<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0YFRncyeip7ImA9WhRbEUQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523</id><updated>2012-02-02T10:05:17.992-05:00</updated><category term="pictures" /><category term="plans" /><category term="reflection" /><category term="fullfilled." /><category term="things I cant Say" /><category term="treats" /><category term="treatment" /><category term="advocacy" /><category term="hope" /><category term="dreaming" /><category term="bike" /><category term="fun friday" /><category term="savers" /><category term="video" /><category term="desert" /><category term="off topic" /><category term="grateful" /><category term="count" /><category term="learning" /><category term="rant" /><category term="stimming" /><category term="talent" /><category term="humor" /><category term="future" /><category term="halloween" /><category term="recovery" /><category term="My heart Monday" /><category term="research" /><category term="birthday" /><category term="this moment follow up" /><category term="supper" /><category term="accomplishments" /><category term="Christmas" /><category term="intro" /><category term="Ayn freedom" /><category term="tyler" /><category term="happy" /><category term="school" /><category term="for sammy" /><category term="re-posts" /><category term="game" /><category term="angry" /><category term="lunch" /><category term="movie" /><category term="winning" /><category term="view" /><category term="step one" /><category term="feelings" /><category term="Thoughtful Thursday" /><category term="wordless Wednesday" /><category term="struggles" /><category term="this moment" /><category term="love" /><category term="progress" /><category term="skill" /><title>you-leave-me-breadless</title><subtitle type="html">moving through autism&lt;br&gt;</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>250</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/fwoLf" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/fwolf" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0EFQHc7fip7ImA9WhRbEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-8766963785130275990</id><published>2012-02-01T09:13:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-01T09:13:31.906-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-02-01T09:13:31.906-05:00</app:edited><title>Life Without Parole</title><content type="html">Daniel and I were headed off to Cohasset for a&amp;nbsp;tournament&amp;nbsp;just a few weeks ago. We drove through an area I knew like the back of my hand. I had driven the road every weekday for 2.5 years. I sat in the passenger side&amp;nbsp;staring&amp;nbsp;out the window and Daniel asked " brings back memories doesn't it?" The moment he said it I suddenly&amp;nbsp;couldn't&amp;nbsp;breath. I began crying. Dan got it and softly asked "It's a reminder of the cell your in?"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
yes&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My life was so different then, not better mind you, just different. It was life before Sammy. I cannot say life before autism since my oldest has Aspergers. I just never worried about Tyler the way I worry about Sammy. I always felt Tyler would be just fine. I was right, he is doing so well.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
My life then was only 2 children. I was in and out of court with my ex-husband, dealing with craziness of people on that side and trying to repair my life. I was sleeping on a couch in the house of a friend, while her boyfriend moved in and payed nothing. My children were cramped in a tiny bedroom with 2 other kids. I had no money. I had nothing really. I moved to an attic apartment in my Aunt's house and my boys loved it there. My children and my boyfriend(now my husband) couldn't be in the same room thanks to a weird court order. My boyfriend and I would sit together in the driveway after the children went to sleep every day. I was lost and without direction. I was discovering who my true friends were and who was just along for the ride. I was unstable,&amp;nbsp;unmovable&amp;nbsp;and far too stoic most days. I felt like I constantly had to watch over my shoulder. That was the cell I was in those days. That was my prison, but at least I knew I had a release date. Even if I didn't know when, I knew it wouldn't last forever.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Now, it's a&amp;nbsp;different&amp;nbsp;cell, with a different warden. I have no release date. I have a peace now though. I feel like I am where I should be. How far my life has come. It's like the pendulum swung to far the other way. My family is a a blessing and I love them all. This life now is better, but it's harder. There is more pressure to preform, more pressure to get it right. Everyone in the world knows how hard divorce and custody can be. The same can't be said for autism. I feel more&amp;nbsp;isolated. I feel more as though every day I am under attack. Which isn't so different from where I was then but now it's a 7 year old child and not a crazy ex. &amp;nbsp;I wake up every day uncertain of how much opposition I will meet. I can't breath, it's like going into battle. I guess I have always been inside a cell, I just switched wardens. Luckily I really love this warden!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess the difference is now, I have life without parole?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://thingsicantsay.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img border="0" alt="" src="http://thingsicantsay.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/pouryourheart1.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-8766963785130275990?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zZISwxa35zREjX20wPLlKcg0icQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zZISwxa35zREjX20wPLlKcg0icQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zZISwxa35zREjX20wPLlKcg0icQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/zZISwxa35zREjX20wPLlKcg0icQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/YaWM2Z3nwbU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/8766963785130275990?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/8766963785130275990?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/YaWM2Z3nwbU/life-without-parole.html" title="Life Without Parole" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/02/life-without-parole.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0cCQng-eip7ImA9WhRbEE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-2023545334168666894</id><published>2012-01-31T09:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T09:44:23.652-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-31T09:44:23.652-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="advocacy" /><title>Follow up for Amelia</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="background-color: cyan;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.philly.com/philly/health/20120131_Children_s_Hospital_reverses_decision_not_to_perform_disabled_girl_s_transplant.html"&gt;Parents: Transplant for disabled girl now a possibility at CHOP | Philadelphia Inquirer | 01/31/2012&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: cyan;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: cyan; color: black; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;a href="https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/pengoopmcjnbflcjbmoeodbmoflcgjlk" style="background-color: cyan;"&gt;'via Blog this'&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: #eeeeee; color: black; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;Some of you may have read my post a while back about the little girl who was denied a transplant based on her &amp;nbsp;developmental&amp;nbsp;disability. The doctor they met with felt that she should not have a transplant and therefor would not&amp;nbsp;recommend&amp;nbsp;the transplant to the board.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;What followed was an incredible outcry from the &amp;nbsp;special needs community. The hastag #TeamAmelia popped up and people began posting.&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="https://twitter.com/#!/xtremeparnthood" target="_blank"&gt;Sunday Stilwell&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;created a petition over at change.org and over 35,000 poeople have signed it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style="background-color: black; color: white;"&gt;The hospital has met with the parents and has agreed to look into it further. check out the article. It gives me hope for little Miss Amelia.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-2023545334168666894?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Cj0W2O2K1iMI9SL-zFYRxpnJrW8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Cj0W2O2K1iMI9SL-zFYRxpnJrW8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/3q78RIEIF8w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/2023545334168666894?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/2023545334168666894?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/3q78RIEIF8w/follow-up-for-amelia.html" title="Follow up for Amelia" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/follow-up-for-amelia.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UGSXc8eCp7ImA9WhRUGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-6555113646160325657</id><published>2012-01-29T20:00:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-29T20:00:28.970-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-29T20:00:28.970-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grateful" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><title>quiet</title><content type="html">&lt;br /&gt;
