Joseph Recommends...

He started early..

One of the most fun things of the summer for me, has been 'working' with Joseph.  Yes, I used air quotes, because it doesn't feel like working.  Except when he is in a mood and doesn't want to do anything, because then it feels like a lot of work telling him "I don't care.  This is your job." This usually happens when we talk about cleaning up his room.  Like mother, like son?
Just making things clear before we start, Joseph is NOT studying this whole summer.  We spend half an hour to an hour per day, most often in two segments, working on a summer bridge book.  The rest of the time is for free play, crafting, running around like a loon, playing with balloons, doing flying sock monster, making cards, talking, Lego's, museums, and so on.  A lot of Joseph's ideas of fun are quite like his mommy: he loves to read (a lot, especially at night) and he is enthralled by his new robot set.  

After he graduated Kindergarten he got a reward: his brand new, first library card. Joseph and the library have a complex relationship. He LOVES the library.  However he hates to return the books.  If it was up to him, he would keep any book he likes. I feel more sympathy now for my own mother in trying to keep up with my voracious reading habit, though it is strange to think that at Joseph's age, I was barely be able to read more than a primer.

At my advice Joseph went to the library with a list.  When he was younger, I told him that Libraries are magic and that Librarians are magicians.  Whatever he wants to know more about, a librarian will be able to find him a book.  I will admit he gave them a challenge this time.  A book about Dinosaurs would have been pretty easy, but he wanted to know why trains run on tracks, how planes stay in the air, and one or two things about numbers.  He came home with ten books.  The dinosaur book got lost in the shuffle at the library, but there were two books about the history of trains.   They were not very successful. Or as Joseph just said himself: "I just got lost in the number books."  He certainly did.  There was a book about forces.  How a push or a pull is a force.  How moving an object means a force is applied.  What friction is, etc.  With experiments to match (like bowing a pebble, a cotton ball and a car and see which moves easiest) the book was interesting and easy to grasp, and he liked it.  But his absolute favorites were the 'number books'.   When I asked him which books he wanted to recommend, he brought these three down:

"On beyond a million.  An Amazing Math Journey." by David M. Schwartz.  We will definitely be looking for more of this author.  Joseph loves it because "it teaches you about really huge numbers"  It deals with exponents, and numbers beyond a million.  It also teaches you that Gazillion is not a real number but just a fun way of saying lots and lots, that you can never count to infinity and that there are always bigger numbers.

"Can you count to a Googol" by Robert E. Wells is another favorite. It deals with much the same subject but is a little bit more easy and there is nothing mentioned about exponents.  Just really big numbers.

"Big Numbers and pictures that show just how BIG they are." by Edward Packard is also about really big numbers.  It's written very easily but it does include the very basics of what exponents are.  

I did encourage Joseph to get one book down as well, which he has also enjoyed very much, called "That's a possibility.  A book about what might happen." By Bruce Goldstone.  It starts out very easy about the meaning of possible and impossible, but then delves further into probable, improbable and even in odds.  It's a really good beginner's book for analyzing chances on the most basic level.

So there you have it. Joseph recommends.. if you have kids to read these books with them.  If you don't have kids.. sneak in the library and read them yourself.  That's my recommendation, because he's right.  These books are FUN.  

A bit of an update.  I am still alive and life goes on.  It's different than our pre autism life.  We have to work harder for every, single thing, and the sleep deprivation at times is enough to drive you to near insanity. Autism and sleep problems often go hand in hand.  At times I still look around and think "this isn't fair.  Why do we have to work hard for what happens by itself for everyone else?"  But I guess asking why does not help, and instead we try to be glad that while it is hard work, we are seeing results.  Michael is doing better and better.  More speech, more self control, more spontaneous play, more emotions.. more everything and we have hope that with a whole load of work, Michael will be happy and independent and "all he can be."

In the mean time here are some pictures:

Her is Joseph after his most recent ballet recital. Joseph is.. overly intelligent and overly charming. He's miles ahead of most in intellectual development, but at the same time, he is still mamma's snugly boy and he knows my most favorite time of the whole day is reading to him in bed.

Joseph's first lapbook.  With the summer vacation nearing, I am trying to find things to keep him occupied somewhat independently.  A lot of my time goes to tend to Michael and work with therapists, but I do not want Joseph to feel left out.

