Words and images. Images and words. They are intertwined here. When there are no inspiring images, there also seem to be no words.
Perhaps I need to take Sawyer's advice (see photo above) and find a new perspective to be inspired, either to take more photos or write more words.
We spent the Thanksgiving holiday like most - enjoying time off from school and work, spending time with family, enjoying good food, and spending lots of time on the road.
Last Wednesday night was our first of three Thanksgiving dinners. We made the short trip to Grammy and Pappy's house to spend part of the holiday with Josh's immediate family. Grammy, a long-time ER nurse, was working this holiday.
Thursday morning we packed up and headed out early. We traveled across the state and back, first to spend time with my extended family in the morning and early afternoon in the far western part of the state and then back to the central part of the state to spend late afternoon and evening with Josh's extended family.
It was a twelve-hour day, with a little over five hours of total driving. The boys did well, all things considered.
We lost Connor between the first and second meal, an invitation to spend the rest of the weekend with Grandma and Grandpa at the lake, as an only grandchild, was too much for him to resist.
Part of our drive shared the same road, before we headed to our next meal and they headed another direction back to the lake. They followed us for a while, but at Connor and Grandma's urging, they eventually came flying around us on a straight stretch of road. It was a silver streak of Camaro with a little boy grinning from the back seat.
Yes, he was enjoying himself already.
Friday Josh went back to work for the first day of his double-shift, and the twins and I very purposefully did not do anything. We played outside, enjoying one of the last warm days of the season.
Saturday we headed down to the lake to visit ourselves. We spent the day outside again, enjoying the sunshine before the rain and cold moved back in on Sunday.
And then we came back home in time for the boys to get to bed on Sunday night.
Back to school. Back to work. Back to reality ...
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
They Come In Twos
Apparently Connor's teeth like to come out in twos. At the beginning of the year, he lost his two bottom teeth within days of one another. Here's the photo of the first two teeth to go.
This week, he lost both of his two front teeth. Both of them had been loose for quite a while, and we were all surprised they lasted as long as they did.
But the last one was stubborn, and would likely still be there for a while yet if not for a little brotherly love.
You see, every afternoon, Connor and Xander come tearing into the house and start on their favorite game together - chasing each other across the house as fast as they can and then jumping onto Xander's bed (if you run in a straight line from the living room and through the hallway, you run straight into Xander's bedroom). Then you tickle each other until someone breaks and makes a run back the other way, where you then jump into the leather chair in the corner of our living room. Sounds fun, no?
It looks a little something like this photo from earlier in the week, you know, when one tooth was still there.
Today's version was a little different. During the tickle session, Xander apparently decided he'd had enough and lashed out. With his foot. And a well-placed kick to Connor's mouth. The tooth came out, as did a few tears and quite a bit of blood.
But it's all good, Connor assures me. The tooth fairy will come see him again tonight, and last time he got money. He's hoping for more money, and maybe a sticker, too. You know, like the one he got a really, really long time ago with his first tooth. Which the tooth fairy didn't really remember. But he did. And he's really hoping the tooth fairy can find one.
The tooth fairy hopes so, too.
This week, he lost both of his two front teeth. Both of them had been loose for quite a while, and we were all surprised they lasted as long as they did.
But the last one was stubborn, and would likely still be there for a while yet if not for a little brotherly love.
You see, every afternoon, Connor and Xander come tearing into the house and start on their favorite game together - chasing each other across the house as fast as they can and then jumping onto Xander's bed (if you run in a straight line from the living room and through the hallway, you run straight into Xander's bedroom). Then you tickle each other until someone breaks and makes a run back the other way, where you then jump into the leather chair in the corner of our living room. Sounds fun, no?
It looks a little something like this photo from earlier in the week, you know, when one tooth was still there.
Today's version was a little different. During the tickle session, Xander apparently decided he'd had enough and lashed out. With his foot. And a well-placed kick to Connor's mouth. The tooth came out, as did a few tears and quite a bit of blood.
But it's all good, Connor assures me. The tooth fairy will come see him again tonight, and last time he got money. He's hoping for more money, and maybe a sticker, too. You know, like the one he got a really, really long time ago with his first tooth. Which the tooth fairy didn't really remember. But he did. And he's really hoping the tooth fairy can find one.
The tooth fairy hopes so, too.
"My Best Friend"
For every moment that is hard, there is another moment that wipes it all away.
Friends. That's not really something to celebrate with your kids. It's just part of growing up. Kids go to school, they make friends. They come and they go with time. It's just what happens.
Except it's not. Not when your kids have autism. And things like language issues and social issues that go along with it.
A few weeks ago, I got an email for the school's special education coordinator. She was passing through the cafeteria at lunch and overheard a little boy telling his classmates that another little boy was his best friend.
That little boy was talking about Xander, telling his classmates that Xander was his best friend.
Xander is not your typical friend, of course. His autism is not quite as severe as Sawyer's autism, but it's still there. There are still language issues and social issues.
Xander does have some language, and while it's usually functional, it is typically scripted. He memorizes phrases and situations, or mimics things that you say to him. He is integrated into the classroom with the help of his aide, but he still has challenges. Like Sawyer, he has trouble sitting still for long periods of time and can also be subject to loud vocalizations that are often out of context with the classroom.