My mom took Sam and Nate last night. We had planned this for a week so that we could go up to the vocational tournaments this weekend. We obviously aren't going now that Tyler has been hurt and is out for the season. He is thankfully feeling a little better than he was on Wednesday when it happened. But it's just Grace, AJ and Tyler home with us right now and it is so quiet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It's weird, I feel guilty enjoying the quiet. I have a long list of things I want to get done before they come home tonight. Laundry and vacuuming, reorganizing the playroom and the basement. So many things I want to do, but instead &amp;nbsp;I am drinking my coffee and writing. I am relaxing. It feels almost sinful to be chilling out when there is so much to do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today is my oxygen mask. Today it's about me. Today I get a break from the pull of what autism has done to this family. I don't have to worry about how I say things. Today I can breath. It's about damn time , don't you think?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-6555113646160325657?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KcUD1w79YBBlarNyc9yc3-RVIwg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KcUD1w79YBBlarNyc9yc3-RVIwg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KcUD1w79YBBlarNyc9yc3-RVIwg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KcUD1w79YBBlarNyc9yc3-RVIwg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/hdWu-uzR7v8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/6555113646160325657?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/6555113646160325657?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/hdWu-uzR7v8/quiet.html" title="quiet" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/quiet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEYNQHs8fSp7ImA9WhRUFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-4983521690707307076</id><published>2012-01-26T21:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T21:43:11.575-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-26T21:43:11.575-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="accomplishments" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><title>Wonderful Night</title><content type="html">It's chaotic here right now with Tyler being injured. Sammy was with us yesterday at the hospital and got really upset when Tyler cried out because of the pain. So you can imagine my surprise when time for home work came and he actually did it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It was 10 sentences and both Daniel and I groaned figuring it would be a big fight. We were prepared to scribe if need be but had him start anyway.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1. I buy 10 pesisuv cholit.&lt;br /&gt;
2. I sat by my frendonthe bus.&lt;br /&gt;
3. I threw a Big fat ceachboll.&lt;br /&gt;
4. I went through the Porck.&lt;br /&gt;
5. I went on the plane.&lt;br /&gt;
6. I ate Plain yogrte .( he drew an arrow from the letter e to the letter o to say that it should have gone there)&lt;br /&gt;
7. I write a Big letrto my mommy and mu DADDy.&lt;br /&gt;
8. I digda Heooghole in my back yord.&lt;br /&gt;
9. I ate the whole intrtire Kack.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
he skipped one but that is fine. I am so really proud of him!&lt;br /&gt;
Can you make out what he wrote?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-4983521690707307076?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3hOrakgNPR7Kr-qedCWP3QZph1c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3hOrakgNPR7Kr-qedCWP3QZph1c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3hOrakgNPR7Kr-qedCWP3QZph1c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3hOrakgNPR7Kr-qedCWP3QZph1c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/XF7iOC2pdr8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4983521690707307076?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4983521690707307076?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/XF7iOC2pdr8/wonderful-night.html" title="Wonderful Night" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/wonderful-night.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UDQXsycSp7ImA9WhRUFEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-1965967340191977099</id><published>2012-01-25T02:07:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-25T02:07:50.599-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-25T02:07:50.599-05:00</app:edited><title>All is well</title><content type="html">I am so blessed. My boy AJ is OK. We will wait and see with the lump on his rib. It&amp;nbsp;doesn't look like anything that needs&amp;nbsp;immediate&amp;nbsp;attention. The ribs grow along the front side of the rib where they go from solidified bone to&amp;nbsp;cartilage. The lump is directly on that growth plate which is not terribly uncommon when kids like AJ hit a spurt. It's just taking his bones a little longer to catch up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
His back is more complicated. He doesn't qualify for a dx of scoliosis since the curves in his spine are not severe enough. However he does have an issue with his spine that needs attention. PT and exercise for the next 3 months and then a recheck.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I feel blessed&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-1965967340191977099?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZLnv15wcnuUgsy4xzL5zjkIcpjw/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZLnv15wcnuUgsy4xzL5zjkIcpjw/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZLnv15wcnuUgsy4xzL5zjkIcpjw/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZLnv15wcnuUgsy4xzL5zjkIcpjw/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/vDHlsA0AY8k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/1965967340191977099?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/1965967340191977099?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/vDHlsA0AY8k/all-is-well.html" title="All is well" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/all-is-well.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMGSXw7fip7ImA9WhRUFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-6169588248359893181</id><published>2012-01-24T06:59:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-24T07:00:28.206-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-24T07:00:28.206-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="off topic" /><title>Prayers Wanted</title><content type="html">There is so much I could be blogging about with Sammy.&lt;br /&gt;
His sudden paralyzing fear of the stairs while wearing socks.&lt;br /&gt;
The&amp;nbsp;extreme&amp;nbsp;refusal to do anything difficult.&lt;br /&gt;
His request for a&amp;nbsp;day&amp;nbsp;off or early&amp;nbsp;dismissal&amp;nbsp;every.single.day.&lt;br /&gt;
His obsession with Star Wars Lego (which I am now addicted to as well).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-inWNkylPJJ0/Tx6ccJP6tgI/AAAAAAAAAyI/OMe7ucPokXY/s1600/ajhawk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-inWNkylPJJ0/Tx6ccJP6tgI/AAAAAAAAAyI/OMe7ucPokXY/s320/ajhawk.jpg" width="228" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;AJ rocking the "hawk" at 8&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;None of those things really matter today, because today isn't about him. My son AJ noticed a lump in his chest a while back. we didn't think anything of it. We did show it to the doctor at his physical and they sent us for an ultrasound. The ultrasound raised red flags. We know now it isn't vascular and it isn't soft tissue. We know it's attached to his actual rib and it does not show up on X-ray. We don't know what it is or why it's there. The pediatrician &amp;nbsp;has referred us to Boston Children's Hospital for a surgery consult. I am a nervous wreck. The doctor did say that he doesn't "think" it's cancer, that it "probably" is something&amp;nbsp;benign, but that we really should err on the side of caution and check it out. That.scares.me.&lt;br /&gt;
AJ is also being seen by the spine and scoliosis clinic. His&amp;nbsp;thoracic&amp;nbsp;spine has a&amp;nbsp;visible&amp;nbsp;curve to the right shoulder. His back always hurts him, poor kid.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6YSkEkFhkXw/Tx6cmjmaOyI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/XWXXMXKQPy0/s1600/imagejpeg_2+%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6YSkEkFhkXw/Tx6cmjmaOyI/AAAAAAAAAyQ/XWXXMXKQPy0/s320/imagejpeg_2+%25289%2529.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;AJ at the soccer banquet at 13&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I guess my fear is that after all this boy has been through in his life. I keep thinking about all the things he fought through and survived, &amp;nbsp;the times he has shocked doctors with quick recoveries, the times when the doctors couldn't quite understand how or why he recovered, and wondering if our luck is going to run out. Has he played his hand too well. No one wins 100% of the time right? What if what if what if...&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I would like to believe that just having a child with special needs changes the odds for my family. That lightening can only strike so many times. I know that isn't true. I see it in my circle all the time. I KNOW what can happen. Just because our family has one cross to bear doesn't mean we wont be handed another. In fact it means exactly bubkis. It means nothing. So I am scared. I don't know what they will say today. The logical part of me says it's fine, it's nothing...but my stomach is still in knots.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So if you have a second say a quick prayer for AJ and if you don't pray then send us some good energy or whatever. It's all a plus really&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-6169588248359893181?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aU93ctUlyD_qg9CLEyyKtrIOyz4/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aU93ctUlyD_qg9CLEyyKtrIOyz4/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aU93ctUlyD_qg9CLEyyKtrIOyz4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/aU93ctUlyD_qg9CLEyyKtrIOyz4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/_p9ssfKTtmM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/6169588248359893181?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/6169588248359893181?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/_p9ssfKTtmM/prayers-waanted.html" title="Prayers Wanted" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-inWNkylPJJ0/Tx6ccJP6tgI/AAAAAAAAAyI/OMe7ucPokXY/s72-c/ajhawk.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/prayers-waanted.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CE8GRno5fip7ImA9WhRUEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-3412659025743419491</id><published>2012-01-21T11:20:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T11:20:27.426-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-21T11:20:27.426-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="humor" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="off topic" /><title>How Exciting.</title><content type="html">My very first spam comment. how wonderful. I feel like I have finally arrived&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-3412659025743419491?