I joined the SCA, the society of medieval anachronism: a medieval recreation organization that I had heard about for a long time. It's been a sanity saviour to escape now and again in the medieval world, plus I am learning some skills: I have sewn this dress all by myself!  It's extremely basic, but.. I am getting better each time.

We caught this picture of Michael this Easter.  There is just something about boys in a seersucker suit!!  Michael loves trains, is learning to speak more fluently and more elaborately. He loves books, at four years old knows all his letters and is working on sounds.  He works very hard to overcome the symptoms of his autism that might get in his way.

That's me, this Easter.  I wore a hat instead of veil to Church because it went so well with my outfit.  I am trying to loose a few of the pounds I gained by stress eating these last two years, but I really liked my happy Easter outfit.

My handsome boy charming.  He loves to have his picture taken, loves to perform, loves to talk, loves to learn and just loves! 

You probably have noticed that this blog has been idle.  I am not here to announce that that is done for now. Truth is, with the new challenges for our family, it will probably be idle for a bit longer.  There are seasons in life, and this is not the season to try and keep up with a blogging rhythm.  This is a season to further Michael's speech, his social interactions and his health.  To find the way to let that high intelligence break through the communication barriers and frustrations.  That involves a lot of hands on work.  A lot of prayer.  And a lot of tears.  All of them are needed.  And when I cry, I try to remember (usually afterwards) that I was just watering his soul, and mine in the process.

So...  you will see the occasional post here.  A lunchbox that was too cute not to share, or an accomplishment of either of my boys. But I am not going to try and be a regular blogger for now.  Instead, I am working and sewing in the hope of a bountiful harvest.  In the mean time, when I come to your mind, I would appreciate every prayer you have that in my weakness, I might be enough still for my youngest to find all the help he needs from me.That my oldest son will not be neglected and that he knows how much he is loved.  That my husband will find in me someone to stand beside him as we work and pray for our family.  And that God may have mercy on me as He only can, giving His answers to my prayers in His time, in His way.

If anyone wants a more regular contact, please give me a message and I will give you my name on facebook.

Be loved and blessed,
Eva

Homework

My oldest son is weird.  No, really.  I mean, yes, I know I am weird too, but at least I hated homework.  Like a regular kid. Joseph LOVES homework.  He gets extra homework because the homework that the rest of the class gets is too easy.   So today was the first day of 'extra homework'.  He was enthusiast! He did his regular homework (write the letter F, capital, small, words and a sentence)  first and then was extatic to find  out there was more.  It's kindergarden homework, while he is in pre K.  The intention is to read the instructions and then follow them: colour the third sock red, colour the ninth sock blue, colour the seventh sock purple. It did not pose any problems.  Except for once.  While I was stirring soup, he asked me to hand him a purple crayon.  And I did.  After starting to colour the appropriate sock... he stopped and declared that this was the wrong crayon.  I looked at it.  It looked fine to me.  He asked then why I had handed him a  'blue vi.. vi.. " crayon.  "Ohh.. well, it's called blue violet.  But that IS a kind of purple."  He was not to be persuaded.  A crayon that said blue violet was not right for this sock.  I had to go look for another one.  Three other blue violet crayons turned up.  It is a popular colour for Crayola it seems.  Luckily I found some CraZart, jumbo crayons I had bought for Michael.  One of them said 'purple'.  After inspecting the word, he was satisfied and coloured the appropriate sock.

A few minutes later he declared he was finished.  I looked over and told him there was another page.  "Oh, I didn't realize that."  He said with perfect inflection, then turned to the next page, colouring the right shapes in the right colour and then putting them on a graph.   Ten minutes ago, he asked for more homework.....

One month later

We are now several months into this autism thing.  And let me tell you.. it is work.  It nearly broke me in the beginning, especially since it coincided with Michael going to school.  OR that was the theory.  Like most children who start preschool, he picked up every germ there was to find, and therefor was almost constantly sick.  And being sick, the autism 'manifested' doubly bad.  He would just.. zone out completely, lay on the floor and move a car back and forth.  I was so... so scared.

