What Does Your Permission Slip Say?

After a long weekend of birthday celebrations that induced multiple visits and short road trips to visit extended family here and there I am thankful that it is Monday morning.

Our lives are back to normal, daughter's at school, husband's at work, my toddler - who will be three this Wednesday - is sitting here, nestled up to me, watching cartoons. We are both still in PJs lounging on the fluffy down comforter in my master bed room.

It has been a year and a half since I have left corporate America. I left a high six figure salary, my dream job. I said good-bye to my own company and brand that I built from scratch, along with the excitement and exhilaration of new business growth, client lunches and travel reward points. I still thumb through my stack of business cards as a high school quarter back peruses by the school trophy case.

I have taken on the role of being a stay at home mom as if it is a job. A job that I approached with personal goals on a weekly basis. A job, however, on a number of days I am very unqualified and lost without proper training, gifts or talents. At times I feel overwhelmed and begin to question my role as a stay at home mom. My time seems devalued by everyone; my opinion, worthless. No longer am I an expert and consultant to business owners, chief executives and managing partners in law firms, in these times, my own children don't even listen to me.

Once I was the breadwinner in the family and we focused on investing in my career vision. Now, my husband is the one whose career is thriving as he makes plans for enhancing his education, we plan on his career growth. He is the one who comes home late and attends conferences in the big cities.

Although there have been adjustments and many days that have filled my thoughts with regret and grief, today, I give myself permission to enjoy this new position in my life. God is the author of our lives, and He has already written our roles and service in His book. The entire life of my career, I relied on God's provision and timing and He blessed me and my family with success. There were times that I cried out to God to help me through the rough times. Today is no different.

He also blessed us with misfortune that changed our journey significantly. Within three months, my mother fell ill and passed away unexpectedly while my oldest daughter at age five was being diagnosed on the autism spectrum and ADHD. During this personal time of bereavement, there was no time for me to cry. Steeped deeply in deadlines and meetings with busy people, little empathy was stretched to me as a woman trying so hard to be strong and professional. My husband and I realized that we needed to adapt and change our lifestyle so that I could spend time on self care and health for both myself and my children. My five year old had many doctor and therapy appointments and my youngest who had just turned one wasn't getting the best of her mommy, only left overs from a busy, harried lifestyle.

We moved and changed our lives within a crisis moment in time. At times, I feel like our lives would have been better had we worked it all out and stayed put. It's the whole "grass is greener on the other side" motto. And in these times, I isolate myself in my own pity party. But lately, I have been feeling renewed again.

I feel the freedom of God's plan that He designed just for me and just for our family. I relax in His hands. And, I smile. I smile that I get to spend quality time with my little girls. Surely there are power struggles that beat me down stemming from the dysfunctions of autism and ADHD, but there are also cuddles and giggles that sustain me. I smile that I get to see my husband grow and develop into the man God wants him to be. I smile and breathe a deep breath of clean air from a Midwestern small town. I smile realizing that I don't have to wear uncomfortable shoes in a rushed and stalled commute to the rat race in the big city. I smile that I am who I am and I don't have to pretend to be someone I am not. I don't have to prove myself anymore. I can just be me, in the moment.

Today, I give myself permission to relish being a stay at home mom who watches Dora and enjoys yelling at Swiper with my just two days away from being a three year old little girl. I give myself permission to enjoy folding a queen size over flowing mound of clean laundry today. And, I thank God for giving me this lot of my life today.

Entering a New Chapter of Motherhood

Yesterday, as the school psychologist left my home after reviewing Sarah's assessment with me, I realized that I was entering into a new chapter of motherhood.

My youngest daughter, Sarah will be turning three in March and will be phasing out of the 0 - 3 program that is government funded and has been providing therapy in our home two times a week. When a child turns three, there is a transition process that takes place so that another government funded agency can give proper services and therapy for the child to prepare him or her for school. And, after several hours of testing spread out into several sessions throughout the past couple of weeks, the 'professionals' have reported that my daughter will not be eligible for any services.

With one side of my heart I am relieved! I am thankful to know that we no longer need to have our weekly schedule spent doing therapy. I am also grateful that my daughter tested 'Superior' in language and cognitive skills. I mean, I should be proud, right? However, my concerns are honed in that along with those high results, she tested borderline and very low in social and emotional development. She also struggles with sensory issues as reported by the Occupational Therapist. This report only reiterates my original concerns for my child as I have lived this chapter of parenting several years ago with my oldest daughter, now age seven. My seven year old has Aspergers Syndrome, although, we didn't know that at the time. In fact, we just are learning about it as I key this post in.