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VnZppBMutK_jWsbe61rJ4Ygvxg/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VnZppBMutK_jWsbe61rJ4Ygvxg/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VnZppBMutK_jWsbe61rJ4Ygvxg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9VnZppBMutK_jWsbe61rJ4Ygvxg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/_D_oVo4NG90" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/3412659025743419491?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/3412659025743419491?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/_D_oVo4NG90/how-exciting.html" title="How Exciting." /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-exciting.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0IHRH4-cCp7ImA9WhRUEUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-8320152590497962152</id><published>2012-01-21T09:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-21T09:18:55.058-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-21T09:18:55.058-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rant" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="angry" /><title>To Whom it Does not Concern</title><content type="html">To you~&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;You may not agree and you may not understand, but you also do not live this life. Your words play on every insecurity I have as a mother of a child like Sammy. But understand my drear. I don't make this happen, I do not make this up and I don't wish this on anyone.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do you understand what &lt;a href="http://www.autism.com/index_b.asp" target="_blank"&gt;Autism&lt;/a&gt; is? Do understand that nothing I do makes this happen. I didn't teach him not to talk until he was over 4. I didn't teach him to flap his hands and walk on his toes. I didn't teach him to wake at 3 am and scream over the pajamas he was wearing. By the way Sir he still does that today. Sometimes he gets so frustrated that he cannot access the words he has, so he just stands there. Screaming. He sometimes gets so frustrated and angry that he hurts himself. As a mother you do everything you can to protect your child from being hurt by anyone...what do I do then when the person hurting my child...is my child?&amp;nbsp;Do you really think I create this? Do you really think I want my sweet angel boy to live like this?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Do you have any idea what it's like to live a day in my shoes? I wake at 3 am to fight with a child about pajamas or video games.I still have to physically dress my 7 year old child. I still have to wipe him after he goes to the bathroom. Am I babying him? Maybe, but it beats the meltdowns that spill over to derail the entire house. He screams at the top of the stairs because he is afraid they might be wet. He cries if it rains or snows and refuses to leave the house. He goes to school, refuses to work and gets in trouble on the bus. I am not there while he is at school. He runs away at the bus stop, tears through peoples yards , no matter how many times we tell him not to. He collects dryer lint and is obsessed with Lego blocks. He strips his clothes as he walks in the door. He has worn underwear exactly 3 times in the last 12 months. He eats in seconds and twiddles his fork. He flaps and screams while doing his homework. In the last week he has looked me in the eyes one.single.time. At 7 he still sometimes calls me dad. He runs through the house &amp;nbsp;almost hysterical until we force him to sit still so he can sleep. We finally get him to sleep just to start over again in a few hours.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am not with him at school but he still acts this way. I know I am pretty cool but really I am not so amazing that I can convince doctors of this. A TEAM of doctors all concur that he has autism. His school team, agrees that he has autism. I can show you the test scores if you like. He is AUTISTIC damn it. I don't make it up. I don't make it happen.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
At least now I know where we stand &amp;nbsp;and will limit my time accordingly. I am hurt beyond words. You may never know that this is to you, but that doesn't matter. I have to get this out. I am so sorry that you are so small minded that you can't see how we struggle. I hope and pray that you never know these bitter tears. I hope and pray that you never have an autistic child. Because , right now, this doesn't concern you, and I hope it never really does. Your ignorance frightens me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-8320152590497962152?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YBpD2HAs-NU89pKuW7onVCOKIXk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YBpD2HAs-NU89pKuW7onVCOKIXk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/--GawhhYOC8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/8320152590497962152?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/8320152590497962152?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/--GawhhYOC8/to-whom-it-does-not-concern.html" title="To Whom it Does not Concern" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/to-whom-it-does-not-concern.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUUMRXo-fCp7ImA9WhRVGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-4688734473701993078</id><published>2012-01-18T02:54:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T02:54:44.454-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T02:54:44.454-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreaming" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="accomplishments" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="struggles" /><title>Dreaming</title><content type="html">Sammy &amp;nbsp;has come into my bed here and there over the last year. It doesn't happen often anymore but it does still happen. Last night was one of those nights. I woke to his hand against my back, fingers splayed and his nose against my shoulder. It's his plugged in posture. So very rare for him to connect to me. It's been a long time since he felt the need to be "plugged in". As soon as he woke a bit and I woke too the hands were down and his face was mushed into the pillow.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ldHqZAXO9A/TxZ6oivD29I/AAAAAAAAAyA/avnAIcig8Nk/s1600/5809_107638801606_554131606_2556329_3387036_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ldHqZAXO9A/TxZ6oivD29I/AAAAAAAAAyA/avnAIcig8Nk/s320/5809_107638801606_554131606_2556329_3387036_n.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It seems my boy had a nightmare. It was enough that it forced him from his comfort into my space. It ripped him from where &amp;nbsp;he likes to be ,out of his comfort zone, into my energy to reassure him. He NEEDED me to be there and he NEEDED me to be close. I was his comfort. I can count on one hand when that statement has been true.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Turns out his favorite phrase " I hate you mom ,I hope you die" came true in his dream. Both his sister &amp;nbsp;and I died. He was distraught and perplexed by the feelings that overtook him. He was heartbroken and tearful.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He almost said it again today, but he stopped and Said " I hate you, and I hope you... don't die! But I'm really MAD you ruined my life"&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I may not be able to win them all but I do think I won this one&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-4688734473701993078?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ipWzTqFvB-v-yqfN_8Wy3xbi0o/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/7ipWzTqFvB-v-yqfN_8Wy3xbi0o/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/KundP1iD16U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4688734473701993078?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4688734473701993078?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/KundP1iD16U/dreaming.html" title="Dreaming" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2ldHqZAXO9A/TxZ6oivD29I/AAAAAAAAAyA/avnAIcig8Nk/s72-c/5809_107638801606_554131606_2556329_3387036_n.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/dreaming.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0cGRnkzeSp7ImA9WhRVFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-5986532851168934116</id><published>2012-01-16T01:23:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T01:23:47.781-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-16T01:23:47.781-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="for sammy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="My heart Monday" /><title>My Heart Monday</title><content type="html">I sat with you last night with my nose&amp;nbsp;buried&amp;nbsp;in your fluffy soft blond hair. You always smell the same, even after a bath. It's something that is and has always been&amp;nbsp;uniquely&amp;nbsp;you. It makes me smile and I know someday you will be bigger than I am. That day is coming fast. How I miss your walk, and your silly dances. How I miss the happy you on the dark and stormy nights. My focus is shifting to a different goal for you. I am learning to accept this little by little each day. Please love be patient with me. It is so hard to release where I thought we would be&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sr0OVn8DK8I/TxO-FMPSfnI/AAAAAAAAAxo/sGC2LDuqwzc/s1600/n554131606_700050_8095.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sr0OVn8DK8I/TxO-FMPSfnI/AAAAAAAAAxo/sGC2LDuqwzc/s320/n554131606_700050_8095.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Some days my darling boy I miss you much it hurts.I&amp;nbsp;remember&amp;nbsp;the tiny baby you were nestled in my arms. The baby you were before you learned how to push away,move,run. The child you were before you autism closed you in a little glass case. Your eyes were always different and I never understood that, until you were older and we were told. I miss kissing your face without you squirming away. I miss holding you against my skin and drinking you up like cold water on a summer night. Kissing your curls and breathing you deeply. I miss the tiny baby that needed me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I want to hold you and not be pushed away. I want a hug, a real one, without asking every day. Instead I get a peppering of them throughout our lives. Feast or famine they say, and this is no different. I may not get all the hugs and kisses I want but I have come to see your affection in the subtle things you say and do. I see it when you lean on me while you play Wii. I see it when you reach your foot under the dinner table and rest it against my leg tapping just sets of three. The moment you tip toe dance and giggle when I catch you&amp;nbsp;unraveling&amp;nbsp;my toilet paper for the&amp;nbsp;hundredth&amp;nbsp;time. the pieces of your snacks that leave on my computer, for me. Small moments that I hold so tightly, I fear they will shatter in my hand as a glass bird.The beauty of each moment overwhelming me like ocean waves upon a grain of sand.