I am still scared, but thank heavens (and with some help from the doctor, it got that bad) I am past the panic.     Things are going the right way.  Michael is getting therapy and Bill and I know more what to do.  Nobody can predict the future, but unless things change drastically.. we should not have to worry about the long term future.  There is every chance that Michael will later on go to a normal school, have friends, go to college.. chose a life for himself.  But it is the short term that makes things hard.  I was at the point where the practical things in life were just about to get easier.  And now.. they've become well.. harder.  Therapies, worries, appointments, and endless phonecalls with voice automated services...

I do realize we are lucky.  We saw the signs very early, within just the first.. weeks of things becoming visible.  We managed to find the right services very quickly and bright start, the early intervention coordinator is helping so much in finding us a way through the maze of services.  On top of that we have insurance that actually covers autism therapy and evaluation.  Because we are still working towards getting the actual medical diagnosis.  Still.. we are set to get that within the next two months.  That is.. incredibly quick I have learned.

I am tired, and most especially tired of all the extra hard work. Children are a lot of love and also a lot of work. But an autistic child (or I believe any special needs child) is even more.  One of the most important things to do, and something of which we see clear results, is to engage Michael almost constantly, working on his language, challenging him.  This makes me feel guilty, because it leaves so much less time for Joseph.  The fact that Joseph is in school more than Michael takes a bit of that pressure off, plus the fact that he loves his brother and understands that there is something wrong for which Michael needs help. In fact, he tries to help.  And I think over time that will be an enormous asset.

I am more.. positive as I look towards the future, but I am still.. exhausted.  I thank God for my husband who pulled me through those first three months.  I am praying the rosary, because that is the only prayer I have energy for.  I am not ready yet to see how and where this may fit into God's plan for me.  I am not ready to delve too deep into anything spiritually.. or even practically to read up much more about other people's experiences with autism.  I am.. extremely selective in what I read and only read as much as is needed to help Michael.  I know people who pour themselves into research.  I can not do that.  It overwhelms me like an avalanche all that there is still to do, all that will be involved just to get him the chances and social interaction and the life.. that other children take for granted.

I am tired mostly, of the extra burdens and feel overwhelmed as well.  But I am at least at the point where I can function and struggle on, and treasure the good moments as well as the progress that is being made.

Thank you, and prayers needed

I want to thank everyone who is replying for their prayers.  I know my blog has become one.. mindless rant against this autism thing in the last few posts, but there are just.. no words to express how hard it is to have a child that you could play and communicate with and then to find that contact fading.  We are on the path of therapies but so far each meeting has been about paperwork and questions and 'next time we will start'.  I want to see some results.  I want to see that lovely awareness dawn in his eyes again.  I want him to communicate with me.  I want to know that in 10 years from now he will be entering highschool, with some challenges but aware and happy, and ABLE.
And I want to be able to sit down and play blocks with him fir 10-15 minutes.  On top of everything Michael is teething and having a cold.  We (hope) that the light fever is what is making him worse, unable to focus and just... running around like a hyperactive drunk.   But we do not know.
I want to skip the next five years till we are in a less "I do not know" period.  I have been looking forward with such longing to this age where I would finally be able to communicate with my boy and now instead of things getting easier, it is just getting harder and harder.  I had some hopes that a few weeks in things would.. settle.  My emotions, his behaviour.  That it would get better.  I am a wreck, emotionally and I need it to stop because autistic or not, he needs me.  My oldest son needs me, to be a bridge between both of them.  But I hate the endless repeat of words without sense, of scripts from books and television.  I want to hear him talk.  I want to.. interact with him.   Please pray that something of the therapies will start and start working soon.  And that he will be getting better, leading a self sufficient life eventually and be happy. And that I can be happy again.  It has been so long now since I have seen some happiness.

At least the transition to school goes well.. right?

Michael went to school twice already.  In theory those mornings would be for me to relax and recover.  That was the plan even before we faced the autism.  Just two weeks, with three mornings each, for me.  Now it had become even more important to get that time.  To not have someone around that you need to constantly engage, constantly be watchful for, with no communication unless for his wants.
I would get a small amount of time to load up my batteries and do all that again as soon as he was home.  Day one at school, he did not react at all to a stranger leading him out of the car and into the classroom.  I hoped and prayed that this was not total apathy, but just the fact that he had seen Joseph being lead in the same way a hundred times.