Asperger Syndrome is such a tricky disorder that has taxed me as a mother. It has changed my life in ways that I could have never imagined. It has given me a mix of challenges and blessings. And, as I am still learning parent strategies to get through each day and learning to restructure my dreams for my oldest child's future, I now am seeing that both my daughters may be walking in the similar paths.

Life is all about choices. We chose what we will believe, how we will live and who we will be. Although I am tempted to chose to be a victim, befuddled, judged and in daily grief, I chose another window to look out from. I admit that there are days when I do glance from the darkened viewpoint and I am overrun with tears and isolation. I do let myself have healthy pity parties from time to time, I mean after all, it's only fair! I am hoping that the pity parties will occur less and less as I grow into my new role as a mother to children on the autism spectrum.

And, as I watch the psychologist leave my home on a Tuesday morning in February, I am thankful that I am able to process and condense my thoughts long enough to realize what are my challenges. And, I come up with a new mantra as I enter into a new chapter of motherhood:

I will accept the quirks of my children and the ignorance of others and find healthy coping strategies while maintaining an eternal vision.

More about this mantra in future posts...

I support Autism Twitter Day! Will you?

Parenting two children on the spectrum, I have felt like a klutz since my first push during labor! Since spawning my first kiddo over seven years ago, I have been on a journey of motherhood unlike any other.

Although there are no manuals that can teach any mom how to parent their special child, caring for a child with special needs - specifically, a child on the autism spectrum can be especially surreal. Every day, the needs change. From the time my children were babies I have tried to figure it all out.

Now, after endless hours of research covering a variety of syndromes and disorders, I have feared the possibility along with the reality while parsing the relative information from stacks and stacks of professional recommendations and diagnoses covering Parenting, Strong-Willed Children, Autism, Fragile X, Asperger's, PDD-NOS, ADHD, Bi-Polar Spectrum, Gifted, Sensory Integration, Sensory Disorder, etc. My husband and I have had to change our career paths and life styles and have had to learn to budget our time and money so that we won't go into debt and/or divorce over the countless recommended interventions and therapies from brushing, diets, balls, vests, blankets, swings, social games and groups, squeezy thingies, bouncy doo higgies and artsy fartsy fun. Some of these items have applied for our needs at some of the times, but all of this has been overwhelming, border line new-age-voo-doo to us to say the least!

Then, there are the teachers, family and friends and foes who tell us that there is nothing wrong with our children and that we need to just be better parents. At times, I am tricked and confused by their comments. For whatever their personal reasonings, I have had to learn to desperately grip on to that teeny tiny motherly instinct that has not yet faded away and I think I am the only one who truly knows my daughters and their core needs!

I have earned infinite invisible degrees and badges of honor as a mom to a seven- and two year old on the spectrum and God still has much more to teach me. I love my kids. And I want to help them as best as I can by understanding their needs and educating others in our family and community. I look forward to joining in on the discussions that will be shared on the inaugural Autism Twitter Day!

Can you join us?

Autism Twitter Day, Tuesday, December 16, three times throughout the day, 9:00 a.m., noon, and 8:00 p.m. PST. Prizes for young adults with autism or asperger syndrome will be given away during these twitter sessions!

Whether your immediate family has been impacted by autism or if you know someone who has, you are welcome to participate. There is never a day off for the mothers, fathers, siblings and friends who support a person with autism. Here is a chance to gain support, understanding and resources that can help you navigate your life!

Come and join in on the discussions. A variety of topics will be shared on how to best handle those curve balls that the spectrum disorder tosses in to your daily life ranging from:

family dynamics,
from the bus to the classroom,
behavior,
variety of therapies,
special diets,
social skills,
independent living,
self care and hygiene.
bullying,
IEPs,
respite,
books, toys, etc. that have helped your family.

This includes sharing links to your sites and blog posts.

Hope to see your avatar there! Sweet Tweeting! Visit Autism Family Adventures to learn more about the event and to RSVP today!

Autism Family Adventures: RSVP for Autism Twitter Day

Scarlet A for Autism

As I sat at the peditrician's waiting area, I saw a mother enter, her arms overflowing with a large child. She was probably about seven, my own daughter's age. By her posture and gestures you could immediately see she was severely handicapped. In an instant, I felt much remorse for the mother. Then, as she sat in the seat directly across from me, I saw an amazing interaction. With her warm gentle and strong hands, she embraced her daughter's face and they were nose to nose, giggling and playfully whispering to one another. I saw watched the daughter's face light up with pure bliss.