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;For many days and many nights I mourned the loss of the boy I thought you would be. I cried for the boy I had imagined sitting beside me coloring pictures and making sandcastles. I cried bitter tears for a child that said my name and called for me as I left the room, helped me in the kitchen, and snuggled beside me to sleep. I sighed softly at the idea of having a boy that enjoyed my company, knew his letters and &amp;nbsp;numbers,sang little nursery rhymes and said "I love you". I cried because none of that was to be had. Instead I had a boy whose whole world was parallel to mine, with locked doors and no windows.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But now; now young man I celebrate the boy you are. The moments of sunshine and rainbows. I smile and I thank God for you and your elaborate ideas that only you seem to understand. I praise the moment of joy and laughter that are sometimes few and far between. I pledge to help make more of those moments. I was able to hear the words I longed for. I am watching as you learn how to read and sing simple little songs. I love that you help me in the kitchen even if it is only to steal&amp;nbsp;bites of cheese. I applaud your battles each day to enjoy,live,breath and teach the world around you,as only you can. You my son are a shining star and for that I am eternally blessed.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dsSGz8gbY18/TxPCalsIOKI/AAAAAAAAAxw/AodNNTRXsgM/s1600/n554131606_1387299_12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dsSGz8gbY18/TxPCalsIOKI/AAAAAAAAAxw/AodNNTRXsgM/s320/n554131606_1387299_12.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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I don't know where our lives are going my sunshine boy, I only know that together, it will be OK. I need for you to trust me. I need you to know, my darling boy, that every moment with you I am blessed beyond belief. My darling Sam, you are a ray of light into my day even when you are a little black rain cloud. I am blessed and honored to be your mother. Be patient with me my boy, it's only love that fuels me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-5986532851168934116?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2qt9hOTpBfnTM748C6huDTemBjA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/2qt9hOTpBfnTM748C6huDTemBjA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/JPFtmmO14Us" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5986532851168934116?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5986532851168934116?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/JPFtmmO14Us/my-heart-monday_16.html" title="My Heart Monday" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sr0OVn8DK8I/TxO-FMPSfnI/AAAAAAAAAxo/sGC2LDuqwzc/s72-c/n554131606_700050_8095.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-heart-monday_16.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEEARXc6eyp7ImA9WhRVFkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-4319971082029532847</id><published>2012-01-15T11:15:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-15T13:37:24.913-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-15T13:37:24.913-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rant" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="re-posts" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="angry" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="advocacy" /><title>How Is THIS Legal</title><content type="html">&lt;span style="background-color: yellow;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.wolfhirschhorn.org/2012/01/amelia/brick-walls/"&gt;Brick Walls | wolfhirschhorn.org&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/pengoopmcjnbflcjbmoeodbmoflcgjlk" style="font-size: 13px;"&gt;'via Blog this'&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
It takes a bit to ruffle my feathers this much. I am so ANGRY I even considered using profanity in this post. Don't worry I won't.  I am so angry after reading that article up there that my hands are shaking. I had to actually wait to post this because I am IRATE. My heart is pounding in my ears. It isn't even my child we are talking about here... but it is ,you know? &lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Because today it's a transplant team refusing to treat a child with developmental delays tomorrow it's treatment refused for kids with autism. The slippery slope that runs along the outer banks of normal into our world. This world of ours while it has challenges and tears , it has so many moment of absolute glory. We have so many moments of sheer joy unhindered by any constraint that society sets forward. What these doctors are saying is that if you don't meet our standard we will let you die. you don't count. You aren't good enough.&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;div&gt;
HOW IS &lt;a href="http://www.wolfhirschhorn.org/2012/01/amelia/brick-walls/" target="_blank"&gt;THIS&lt;/a&gt; OK???&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
It is 2012 right? Even if I get the numbers backwards we aren't in the dark ages any more right? SO HOW IS THIS OK? The idea that for one solitary second my son or any other child doesn't have as much right to life as a "typical" child infuriates me.  I don't love my child less because he is has challenges. My child isn't any less part of my life because he needs help. Where do we draw the line? If this child were shot it would still be murder wouldn't it. how is this any different?&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
So to that transplant team in charge of this beautiful girl ~ put down the loaded gun and do your job. shame .on. you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
you can sign the petition&lt;a href="http://www.change.org/petitions/executive-vice-president-and-chief-development-officer-allow-the-kidney-transplant-amelia-rivera-needs-to-survive" target="_blank"&gt; HERE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-4319971082029532847?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceIV9CtQWslIPech3zHpVzIGsoE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ceIV9CtQWslIPech3zHpVzIGsoE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/LKfxaCnxNcc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4319971082029532847?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4319971082029532847?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/LKfxaCnxNcc/how-is-this-legal.html" title="How Is THIS Legal" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/how-is-this-legal.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUMMRHYyfip7ImA9WhRVFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-4392915290881507716</id><published>2012-01-13T18:31:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-13T18:31:25.896-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-13T18:31:25.896-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="this moment" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><title>This Moment</title><content type="html">Started by &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.soulemama.com/" target="_blank"&gt;soule mama&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;. Post just a moment, something you want to savor and remember. Then if you feel like you want to add your own moment. Head on over to soule mama and link your own.&lt;a href="http://soulemama.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dV8jzHV2_Vc/TxC-Wttl70I/AAAAAAAAAxg/tnZv_YCuSaQ/s1600/325748_10150471827891607_554131606_9069932_1565046301_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dV8jzHV2_Vc/TxC-Wttl70I/AAAAAAAAAxg/tnZv_YCuSaQ/s320/325748_10150471827891607_554131606_9069932_1565046301_o.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Smile for me dear sweet child of mine.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
kisses and hugs for you&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
Smile for me dear sweet child of mine&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
know that these moments are few&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-4392915290881507716?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ALoKYOOnni_cKRO5DB7BJivY2s0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ALoKYOOnni_cKRO5DB7BJivY2s0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/E5HQFpSowRo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4392915290881507716?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4392915290881507716?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/E5HQFpSowRo/this-moment_13.html" title="This Moment" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dV8jzHV2_Vc/TxC-Wttl70I/AAAAAAAAAxg/tnZv_YCuSaQ/s72-c/325748_10150471827891607_554131606_9069932_1565046301_o.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/this-moment_13.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkMMSX4zeSp7ImA9WhRVE0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-5441144174239616983</id><published>2012-01-12T08:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T08:21:28.081-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-12T08:21:28.081-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><title>Because of this</title><content type="html">This is the video my husband send me this morning&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="640" height="480" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/BW9zMSwKIdU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Because of this we will be OK. Because of this Sammy will be great. Because of this I can get up another day, move forward, and move on. Because of this the darkness doesn't scare me. Because of this we will make it. how blessed I am to have such an amazing partner that loves our children. I am truly blessed beyond words&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-5441144174239616983?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u5quMyHwb9Ad5UV4mbrRcH6ZHyE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/u5quMyHwb9Ad5UV4mbrRcH6ZHyE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/nz77rFUSOK0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5441144174239616983?