Day two.. some small protesting that was finished already by the time he was past the car.  This reassured me.  A normal separation reaction, and then a day of fun.  When I picked him up, he didn't want to leave. That hurt, but was reassuring as well.

Day three: he starts screaming the moment he sees the teacher.  She wonders if he is warm.  I say he MIGHT be teething to stave off the inevitable conclusions of illness or whatever. Michael does have trouble teething. What does Michael NOT have trouble with?   I am so tired of Michael and trouble.  I want Michael and effortless.  Effortless SOMETHING.

35 minutes later, just as I am about to lay down for a nap, because for some unfathomable reason Joseph had to get out of bed four times last night and I have my very first class to teach this night...  the bell rings.  They really think he is teething so badly. He is crying.  They can't distract him.  Can I come and get him.  I step in the car and drive, trying not to cry. He is crying.  The moment he is in the car seat it starts settling.  The moment I drive away, he stops. I go to target and pick up some cola.  I will need caffeine to get through this day, and to stop myself from screaming at the students how God is playing some cruel game with my life that I can not figure out.

I drive home, and have a hysterical fit the moment I drive into the garage.  I want my life back.  I wanted, needed those hours.  I can not have somethign else go wrong. This transition to school  must work. Please God, have mercy.  End my misery.
I am home, typing away at the computer, in the background is the incessant chatter of a little boy, making no sense.  I need more.  I can not live like this.  It needs to get better.  Now.

Please pray for the repose of the soul of Edith Hauk

Yesterday, my husband's grandmother Edith Hauk died.  She had been suffering from severe Alzheimer for the last three years, which brought on extreme paranoia.  She suspected everyone was trying to kill her, and believed all those around her who loved her were impostors instead of her real children and grandchildren.  I only got to know her for a short time, but I remember how she welcomed me.  I remember the stories of how she was fretting if I could speak English and what kind of a foreigner I would be and how they would make me feel welcome.  How happy she was that I spoke English, and even delighted when I spoke German as well.  I am glad she got to see her two great grand children.

I hope God is welcoming her with open arms, lifting the confusion from her mind in His Kingdom and how she will find joy adoring Him forever in His perfect love.

Here is a picture of her with Joseph when he was barely a few months old.

Lunches

For years I have been looking forward to packing Joseph's lunch.  But preschool was only in the morning, and I was glad to have my big boy back with me in the afternoon, and make him some lunch at home.  Even though at some days lunch was 'popcorn'.  He never has been a big eater.
This year though, Joseph transferred to 'big boy school'.  He becomes five in late September, so he is still one year away from Kindergarten.  Though we may be talking about that a bit further into the school year. He is already reading, he does math, I can not imagine him having an extra year in kindergarten AFTER this year.   Oh well, back to lunches.
I have a love for bento style lunches, and a desire to pack Joseph a healthy lunch that still makes him feel happy when other children might have chicken nuggets...

So.. here are a few of the lunches I have made so far, in no particular order:

Small bento with left over meat balls and fried rice and a cucumber/ lettuce salad, with flowers cut from, and out of the cucumber, and a few flower food picks, hazelnut raspberry dressing in the small bottle.

Joseph requested some chips with his meal. I filled the small compartment up with kettle cooked rosemary/ feta chips, made 'cucumber/ turkey' sandwiches with diverse food picks.  There was a lettuce leaf salad with hazelnut/ raspberry vinaigrette and some corn, and some unsweetened apple sauce.

Cucumber bars on a bed of lettuce with asian dipping sauce.  Pretzel chips, Brussels sprouts with cheese, and organic, nitrate free hotdogs, with unsweetened apple sauce, per request.

Homemade spaghetti and sauce in the big thermos, an apple with a face in it, and the unsweetened apple sauce.  Joseph was on an apple sauce kick.

Ditched the apple sauce in favor of a homemade smoothie: coconut milk, frozen berries and orange juice.  A grilled cheese sandwich on flax seed/ whole wheat bread, with avocado.  Mini turkey rolls (both rolls together are only one half slice, with kitty and doggy foodpicks and left over broccoli.)

