We were hanging out at the school playground after school the other day. This seems to be the best way to get some social interaction going for the child, so when it is sunny (frequently lately) and we don’t have something more pressing to do, we stay and play for an extra 30 minutes or so after school. This means my four-year-old twins are running around the school playground with other younger siblings through 5th graders, and I always marvel a bit at how easily they negotiate it all.

I was sitting in the shade chatting with another mom when I noticed another parent talking to the twins and a little girl similar to their age, plus an older boy. The little girl was somewhat upset. I immediately jumped up to go see what was going on. I was afraid that one of my kids had done something to hurt the little girl. They have been known to try to enforce rules on other kids, and they don’t have the best sense of personal space, so my concern was not unfounded. When I asked the other parent what was happening she assured me that my twins had been offering sympathy to her daughter after she was hurt by one of the older kids. My children – being appropriately kind and compassionate to another child without adult prompting. I almost fell over from relief.

I couldn’t help but draw the comparison to their older sister, who at age four would have much more likely been the one inflicting the pain. In fact I never would have walked away from her and sat in the shade to talk with another mom at that age. I would have been hovering over her and wondering where all the other parents were, anyway. Then I think of where she is now with  her skills and another wave of relief washes over me. I can be one of the parents sitting over in the shade, still watchful, but more at ease.

The thing is, I think I enjoy the shade way more than I would have otherwise. If I had not walked through that challenge of keeping constant watch, these moments of relief would not be quite so exquisite. Now they are magic.

This is why Woody got relegated to the toy bin:

I should be thankful they’re toys and not the real ones right?

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“You must be so busy, with four kids!” People say when I introduce my family. And I look at them, thinking, “Well, no, not really.” (Minus the doctor and specialist appointments).

You see, until this year, there haven’t been extracurricular activities. It was enough to take two older girls to the park 3 days a week and not have them throw a rock at another child or eat wood chips. It’s not that we didn’t get out in the community, it’s just that I decided pretty much right away that it wasn’t going to work for our family. Mostly because I couldn’t handle the stress of my own expectations for the experience.

Which is why joining Girl Scouts this fall is still throwing me for a loop …4 months later.

The hardest part is watching my tween drowning socially with the other girls. She’s not just a young 10, she’s a young 6 in a 10 year old’s body. She’s physically developing like the others. She knows the songs on the radio like the others. She’s in their class at school. But she’s not like the others. They know it. She knows it. And I know it.

That’s the worst part. I know her. I see all the ways she’s missing social cues, rebuffing attempts at friendship, severing herself from the group dynamic. It’s her bipolar moods – the flares of paranoia, the rapid irritability, the stunted emotional responses.

I want to jump in and smooth things out for her. To explain her to the other girls. To roll up my sleeves and help give her a fighting chance at this tween-girl dynamic that makes even typically-developing girls’ (and moms’!) hair stand on end at times. In some instances at the meetings, I just can’t help it, and I pepper the night’s conversation with questions or ideas to find common ground between her and the other girls.

Oh, the energy that requires! And that’s only 1.5 hours out of the 30 she spends with her peers each week!

Not being able to sit back and watch, I created a job I could do instead! It’s a way to support her without crowding out the normal, organic relationships between the girls: I became the troop’s game coordinator. This serves two purposes: it gives me something else to focus on (so needed!) and allows me to strategically plan things I know will BOTH stretch my daughter’s skills and allow the girls to build friendships through common experiences. We’ve done team-building games of scooping colored pom-poms into bins, filled out “Who Has This Characteristic/Skill” pages about everyone in the group, written a troop song and jingle together, and played charades with favorite movie characters. Brainstorming ideas and creating games got me out of my “poor her” mindset and back into the “yes, there IS something we can do about this” mode.

It’s continued to be a bumpy experience for my daughter – and me. She puts in effort, then doesn’t. I get hopeful, then frustrated. Having typically-developing children as well, I know at least that tug-of-war is normal. And now I funnel energy in to planning games and art projects instead of worrying.

What role do you play with your child’s peers and social development? What has worked and what hasn’t?

