tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8029521573771310052024-03-13T17:17:39.050-07:00Overheard in My HouseAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.comBlogger10125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-75419282553858828002016-04-08T17:29:00.000-07:002016-04-08T17:29:49.962-07:00When the babysitter calls<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">We
are really lucky. In the last few months life has gotten a bit easier</span>. Asher
and Abby Kate are rocking school and Amelia’s ABA therapy has really started
making a difference in how she interacts with the world around her. If you take
out me breaking my leg, life would have been pretty amazing and even with the
broken leg it has still been so much better than life was this time last year. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">One
big change happened when we started receiving respite care. 40 hours a month of
babysitting thanks to the US Navy almost makes up for the premature wrinkles
and gray hairs the same Navy has given me over the last 9 years. Enter K, our
amazing respite provider. I knew when I talked to her on the phone the first
time that it was going to be a fit and my kids freaking adore her. I thought I
would feel guilty leaving them to go do my own thing, but they’re more excited
than I am to have K time, which makes dates even more enjoyable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">Today
was my first day using respite time to do my own thing instead of going out on
a date. Husband is on duty which means he works overnight so I thought it would
be a good time to have some me time and do some studying.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">There is no fear quite like when the phone
rings and it’s the babysitter. We text back and forth most of the time, this
was actually the first time she ever called me when I was away from the house.
My heart was racing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">“Don’t
panic, everything is okay” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">K
is a mom, she knows I was panicking from the moment her name popped up on the
phone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">“What
happened?” because I knew she wouldn’t call if it wasn’t a big deal. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">“Amelia
figured out the locks on the door. I was sitting at the table playing with
Asher and Abby Kate and she went and very quietly got a toy to stand on and
unlocked all the locks. She was so quiet but Winnie started freaking out so I
got up and she was on the front porch getting the package that had been
delivered. Winnie was right with her and barking for me.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">She
had only gotten up from the table a minute before. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">I
couldn’t help it, even knowing it was all okay, I started crying. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">What
if Winnie hadn’t been with her? What if she didn’t just want to get the
package? What if K wasn’t so on top of it and didn’t get up right away?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">What
if…. What if…. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">I
thought 3 locks were enough. I thought it was high enough for her not to reach
it standing on anything less than a chair (which I would notice if she was
dragging through the house). She’s never been too interested in elopement, so I
thought we were safe. The only time before today she’s wanted to go outside was
when Daddy was out there and she wanted Daddy. Now? Now I “What if”. I also
went and bought a child lock for the handle and one of those magnet alarms that
screams when the door/window/whatever is opened. It’s even got a 4 digit code
so she can’t mess with it without it going off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xjwwXWPWw8tJolUaKu4sc28ASEJFmF3_KgvYJhkB0JliZN1ZDm_UUGMqu8vps-EDnHchk_QycMametVIOLIyM2CMN8m6xBhkSxUEaiAZntamZttStCtOb5ZjxIgxwMfDU694TR_fVA/s1600/new+locks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2xjwwXWPWw8tJolUaKu4sc28ASEJFmF3_KgvYJhkB0JliZN1ZDm_UUGMqu8vps-EDnHchk_QycMametVIOLIyM2CMN8m6xBhkSxUEaiAZntamZttStCtOb5ZjxIgxwMfDU694TR_fVA/s320/new+locks.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">I
know that all parents “What if” but I never have done it with my two