The home made alternative to lunchables: crackers, fresh cut, no starch or icky stuff added Turkey, swiss cheese, a cucumber and cauliflower salad, some blueberries and the unsweetened apple sauce.

I will readily admit that his boxed lunches are quite a step up from the lunches at home!  Not certain why I didn't manage to get it together for regular lunches like this.  And I am curious if I will manage on the bento path for the rest of the year!  The little details are appreciated though, especially the face in the apple was a big hit.

A week further..

Joseph's transition into big boy school was very smooth.  He'd been waiting for weeks to be able to go.  He loves his school, loves his little uniform, and would prefer to wear his school tie every day, whether it is required or not.  The only problem I have run into are the white polo shirts. My machine just does not get whites clean.  I use Tide.  The stains are not that bad, but even after washing, those yellowed shadows of stains keep being visible.  Annoying.  Any tips to get those whites white?  I would use bleach, but.. I had a try a few weeks ago. Put the shirt in a bowl, added lots of bleach and a little water.  I think I left it too long and the bleach literally dissolved the 100 percent cotton fabric.  I was getting shreds out of the water..  Maybe I should just add some bleach to my load of laundry?


Michael's been tested and for the next six months we are eligible for early intervention therapy.  Next Tuesday, we will have another evaluation from the company who will do the therapy.  Prayers will be greatly appreciated on this front.  I.. go through the days, trying to adjust to a different expectation.  It's hard.  There are times when I just want to shake him and tell him to act normal.  to look at me.  To listen. And then there are moments of progress when I am so proud of him.  I guess the Lord is trying to break down my heart, though I have no idea yet for what.
And I am tired of being broken down.  I feel like I'm a rock that's been beaten down so many times I am like gravel.  Maybe the Lord needs gravel somewhere.  I do not know.  I am hoping that with therapy things will become better over time.

I was planning to upload a picture here as well, but somehow can't figure out anymore where to upload something from your computer instead of from the web.

Back to school

Tomorrow will be Joseph's first day of school.  We're having a little challenge there: Joseph is officially three weeks too young to start kindergarten.  Joseph also already taught himself to read.  Does subtraction and addition.  And has started on multiplication and division. Luckily his new school is very supportive.  He will start in Pre K, and then will after a few weeks do the Kindergarten readiness test and hopefully transition.  I am not worried.  He will be the youngest in his class, true, but not much more than by a month, or a few weeks.

My main worry is with Michael.  He will start in two weeks at preschool for three half days.  The same preschool that Joseph went to.  It's a small, wonderfully supportive Christian school.  But I am still going to send a two and a half year old who can not answer to the question: "What's your name?" to preschool.  I am scared.  But I will be honest, I NEED the break. I need someone else to take a few hours to activate him and distract him from the trains that have become an obsession and play games.  And talk to him.  That will leave me full of energy and inspiration I hope for the other days.  My brain is just about to glitch out from "Yay! That train is Emily.  Emily goes UNDER the bridge. Oooh.. here is the conductor. He says "hello" can you say hello?"  (No reply).  I am grateful he is verbal, but I am so longing for a bit of two way conversation.    Yesterday.. he was giggling hysterically at the 500 the time he watched Curious George trainmaster.  And when daddy said: "it's not THAT silly Michael."  He actually said "It's funny!" A  reply?  A comment?  At least he identified the situation.

I so do not want to think that way "at least he did this.. or that.."  But for now.. that is what it will take.  At least... it could be worse.  I can not help but look around me at everyone with healthy children and think "it could also be so much better".

After the earthquake II

We are now about three or four weeks into our struggle.  We are not further by any measure in getting a diagnosis, but next week we have at least an evaluation for early intervention therapy.  I will take it.  I put Michael on the specific carb diet, and it seems to help.  The trick is getting him (and the rest of the family) to eat.  Cutting out all grains, all potatoes, and all rice, and all other gluten free options, as well as milk, corn and soy leaves a mommy bereft of easy options.  We've been eating more meats than we have in ages.  Some days are harder.  Some days are slightly easier.  I am fighting against the feeling in my stomach, as if I need to hold my arms around my waist to keep myself breathing, to keep myself from falling apart.