I wanted to stare in amazement at them. For in that moment I realized how immature and selfish I was. My daughter is seven and I am still in the early phases of acceptance. Accepting my daughter for who she is and where she is on the autism spectrum has been one of the most challenging endeavors I have experienced. Judge me all you want, I am just being honest. You see, autism affects her emotions and behaviors in a way that are socially unacceptable. It's like that saying goes, "Love the sinner, hate the sin." I love my daughter! I hate her behaviors. I have to learn to accept some of the behaviors some of the time. But that is always difficult. I haven't figured that part of the puzzle out yet. I think I am doing a pretty good job at it, maintaining my cool and taking it one day at a time. And as I gaze across the waiting room, I see that mother who has a child with so much need. Yet she is accepting and patient and full of grace and love for her child. I on the other hand am helpless and clueless most of the time, such a klutz about motherhood!

My daughter is able to keep it together most of the time. On most days she is a walking talking Hannah Montana. But, there are days and moments when she struggles and - uh oh - what just happened?

It is on days like today when my husband and I see the clear deficits in her. With her penguin-like waddle, hands and fingers flexed tightly, her eyes squinting, baby talking or talking like an otter or dinosaur, she tries so hard to "fit in" to her surroundings. I am not sure why today she was acting like this. Did something happen at school? I wonder, never knowing. And when she behaves like this, it is so opposite to her typical posture and behavior that sometimes I think she does this for attention. Then, this evening at 6:00 p.m., she had a hair appointment. Here is how that event happened:

5:50 Time to get shoes on and get in van to go to hair salon. Instead, Sienna gets in van barefoot, shoes in arm.
5:58 1-2-3 Magic WORKS miraculously and she puts shoes on and whines and fusses as we walk into the salon.
6:00 Sienna crawls under seats in waiting area. I hang coat up and try to over compensate for my daughter's behavior by smiling until my face hurt.
6:05 Hair dresser is looking and waiting. I write a note that reads: Daughter on autism spectrum. needs a few minutes to adjust. thanks.
6:10 Realizing that hair dresser will be needing to go home after this appointment, I firmly tell Sienna to stand up. I lift her up to her feet and push her feet forward, one foot at a time like they did on Weekend at Bernie's.
6:15 Lift Sienna onto salon chair and she screeches in terror when she sees that there is a booster seat. She refuses to sit in and tries to climb over the back of the salon chair. I quickly remove the booster seat and firmly place her down onto the salon seat.
6:20 Stylist offers her to choose which cape she wanted, Zebra or Purple Silk? Daughter, with chin forced downward, eyes rolled to her eyelids grunts at her. I am appalled. I want to apologize, pick her up like a baby and leave. But, we needed her to have her hair cut and we have made this appointment weeks ago. She pulls the cape from her neck, shakes it out and wraps it around her body tightly.
By 6:40 we were done. WHEW!!! I paid the hair dresser $12 for the haircut and added a $5 tip, although I felt like she earned more like a $50 tip!

After my daughter got home and went to bed, I was telling my husband all about the experience at the hair dressers along with what I witnessed from the pediatrician's office.

Why is it so hard being a mom to a high functioning daughter on the spectrum? I should be so thankful that she does so well most of the time. Why am I still struggling to accept my daughter's behavior?

I feel like I wear the Scarlet A on my chest. A for autism. I am so judged by others in this small town we just moved to. Other mothers don't want to be friends with me let alone have their children be friends with my daughter. The schools don't want to accept my daughter's deficits as a special need, instead they blame my parenting. Even our own family members judge our parenting and think we spoil our children and "if only we would let them play out side and exercise more..." some say to our faces!

Whenever I see parents with children in wheelchairs, I feel instant sadness for them. I would never judge them in fact I think of them as saints. I think about their inconveniences in their lives and how much they have lost because their children are so different. And then today, when I saw the beautiful laughter come from the mother and daughter at the pediatrician's office, I realize that they have learned to deal with their loss and have chosen to accept all of the beauty. I am trying to do this with our circumstance. Still new at it. But I want that special bond with my daughters. I am going to have to work hard at it.

I bear this scarlet A on my chest. My name starts with the letter A and I like the color red. So there! I will just have to look at life differently. If you don't like me because of this A, then you don't get the privilege of knowing how mysterious and wonderful life on the spectrum is for our family!