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5441144174239616983?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/nz77rFUSOK0/because-of-this.html" title="Because of this" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/BW9zMSwKIdU/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/because-of-this.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUUBRHsyeip7ImA9WhRVE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-7474054457941704252</id><published>2012-01-11T16:27:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T16:27:35.592-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-11T16:27:35.592-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="for sammy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="advocacy" /><title>Biting the Bullet</title><content type="html">So after reading Jess' post over at &amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://adiaryofamom.wordpress.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Diary of a Mom&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;about them adopting &lt;strike&gt;a dog &lt;/strike&gt;&amp;nbsp;a second dog, and some information given to me by her I bit the bullet and&amp;nbsp;reapplied&amp;nbsp;to the local Lab rescue.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4FdgHYuLFqQ/Tw3-k92C36I/AAAAAAAAAxY/jJeddmSrPDc/s1600/luckylab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4FdgHYuLFqQ/Tw3-k92C36I/AAAAAAAAAxY/jJeddmSrPDc/s1600/luckylab.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Lucky Lab header from their website&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;a href="http://www.luckylabrescuema.com/index.html" target="_blank"&gt;OH MY GOODNESS LOOK AT THE PUPPIES&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We will not be getting a puppy even though they make my heart melt. That would never be fair to Sammy. The idea that he may get his "black labradog" makes my heart melt. If any of you reading this are looking for a dog to adopt please check these guys out. There are so many rescue dogs that need your love and attention, why go with puppy mill puppies?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I have my heart set on this. I worry that&amp;nbsp;because&amp;nbsp;of Sammy that it may be hard to adopt a dog. I want the best for my family. I grew up with a Lab and she was the most awesome dog ever! I want that for my kids.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
They make it really simple to submit an application at LLR. just go&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.luckylabrescuema.com/LLR_MA_Application.html" target="_blank"&gt;To the application page&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;and answer the questions. It's easier and faster than going to the DMV n your birthday!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Even if you just head over to take a look it's worth the time. You can also apply to foster dogs as well. I am willing to bet they can always use more of those too.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So we are keeping our fingers,toes,eyes, and elbows crossed for a black labradog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-7474054457941704252?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/av8IHqujPeyCH2z385_P7H23psc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/av8IHqujPeyCH2z385_P7H23psc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/uTxbsVj9yW4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7474054457941704252?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7474054457941704252?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/uTxbsVj9yW4/biting-bullet.html" title="Biting the Bullet" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4FdgHYuLFqQ/Tw3-k92C36I/AAAAAAAAAxY/jJeddmSrPDc/s72-c/luckylab.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/biting-bullet.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkYCQn86eCp7ImA9WhRVEkw.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-7065012186338153486</id><published>2012-01-10T12:55:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T12:56:03.110-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-10T12:56:03.110-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grateful" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="fullfilled." /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="for sammy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="accomplishments" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="love" /><title>The Mistakes I've Made</title><content type="html">We all have those moments when we think ..Ughh why did I go there?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
That moment started my day. I sat there today thinking about when Sammy was born. The feelings and emotions I had. The feeling that we were going to loose him even though nothing was wrong with him. The frantic checks on him every time he fell asleep. then came the crying.The screaming. the loss of words.The loss of eye contact. The loss of him. He wasn't present anymore. he wouldn't let me hold him. I couldn't&amp;nbsp;comfort&amp;nbsp;him. I was something that made his world just as miserable as shoes and socks and pants.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The journey of the fight back to this place we are at. The clawing and ripping against the mountainside to get back to where we could feel ok. The fight back to where we are now. It might not be everyone's idea of normal but it by far better than watching your young boy be tormented by demons you can't see.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Why did I spend energy looking back? It's frustrating and overwhelming because in ever step forward I see so much we have missed. We work hard to just be. To just love him. we do that we just love him for being Sammy. It has to be good enough. After all what do any of us have to offer but who we are? And who he is &amp;nbsp;is AWESOME&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RUoGmoh3zU8/SDPmfUZbBhI/AAAAAAAAAAM/lJnvIPzBq1U/s1600/nate+tub+077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RUoGmoh3zU8/SDPmfUZbBhI/AAAAAAAAAAM/lJnvIPzBq1U/s320/nate+tub+077.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-7065012186338153486?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0z0DczwHhiu7yy683sHM2fO8qBM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/0z0DczwHhiu7yy683sHM2fO8qBM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/xlQ5nF3xn9k" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7065012186338153486?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7065012186338153486?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/xlQ5nF3xn9k/mistakes-ive-made.html" title="The Mistakes I've Made" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RUoGmoh3zU8/SDPmfUZbBhI/AAAAAAAAAAM/lJnvIPzBq1U/s72-c/nate+tub+077.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/mistakes-ive-made.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkICRnk5eSp7ImA9WhRVEUo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-5835724501574827712</id><published>2012-01-09T23:26:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-10T01:56:07.721-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-10T01:56:07.721-05:00</app:edited><title>My Heart Monday</title><content type="html">I want so much for Sam. I want to see him grow and be strong. I want him to be happy and unafraid. Sometimes I worry that I make it harder for him. I push him, I make him do so many things that he really just doesn't want to. Sometimes it's for me, sometimes it's for him. Things like wearing socks with his shoes. Honestly I don't want to have to buy new shoes every other month because they become the stinky shoes. I don't make him wear underwear because that would be torture and honestly no one is going to know (well I guess they do now huh?) I make him say hello to people we meet, I make him look up. I make him say thank you. I make him try things. I make him do so many things that seem counter intuitive because I think it's what's best for him. I have no idea if what I am doing is right. I feel lost just like every other parent on the planet.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tonight is a night like that. I feel lost, devoid of a path. I feel like each day bleeds into the next like watercolor on a coffee filter. Each color mashed up beside it. For me, parenting has always been a little like that. Putting autism in the mix just turns the colors muddy and dull. So I pull back and regroup. I clean my brushes and my paints. I set aside my arts for the night and I sleep. Restless,churning sleep. I wake and I start all over. Hoping that the water colors on the coffee filter will make a beautiful butterfly this time and not just another wet soggy mess to clean up.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1v0nv0Bz8eA/Twu9uP-Qb6I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/avibHjglX9o/s1600/butterfly_large2_rdax_65.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1v0nv0Bz8eA/Twu9uP-Qb6I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/avibHjglX9o/s320/butterfly_large2_rdax_65.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;picture from craft kaboose&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;a href="http://crafts.kaboose.com/butterfly1.html"&gt;http://crafts.kaboose.com/butterfly1.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-5835724501574827712?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-dMAFVUJVztJDRc8UqwmCKxakGs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-dMAFVUJVztJDRc8UqwmCKxakGs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/P_35ZjRva9s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5835724501574827712?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5835724501574827712?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/P_35ZjRva9s/my-heart-monday.html" title="My Heart Monday" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1v0nv0Bz8eA/Twu9uP-Qb6I/AAAAAAAAAxQ/avibHjglX9o/s72-c/butterfly_large2_rdax_65.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/my-heart-monday.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8CQXo_eSp7ImA9WhRWGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-174853668183835595</id><published>2012-01-07T10:41:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T10:41:00.441-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-07T10:41:00.441-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="grateful" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="for sammy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="accomplishments" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><title>Bring in the MIlk</title><content type="html">Daniel has gotten a bee in his bonnet and decided to start working with Sam I am on his self help skills. He has decided to work with Sammy on his ability to be independent in the world. For now that means teaching him&amp;nbsp;safety&amp;nbsp;and money skills. We have a very recent obsession with change. He loves it and counts it. He wants to spend it every time he get to one dollar. He wants to go to the dollar store all the time. Maybe the obsession isn't the money itself but the ability to go to the dollar store itself and have the power to purchase what he wants? think about that, can you imagine having that kind of control over your world. That must feel awesome for him. Thank God for Dan because I get so caught up in all of the day to day crap that I never think of these things.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today, Daniel&amp;nbsp;brought&amp;nbsp;Sam to Cumberland Farms before school. We needed milk. Daniel went over the steps of purchasing the milk.&lt;br /&gt;