My wonderful in laws came over from St. Louis and took the boys for three days, allowing me the time to finally do all those phonecalls without falling apart.  It helped.  I am a bit calmer.  One step away from the abyss.  Hearing about other people with children with autism scares me, so I stay away from autism groups or autism sites, and even from the friendly offers of people to connect them with their friends who have children with autism.  Not because I do not appreciate it, but I am just not.. there yet.  I do not need to hear about the hard time ahead.  I need to hear about the outcome.  About 18 years in the future when Michael will graduate from highschool and go to college, like the son of a friend of mine, with Aspergers, who was diagnoses very late, even though he exhibited the same signs as Michael.  16 years ago, we didn't know as much about what this was.  Michael will have early intervention therapy.  He is verbal. He is smart.  He shows emotion. His vocabulary keeps improving.
I focus on that. On helping him with that.

I focus on how I am going to deal with next school year.  I want him to keep away from grain and dairy at school.  An alternative lunch box for snack time. But what about treats when someone has a birthday?  I am looking at paleo recipes, because they often fit in with the specific carb diet.
I am telling myself I can do this.  That we will have extra challenges, but still a normal life.  Our whole life will not revolve around Michael's autism.  We will be a normal family, just with something extra to deal with.  After a while it will be routine. He will not be 'my child with autism' anymore. He will be Michael.
I will knit and clean and cook and embroider, and go to SCA meetings to enjoy my love for the middle ages, and in between there will be worries about my son.  And there will be perhaps meetings here and there with therapists, just like there will be karate practice and ballet practice and everything.   But we will manage to make this a normal life.  Just with an extra challenge.  Oh I am so tired of extra challenges.

After the earthquake...

I've hesitated in writing this post. Hesitating in putting these words out there.  Should I throw them out within the internet, for all the see?  Perhaps those of you who used to read regularly wondered what has happened. To quote Queen Elizabeth II:"it turned out to be an Annus Horribilis"

 The year began in a very hard way when in January my uncle and Godfather took his own life in a very public way, leaving behind harsh words for the family.  We know those words came from a mind that was no longer his own but changed by the effects of alcohol abuse but they were hard to deal with none the less.  My grandmother's health failed, she fell, and had to be brought to the hospital, after which she was unable to go back home.
In the mean time, small but stressful compared to these larger matters, in our house everyone became ill with small complaints, and the house itself seemed to be conspiring against us with just about everything around us breaking.

May brought an unexpected hit, when my father died.  Our planned vacation in Belgium became a swift run to arrange the funeral. But not just the funeral it turned out. My father, an alcoholic, had managed to run himself financially in the ground, leaving me as his only daughter with debts to clear, and a squalid rented appartment to empty.   I will save you the descriptions of the stress, the bureaucracy and the dirtiness, as well as the pain of dealing with his grieving mother, and trying to hide the worst evidences of what he had become behaviour from her. It made it clinging to "honor thy father" and remembering the man he once was harder.
We dealt with everything we could in a month, but even now, regularly there are small things that need to be tended to or spoken about from a continent away. I fought hard not to let bitterness harden me.It brought back memories of a robbed childhood. But with God's help, I managed.

Once back home, the wreckage at home seemed to continue, with air conditioning upstairs and downstairs giving up, electricity failures, and trying to desperately catch back up with all the work that we were trying to do.  We had a small vacation in San Francisco, where I loaded up my energy batteries while my husband attended a conference.  It seemed we were climbing out of a valley of stress finally and the year was back on track.
Then there was a car accident.  Luckily we were not at fault, no one was hurt, the other person took responsibility and was insured. All in all, as car accidents went... it was okay.  Aside from the stress of not having our own car for a month, we were lucky in having a rental car in our insurance package and while it was an inconvenience after the the rest of the year, it didn't make a blip on the radar of this year.

We were looking forward to September, the rhythms of a new schoolyear.  Joseph starting in our Parish school.  My oldest boy, so smart that before he is five, he taught himself to read, and is eagerly learning mathematics, including the beginnings of division and multiplication.  And then Michael who was going to go to the same small Christian school that Joseph had attended for 3 years.  I could see a rhythm coming back, a cleaner house, a more relaxed mommy.  Lunchboxes.  Friends.  Hobbies.