Chicago Fairy Tale: The Good and the Bad

On Friday, Fred was a presenter at a conference in Chicago so the girls and I tagged along with him. We thought it would be fun to have a girl's outing in the big city and so off we went!

The one-night stay was a perfect revelation on why we had to make the decision to no longer call Chicago our home and move away last year. I was reminded of why I loved it and yet, why I also hated it.

First things first. This is why I loved it!


Girls are up and ready to go!


Let's go to the 95th floor of the Hancock building and use the ladies room!


On the elevator, sitting on the floor, chewing gum, "Going Up!"

Then, a table for three at the Cheesecake Factory. "We'll take some cheesecake home to Daddy for later. Now, let's go see Madagascar II"


"Taxi!?!" Sarah's first ride in a cab. Girls gone wild, windows rolled down, screaming hello to every pedestrian and cross guard in the street.

We watched Madagascar II in the front row of the theater, walked about a mile back to our hotel in the brisk cold evening. We oo'd and awed at the Coach bags and fancy shoes in the store windows. Sienna wanted to know where the faces and heads of the women in the windows were. I told her, "They're mannequins."

She'd say, "No. They're women-iquins." We stopped to pet a horse. The horse tried eating her leopard coat. She screamed, we laughed. She took her coat off because she said it had horse slobber on it. We ran briskly to our warm hotel room. We got ready for a slumber party, Daddy came back from his conference. We snuggled while sharing the cheesecake and we...


... watched pay per view, "Kung Fu Panda," more like Kung FUN Panda. He's so cute when he says "dumplings" and "noodles."

Then, after a night of slumber, we woke up. Walked to a pancake joint just up the street if I remembered correctly. But I didn't remember correctly because it was 12 blocks away! We still walked there and Fred forgot his coat so he was freezing!!! We shared a dutch baby pancake and other yummy breakfast food, grabbed a couple of balloons and headed back to our hotel room, walking running and rushing trying to find shelter from the wind blasts blowing from the tsunami lake effect wind along the Magnificent Mile. We went through the rotating door and the girls took turns pressing the elevator buttons up to our room. We settled into our hotel room for the morning and waited for the shops and Navy Pier to open in a couple of hours.

I found myself staring and adoring the art and design elements of the metro styled interior of our hotel room.

Artwork on the wall.

More Artwork on the wall.

Design on the pillows - which I hope to 'refabricate' when I get home!

And, there is artwork that Sienna created.

Clearly, this is a butterfly resting inside a butterfly house. As soon as we plopped down, I was ready to relax for a little while. My seven year old had another mission. She asked for a Sharpie so she could draw faces on the balloons. No Sharpie, how about tape? Stapler? Glue? Crayons?

After I searched through my purse like Mary Poppins, I pulled out fantastic chewing gum wrappers. I imagined Sienna would be so thrilled to design some origami, but she looked like I just pulled a booger out of my purse, her lip curled up and her eyes rolled in the back of her head. I told her that was the best I had. Minutes later, she showed me the butterfly artwork that she created out of bathroom paper items. Inspiring.

(How come she can work on this, with zero assistance but cannot do simple things like her easy homework or brush her teeth?)

Now, this would have been the best time to drive home. Right about at this moment, we make a serious pivotal point from happiness to disaster in our journey in the city...

We then check out, go through the revolving door (I love this act just as much as my girls do! Don't ask me why, I am a city girl I guess!), hop in another cab, walk into the Navy Pier. Instantly, I hear grumbling and whining and arguing and I start nagging and people start glaring! Oh joy.

I get eye level, tell the girls that if they are both very good during this fun adventure, I will buy them the mood rings that they are oodling over right before we leave. It will help us to remember what a fun time we had. But, if they argue or whine any more, then, no ring.

We then tried to find the elevator up to the Children's Museum but got distracted by all the shops that glimmered in my eyes like jewels in a treasure chest!

I love shops.

We ventured into Build-a-Bear shop and even I was on sensory overload. Their florescent lights hummed and, in pure Dr. Suess style, I would describe the experience like this:

"The lights zimmer-zammered and bizzer-bammed in my ears."

Then this happened:

Sienna threw a tantrum in tsunami proportions.