But there's a little boy in that classroom that likes him, that calls him his best friend. He looks past the differences and sees a little boy that he likes.
That is an incredible moment, one we celebrate.
The email from school made me smile.
The following emails from other teachers that went into more detail about how this little boy always sits by Xander at lunch and how he always sticks by him at recess, were even more amazing.
And the moment last week at the Thanksgiving lunch, when that same little boy's mother came up to me and introduced herself and her son, well that moment was even more amazing. She said her little boy always talks about Xander and what the two of them have done at school that day. She told me how sweet my little boy was when she came into the classroom, and she told me that her son has even gone so far to add Xander into his nightly prayers, which he says for each member of his family.
There are not words to describe how that moment felt, how much it meant.
For every really hard moment (see post below), there is an even better moment like this one. People who look past the differences, who see the amazing little boys in spite of their autism.
Those are the moments I keep close, the ones that give me hope for the future.
Friends. That's not really something to celebrate with your kids. It's just part of growing up. Kids go to school, they make friends. They come and they go with time. It's just what happens.
Except it's not. Not when your kids have autism. And things like language issues and social issues that go along with it.
A few weeks ago, I got an email for the school's special education coordinator. She was passing through the cafeteria at lunch and overheard a little boy telling his classmates that another little boy was his best friend.
That little boy was talking about Xander, telling his classmates that Xander was his best friend.
Xander is not your typical friend, of course. His autism is not quite as severe as Sawyer's autism, but it's still there. There are still language issues and social issues.
Xander does have some language, and while it's usually functional, it is typically scripted. He memorizes phrases and situations, or mimics things that you say to him. He is integrated into the classroom with the help of his aide, but he still has challenges. Like Sawyer, he has trouble sitting still for long periods of time and can also be subject to loud vocalizations that are often out of context with the classroom.
But there's a little boy in that classroom that likes him, that calls him his best friend. He looks past the differences and sees a little boy that he likes.
That is an incredible moment, one we celebrate.
The email from school made me smile.
The following emails from other teachers that went into more detail about how this little boy always sits by Xander at lunch and how he always sticks by him at recess, were even more amazing.
And the moment last week at the Thanksgiving lunch, when that same little boy's mother came up to me and introduced herself and her son, well that moment was even more amazing. She said her little boy always talks about Xander and what the two of them have done at school that day. She told me how sweet my little boy was when she came into the classroom, and she told me that her son has even gone so far to add Xander into his nightly prayers, which he says for each member of his family.
There are not words to describe how that moment felt, how much it meant.
For every really hard moment (see post below), there is an even better moment like this one. People who look past the differences, who see the amazing little boys in spite of their autism.
Those are the moments I keep close, the ones that give me hope for the future.
What You See
Sometimes I wish that the world could see the little boy that I see. Now I realize that I have had several years to get to know him, and that I have a more vested interest in him than most, but still, I wish.
I wish others could see that he is so much more than a little boy who doesn't talk yet, who sometimes does things that the rest of us don't quite understand.
Last week I went to the boys' school for their Thanksgiving lunch with family and friends. And while I sat at the table with Sawyer, I couldn't help but notice the two little boys across the table from us.
They were never mean, and they never said anything directly to us. But I know those looks, and I can hear those words.
Why doesn't he talk? Why does he make those noises instead? Why does he keep getting up to instead of eating?
Simple, harmless questions. Two little boys who were simply curious. It could have been Connor and one of his little friends. In fact, Connor has asked a lot of those same questions before.
But in that moment I just kept thinking about how the rest of the world - the world that does not really know him and may never take the time to get to know him - how they see my little boy.
And it's hard. Hard to know that they only see a small part of him, that they see his differences and his challenges without bothering to see his strengths.
Because he has a smile that can light up a room, a laugh that is pure joy. He is smart, with a sneaky sense of humor. He is persistent, and always goes after what he wants. He is not afraid to fail, and he doesn't really care what anyone else thinks. He is simply who he is, and that's enough for him.
And for me. He is an amazing little boy, and I couldn't be more proud of who he is, or how hard he works every single day to make sense of a world that he doesn't always understand.
I wish others could see that he is so much more than a little boy who doesn't talk yet, who sometimes does things that the rest of us don't quite understand.
Last week I went to the boys' school for their Thanksgiving lunch with family and friends. And while I sat at the table with Sawyer, I couldn't help but notice the two little boys across the table from us.
They were never mean, and they never said anything directly to us. But I know those looks, and I can hear those words.
Why doesn't he talk? Why does he make those noises instead? Why does he keep getting up to instead of eating?
Simple, harmless questions. Two little boys who were simply curious. It could have been Connor and one of his little friends. In fact, Connor has asked a lot of those same questions before.
But in that moment I just kept thinking about how the rest of the world - the world that does not really know him and may never take the time to get to know him - how they see my little boy.
And it's hard. Hard to know that they only see a small part of him, that they see his differences and his challenges without bothering to see his strengths.
Because he has a smile that can light up a room, a laugh that is pure joy. He is smart, with a sneaky sense of humor. He is persistent, and always goes after what he wants. He is not afraid to fail, and he doesn't really care what anyone else thinks. He is simply who he is, and that's enough for him.
And for me. He is an amazing little boy, and I couldn't be more proud of who he is, or how hard he works every single day to make sense of a world that he doesn't always understand.
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