And then came the earthquake that rocked our world.  After a few incidents it became all of a sudden abundantly clear that there was something wrong with my youngest son, Michael.  He changed almost before my eyes.  He would just.. go off by himself. Sought less contact with his brother.  Played differently.  And his language... was just not where it should be.  The most telling sign was that.. he did not react to his name.  At all.  The answer dawned upon us even before we hurried him off to the doctor.  Autism.
Michael is very smart, and the doctor saw reasons for concern and urged us to have him tested through the school district, but when pressed said.. if she had to put money on it.. she believed it was unlikely. In the weeks after the doctor visit though, and while we desperately tried to get through to SOME specialist, someone, who could evaluate and start helping our little boy... we saw the signs more and more clear.

The anxiety of a parent that knows something is wrong with their child and sees it slip more and more into the grip of the unknown is indescribable.  And now, 20 days or so after this all started with the sudden realization that Michael did not respond to our name, the agony, pain, anger and fear in my heart go above words still. I immediately implemented a strict diet.  First gluten free and casein free.  Afterwards going further and eliminating any starches, going on the specific carbohydrates diet, that is known to help some with autism.

I do not know if it will help Michael, but it's a healthy way of eating, it can not hurt, and it gives me something to do to try and help him while I call, and try and make appointments. We managed to get one over the phone intake conversation, which showed that Michael is severely behind in speech and social skills.  This will get him an evaluation which will lead to early intervention therapy.  But not to an official diagnosis. That is another path we need to walk, and we are still trying to even get a spot on a waiting list to see a developmental specialist.

I am scared.  And I am angry.  And in pain.  Before I even had children, I begged of God never to put this one challenge before me, never to let me have to deal with the agony and fear of a child that has a developmental, social or mental problem. Of course I wanted healthy children.  Everyone wants that. But if I had to be dealt a hand of a child that was not, let it please be a physical handicap.  I could see myself.. handling that.  There would be things I could predict. Things I could know.  A course I could predict.  The worry would be less.  Worry is now eating my every day.  Am I now 'the mom of the weird kid in the corner'?  What will he need from me to help him?  My love is not diminished by a grain, but my confidence is gone.  I know how to parent. I do not know how to parent a child with autism.

I hold myself up to hope.  Bill Gates and Steven Spielberg are on the Spectrum.  So is the 18 year old son of a friend of mine, who just last year graduated from highschool, is going to college and is planning to join the marines after that. But those people are not Michael.  Not my Michael.  Will he be able to learn? He seems smart.  Will he be able to have friends?  Will he learn how to show his love?  Will he have a more difficult life because of this?  Will our life be forever changed?  Is the fact that he is diagnosed this early helpful?  Or does it mean he is severely disabled and will he end up in an institution, sitting in front of a window and running the endless television or book scripts he repeats to me from his mouth?

 I have no answers.  Only questions.  And tears.  So many tears.  I try to be strong, because I know my husband worries, not just about Michael, but about me.  I try to force the matter out of my mind for a few hours a day, but like a bulldozer it runs through my brain. "autism" "autism" "autism".  It feels as if my life broke in two, before this problem surfaced, and after.  I do not dare to read too much, because the extremes scare me.  I read a story about a 19 year old who needs to be talked through his shower.  What will my life be in 17 years?  Will I have an adult child that is not self sufficient?  Will my life revolve around his care?  Or will he, with the necessary intervention, be able to lead a life in which all the love and talent that I see in him blooms open? &nbspI do not know.  I do not know how to walk this path.  But walk it I must.

Joseph quotes

Joseph (calling out to me): Mrs. Butterfly? I just need to stay here and lay down. Because there need to be many butterflies coming out, so I need to lay some more eggs.
 .........

 Me (enthusiast voice): Who wants to take a bath?
Joseph: not me! Not me!!
Me: Joseph, you have to take a bath. You are dirty.
Joseph: Noooo!! I don't want to take a bath. I don't want to.
Me: Joseph, you have to take a bath.
Joseph: Noooooo!!!!
Me: Yes, you do. Boys who do not take a bath do not get to play with Ipads, kindles or anything with a screen.
Joseph (tugging at his buttons and dropping his shorts simultaniously): help me! Help me!!