Run in, &amp;nbsp; ask where the milk is, &amp;nbsp; pick out the milk jug, &amp;nbsp;bring it to the counter, &amp;nbsp; pay for milk, &amp;nbsp; get receipt. &amp;nbsp;If you had asked me I would have thought it was too many steps but my biggest issue is the "run in"&lt;br /&gt;
Sammy asked "red milk or blue milk?" he was assured that red capped milk was what we wanted. He went in and did exactly as he should. He did forget the&amp;nbsp;receipt&amp;nbsp;but HOLY HECK he did it. He did well. I am so thrilled and Dan is so excited to be helping him on this journey.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sammy did bring up to Daniel that he said "run in" and that he almost did. He conveyed to Daniel that it hadn't made sense to him since we tell him all the time to walk unless were playing. He was confounded by Daddy saying such a silly thing.&amp;nbsp;Daniel&amp;nbsp;explained figures of&amp;nbsp;speech&amp;nbsp;to him. He didn't quite get it, but hey&lt;br /&gt;
he bought milk on his own. Super huge accomplishment&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-174853668183835595?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ga7CWvzilu3HO0Qm3gsy-fMSj44/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ga7CWvzilu3HO0Qm3gsy-fMSj44/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ga7CWvzilu3HO0Qm3gsy-fMSj44/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Ga7CWvzilu3HO0Qm3gsy-fMSj44/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/RDv6sdvuxJo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/174853668183835595?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/174853668183835595?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/RDv6sdvuxJo/bring-in-milk.html" title="Bring in the MIlk" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/bring-in-milk.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkANQXc-eSp7ImA9WhRWGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-7638943904877156852</id><published>2012-01-06T10:21:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-06T10:46:30.951-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-06T10:46:30.951-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="this moment" /><title>This Moment</title><content type="html">&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;
this moment ~ started by&amp;nbsp;&lt;a href="http://www.soulemama.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Soule Mama&lt;/a&gt;. A moment with no words you want to hold on to and cherish and never forget.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LKPOYPV6djY/TwcQzRDYQGI/AAAAAAAAAxI/HycMH2-QVGY/s1600/january+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LKPOYPV6djY/TwcQzRDYQGI/AAAAAAAAAxI/HycMH2-QVGY/s320/january+025.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
Remind me, dear child, how far we have come.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I will see the reflection of you.&lt;br /&gt;
Remind me, dear child, how far we've to go&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;div&gt;
I will see the reflection of me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-7638943904877156852?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KsLSaN-CaKhZZ8F1zR5fi9e-0JQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KsLSaN-CaKhZZ8F1zR5fi9e-0JQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/z6jBj6noKFg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7638943904877156852?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7638943904877156852?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/z6jBj6noKFg/this-moment.html" title="This Moment" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LKPOYPV6djY/TwcQzRDYQGI/AAAAAAAAAxI/HycMH2-QVGY/s72-c/january+025.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/this-moment.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIDRn49cCp7ImA9WhRWF0o.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-4974717191982114567</id><published>2012-01-05T10:49:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T10:49:37.068-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-05T10:49:37.068-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="rant" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Thoughtful Thursday" /><title>a Day Off</title><content type="html">Sammy&amp;nbsp;hates school. There is no doubt in my mind that he struggles with it. Learning is hard for him, I know this. Here is the issue however. He is awesome once he gets to school, every day. The teachers all say he never has behaviors (except for a few very isolated&amp;nbsp;incidents) he never acts fresh and he never yells or screams. He doesn't stim and he is 100% appropriate in school. This creates a 2 fold problem&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
1. I feel like crap because he is horrible at home. He is&amp;nbsp;disrespectful&amp;nbsp;and he screams at me. He yells and cries over homework and acts like a total beast! He spends a lot of time stimming on things like the blinds in the bathroom. He refuses to get dressed in the morning.He refuses to eat breakfast some days.He tells me he hates me and that I am the worst mom ever. He called me a freak show..where he got that I have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQjumkdxeVs/TwXGc3AYuDI/AAAAAAAAAw4/5aH9IN45XCk/s1600/imagejpeg_3+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQjumkdxeVs/TwXGc3AYuDI/AAAAAAAAAw4/5aH9IN45XCk/s320/imagejpeg_3+%25285%2529.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
2. They don't see how hard it is for him &amp;nbsp;...&lt;i&gt;I cant just go tell them it's hard for him. He is fine in school, they wont believe me. I really wonder if they think I am just crazy and making it all up. I know that is probably my&amp;nbsp;insecurity... &lt;/i&gt;after things being so tough in our last school I am really afraid to rock the boat too much. He get's lots of help and his team here is WONDERFUL. Mrs. L and Ms G. are incredible people. the principle is fantastic as is the nurse the OT and the ST. I love them and they love Sammy. We are blessed with an incredible team. Even the best team however can't make it not hard for Sammy. He cries every morning begging me to just let him stay home. I totally would if he wouldn't be beating up his little brother 5 minutes after the bus left.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Much like every day he cried and sobbed that school is too hard and his teacher is&amp;nbsp;stupid&amp;nbsp;and he hates school. Can he please just&amp;nbsp;stay&amp;nbsp;home just today? He will go to school tomorrow he promises.... oh how I wish I could just say yes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-4974717191982114567?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Rni12zlHY7I9sCvjfFy1BlIy_cQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Rni12zlHY7I9sCvjfFy1BlIy_cQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/lu6wTS7pxek" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4974717191982114567?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/4974717191982114567?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/lu6wTS7pxek/day-off.html" title="a Day Off" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZQjumkdxeVs/TwXGc3AYuDI/AAAAAAAAAw4/5aH9IN45XCk/s72-c/imagejpeg_3+%25285%2529.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/day-off.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MCQnY_cCp7ImA9WhRWF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-7967304567192519444</id><published>2012-01-03T10:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:51:03.848-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-05T13:51:03.848-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="for sammy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="feelings" /><title>Saying Goodbye</title><content type="html">Our neighbor and good friend Matt died unexpectedly on Tuesday this past week. He was Sammy's buddy. Every time Sam saw his truck pull up he ran outside to say "HI BUDDY WHAT'CHA DOING BUDDY?" and Matt always answered back and smiled. Every time. It would have been easy for him to ignore Sammy, to blow him off, especially when it was the 10th time that day. Many times he would call me from the porch to let me know Sammy had gone outside and was now on the roof of the van, or eating rocks, or just doing something wonderfully weird. It was always coupled with " I don't want to get him in trouble Annie but I thought you should know." It is awesome having neighbors that look out for us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