-Laurie

“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”

~Pablo Picasso

Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

We finally got around to a winter art project we’ve been dying have a go at! On a recent trip to the mountains, we decided to give snow painting a try.

The 9-year-old’s first idea was a snow rainbow…

Followed by plans to color her entire snowball fort pink… along with the creation of several pink snow angels.

Not to be outdone, the 5-year-old attempted to color his fort green but soon gave up and began coloring everyone’s footprints green instead.

The only supplies really needed for this project are spray bottles, food coloring and water.

You could use empty washed out/recycled spray bottles if you have them, or find some inexpensive ones at the dollar store like we did.

Literally hours of colorful fun!

What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!

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There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.

The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.

Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.

There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…

All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…

Somebody’s inside the “tent” that his behavioral consultant made for him:

Can you see him?

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We’re in the trenches, people. We eat, sleep and breathe what our kids need at home. Advocate for them at school and in extracurricular activities. Read and pursue resources. Maybe even dream about them. I know I do. With two girls diagnosed with a slew of different special needs and their sisters who’s lives have acquired some secondary ones of their own, it’s truly a 24/7 life in the trenches.

Which is why escape is a welcome pastime. Personally, I love movies, mostly because I’m a closet geek and enjoy biographies and World War II films. I didn’t realize until tonight, when I picked a film to watch, that there’s probably a reason I resonate with this genre. Can you spot it in this photo?

Don’t you just feel like this a lot of the time?

Yeah, me too.

What can we learn from war movies that helps us parent in the trenches with our own kids?

• We’re not the only ones with dirt in our hair. Every parent is in the trench whether their child is in a wheelchair, on psychotropic meds, or “typcial.”
• It’s okay to make little mistakes along the way. History will only remember the big picture.
• Because of that, it’s our job to enjoy the small joys that history will overlook. If we don’t, they’re lost forever.
• In the toughest moments, we can choose either to let it bring out our best, or our worst. But it’s always our choice.
• The guy on the opposing side is a human being too, and worth respect.
• Victory comes not necessarily to the smartest or strongest, but to the most persistent.
• Even the toughest battles eventually end.

We may have been drafted into the wars we face raising, advocating, and helping our kids, but we can come through them strong. Even if we feel as exhausted as the guy on this movie cover  looks .

Keep up the fight!

-Laurie

“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”

~Pablo Picasso

Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

What I saw: A box needing to be flattened and stuffed in the recycling bin.

What He saw: A new robot friend… Zorg.

Which just goes to show: Sometimes 5-year-olds and sharpie markers can make for a very happy combination!

(Well… at least with a little parental supervision thrown in.)

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I woke this morning at 5:00am to the old dog scratching to be let out. I complied, then laid down on the couch. Sadly, I couldn’t fall back to sleep; my mind awash with all the things I could, or should, be doing.

• Go to the gym? I’m out of shape and overweight and desperately NEED and WANT to work out.

• Work? I work at home and have a BIG deadline on Tuesday that I won’t hit if I don’t work (a LOT) over the weekend.

• Housework? Clothes need washing, curtains need hanging, rugs need vacuuming, floors need mopping.

• DIY home repairs? Paint the unfinished trim, spackle the holey (UN-holy) bathroom, caulk the drafty windows.

• Shower? I forfeited yesterday’s shower in favor of back-to-back commitments and appointments.

• Blog? I haven’t posted here or on my own blog in weeks–maybe months–and it ALWAYS feels good to get my thoughts out of my head and onto a screen. (That IS why I started blogging, after all.)

Not twenty minutes passed when one of The Boys stirred, then called my name, “Mommy?” The choice was made. As I climbed the stairs I was thinking it was good I didn’t go to the gym or he might’ve woken Daddy (who worked late and likes to sleep in on his day off). Or worse, he might’ve come downstairs unattended and gotten into trouble. (We’ve had a few near misses like that.) I could have gotten this post done in those 20 minutes, or written a paragraph or two for work, or treated myself to a 7-minute shower instead of the usual lucky-if-I-get-2-uninterrupted-minutes shower.

But I didn’t. I contemplated my choices.