 .........
 "Joseph! Did you just hit your brother on the head with a book?!"
"No. It was a piano."

Please pray for the soul of my Father

Yesterday, I was informed by a cousin that my father died last night. I am asking you for your prayers for his soul, and for strength for my family as we travel to Belgium for the funeral. My father was looking forward to seeing his grandchildren again in a week's time. They were the pride and joy of his last years. Please pray for the repose of his soul to be guided to the eternal mercy of Our Lord's heart.

Uh oh...

Joseph: "I want to choose [what we watch on TV]!"
Dadda: "No. You got to choose the last show, now we'll watch what Michael wants."
Joseph: "Ok. I'll choose what Michael wants.


Dadda to mamma: I swear he is going to be a politician when he grows up.

I had the opportunity in March to go to DYC (the diocesan youth conference here in the diocese of Charleston.) with our youth group.  This little video gives you a peek.  Take a look for a restful moment to contemplate Our Lord with us.  

Popcorn.. in Latin

My eldest son wants to know what Popcorn is called in Latin.  I think I am going to have to file that under "What happens when two Catholic nerds have children."  Especially considering the fact that my oldest son is four and does not even know what the right word is for Latin.
We do the meal blessing in English and Dutch, and the sign of the cross at bedtime in English, Dutch and Latin. He wanted to know first what popcorn was in Dutch.  That was easy.  Popcorn.  It is pronounced in a slightly different way, but it is still... popcorn.  Then he wanted to know what it was in 'the third'.  The third?
Yes.. in "In nomine patris..."
Oh...

I had to reply to him that I did not know.  But I would ask my friends.  Which is why a group of people on facebook is currently trying to find the Latin plant name of corn and attempting to find the right Latin word that would be an equivalent of pop. So far they have excluded 'exploding', which has a nice Latin translation.  We will see what the end result is, and I will share it. You know, just in case you ever come across that question.  Somehow.

7 questions

I was tagged by Matushka Anna in a 7 question meme.

1. When you see "children's book" what comes to mind first?:
   Gaatjes in de Hemel
2. Who is funnier: Buggs Bunny or Moe, Larry and Curly?
   I never liked either
3. Name a form of music or artist you can't believe you ever used to like.
   I honestly don't know of any music genre I regret by now.
4. Name a fashion fad you fell for in middle school
   Ahh.. the pony tail to the side of the head.  With a scrunchy or magenta scarf.
5. What do you call a car that sweeps past you on the interstate?
   I always want to believe the best and say a quick prayer in case it is someone on their way to the hospital. Now if they cut me off...  I might grumble.
6. Have you ever been anywhere with two different shoes on?
   Not that I remember, though I did end up at the store once in my garden slippers
7. Do you have a local accent? Does it match your current location?
   I have a Belgian accent... which in Columbia South Carolina seems quite out of place!

Happy, pretty, funny, real

Pretty:  

My blackwork embroidery.  It goes slow.. slow.. slow it goes.  But I do love the way it looks.

Funny

I have been working quite a bit with a graphics program lately.  For myself, but also for our Church.  This little 'project' came about after a conversation on facebook about a little bit of mommy time on the couch with some knitting and a James Bond movie.  There now is a series entitled "men worthy to hold my yarn while knitting.".  It's an exclusive society, I can tell you that.

Real/ Happy.  

An old picture and a strange one perhaps to place here.  Two years ago, at his very first Easter Mass, Michael managed to take a dive out of dada's arms, onto the church kneeler and on the wooden floor.  At six weeks old, on Easter day, he was rushed to a hospital with a pediatric ER.  He had his first cat scan.  And turned out to be absolutely fine.  Every Easter since then, I can not help but wonder about what I almost lost.  This image is in my mind every Easter at Church, and it makes me happy to think of how we were given this gift of life.

Real/ Happy 

Quite often these two seem to combine, right?  The happiness is clear in the focussed faces of my boys, playing with their new wooden marble run.  Two grandma Easter bunnies already deliver at our house, so the Columbia Easter bunny did not want to add any candy.  A wooden marble run packed in giant eggs was the answer.  The real part is clear when you look at the background: life with kids.  You will never have an empty floor again, for longer than five minutes.