The news came suddenly and it was harsh. There was no turning back,no time to prepare. Nothing but tears and pain and sadness. When I was told I remember the room spinning. I couldn't process the words, I didn't understand. He was so young, just early 20's. He leaves behind a son that is Nate's age. I can't imagine telling Nate he would never see his daddy again. My heart just breaks for that family. He really was a great dad!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He was Sammy's buddy. This is Sam's first real brush with death and it was harsh. To see my Sammy looking up with those sad blueberry eyes full of fear and confusion. He was sad though he did not cry. He keeps repeating to himself "my buddy...he died... he is in heaven,I'll see him again" I have caught him whispering it a few times to himself. He&amp;nbsp;doesn't&amp;nbsp;want to talk about it with me. He did not want to go to the funeral because he was afraid he&amp;nbsp;wouldn't&amp;nbsp;stop crying. His heart hurts and he is struggling to understand it. Nate gets it far better than Sammy. They both loved Matt and he was a great guy. They saw him as their friend,their Buddy. He is so missed.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So Matt rest well my friend until we meet again. Your Buddy misses you so much. We all do.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-7967304567192519444?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wmWVbwqFMqxt9CIHU03KKHYyoM4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/wmWVbwqFMqxt9CIHU03KKHYyoM4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/tYdl9Ix_dDw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7967304567192519444?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/7967304567192519444?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/tYdl9Ix_dDw/saying-goodbye.html" title="Saying Goodbye" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/saying-goodbye.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MDSX08cCp7ImA9WhRWF0U.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-9091275047198637560</id><published>2012-01-01T12:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-05T13:51:18.378-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-05T13:51:18.378-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Christmas Vacation</title><content type="html">It's almost over. I haven't been around for a multitude of reasons. Some good ~some bad~some are just life.&lt;br /&gt;
Vacations are always filled with&amp;nbsp;dis-regulation&amp;nbsp;and stress for Sammy which boils down to insanity and stress for everyone. He was sick at the very start of vacation and the medication made him very stressed and violent. Then Christmas morning (which is hard to begin with) threw us all for a loop.He received Lego Star Wars from my parents for Christmas and he is perseverating on it. Then our 23 year old neighbor that Sammy loves passed away (which is another post in itself,I promise I will get to that one). Grace got sick and so did AJ. Turns out AJ has mono! then Tyler got a concussion on Thursday at practice. For an quirky aspie kid, the doctors struggled to figure out what was normal and what wasn't.(again another post for this week)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
This week has also been filled with amazing things! He was able to purchase his own bag of chips at the dollar store alone without help. That sounds like nothing to some but for us it was a GIANT milestone. He has been waking up early every day and has been mostly agreeable. I am pretty sure he has snuck down a few times just to play the game. We have also discovered Sammy knows how to count change! He has told me sweet things ("I thought you were soft and squishy but you're really hard and rough! but I love you anyway,no matter what")and things that break my heart (I don't want to be a kid with autism ,I just want to be like everyone else.No one else has autism,I am only one")&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
So many things we need to work on here, and so many things I can't fix. I have so much t tell all of you about but for now I am going to enjoy my boy and the last 2 days we have off together.&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GpLvY5MD37k/TwCW5658nBI/AAAAAAAAAwk/247MXfwrNz4/s1600/PC250299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GpLvY5MD37k/TwCW5658nBI/AAAAAAAAAwk/247MXfwrNz4/s320/PC250299.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/d3HefliFbNzfboIiQJ_gFlPkxaA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/d3HefliFbNzfboIiQJ_gFlPkxaA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/UAtDSY7iGuQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/9091275047198637560?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/9091275047198637560?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/UAtDSY7iGuQ/christmas-vacation.html" title="Christmas Vacation" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GpLvY5MD37k/TwCW5658nBI/AAAAAAAAAwk/247MXfwrNz4/s72-c/PC250299.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2012/01/christmas-vacation.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkENQHo6cSp7ImA9WhRXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-1599259973755794945</id><published>2011-12-24T07:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-24T07:44:51.419-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-24T07:44:51.419-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Christmas Eve</title><content type="html">I's Christmas Eve and most of the kids are almost drunk with&amp;nbsp;excitement. They keep talking about what Santa is bringing. The older two are thrilled to be going to their grandmothers house for a few hours. They are happy to escape the chaos for a few hours.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
For Sammy Christmas might as well be over. He got the one thing he hoped for from my mom last night. Lego Star Wars 3. Seriously its like the autism trifecta! Starwars - Lego and video games. It's a stim utopia! I am hearing STUDS! every minute or so. I love seeing my boy so happy&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7aC2QkllLLY/TvXJM3s8KgI/AAAAAAAAAwY/tpaAQH08UKc/s1600/CIMG0757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7aC2QkllLLY/TvXJM3s8KgI/AAAAAAAAAwY/tpaAQH08UKc/s320/CIMG0757.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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Yesterday was really rough. Sammy had so many meltdowns. The medication for his Croup is messing with him. He was beside himself . He couldn't stop screaming. He was hitting and biting and just desperate for&amp;nbsp;solace. He couldn't get it together and it made my heart hurt. We packed his bag for the crisis center and he finally calmed down.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He said something that really made me think. He asked to be squeezed. He said when he gets upset he needs to be squeezed. Now I &lt;i&gt;knew&lt;/i&gt; that in the sense that I know he has autism and it's helpful. What I didn't understand was that he knows that too. I didn't&amp;nbsp;realize&amp;nbsp;that he could communicate that to me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Tonight and tomorrow I will be selling out and letting him just play lego star wars. Merry Christmas&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-1599259973755794945?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hWGo7ZFyQwW8QrDg8Q75eInocAo/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/hWGo7ZFyQwW8QrDg8Q75eInocAo/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/wVIvD9vJd7w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/1599259973755794945?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/1599259973755794945?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/wVIvD9vJd7w/christmas-eve.html" title="Christmas Eve" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7aC2QkllLLY/TvXJM3s8KgI/AAAAAAAAAwY/tpaAQH08UKc/s72-c/CIMG0757.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2011/12/christmas-eve.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkcGQXo9eyp7ImA9WhRXE04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-5505811166638431112</id><published>2011-12-19T15:49:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T16:27:00.463-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-19T16:27:00.463-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="reflection" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="My heart Monday" /><title>My Heart Monday</title><content type="html">Sometimes you just have to show up. That's it. Nothing else. No fireworks, no drum roll, nothing.Just. Show. Up. It's all you get and it has to be good enough even when it isn't.&lt;br /&gt;
We had&amp;nbsp;Daniel's&amp;nbsp;family Christmas yesterday. It was without major meltdown or drama. Sammy only bolted once from the house without shoes down the driveway. He went without his shoes on and protested changing out of the damn&amp;nbsp;corduroys&amp;nbsp;he has been wearing all week (yes all week that is another post in and of itself).&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3fQjD8PA0Vg/Tu-jT80cRVI/AAAAAAAAAwE/112moYtf_Tc/s1600/imagejpeg_2+%252818%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3fQjD8PA0Vg/Tu-jT80cRVI/AAAAAAAAAwE/112moYtf_Tc/s320/imagejpeg_2+%252818%2529.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Sounds like success right? Not exactly. He didn't engage, he didn't enjoy and he didn't show up.Well he may have enjoyed all by himself. My boy was vacant for the day.&amp;nbsp;Appropriate&amp;nbsp;with his scripted niceties and common conversation (which isn't really conversation at all) No&amp;nbsp;Sammy&amp;nbsp;stories that are both outlandish and endearing. He was there in body, dressed well except for shoes. He found Lego guys downstairs in the basement and that was where he was. All Day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
He refused presents. He refused interaction. He refused to show up. We had one flash of Sammy. One bit of glimmer and one private moment that I treasure as the highlight of the day.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I went to ask him if he would like to come up for presents.&lt;br /&gt;
ME ~ Sammy it's time to open presents. Come upstairs please?&lt;br /&gt;
Sam ~ No thanks&lt;br /&gt;
ME ~ You don't want presents Sammy?&lt;br /&gt;
Sam ~ No thanks. (long pause) I need more guys.More Lego guys.Can you find them for me.&lt;br /&gt;
ME ~ Oh.? (at this point my eyes kind of welled up. He doesn't ask for help with much.) sure&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
