Even MORE True!

Funny Because It's True.

Those of you who know us will recognize my husband with the palm tree shirt . . . or the Dockers . . . or the goatee . . . or the golf shirt . . . phone clipped to his belt . . . but NOT the douchebag bluetooth (except in the car while driving).

Oh - and he doesn't touch the weeds.

ENJOY!

Beach Bawl

I sat at the edge of the water the other day - playing at the beach on Hilton Head Island, watching the littles in the water.

Seth (7) and I came to HHI with the Zipps, while the rest of the family was at home (Sean and the dogs) and at church camp (Alexx and Joel).

As I was taking in the absolutely perfect day - reading a book, sitting in the sand, kids frolicking in the surf - I couldn't have been more relaxed, more content. These are the moments we moms work so hard for - the times we realize it is all worth the stress, the tears, the sweat, blood, and dead brain cells that are left in the wake of repopulating the earth with the best little humans that we can raise with our limited abilities.

I was basking. I don't bask - in anything. Ever. No time, not nearly enough peaceful moments to get anywhere near the zip code of basking. It was so oddly fulfilling. I felt like God was patting me on the back, giving me a high-five.

And I heard a faint sound; a sound that was coming closer. Lifting my hand to shield the sun, I turned my face upward - just above the shore line where we sat peacefully - to see a military helicopter flying very low, parallel with the shore.

People around me waved. Some "WooHoo!"ed. It is July 4th week; they have just been reminded of what our country stands for and the people who continue to make our freedom possible. We just celebrated America's birthday. A sense of pride swelled in the actions and whoops of those around me.

First a small catch in my throat, then a full-blown choking feeling. On my own tears and fear. All I could selfishly think of was my 19-year-old son, who will be entering the Marines - and plans on going into Force ReCon, arguably one of the most dangerous routes for him. And it's what he wants.

We will not see him. Not hear from him. Have no idea where he is.

Tears flowed beyond my new pink sunglasses, stinging my sunburned face. My shoulders shook. I put my book up in front of my face until I felt like I was composed enough. I must have looked half crocked, had anyone looked my way. But of course, I was just one in a crowd on a hot beach. Just another mama making sure the kids didn't drown or do something stupid. No one cared what I was doing. In a way, I was alone.

Realizing this, I let myself have the moment. I cried; bawled, actually. This time, I basked in my right to view that helicopter as a mother, not just a proud American. Was God patting me on the back now? This didn't feel like a high-five. It felt like a punch in the gut.

The ugly cry. On the beach. It made my contacts blurry and my heart heavy. I gave myself five minutes to get over it.

And I did. This is the stuff life is made of, and you have to get over it. And live through it. Even make the most of it.

Today is the last day of this Mommy/Seth vacation. So we are going to make the most of it and spend the day together - exploring, having fun, discovering, watering the roots of our special relationship so they will continue to grow and strengthen.

I will bask while I can.

New Math

Life is never what you thought it would be. It really isn't. Sometimes it is better, sometimes it takes a dive. I'm starting to realize after all this time, that it's more about staying composed. Keeping your head up and at the point where you can at least breathe. Because if you can breathe, then you can smile. And you can look around at what surrounds you. You can laugh.

If you can breathe, you are living.

From the very beginning, in this society, it is instilled in us that living = accomplishing; that living = finding success and having more, more, more; that living = constantly striving . . . for something.

This is all good and well for a portion of the population. I mean, let's be real - someone has to accomplish things or today we wouldn't have cherry Dilly Bars. Or the Internet (thank you again, Al Gore). The world would be like Woodstock day after day after day. However fun that sounds, it would not be sustainable. And we would all stink.

So yes, God has given each and every one of us gifts and talents and skills to be used to the best of our abilities. So the drive that some people have to get up every morning and conquer the latest computer virus or create the world's tallest cake with fondant icing really was placed within them by God and that's exactly what they should be pursuing.

But others? Those who have been taught that their lives won't amount to anything unless they keep up and do more, earn more, go further? And that's not the path God intends for them? Well, pardon my candor, but they are just pissing in the wind.

We all have different equations. For one, living = touching as many children's lives as possible. For another, living = protecting the public. For someone else, living = entertaining others.

And to add to the confusion, I further believe that our equations change at different seasons of our lives. We are not meant to do one thing over and over and then die. I truly believe that. We live, we grow, we experience, we love, we lose, we grieve, we meet new people, we have children, we have different jobs, we move ... Any tiny or huge thing can shift our direction and our focus.