I am frankly STILL perplexed, after nearly 7 years of special needs parenting (or maybe it’s twin parenting that’s thrown me), about how to “take care of myself” the way people with grown, typically-developing kids keep advising me to do. I don’t eat, sleep or exercise as well as I used to–if at all–before kids. Before twins. Before special needs. Most of my friends–by the time their youngest hits 7–are recapturing bits and pieces of their lives as individuals, and as couples. I accept that it’s going to take me and mine a bit longer to reach that milestone. However, I still feel the pull to get back to some of those pre-kid things I/we used to love to do–kayaking, SCUBA diving, beach volleyball, going to the movies–versus spending most of my time taking care of my kids who, because they have special needs, require a tad more care-taking.

At this point, it feels almost biological… the pull to get back to ME, just a little bit. I’m thinking I might want a career again (paid appreciation), and some “free” time, AND more fun time–versus care taking/educating time–with my kids. Yep, I want it all… to have my cake and eat it too!  But, the truth is, I CAN’T do it all, so me-time gets violently shoved off the calendar where it was optimistically penciled in.

Surely–and not a bit begrudgingly–I’m meant to take care of my children first and foremost. I’m OK with that! I brought them into this world and it would be irresponsible to jump ship–even for a moment without appropriate coverage (ahhh, there’s the catch… to have help)–before they can fly solo. I’m talking about basic needs: feed, clothe, shelter, educate (yes, education is a basic need without which there can be no independence). I work, not to pay for gymnastics, karate, dance, art or music lessons, but to help pay for heat, electricity, the car and the house. I take care of my kids and I manage two IEP-driven educations and another complicated by 504 accommodations & mods. Heck, we all know the education piece by itself is a full-time job. Hubby works late into the night so afternoon homework and evening child care responsibilities are mine alone. School days are devoted to work and weekends are family time (when we’re not working on this old house, which NEEDS significant attention).

The wee hours of the morn–when, like this morning, I should be sleeping but I’m contemplating my choices instead–is the only time I could possibly escape for some me-time. And, I would be sacrificing much-needed sleep and this occasional good-for-my-soul, sunrise-tinted contemplation (important)… to go to the gym instead (also important). Perhaps my choice this morning reflects a greater need for peace of mind over strength of body, for now.

So, when and how do I fit me-time in? And PLEEEASE don’t tell me to”make ME the number one priority.” My kids are my number one priority–that’s not going to change as their lives and well-being depend on it.  And, yes, I know I am important or I wouldn’t be wasting my precious time bemoaning how little me-time I get. I want to know how YOU do it? HOW do you FIT me-time into your crazy busy life?

More from Maggie at walkonthehappyside.wordpress.com.

When Jack was first diagnosed, I was horrified. Depressed. Had major anxiety attacks. Cried for hours.

Somewhere around Jack’s second year, I felt myself changing. I no longer longed for the green field across the fence–I was OK with the patchy grass holding one perfectly beautiful flower in my own yard.

So, I started writing my feelings…part here, part at my own blog. I advocated for my son. I tried to educate Moms who were being Too Pushy on the proper way to advocate (that begins with being well educated and not screaming…professionalism always counts!). I felt like I was doing something worthwhile.

Last week, I received an email forwarded to me, by a member of my family. Family member A received the email from Family member B. In the email, B tells A that “Heather will want to make sure everyone feels bad for her because her life is so hard.”

My heart sank.

Like a rock.

To my family, I have never once complained. To my best girlfriends, yes. To God, yes. To my husband, yes. But never to the family…because I feel very strongly that we were given Jack for a reason, and I am blessed by him–even when I can’t sleep for days on end.

So I am very conflicted: to confront, or not to confront.

I am very non-confrontational to begin with. So there’s that. But, in this case, my feelings are broken. This person, who claims to love me very much, just threw a huge wall up between us.

Not to mention that what was said is wrong and mean.

So, friends…what to do? Have you had this happen in your world? How do you deal? Ignore the elephant in the room? Avoid that person at all costs from now on? How do you deal when your feelings get hurt–and I know, if you’re like me, most days I cry if someone says anything remotely nice to me, so something mean REALLY hurts.

I’ll be here waiting!