She screamed at me, told me she was hungry. We bee-lined it to Mc'Ds. I stood in line, four people back and made sure the girls were both within eye-shot. With one eye on Sienna and the other eye on Sarah, cross-eyed I paid the lady, took a deep breath and waited for our tray of fat and carbs. Then, I lost sight of Sarah as she ran faster than a bolt of lightening to the other side of the food court so she could take shelter under the high chairs. I left my tray at the counter. As I wrestled our coats, shopping bags and stroller and tried to navigate through the crowds, I lost total sight of Sarah. I panicked and started calling out for her. I then could not find Sienna either. Imagine the chaos. All I could see were people staring at me. The room swirled around me and I felt like I was in a sinus commercial, everything went fuzzy. I was seconds close to calling for this:

When I tried asking for some help from some of the ladies working at McD's I realized that the only English they knew were Big Mac and Diet Coke. As they looked at me puzzled, from afar running out of the food court I spotted little Sienna in a rampant escape! I caught up with her, picked up the 40 pound 2 year old. Her back arched tight and stiff like a femaldahide-injected banana.

Then noticed big sis Sienna was hiding and crying nearby all the while trying to keep tabs on her little sister. I tried to ask big sis to get the tray but by the first word I muttered towards her, she shook with fear (in an autism coma as I call it) and I could tell she was not able to communicate with me. With my weak arms full of stiff banana toddler, stroller overflowing with coats, I knew I could not manage retrieving the tray. I considered leaving the tray at the counter and walking outside with both girls towards Indiana. But, I tried a more challenging approach and asked several ladies behind the McD counter to help me with my tray. I finally was able to get one lady, an African American to help me with the tray and bring it to the first booth I could find. We plumbed down, dumped our coats as the stroller fell to the floor, backwards as if to mimic my own exhaustion.

I overheard an African American gentleman mutter to the nice lady who brought us our tray of food as she put it on the table, "After Obama is president, we won't be required to do things like that anymore. Right on?" They both laughed. Although, I found no humor in their banter.

A deep breathe and a cold-fish-filet-chased-down-by-a-Diet-Coke-moment later, we relaxed in our booth. Sarah fell asleep in her stroller, now upright - symbolizing the next few minutes that awaited before us. We then, took a walk outside in the quiet coldness of the pier. Sienna, on her own terms, clutched onto my arm, fearful yet safe by her mother's side. In an attempt to absorb this moment of sheer sanity, I admired the stoic skyline. Frozen from the wind and the current stark reality, in my head I played dot-to-dot as I traced all of the positions that my career moved me from company to company and building to building through the chapters of my life:


Historic moments in my life, historic and memorable, the good and the bad. Mostly good though.

The cold air blew us indoors, we found the elevator up to the museum and paid the $4000 for admission. Sienna played and hopped from one exhibit to the next. I tried to keep Sarah resting in her stroller. Minutes later however, when she woke up, she threw an hour long tantrum. We could have started our own exhibit and called it, "Sensory Overload." With the many people watching, I could have charged admission for the freak show. The Nature Channel's narrator would whisper, "Watch as the angry mother tries to chase her wandering arm-flapping off spring... Now, what are they doing? Oh, the child is licking the floor. Why doesn't that mother do something to protect her child from the infestations of germs and infections?"

Ignoring the assumptions and judgments from the metropolitan peanut gallery, I finally forced a rain coat on her flapping and slapping arms so she could play in the water exhibit. Seconds later she realized that I was not that awful after all:

After playing with water for two hours, seriously, both girls played for two hours...

I encouraged them to try to see the other parts of the museum. They did, although, I was not the graceful mother I wanted to be. Every transition from one exhibit to another was a major feat. I wanted to be like that mother over there... the one with the tight size 4 jeans, sexy boots, turtle neck and metro beret cap, the one with four obedient children AND their play dates all going when she requested in a calm voice. The same mom who had the perfect stroller that could turn on a dime and looked like she just came fresh faced from the Sephora counter. I wanted to be a mom like this:


Instead, I was more like this mom:

... a sweating screaming tired psycho-mom who just wanted her girls to have a good time, damnit.

As my cell phone rang, I was wishing it was Fred telling me his conference got out early and he was on his way to pick us up. Instead, it was Fred just checking in. I gave him the Cliff-note version of our experience and he told me he would come pick us up in an hour.


Apparently, the fairy god mother forgot to tell us we needed to leave the city before the strike of ten or else everything would turn into a pumpkin.

And that by the three o'clock hour, the glass slippers shoes would be kicked off and fly around the museum, and the pumpkins would be more like this:


But luckily, our Prince Charming Daddy arrived right out front, drove us out of the windy city, bought us ice cream and...