Which is why life is never what we thought it would be.

I do believe in evolution. Just not in the common, unbiblical sense of the word. I believe in the evolution of each of us, every day of our lives. Living = changing. Living = growing more into ourselves with each passing day.

I am finally, after 39 years, learning to appreciate the evolution of me. Where I've been, what I've experienced, who I've loved - it's all made me who I am today; and will be the filter through which I look at the road stretched out before me.

What is your equation today? This week? This year?


graphic by Billy Alexander

Check the Poo!

The effects on 7-year-old Seth of having a 19-year-old brother - his version of Check the Poo from Scrubs: (sorry for the quality - I took the video with my Blackberry)


Check the Poo! from Holly Anderson on Vimeo.

When you flush your dookie down,
you flush away the answer!


Anything comes down to poo,
from the top of your head to the sole of your shoe!


We can figure out what's wrong with you
by looking at your poo!


"I have a headache."
Check the poo!


"I feel sick."
Check the poo!


"I got shot!"
Check the poo!


"A homeless guy threw poo in my eye."
Check the poo!


"Mine or his?"
First him, then you!

True Dat!

Oh yeah.



Thank you, Amanda!

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow.

Yesterday was Mother's Day - my 19th one to celebrate. It also happened to fall 23 years to the day since Sean and I shared the kiss and first date that started all of this madness we have been blessed with. But the sentiment doesn't stop there. Oh no.

Our oldest son, Alexx, normally attends church with us. In fact, even when the parents do not go for some reason, he goes without us and then returns home later to call us pagans. Yesterday morning, however, he had an appointment before church and joined us a bit later.

As we were leaving Starbucks on our way to church (I'd like to say it was a Mother's Day special event, but ...), I looked over to see Alexx walking from his van to his appointment  - with his Marine recruiter. His appointment to get his paperwork going with the new recruiter. His appointment to start the ball rolling to leave us for good.

I was faced with an ocean of emotions. Like a survivor floating in the middle of the sea, I was lost thinking of where I started this journey and longing to see land; but not knowing what that land will bring or whether or not it will be safer or even more dangerous than where I am now.

Sean and I began this journey together 23 years ago yesterday when we moved from being the friends we'd been since meeting at 13 years old to a couple. A very unlikely couple. It continues to be an amazing journey with so much to be grateful to God for. Happiness, growing in the same direction, fun and laughter, three beautiful sons, faith in God, survival.

This was all heavy on my mind as I thought about the present day - my 19th Mother's Day - and everything I'd been through bringing me to this point in my life. Let's be honest, here. Mothering my three boys with their combined ADD, ADHD, autism, mood disorder and now Asperger's is quite the challenge on a daily basis. Which takes me back to being even more grateful for the last 23 years with this man whom I love so dearly. We couldn't have done it without the relationship that we have spent all these years building. It is not perfect - not even close - but it is what has delivered me to this 19th Mother's Day without losing every last marble in my head.

And as I look to the future with trepidation thinking about my first born leaving us, leaving the safety of my arms, to fly on his own - and into such a dangerous future of his own - it all feels a bit unreal. I don't think it will fully hit me until he literally walks out of my arms that day when he leaves. But seeing him walking into that meeting as I was basking in my Mother's Day glow forced it to the front of my mind (a place it is not allowed to be right now), and I thought it was going to suffocate me for just a minute until I was able to push it to the back of my mind again where it belongs for the time being. I want to keep being frustrated with him for not picking up his socks or taking his laundry out of the dryer - not wondering where he even is and worrying for his very life.

I'm not ready for that. Will I ever be?

You are always told, as a mama, not to wish your kids' childhoods away - not to miss too much of the present with them trying to get to some point in the future. I am aware of this now that I have a 19-year-old and know just how fast the time goes. I am painfully aware of it now that his leaving to walk, eyes wide open, into a very uncertain future is inching ever closer like a freight train. My only consolation is that he is doing exactly what he wants to do, and going toward a life that he feels God is leading him into.

Grateful for the yesterdays that brought me to the present I am now in; feeling blessed that I can handle today and what it is throwing at me; prayerful that I will handle with grace the future that is quickly becoming the present.

Whatever that may be.

And I Just Made It Into the Front Door In Time!

Alexx and I are laughing our fool heads off at this man describing his encounter with some dogs. Enjoy!



Thank you, God, for sending humor today.