neurotypical kids the way I have since I had my little neurodiverse girl. I “What
if” everything I do, because deep down I “What if” if God knew what He was
doing when He gave her to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;">At
least tonight I know the answer to “What if she manages to get through the
child lock on the knob and all three of the other locks?” is that there will be
120 decibels to let me know… and a dog named Winnie. <span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8rY2HhXM1LAnh2NFJJcTWHEeVy6OXlroZRi_iBk1xiyg9kFJwvhAiaQHEB_QgO8VUIoKYoUcmX2NQk9sf3vfgT4K6uvtktK9SIn4QedKONupstKalsdCuhg6Mz2IRcnV-yA9z-7aovg/s1600/A%2526W+edited.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8rY2HhXM1LAnh2NFJJcTWHEeVy6OXlroZRi_iBk1xiyg9kFJwvhAiaQHEB_QgO8VUIoKYoUcmX2NQk9sf3vfgT4K6uvtktK9SIn4QedKONupstKalsdCuhg6Mz2IRcnV-yA9z-7aovg/s320/A%2526W+edited.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-64846127037471168852016-01-02T14:04:00.001-08:002016-01-02T18:25:49.929-08:00Adventures in Bedtime<div class="MsoNormal">
Bedtime. My kids aren’t bad sleepers by any stretch, but
sometimes bedtime is just too much. I’ll be real, by the time 9:30 rolls
around, I’m done being mom for the day. I want to sit down and mindlessly
scroll Pinterest or watch grown up television. I am done. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last night I was especially done because Sherlock was on. **Side
note: If you haven’t watched the BBC version of Sherlock featuring Benedict
Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman then you are missing out big time. Stop reading
and go binge watch it and come back.** It has been a long time since I had new
Sherlock to watch and darn it, I wanted to watch it without interruption (yeah
right…). We got Amelia to bed and put Asher and Abby Kate down. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Start Sherlock.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 minutes later… Abby Kate and Asher come strolling through…
they forgot to get a drink of water.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5 minutes later… lots of talking and giggling coming from
back that way, Daddy goes to tell them it is in fact bed time or as I think in
my post Inside Out head, to put the foot down.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5 minutes later… Abby Kate just can’t sleep and needs night
night oils.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 minutes after that…. Asher needs night night oils too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
About 10 minutes of uninterrupted Sherlock. I think to
myself they must be asleep. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Abby Kate comes to the doorway of the living room.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I just wanted to tell you something that me and Asher were
talking about. We were talking and we think you’re a big ball of love, Daddy is
a farting spider, Asher is a big Earth planet, I’m a heart, and Amelia is a
giant cupcake.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Daddy is what?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“A farting spider.” (like I should have known this… duh)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t even know what to do with this information. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"What?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXrwUjbCMoxDZcHUWJqi8TYxaWjvkPG2mj27X77P9uTPW7aMXbqwbLkqeD3b6IQc4FiSNrJ-E9Ou-_v05L_WzxkfBTZThw1GnK9U8P-_JQhv3BMHV3Yme0M0rVmnhNXRgab9zQbayJA/s1600/farting+spider+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXrwUjbCMoxDZcHUWJqi8TYxaWjvkPG2mj27X77P9uTPW7aMXbqwbLkqeD3b6IQc4FiSNrJ-E9Ou-_v05L_WzxkfBTZThw1GnK9U8P-_JQhv3BMHV3Yme0M0rVmnhNXRgab9zQbayJA/s320/farting+spider+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Because he farts a lot. And he's a spider."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You’re adorable, I love you, go to bed”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the hysterical laughter was finished, me and my
favorite farting spider finished our episode in peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-65111278184245345792016-01-01T17:19:00.002-08:002016-01-02T18:29:07.318-08:00Big Love<div class="MsoNormal">
My husband Bryan and I have been married going on 12 years.
