and can pick and choose at whim what they want to spend it on; others have incredibly limited amounts and cannot do what others are able to.

I believe I'm somewhere in the middle. I don't think I have nearly as much as some people I see who have special-needs children. I see them deal with their children, work tirelessly in their favor, then spend their spare time working endlessly for the cause that has wrapped its wicked hands around their child's life and put them there in the first place. I am in awe of these people. Jane Grimes is one of these people. Look her up - you will love her instantly.

I feel I have a lot to give and spread around, but I also have a big budget that takes it all up. And - here it is, finally. One of the things far, far down in that budget is researching and knowing about mid-term election candidates. I'm sorry. I really, really am. I want to be a good citizen. I want to be informed. But this is one thing I'm relying on people I trust to help me with. People who I know think the same way I do and are parallel with me on issues. Because here is what I know about myself. If I choose to research and get to know the candidates, I will - again - do it to the fullest extent. That is how I do things. I will not stop at names and what they say they stand for. I will spend inordinate amounts of time to come to conclusions. And this is time and energy I do not have to spare right now in this season of my life.

Let's just say I'd be putting it on my energy credit card; and I would run up unbelievable debt. So I made a conscious choice. I cannot and will not compromise the time I am needed right now to deal with my boys' issues at home and at school (and it is daily) to become more informed about candidates. It's just the choice I have to make right now. Right now - when one of my child's issues are over. the. top.

So there. Secret's out. Or was it ever a secret? I feel bad and stupid this morning and just needed to tell why. Because that is what I do.


 
image from Indianapolis Times blog

Alrighty Then!

Okay, I'm back. I just needed some time for introspection and self-pity, and decided not to take it out on you all. You're welcome.

My Own Brand of Idiocy
I do and say some admittedly stupid things. Some out-and-out mind-stoppers. And then I admit them to anyone who will listen because one of my favorite things to do is laugh. Especially at myself. I do not know why I cannot keep these things to myself and pretend that I'm normal like everyone else. I guess it's more important to me to brighten someone else's day with a good guess-what-I-just-did story than to seem like a normal person living an ordinary life.

Just now, sitting here writing this in the family room, I began to grumble internally that it was starting to rain outside - hard. Then I realized that it was my husband upstairs taking a shower. And now I'm telling you.

I am an intelligent person. I have common sense. I have a bachelor's degree in journalism. I was on the dean's list, for crying out loud.

Whatever the reason, it is daily; or as is the new thing to say, "it's how I roll."

The Canine Whisperer. Not.
I work part time at Club Canine, a dog daycare/boarding facility. (Check out our Facebook page, too!) I have to feed my Starbucks habit, and meds and therapy are expensive for this family. I have been one of those crazy dog people since birth, so this was a good fit; plus I get to dress down on purpose, yell at the top of my lungs (30+ dogs can get quite loud), and love on puppies at will - and get paid to do it. There's much more to it than that, of course, but these are the highlights.

Did I mention the puppies? 

Actually, the biggest highlight is that I have a super, awesome boss. She opened this business out of her love for dogs and her canine knowledge and experience are the legs that made it possible. Having a boss who respects you and is grateful for the work you do means almost more than money.

In my former life, I worked in the world of advertising - complete with office politics, bad bosses, undercutting, posturing, clawing to get ahead (and you're crazy if you don't want to do that), unrecognized talent and skills, etc. But in my job now - my tiny, part-time, out-of-left-field job - I am happy. I do not leave mad at the world and wishing to run over the first human I see on the way home. I do not dream of my boss being taken away by a tsunami. I love my boss.

Why? Well, many reasons. But the employee/boss reasons are that she treats us with respect, she is grateful and thanks us for our work, she does not take us for granted, and she works harder than all of her employees combined. 

I highly respect that she works her tail off to make her business a good one for the dogs she is entrusted with. This is not always the right "business" way to go; i.e., her first order of business is caring for a dog and not making a dollar off of that dog. So she's not cut-throat money hungry. She is caring. And if those two cannot coincide peacefully, then I'll struggle right along with her to leave the money-hungry behind.

As my friend and I sometimes say about our special-needs parenting lives when frustrated with making the decision that's best for your child instead of the easy, less difficult, less expensive decision, "There's another jewel in your crown," (referring the the crowns we will wear in heaven for what we're enduring here on earth ...).

We don't always feel the effects we are having on others, especially when everything around us feels like it's falling down and we're about to go with it. But when you're making the right decisions on simple things like how you treat people, the effects are far greater and deeper than dollars in your pocket. Society makes it very difficult to believe and live by, but I've slowly come around to the fact that this simple truth has greater impact than all the money and prestige in the world.

And yes, I absolutely recognize and am grateful that I have the luxury of taking advantage of this because my awesome husband endures what he does to be a good provider for our family; thus, allowing me to work part-time where I am happy as opposed to somewhere I am miserable just for the pay and/or benefits.

Now, that being said, we all need days off.

Fer Shizzle!
I have the next three days off. And I mean off. It is fall break, the younger set is going to Nana and Papa's for some freewheelin' grandkid time starting tomorrow; and I don't work again until Saturday. This is not a drill. I get to sleep past 5:45 a.m., do whatever I want within legal and moral limits, wear clothes that will remain dog-slobber free, and know that when I clean a bathroom - the floor will remain un-peed on until Sunday afternoon.

You KNOW it!

photo by bingbing