... we all lived happily ever after.

The End. To Be Continued...

There's a Weird Monster in the Pool

I can remember the first time I noticed my daughter being bullied and teased. She was five years old and she had autism, although I didn't know at the time.

We were taking a mini family vacation, staying in a hotel with a pool. Her younger sister was just beginning to walk and I was enjoying being a mom holding my one year old in the water with me playing motor boat with her. The sun was warm and its glare was somewhat blinding. Although not blinding enough for me to see my daughter, Sienna playing monster with the other kids in the shallow end. I was watching like an eagle and wanted to dip down, pick her up and protect her from the mean things the other children were saying to her and about her. I am not sure if she even noticed.

Sienna had blonde curls that perked up from the splashing waters. Her expressive blue eyes, round as saucers could tell a stories without her muttering a word. Strangers would often tell us how beautiful she was when we were out shopping or at the park. That is, when she wasn't throwing a tantrum of course! There she was, enjoying the summer day in the clean hotel pool. She was splashing around all snug in the inter-tube she called "Dragon."

And she was pretending to be a dragon too. She would hiss, growl, show her bare teeth towards all the other kids while they would run away from her, screaming. One little girl ran towards the small group of moms while we were all holding our babies together talking about how well our baby naps and eats. I heard her tell her mom, "That girl is so weird. She is like a monster!"

I couldn't detect if the girl was afraid or disgusted towards my little girl, but one thing was sure, I was in shock. I didn't know what to do, so I froze. I froze and I watched more closely. Sienna would swim towards a kid, put on a a mean monster stare and growl at him. The little boy didn't know if he should laugh or be scared but wanting to play along he let Sienna chase him. And, Sienna would chase him along with all the other kids in the pool. Holding her hands up, claws out as if to attack, she would run around the shallow end acting like a monster.

In attempt to help Sienna play with the other kids, I gave Sienna pool toys, flippers, balls, little sinking things. All ignored. Trying to distract her, I asked Sienna if she met any new friends. She would just growl at me in hopes I would keep playing monster with her. It was hard to get her out of the monster mode. I tried another approach, I tried sharing the toys with the other kids. I asked if anyone wanted to swim under the water and get the sinking pegs. They would. They would try to be competitive with one another. The same little girl who ran to her mommy earlier asked me what was wrong with my daughter.

Not knowing what to say, I said, "She just likes to pretend a lot. Don't you pretend?"

The little girl said, "Yes, but I think she is weird and she scares me."

Angered and saddened, I decided to get out of the pool. I continued to watch Sienna try to play with the other kids. I watched how the other kids would all get together and bond while making fun of Sienna. They would laugh at her and antagonize her just to watch her chase them.

"Time to go Sienna. Let's get out of the pool, honey."

It was a month after the mini vacation when I took her in to her pediatrician. She would be starting Kindergarden soon and she needed updated medical records. The entire time during the visit, she barked and pretended to be like a dog, albeit, a nice, gentle, loving dog. The doctor came in and I am not sure how the conversation got to the point for the doctor to use the "A" word with me but I will never forget her saying, "There is no doubt in my mind that your daughter has autism." That was July 2, 2007.

This post was motivated by a topic from a blog of a friend of mine. Please visit hellokittiemama at autismsucksrocks.com where she has written a post titled, "Hey Bully, You Suck!"

God Put a Song in My Heart for My Children

When I was pregnant with Sienna, I can remember a song would come up in my head all the time. "Trust in the Lord," or "Proverbs 3" was a song that Six Pence None the Richer released around the time I had first started to call myself a Christian. Several years later, it was a song that started to play in my heart and mind whenever I was nervous or anxious about my pregnancy. That was an important song to me at the time because I was eight months pregnant, working from my office on the 73rd floor of the Sears Tower during 9/11.

"Trust in the Lord, with all of your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all of your ways, acknowledge Him and He will carry you through. Lord, sometimes it gets so tough to keep my eyes on you when things are going rough. But then I lift my eyes up to the skies and I hear your voice. It says to me: Trust in the Lord, with all of your heart..."

This was the same melody my soul clanged onto during the 28 hours of labor and it was the truth I was reminded of when Sienna was taken into NICU right after delivery when the cord was wrapped around her neck and she turned blue. We didn't get to see her for several hours following delivery and we had no idea what was going on.