When you’re only 30, that’s a pretty big accomplishment. Heck, at any age 12
years of marriage is a big deal in this day and age. And the best part is that
I still really like him. To be honest, we’re one of those couples that you see
that kind of makes you want to throw up in your mouth a little. I think some
people might feel like it is a show for when we are around others or for good
Facebook statuses, but we are lovey enough at home that Asher (who’s 7.5) gets
all grossed out. (Which FYI, is the funniest thing in the whole world.) Other
people have asked me how we make it work. My answer is this…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ1G7YvGjIJC3rljvbiE_HAF4dFOZzxQxIYkvDY-vZ9tuwSPYD9FqgTDvMeMElyF7rvJGpJkEL2aN2L8UD_uGeWPdibydNOobFu8z8F72IANX9hr-W61Wtc2KFlw9Jr5KC4e-nOTpyA/s1600/Little+things+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJ1G7YvGjIJC3rljvbiE_HAF4dFOZzxQxIYkvDY-vZ9tuwSPYD9FqgTDvMeMElyF7rvJGpJkEL2aN2L8UD_uGeWPdibydNOobFu8z8F72IANX9hr-W61Wtc2KFlw9Jr5KC4e-nOTpyA/s320/Little+things+%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Earlier this week, I was really under the weather. My
husband had to stay on his ship overnight the night before trash day so in the
morning before he left the house, he took the trash can down to the curb for
me. This is a little thing. I’m capable, even sick, of doing it. But the fact
that he took the time to think of me and knew that I felt yuck and the last
thing I’d want to do is drag the trash can down the driveway was big love. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I think people (women especially) expect flowers and jewelry and other grand gestures to show love. Yeah, those things are nice, but they’re not what keeps a big
love burning, because you can’t do those things every day. It’s taking the
trash out, it’s unloading the dishwasher, it’s fixing them their favorite meal
just because, it’s bringing home a candy bar because you know they’re having a
hard day, it’s making sure to have that beer they like, it’s kissing goodbye
even if they’re just going around the corner for milk, it’s being goofy and
laughing together, it’s debating theories on your favorite show, and it’s
telling them you’re glad they’re yours. Little things that show the one you
love that you’re thinking of them and that your happiness is important to you
all day every day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My marriage isn’t perfect, because we are both imperfect
people, but our love… our love is pretty magical. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-Sarah</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; line-height: 15.6933px;">What's the one thing YOU would tell people makes for a happy marriage?</span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-71424748069094788612015-07-22T19:00:00.001-07:002015-07-22T19:13:38.157-07:00Mom guiltI'll be vulnerable with you for a few minutes. It's not easy to talk about your shortcomings as a mother and it's equally hard to talk about your own perception of yourself as a mother. I read a quote on Pinterest the other day and it said<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjprihL4Kf2n1aSjkt2nyyjs0ynGKO3DQkbSXjPVUq-qBvsZ8bjihWOgpGd9KV8RiiwikrqrQizmBZBjnwRIAs3wauB5BdkGO5oxT2m6FOB0-N1iiTEoYxKNkwlrP0vk7O2K9W9t7f69g/s1600/Mom+guilt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjprihL4Kf2n1aSjkt2nyyjs0ynGKO3DQkbSXjPVUq-qBvsZ8bjihWOgpGd9KV8RiiwikrqrQizmBZBjnwRIAs3wauB5BdkGO5oxT2m6FOB0-N1iiTEoYxKNkwlrP0vk7O2K9W9t7f69g/s1600/Mom+guilt.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
and I wanted to cry. Oh, okay, I did cry. And then I cried some more. Because that's how I feel a lot lately, like I am just constantly screwing up.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Sometimes I think rationally and say to myself "Sarah, the expectations you have are unrealistic, you are only one person and you can't do everything" and I feel a bit of relief.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Then that nasty voice whispers inside my head "Oh, I bet so and so could do everything. She's so put together and here you are, not even getting the dishes done" and then I fall into that cycle of doubt. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It's not rational, but then again what about motherhood is rational? If we really thought about how hard this job is and what is put on us and what can potentially be put on us as our kids grow, a rational person would run away as fast as they could! No sane person volunteers to wipe butts and clean puke for years at a time, yet here we are! Because those sweet little squishy baby cheeks turns the most rational person into a "OMG look at those little cheeks I need to love them and kiss them" crazy person. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I look at my kids and I see good kids. Yes, Asher could be reading better, Abby Kate has a bit of an attitude, and Amelia... well Autism is hard. And somehow, it's my fault. Anything that is not perfect about them, I blame myself. Maybe I need to be working with Asher more on reading... Maybe if Abby Kate got more one on one attention she wouldn't have an attitude... Maybe if I was healthier, didn't have to be medicated during pregnancy, had "wanted" to get pregnant with Amelia, then maybe she wouldn't be Autistic...