we found a few more&amp;nbsp;Lego&amp;nbsp;guys for his project and he sat quietly. 2 more times I went down and after the third try he came up to open gifts. he smiled,said thank you and was polite. He got a bull horn that changes his voice. He lit up like a tree. The Aunts kept&amp;nbsp;apologizing&amp;nbsp;for the gift , Tracey picked it out. Tracey is an OT, she knows Sammy is a sensory seeker. SCORE Tracey. He has said things today and last night through his bull horn in all sorts of voices that he would never have said without it. My boy showed up for a few minutes. I'll take it.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Dan and I decided we liked it this way though. He dealt with today in a way he was happy. I can't complain about that. So protocol from now on. We bring&amp;nbsp;Lego&amp;nbsp;blocks, we let him be...anything&amp;nbsp;else&amp;nbsp;is cake!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-5505811166638431112?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NggRWOuVrK5YttuampFoB_PBqAc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/NggRWOuVrK5YttuampFoB_PBqAc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/P2-k5p6P_Tc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5505811166638431112?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/5505811166638431112?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/P2-k5p6P_Tc/my-heart-monday_19.html" title="My Heart Monday" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3fQjD8PA0Vg/Tu-jT80cRVI/AAAAAAAAAwE/112moYtf_Tc/s72-c/imagejpeg_2+%252818%2529.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2011/12/my-heart-monday_19.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0MDQHs_fSp7ImA9WhRXEk0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-6864207465777380579</id><published>2011-12-18T05:51:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T05:51:11.545-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-18T05:51:11.545-05:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="dreaming" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="happy" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="hope" /><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Christmas" /><title>Th Ghosts of Christmas Past</title><content type="html">&amp;nbsp;I admit it. I am not a fan of this holiday. While some&amp;nbsp;families&amp;nbsp;are tucked in their beds with visions of sugarplums, I am trying to figure out a way to lesson the sheer volume of meltdown&amp;nbsp;occurring&amp;nbsp;in my house. Sammy has his issues and the holidays just&amp;nbsp;exacerbate&amp;nbsp;that now add into that a baby who is having her first Christmas, 2 teens and a 4 year old with sensory&amp;nbsp;sensitivities.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tJjMblC1D-0/Tu3D10wQGCI/AAAAAAAAAvs/reWAAsNAJ7s/s1600/2mobile+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tJjMblC1D-0/Tu3D10wQGCI/AAAAAAAAAvs/reWAAsNAJ7s/s1600/2mobile+008.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;2008&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I don't want to miss a minute of Grace's wonderment &amp;nbsp;with the lights and sounds, but instead I end up often trading that for a hold on Sammy. I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;want her to grow up thinking chaos is a way of life. I don't want her to look back on her childhood and be sad.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;don't&amp;nbsp;want Nate to feel lost in the shuffle between a girl baby &amp;nbsp;and a brother with "issues" he cannot even come close to comprehending. After all how to do you explain autism to a four year old? Why the hell should I have to?&amp;nbsp;Why&amp;nbsp;should he even have to carry any of this. I sit here as Nate becomes overwhelmed with the noise and stress level. Sammy thinks it's hysterical and then begins the "crazy laugh" Nate gets even more upset.&lt;br /&gt;
The older boys handle it well but poor AJ gets crap so often. Sammy can trip over his own feet stumble and fall, get up and punch AJ. Because somewhere in his head he thinks it's his fault. Everything becomes AJ's fault in Sammy's head, sometimes when AJ isn't .even.home.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i49zj6RC_KM/Tu3EoQmjG9I/AAAAAAAAAv0/HCZ0c-xu--M/s1600/PC180103.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-i49zj6RC_KM/Tu3EoQmjG9I/AAAAAAAAAv0/HCZ0c-xu--M/s320/PC180103.JPG" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;2009&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Today is Dan's family Christmas. We have gone over behavior and expectations. We have done a social story. We have talked about it and role played. Still, while &amp;nbsp;he may hold it together while we are there I can almost place bets on how far from the party we get before Sammy looses his crap.&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;I try not to focus on Christmas past before we understood what the issue was. Christmas past when I was told I needed to "get my kid" because he was touching everything and making other family members uncomfortable. Where I got looks and stares that threw me for a loop. When Sammy punched me in the face in front of a group of people. When &amp;nbsp;I was treated like I didn't exist and neither did he. I still hurt from those things, they don't go away. Yet, every year I put a happy face on suck it up. I try to make this time happy.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N7Ys_NcAQ_8/Tu3E5nrHd1I/AAAAAAAAAv8/4zElce6wCrc/s1600/sammy+sleep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-N7Ys_NcAQ_8/Tu3E5nrHd1I/AAAAAAAAAv8/4zElce6wCrc/s320/sammy+sleep.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;2010&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;
I'm tired and I am worn out. There is still this small glimmer inside of me that hopes for a great day tomorrow. I don't get to be hopeful often. I protect myself from that like the plague. I want him to show excitement. I want him to play with toys. I want him to be happy and for others to see the ray of sunshine inside that boy who lights up my life. I need him to engage, be present,show up. I know he may for a second or two here and there. He may be socially&amp;nbsp;appropriate&amp;nbsp;some of the time. Truth is he will most likely be running laps around the house or swinging on the swings. &amp;nbsp;He may not be present at all. It hurts to know that in the back of my mind, but I still... remain hopeful. Like a child on Christmas even who wants something nearly impossible I hope and I pray but in my heart of hearts I know I wont have the Christmas I want, so I just need to WANT the Christmas I have.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It just always ends in tears.. for both of us.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-6864207465777380579?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JQoe2pR8--UA_lbkZk_WxJcFEt4/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JQoe2pR8--UA_lbkZk_WxJcFEt4/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/0qN8691uE4E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/6864207465777380579?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/6864207465777380579?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/0qN8691uE4E/th-ghosts-of-christmas-past.html" title="Th Ghosts of Christmas Past" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tJjMblC1D-0/Tu3D10wQGCI/AAAAAAAAAvs/reWAAsNAJ7s/s72-c/2mobile+008.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2011/12/th-ghosts-of-christmas-past.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkIAQXgyeSp7ImA9WhRQGEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1673200091498770523.post-1543780500841184182</id><published>2011-12-14T13:49:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-14T13:49:00.691-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-14T13:49:00.691-05:00</app:edited><title>Myths about Autism | autism myths</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://www.nlconcepts.com/myths-about-autism.html"&gt;Myths about Autism | autism myths&lt;/a&gt;:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a style="font-size:13px" href="https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/pengoopmcjnbflcjbmoeodbmoflcgjlk"&gt;'via Blog this'&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The ideas people often have about autism amaze me. I hear quite often things like  " &lt;i&gt;I do that too and I'm not autistic&lt;/i&gt;" or "&lt;i&gt;but he looks so normal&lt;/i&gt;" Normal is always spoken in a hushed kind of whisper similar to the way my grandmothers generation spoke of "&lt;i&gt;the Cancer&lt;/i&gt;"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I guess they are looking for something to say. The frailty and honesty of the entire situation leaves people uncomfortable and shaky. I get it. kind of.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have the tendency to shoot from the hip much the same way my Sammy does. It comes out of my mouth well before I even realize how inappropriate it sounds. I don't mean to be rude but I often end up apologizing for something I have said. So I get it. I never MEAN to hurt anyone but I do.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The next thing I get is always the question of super ability, you know like in Rain Man.  drives me nutty.  Nope Sorry the only super human qualities Sammy possesses are Light speed snack eating, superhuman hulk smash strength and sleepless power.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Light speed Snack eating ~ able to consume large quantities of candy,chips or pretzels the second you turn around. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Superhuman Hulk Smash Strength ~ able to break windows , pans trees and doors at the mere mention of the word no! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Sleepless power ~ the ability to get up at the crack of dawn on non-school days, and if no one notices the ability to stay up until 1am or later like it's nothing. He is then able to function on subsequent  weekends and holidays  with more vim and vigor than a spring rabbit. Unless of course we are trying to get ready for school or church then his belly hurts, he feels yucky and can't possibly go!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So go over and check out the list I gave you ^ ^ ^ up there. let me know what you think&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/1673200091498770523-1543780500841184182?l=you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3VPQr8KAA4PEIFIl1P6t99DlCoE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3VPQr8KAA4PEIFIl1P6t99DlCoE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~4/gybokRS9G70" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/1543780500841184182?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/1673200091498770523/posts/default/1543780500841184182?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/fwoLf/~3/gybokRS9G70/myths-about-autism-autism-myths.html" title="Myths about Autism | autism myths" /><author><name>Annemarie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01129675317987044075</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="24" height="32" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zPwu0N2Gako/TnnYWhlHr0I/AAAAAAAAAmg/SxDLoxza3Tk/s220/dansphone%2B275.jpg" /></author><feedburner:origLink>http://you-leave-me-breadless.blogspot.com/2011/12/myths-about-autism-autism-myths.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