This is also the song that keeps ringing in my soul throughout the past six years raising a daughter on the autism spectrum with all of her unpredictable mood swings and other special needs. There are many moments that I have no idea how to parent her correctly. I don't know how to soothe her like she needs because she won't allow me to touch her, hold her, hug her or rock her to sleep. "He will carry you through..."

Since school has started earlier this fall, I have seen her stress levels sky rocket and today was one of her most stressful home-from-school-tantrums I have seen! From 3:00 until bed time, her moods were more unpredictable than the DOW Jones. She growled at me throughout the evening, scratched her sister in the bath tub and cried caustically as she banged her head on the wall or slapped herself in the face.

Miraculously, I was able to get the both girls down to bed. As I was tucking Sarah in, I sang to her the love song that God put in my heart for her ever since she was in the womb. That song is from Psalm 51 and it is a hymnal called, "Create in Me a Clean Heart." She is only two years old so I am not really sure why that song was selected for Sarah but I do know that God has branded that one on my heart just for her.

I then ventured to Sienna's bedroom. I knelt at her bed side. I softly touched her forehead and caressed her bangs ever so gently. I whispered, "Have I ever told you about the song God put in my heart when he created you?" She looked so sad but at this very moment, sighed a breath of redemption and held her tears back. I explained how much the song had helped me when I was scared or anxious or stressed when I was pregnant, "Whenever things get rough or tough, I pray this song in my heart and soul." I sang it to her and she smiled at me, softly and peacefully. We connected, both with one another and together with God.

Invitation Part II

Yesterday after church Sienna and I were cleaning up after lunch. I asked her if she got to talk to her friend Alice at church. Alice is a tiny little sweetie, quiet and tender hearted and every time I see Alice I can tell that Sienna and Alice have a special friendship. I don't know too much about Alice because Sienna doesn't say much about her.

I usually will try to ask Sienna about her day by asking things like, "Who did you sit by at lunch?" or "Who did you play with at recess today." And, I know they are friends because she usually replies with either, "Alice" or "no one." I have tried to invite Alice over for a play date but her mother seemed over protective. I thought perhaps it was because I asked too early last year while the girls were in Kindergarten. Alice was a no-show for Sienna's pony party last year too.

Yesterday, I saw Alice walk in the church with her mommy and as she looked over at Sienna, her eyes danced and she smiled and tried to wave but she was still holding her mom's hand. I could tell that brief engagement soothed Sienna's nerves if only for a minute while we were newbies in a new church on a new morning of new routines for Sienna. So, after lunch yesterday Sienna was telling me that Alice talks about her mom a lot. I tried to pry a bit, "Is her mom nice?"

Sienna tried brushing this conversation off. But, for the first time I got her to start talking and I was NOT going to back down! "Does Alice not like her mommy?"

Sienna shrugged, "No, her mom doesn't like me."

My eyes widened. I tried to maintain my coolness as Sienna can pick up on any of my excitement or anger and she easily shuts down so I froze while she continued. "She thinks I am mean to Alice. That is why Alice can never come over to a play date or my party." Then, she pretended it didn't bother her and ran off to make homemade parachutes for her Pet Shoppes toys.

I on the other hand felt the weight fall on my head like I was in a Road Runner cartoon. My eyes turned into number signs and smoke came out of my ears.

How dare that mom not allow our girls to be friends. Can't she just give them a chance? Alice is the only girl that I have noticed that really loves and accepts my daughter. I am sure that Sienna has shown her true colors and has probably gotten easily angered towards Alice but Sienna also has a plethora of gifts and she can be warm and kind. If Alice's mom understood what our struggles were I wonder if she would work with us. Should I call her mom and try to set up something organized? Should I say by-gones and let time take it's course.

Deep breath. One day at a time.

Sunday Scribbling: Invitation

When I hear about someone having a birthday party I can't help but wonder why my daughter didn't get an invitation. It is always an awkward conversation too. It is like my friend will mention something that happened at the party assuming that we knew about the party and then once she sees the look of surprise on my face she'll try to change the subject. I try to act all nonchalant but inside it nags at me. It's not like it has only happened once or twice. She is in the first grade and I know of at least four instances where Sienna was not included to a play date or party of some sort.

What is wrong with you people? Do you think that my daughter is too hyper and she will be disruptive? Are you worried that she is contagious? Don't our kids connect? Does your child not like my daughter? Do the parents not like me?

But the most bitter thought I have is: Does my daughter know and does she care?