</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I know. I know in my head that I really do the best I can and that they are truly amazing human beings, but that doesn't stop that little voice from telling me it's all my fault and that I'm screwing up.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The worst part? I know this is normal. I know that most women reading this will nod their head and say "you said it sister" because they'll get why I feel this overwhelming guilt about everything that isn't perfect in my kids and in their little lives. I bet that even the "so and so" I spoke of earlier wonders if she's totally messing up her kids from time to time. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Why do we do it to ourselves? We know that life isn't perfect, that no child is perfect, that we aren't perfect, so why do we beat ourselves up and feel guilty for things that we <i>know </i>aren't our fault?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Mom guilt takes away from the joys of motherhood. There are seasons where I feel like it has robbed me of my successes because I only see my faults. I sometimes, in my weakest moments, think my kids deserve better than me. Motherhood is hard. So damn hard. And I hate that we all make it harder on ourselves.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Stop. Stop thinking you're screwing up and look at those little faces. If they're amazing little people, that's because of YOU. You helped them become those amazing little people. Stop and see that... and then remind me to do it too. Let's stop letting guilt rob us of real joy, we deserve better. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-31340357000196428812015-07-21T13:58:00.000-07:002015-07-21T13:58:26.159-07:00Life under construction<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXofX1aN3x3VN8JftQB3b8ijHRn5F4I8iQdda3S1jfcPRbx8A3YpBdbj9tIcZ_viINFH7DqYHhrfDst2j3wbkqNnp5VED1NKO8IJY5PMzlvA3pFaVg1cPm1SMUna-2e9ZuHmX9t-MPFQ/s1600/under-construction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="101" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXofX1aN3x3VN8JftQB3b8ijHRn5F4I8iQdda3S1jfcPRbx8A3YpBdbj9tIcZ_viINFH7DqYHhrfDst2j3wbkqNnp5VED1NKO8IJY5PMzlvA3pFaVg1cPm1SMUna-2e9ZuHmX9t-MPFQ/s320/under-construction.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I feel like a wrecking ball came through my life. I should know better than to plan things out in my head after getting our post-tubal surprise Amelia, but it's just a natural human thing to have a future plan laid out, right? Then something huge happens and that life you had in your head gets wrecked. I'm still just sitting here like, what am I supposed to do now?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Would it be weird if I wore an "under construction" sign around my neck? I feel like I should, so that when people see me they can know right from that moment that I'm working on something in me. I didn't think it would be this hard. Autism. Sensory Processing. Apraxia of speech. Special needs. I just didn't know.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I've been a mom for over 7 years now, and after having both a boy and a girl, having a third child seemed like no biggie. What could a third throw at me that I hadn't dealt with before? By the time we found out about our surprise I had been through 2 high risk pregnancies (thanks Hyperemesis Gravidarum) 3 deployments (gave birth during the second one), and a slew of crazy things that kids can throw at you when you're a mom by yourself more than with a partner. I figured that with hubby heading onto shore duty a new baby would be a cakewalk compared to what we had been through.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
From early on she was different, but the professionals kept telling me everything was fine. So I thought I was failing her. It took until she was almost two for anyone to address what was going on. Then in the matter of a few months, we went from a speech delay to Sensory Processing Disorder and then to Autism. The apraxia isn't an official diagnosis because they're hesitant to do it before age 3, but I know it's coming. I've known it was all coming for a lot longer than I was willing to admit to myself. Moms know, but so much of the time we ignore that feeling. Maybe it's because people told me it was all okay, maybe it was because I didn't want to believe something was "wrong" with her, I don't know. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
