The Bathroom {phfr}

{Pretty}

This is the painting hanging above my toilet. Silly place to put such a beautiful painting, isn't it? I've had it for nearly ten years now and just love it. I feel such tranquility when I look at it.

Maybe the bathroom is a good place for this painting after all!

{Happy}

Looks pretty happy with his mess, doesn't he? Right before I snapped this picture, Evan asked me, "Mom, have you seen my widdle fiwetwuck?"
"Ummm... no."

{Funny}

This is a sign that we had to put on our bathroom door. I wish I was kidding. But we have a blind cat. He's memorized the way the house is supposed to be. If, for example, he usually jumps up to the toilet seat and sits in wait while I shower but said toilet seat is left up, there is a good chance a blind cat will fall into the bowl.

{Real}

Babies don't like ribbons.

Did you find contentment this week?

30 Things to be Thankful for

In lieu of tidying my house, I've been thinking about how down I seem to get in my blog. I'm really quite a happy person but I let a lot of my pain out through my writing. How's about a glimpse into the happier, content Linny?

Thanksgiving is just around the corner and there are 30 days in November. To celebrate, here are 30 things I'm thankful for.

1. Beautiful, healthy children.

2. A committed, loving, adoring, hardworking husband.

3. The means to make my student loan payments on time.

4. My camera because I can document my children's lives and share my joy of my children with others.

5. A caring best friend, whose listens to me when I'm down, saved me from complete desperation, cleaned my house, cares for my children, and shared all of the joys I've had from marriage to motherhood to birthday parties.

6. My brother Mike. He shared a difficult childhood with me, has loved and supported me, is the godfather of my son, and is a good friend.

7. My sister Bethany. She's my daughter's godmother, encourages and shares my faith, shares problems with me, listens to me, cares for me, and worries about me.

8. The quilt my grandmother made me when I was 10. I still have it, and it brings me comfort and warmth. Without it, I wouldn't have snuggled with my children this morning!

9. Allrecipes.com. Without it, my family and I would be starving!

10. Generous grandparents, who've always loved us, no matter what our mistakes.

11. The love and forgiveness of Our Lord, through Jesus Christ.

12. Unanswered prayers because if I had gotten everything I'd ever wanted, I wouldn't have the wonderful life I have today.

13. My son's autism because it has humbled me and brought me closer to God.

14. A home to live in.

15. My in-laws, who are so loving and accepting of my son and me, who desire a relationship with us.

16. My wonderful nanny, whom I've caught hugging and kissing my children, telling them she missed them over the weekend and that she loves them.

17. A loving and supporting family.

18. My dog, Eddie, is so sweet and gentle with my children, snuggles with me, and is a source of great comfort.

19. The ability to nurse with an abundant supply. It has helped me to bond with both of my children.

20. My son wanting to spend time with me. He wants to share in his accomplishments and joy. He recently requested a pajama party. We snuggled, ate junk food, drank soda, and watched Finding Nemo.

21. A warm and welcoming church to grow in.

22. I have a job that I not only enjoy but that is fulfilling.

23. Indoor plumbing.

24. My turn table and vinyl collection.

25. Students who remind me why I worked so hard in college.

26. My son's teachers because they care about him so much.

27. Board games. I know, I'm a nerd.

28. Toys. I'll admit it. I love my son's play kitchen as much as he does.

29. Pork chops fried in soy sauce.

30. Shakespeare.

First Family Photo {phfr}

Our first family picture!
Such pretty smiles!
Such a happy family!
Funny, because of course, we can't get everyone to look at the family. And my husband is in his pajamas. Well, that's how it goes.
A very real setting on our family couch.

Accepting God's Plan

Something's been weighing on my mind. That's my reason for not posting in so long. How to deal with the guilt, the grief, in a private manner before making it public is quite time consuming. I have to sort through my feelings before I can share them or else the things I say come out wrong.

July 2007

Evan is autistic. My son, my precious babe, my first born--he's not like other kids. The gravity of that has been sinking in.

You see, a year ago he started receiving in-home therapy. Evan's county worker assured me that Evan is very high-functioning. Yes, I knew that. She said she would be surprised if he qualified for services for more than a year. When he started services this past January, I suppose I had it in my mind that we'd take the year of services. If Evan made the appropriate amount of progress, he'd be caught up to his peers. If not, we'd still be getting services and continue to work. Sounds reasonable, right?

The reality is that Evan will likely not qualify to continue services and he won't be caught up to his peers. In other terms, he's still autistic but he's not autistic enough. There are other kids who are struggling more than he is.

The weight of this has been sinking in. I suppose I equated Evan not qualifying for services with not being autistic anymore. The truth is, no matter how much he catches up, he is always going to be autistic.

Easter egg dying, 2009

The truth is profound and painful for me.

I know enough about autism to know that the great majority don't "recover". There is no cure. It doesn't go away. My expectations and hopes were above the bar for my son. Reality is so cruel.

Evan's teachers assure me he's doing great. What they mean is that he's not a problem. He doesn't have behaviors at school or that they're very limited. It means they don't have to constantly be on him, that he maintains a certain amount of independence. It doesn't mean that he's not stimming or making friends or playing with other students. That hurts, too.

Mother's Day 2011

Mother's Day 2008

As a teacher and former therapist, I have a picture of what Evan's future looks like. If we stay in this small school district, he'll be fully included in the classroom and likely have an aid. Other students will know him and say things like, "That's just how Evan is." They won't be mean to him and they may even encourage him. But they won't be friends with him. As he gets older, as this year goes on and he ignores their attempts to befriend him, they'll remember and he'll be alone. He might not ever get invited to a birthday party or sleepover. No one will want to work in a group with him for a class assignment because he'll hold them back, and he'll get grouped with lower functioning students. This knowledge strikes a chord of such grief that I literally ache in my chest for him. Evan is shy and has trouble interacting but it doesn't mean he doesn't want to be included at a birthday party or with his peers. He's just scared.

The pain knocks the wind out of me. I've begged, pleaded, prayed. "Please, God, please!" What am I asking for? I'm not even sure.
In the middle of all my pain, my pleading and praying, the Lord spoke to me. He gently whispered, "You can't fix what I have made."
"I know," I answered.
"What I have made, I have made perfectly," He said.
And that's where we've left the conversation. It doesn't matter how much I hurt for my son or what I say or do, the Lord made him and made him perfectly. The Lord has a plan for me and my son.

Summer 2010

What I've taken from that conversation is that I need to love and accept Evan, autistic or  not. I can't spend my life grieving and resisting. After all, how presumptuous am I to question our Divine Maker and His plan? It doesn't mean that I can or should stop trying to mold my son into a loving, gentle, contributing member of society. It just means that Evan isn't going to be like his peers. I need to let go of that thought or hope and obediently submit to the Lord's plan and will.

Summer 2010

I'm working on it.