Emotional Flooding Ahead

***Warning*** If you aren't in the mood for a pity party, stop here.

Being the parent of a special needs child is, really, indescribable. This is mostly because the words that would accurately depict what it is like on a day-to-day basis change, oh, hourly. Further complicating this with the fact that the special needs in our family are on the autism spectrum along with what the medical community calls "comorbid" diagnoses (ADHD, mood disorder) - and you've got mental and emotional scrambled eggs.

You put on a brave face; sometimes you break down. You deal with it - sometimes any way you can - to keep sane. Then, when you've had some sleep and you are thinking more clearly, you apply, to the best of your ability, the recommendations and techniques you've learned from therapists and doctors and teachers and counselors and whomever else you've sought out for help. And you take it one step further to educate those who spend any time at all with your children to give them as much understanding as possible in order to deal with them appropriately. This is only the beginning of the exhaustion.

The money flies out the window almost as quickly as your peace of mind and sense of hope for normalcy, and you try to quell the thinking and worrying about the future for your own sanity. Financial exhaustion.

I've been through the initial stages of a new diagnosis before. Our youngest was diagnosed with autism at the age of 2 1/2 years. It was full steam ahead from that point on to pull him out as much as possible. He is now 7 and his progress has been amazing. Most who do not know him or his history cannot see his autism until we tell them. But the fact remains that he is still on the spectrum and we must deal with the ways this manifests itself daily.

I do not want to talk here about our oldest son (19) and the continuing struggle with his ADD, which started at around age 10.

We are now two years into an ADHD turned mood disorder turned Asperger's diagnosis with our 12-year-old son; and we are still in the learning stages. In other words, we are still turning in circles. This should not feel so new. This should feel "old hat." But the truth is, you never get "comfortable" living with the issues of your special needs kids, usually because those issues are ever-changing and you are constantly adapting and making your way through something new or something old that is evolving or worsening. As a special needs family, there is no sitting back on your laurels. You are not afforded that luxury. Mental exhaustion.

So you drive older cars while those around you can choose not to. You take one vacation as a couple in 18 years of marriage. You fight with the insurance company over every $1 they try not to pay. You live in chaos sometimes because some days you just. don't. have. the. energy. to keep it all running smoothly. And sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it WILL NOT RUN SMOOTHLY. No matter what. And things not running smoothly makes all the issues of your children amplified. It's a vicious cycle.

You lose your temper. You lose your grip. And when the smiles leave your face for weeks at a time, you lose your friends. Because even though they think they understand, they do not. Unless you are dealing with three kids with ongoing issues and have, on some level, for the last nine years with no end in sight - you do not know. Unless you are in this house every day starting at 6:00 a.m. and ending at 11:00 p.m., you do not know. Unless you meet with the number of people that I have met with over time to help your kids, and have fielded all the phone calls and e-mails, and tried your best to keep it all straight, you do not know.

Unless you have to watch each of your children struggle so heartbreakingly on an ongoing basis that you question God's very plan, you do not know.

Emotional exhaustion.

This brings me to a small side note - if you happen to have any issues of your own, you are dead in the water - because you have nothing left with which to deal with it.

So you employ humor. You try to act like you can handle it all. You see others around you spending time doing worthwhile things in the world, while you can barely even keep your own sons on the right track. You may have talent, but it is buried below all the rubble.

I am feeling more isolated than ever right now. There have been times, over these hard years, that I've been able to get my head above water long enough only to look around, feel completely left behind, and be pulled back under again.

Nothing I would like to accomplish gets much past the initial stages these days because I get pulled in a million directions; and if I'm accomplishing something for myself, that means that some issue with one of my sons is going either unnoticed or will spin out of control soon without intervention.

Why all three? I do not know. Why us? No idea. Am I doing all I can? Probably not. Would I choose different children if given the chance? Not. On. Your. Life. I love each of them with every fiber of my being; and they are each going to do fantastic things someday.

God willing.


photo by Asif Akbar

Hello, Spring!

I'm sitting up - it's after midnight - and it's starting to thunder and lightning; and I can't tell you how happy I am right now.

Why?

Because 1.) that means that it's SPRING and I haven't been dreaming the weather of the previous week, and 2.) Weather.com shows that by the time I get up again in the morning, the short rain will be gone and it should be sunny.

What a great end to a beautiful Easter celebrating the resurrection of Christ!

And I leave you with this photo of my middle son, Joel, and me taken yesterday while coloring Easter eggs. He has such an incredibly nurturing heart, just like his dad; looks just like his dad; has the comedic timing of his dad; and someone, some day, will be blessed to have him for a husband.