So a little over a month ago, a wrecking ball called "Autism" came in and smashed the life I had planned out in my head. Most parents don't talk about the mourning process because people are so judgemental about it. How selfish and awful do you think it feels to mourn when your child is right here happy and healthy, just different than what you had expected? I don't love her any less, anyone who knows me knows I adore her, but this isn't the life I had planned out in my head for her and I am allowed to feel the loss of that. My heart aches for her, because this means there is so much she's going to battle in her life. It's not about anything more than that. I mourn that she's going to have a harder life than I wanted her to have. Autism awareness and Autism acceptance aren't the same. We are all aware it is out there, but not many accept them the way our children deserve to be accepted. I'm getting used to some parts of this life, others not so much. Some days I feel like I can conquer the world with one hand behind my back, the next I want to hide away from the ugly truth that this world isn't built for her and she's always going to struggle through it. Then I see her smile, with that little dimple I can't resist, and I know that while it might not be the life I had built in my head, we can build something just as beautiful together. It might take longer, and it might be harder, but this life is under construction and it is going to be beautiful. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-42605027144071918332015-07-09T14:35:00.005-07:002015-07-09T14:35:58.708-07:00My babiest one<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRXN-1Ml1VL_9foDzDPBfT5fknFD7rTdAeK00Xy2bCgC9nIxwu6rOcqihSOvN1WqS8uA3k9Kugtk1SL3Vh7DZfwanVh_-C4jNX6XfBi9EhlYfnsnM9UI1sUdi-gAyO5BTgrvk0lpkHQ/s1600/Amelia+at+the+beach+2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqRXN-1Ml1VL_9foDzDPBfT5fknFD7rTdAeK00Xy2bCgC9nIxwu6rOcqihSOvN1WqS8uA3k9Kugtk1SL3Vh7DZfwanVh_-C4jNX6XfBi9EhlYfnsnM9UI1sUdi-gAyO5BTgrvk0lpkHQ/s320/Amelia+at+the+beach+2.png" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This is Amelia. She's 2.5 years old and is a giant mess. I only have a handful of pictures where she has clothes on because she prefers to be naked. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Amelia has kept us on our toes since the moment we realized she existed, 18 months after I had the Essure sterilization procedure. Yup. Surprise! And the surprises keep on coming.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After two kids, you think you know how to do this parenting thing. I know we thought we did. We were right and wrong. We knew how to parent a neurotypical child, we just didn't know how to parent Amelia. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I knew that she was different from my other two kids by about 9 months old, but I honestly just thought I was failing her somehow. Oh the guilt and self-doubt. It wasn't until right before she turned 2 that we found out about Sensory Processing Disorder and it wasn't until she was 2.5, just a month ago, that we found out that she also has Autism Spectrum Disorder. It's been a wild ride and will continue to be as we navigate the special needs waters.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When I think of her the Henry Longfellow poem comes to my mind.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There was a little girl</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There was a little girl,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Who had a little curl,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Right in the middle of her forehead.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When she was good, </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
She was very good indeed,</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
But when she was bad she was horrid.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
When she's happy, her smiles and laughs will light up the world. And those dimples....</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
But when she's not happy? Just call her Bruce Banner, because you don't want to see her angry! The reason it has been a couple of days since I wrote last was because she's been in "Hulk smash!" mode. Thankfully, I have a reprieve today because she's napping. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
No matter what gets thrown our way, I will always be blessed with my little surprise. She's definitely the best thing I never knew I always wanted.</div>
<div class="tab-content active" id="poem" style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial; font-size: 12px;">
<div class="poem" style="color: #505050; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 24px; margin: 25px 0px 0px;">
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<br /></div>
<div style="padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-8446950158090102292015-07-05T13:34:00.000-07:002015-07-05T14:05:26.860-07:00Eating betterOver the last 18 months, I've made a lot of steps in improving my health and wellness. It started when I had my hysterectomy and realized that so much of my pain was gone and I realized I wanted it all gone and I wanted to feel as good as a woman my age should feel.<br />
<br />
My biggest issue is one I know a lot of us battle... I <strike>like</strike> love food. Bad food. Oreos. And cake. And dry Cheerios. And a whole slew of things that are not in my body's best interest for me to be stuffing in my face. I didn't want to give it up. I looked good in my clothes so I felt good about myself and I wasn't gaining weight, so I didn't care so much that maybe I wasn't in a healthy weight range for me. It's all okay as long as I look good, right? Wrong. And it bit me in the rump about 6 months ago when Amelia started having major developmental issues.<br />
<br />
Now we know that it is Autism and Sensory Processing Disorder, but back earlier this year we just knew she wasn't sleeping more than 5 broken hours of sleep in each 24 hour span and that the hours she was awake was filled with screaming fits like we had never experienced with our other two children. The stress and the lack of sleep combined caused me and the husband to start packing on the pounds. I gained 38 pounds in about 3.5 months. I was already about 25 pounds heavier than my optimal weight for my body type. 63 pounds. That's more than Asher weighs. I need to lose a whole child!<br />
<br />
I'm now a week in on the hardcore lifestyle change after starting it slowly in other ways before going all in. I'm down 6 pounds already and I can see the shift in my body starting. I know it is a long road to do this the right way, focusing on my health not just my looks. It scares me. I don't want to be fat, I don't want to be unhealthy, I don't want to die young because I can't keep from shoveling junk into my mouth, but I fear that my resolve will flounder. I'm cutting carbs, eating whole real foods, and upping my water intake. I'm also replacing 1 meal a day with a protein shake that I add some banana and spinach to, mostly because I totally suck at eating breakfast and this gets me a good way to start my metabolism and my day.<br />
<br />
I'm not giving up coffee. I can't. I will give up everything else before I will give up my coffee. I don't *need* it for the caffeine, but it's one of those things that I just really love and when you're giving up so much that you love, you gotta give yourself a little something to hold on to and that is my coffee! I am cutting my sugar that I put in it and I bought organic unrefined sugar and trying to limit myself to 2 cups a day.<br />
<br />
Working out is my next big step. I need low impact and something easy to get me back into it slowly. I have fibromyalgia, so hardcore working out is just not in the cards, but I need to get myself into a fit and healthy state so that I can keep up with my kids! So tell me, what's your favorite work out? Comment below and hook me up with something fun, under 30 minutes, and not too hard but will push my fitness to the next level.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglp4di8GQy54IfsFXhA3BDjKE2fKBqjRV92XVrv5PBo9xTAJwA_g4PLVf1BH4jUZirD0tbqJF1Ew_sAXQXo0mBAKSqvm5vJhGoLr5lWGhLceRrPFM87S_QM-ZDJdeOLyjQ-qgIMLx2CA/s1600/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglp4di8GQy54IfsFXhA3BDjKE2fKBqjRV92XVrv5PBo9xTAJwA_g4PLVf1BH4jUZirD0tbqJF1Ew_sAXQXo0mBAKSqvm5vJhGoLr5lWGhLceRrPFM87S_QM-ZDJdeOLyjQ-qgIMLx2CA/s320/1.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-28356264572849562842015-07-05T11:28:00.000-07:002015-07-05T14:04:51.642-07:00My Middlest<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTZUe7NGG6L5bz2_rJ2u9RwgGlRA3mafFbMqTFVGez4yRJrUYSXgsIaijcnI29A0ZrYyQph4JLQg6zhiEFNh3kN3hMPhm-nAgiO_LS0-egPHACAorAa3BbB9OtvQgxV1mWRSlEDXWgpQ/s1600/Abby+Kate+Ballet.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTZUe7NGG6L5bz2_rJ2u9RwgGlRA3mafFbMqTFVGez4yRJrUYSXgsIaijcnI29A0ZrYyQph4JLQg6zhiEFNh3kN3hMPhm-nAgiO_LS0-egPHACAorAa3BbB9OtvQgxV1mWRSlEDXWgpQ/s320/Abby+Kate+Ballet.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Oh my middlest child, Abby Kate.<br />
<br />
She's my drama queen and always has something to say. She's so beautiful it hurts and I know we need more guns and ammo before she turns 16, especially if she's anything like her momma.<br />
<br />
Amelia's (the babiest child) occupational therapist and I were talking the other day and discussing why my girls don't get along well while the babiest and the boy are best buds. It breaks my heart and I was pondering if it might have something to do with the babiest's special needs.<br />
<br />
Her OT said to me "Well, does Asher talk less than Abby Kate?" and my reply...<br />
<br />
"Everyone talks less than Abby Kate."<br />
<br />
With her limited speech, the baby gets overwhelmed by Abby Kate and her constant chatter. It's so much her personality, but I understand because even I get overwhelmed by it some days! I wouldn't trade it for the world though. Hearing her stories about her 4 future kids (Anna, Elsa, Olaf and Sven, of course) and that she wants to be a ballerina and also a chef that makes only pink things for her buffet restaurant pretty much makes my whole day.<br />
<br />
My favorite thing? The way she says "I love you most beautifullest mommy ever" with such conviction that even when I am feeling like Swamp Thing, I know that someone sees beauty through the messy hair, yoga pants, and stretch marks. She's gorgeous inside and out and I'm blessed to be her Momma.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-27152641403592974482015-07-04T20:26:00.000-07:002015-07-05T13:58:01.562-07:00The boy child<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWInJBFF3YKFXXNaH4pf-5VvtWddPpCFIeHl7YZs469Bg_-fcYD1evUtvk_fbAE0imPG4idmnfQT0jpQq97tXfKTlSP3PYzu2_tsfF-346f8F7hCRmDKYnD8mW8nBxUNHiTWob6ter2w/s1600/Asher+on+the+beach.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWInJBFF3YKFXXNaH4pf-5VvtWddPpCFIeHl7YZs469Bg_-fcYD1evUtvk_fbAE0imPG4idmnfQT0jpQq97tXfKTlSP3PYzu2_tsfF-346f8F7hCRmDKYnD8mW8nBxUNHiTWob6ter2w/s320/Asher+on+the+beach.png" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Oy, this boy.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This is my little guy, Asher. He's 7 and super smart, too smart of his own good most days.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I'm lucky, he's still snuggly and loves to sit with me on the couch and talk and tell me all about different things, from Disney Infinity to what he's building with legos, to genetics and 1000's of random animal factoids. I wouldn't trade those moments for the world.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Earlier tonight he is sitting with me and I turned to him and said "I love that you still snuggle with even though you're half grown" (because seriously, the kid is a giant)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
His reply? "It's only 11 years until I turn 18" and then cackled at me and ran away before I could noogie him. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
My mom always told me that the days drag by but the years fly by, and she is so right. I know that tomorrow might be a long day like today was, but it shakes me to my core that I'm going to blink and he's going to be a man.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Slow down kiddo, snuggle up and tell me more about how big grizzly bears get. </div>
<span id="goog_402406520"></span><span id="goog_402406521"></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-802952157377131005.post-31785407604953796782015-07-04T08:19:00.000-07:002015-07-05T11:01:15.303-07:00I surrender to the power of peer pressureI've tried to do the blogging thing a couple of times and was disenchanted pretty quickly. It's not the easiest thing in the world to come up with things to write about! But here I am, again, with a new way of life and a new way of thinking and hopefully a new way to blog that will be enjoyable long term. I have a lot to say and apparently there are people who want to hear it.<br />
<br />
That's what I'm talking about when I say I surrender to the power of peer pressure. I have had 20+ people tell me in the last few months that I needed to start blogging and share the humor, struggles, and all-around craziness that is my household. Well here goes nothing!<br />
<br />
I'm Sarah, mom of 3, my little "A" team. In the blogosphere, I know it's commonplace to nickname kids to keep anonymity, so I'm going to try to come up with something over the next few days. The oldest of my kids is 7, my only boy, and he loves learning about animals, watching documentaries and cooking shows, and math. My middlest is 5, my first daughter, and she's the conductor of the hot mess express. She has a chronic pain illness but it doesn't slow her down from the dancing and singing and storytelling that she brings to our life. Babiest girl is 2 and 1/2 and is our surprise baby who keeps us on our toes. She has Autism Spectrum Disorder, Sensory Processing Disorder and a severe speech delay, but is easily the most snuggly, joyful, and independent kid you'll meet. I'm happily married to my hubs of 11 years "B" who is in the military and is by far my favorite person on the planet, other than our awesome kids of course. He makes me laugh every day and that's why I picked him. We also have two dogs, Duke and Winnie, a Scottish Deerhound and a little hound mix.<br />
<br />
I am a lover of life and laughter and learning. I am a perpetual student and am great at trivia games because I know a little bit about a lot of things. I dream of being on Jeopardy some day. I'm a stay at home mom and sometimes it makes me batty but I wouldn't trade it for the world. We homeschool our kids because I don't trust anyone else with such a great responsibility and there's nothing like watching the ones you love the most learn and grow in front of your eyes. I'm opinionated. Like really opinionated. I am super passionate when it comes to the things I care about. I love to read, but I'm super picky and varied in my tastes. I am a huge geek. I am into living life more naturally. I love making my own stuff from beauty products and soap to furniture and decor. If I could buy or make everything in Hobby Lobby and Pottery Barn I would be a happy girl. My family is my center and everything I do inevitably comes back to them. I'm an open book and I love sharing stories.<br />
<br />
I started this blog to share our funny stories, our hard times, and the journey we are on in this world because it's a unique one and one that I feel people can enjoy and even maybe learn from.<br />
<br />
So, that's what I am about and I hope you stick around to see what's Overheard in My House.<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17386711042504815676noreply@blogger.com0