Because, if she doesn't care, then that means that she is oblivious to the social scene. Part of that notion is OK, but part of that is a problem because it is like she doesn't connect, or attach to friendships. I know she is lonely.

So, if she does care and she knows about the party her other classmates were invited to but she was not, then how do I explain that to her when I don't even understand?

Sure, I can pretend it doesn't matter and try to redirect her. But she is very intelligent and she will see right through me.

Her birthday is coming soon. Last year, she invited her entire class plus other kids too. We had a pony rides in our back yard. Maybe I went overboard. Maybe that is why the kids don't invite her because they think we are show-offs. I don't know.

I do know this. I want my daughter to know that she is loved and welcomed. I want her to feel like she is part of a group other than her own family. I want her to have sleep overs and send notes to her girlfriends between classes. I want her to get invitations to parties and play dates. I want her to enjoy her childhood.

Tantrum: Typical or Not?

Most of the time I have no idea why my daughters start a tantrum. It is usually only in hind sight, I can hypothesize what led up to the tantrum although, I never know accurately why or what instigated the revolting reactions known as The Tantrum.

Before I go on, let me clear up what I am talking about when I say tantrum. Because, a lot of kids have tantrums. They usually throw them when they didn't get their way or maybe when they didn't have enough sleep or are hungry. And, to a stranger, that is what our daughters' tantrums might seem like at the moment. But please, let me elaborate.

Let's take Sienna's tantrum from this evening as an example. Sienna came home from first grade, just as peppy as could be. We got out our Halloween decorations and started placing the pumpkins and scarecrows throughout the house. She was bright-eyed and spunky and at about 4:00 or so, she asked if she could watch some TV. I said no problem and off she went to watch some Hannah Montana.

It was time for dinner around 5:00. We typically eat at the dining hall where Fred teaches school. Fred quietly and gently announced to Sienna that we would be leaving for dinner in a few minutes and then, What? What just happened?

Sienna starts screaming. She normally loves to go to the dining hall for dinner but for some reason, tonight, she started screaming, "NO! NO! NO! I don't WANNA go to the dining hall. I don't WANNA go to the dining hall. NO! NO! NO!" Fred walks away and finds me. We both are shelter for one another when this sort of thing happens. I asked him with sarcasm, "What did you do to her?" He replies, "I just told her we were going to dinner." I could hear her wailing upstairs, screaming the same phrase over and over. I think that she could be in a heavy metal band with those lyrics. Do they even still have heavy metal bands? I digress...

So, I walk upstairs. I think I can help. WRONG! Nothing I say works. In fact, she tries to kick at me and misses my face by a chin hair. Not that I have chin hairs, I don't.

I walk away, reminding her we will be leaving in five minutes. I also remind her that going to the dining hall isn't a choice but how she behaves is a choice. "Do you think you are making the right choice?" Uh-Oh. Now she's pissed. She crawls after me like I am prey and tugs on my shirt as if she wants to fight. I calmly remove her hand and tell her that I will see her in the van. I tag my husband to take on the next phase with her while I get my other daughter shoed and place her in her car seat. We then wait inside the quiet and safe van. The door to the garage flings open, I think Sienna kicked it open. Fred is carrying her to the van. She is screaming, arms and legs flailing all around. We pull out of the drive way. Same as it ever was... one of my favorite sayings from a Talking Heads song bounces and mumbles around in my brain. These thoughts humor me while I hold steadfast to my own sanity.

I press the button on the sun roof to close it. Her screaming can penetrate through the body of the van and our neighbors don't need the sun roof opened to make the acoustics more clear. Thankfully, it is a quick two minute drive. Normally we would ride bikes but obviously that would be difficult today. We all get out of the van, all but the tantrum-tiger. The students from the private school walk by looking polished and proper and look at us. The faculty also look at us. I am always aware of the public eye watching carefully. I feel judged as if I am a child abuser. I swear to you that I am not. Although, there are times when we lose our tempers and we yell at her. I feel bad about those times because, if you realize and accept that she does have PDD-NOS and how difficult it is for her to maintain and manage her moods, then yelling at her when she struggles like this is equivalent to screaming at a disabled person in a wheelchair to get up and walk. Fred calmly tries to reason, negotiate, bribe. No can do.

She now has gained her composure but she sits stiffened, chin downward, staring at us with her eyes rolled up so all we can see is the whites of her eyes. A good look for the album cover of a heavy metal band. Wait... they don't make album covers. I am totally dating myself. I mean, a good look for an iTunes thumbnail... I'm telling you, I have to entertain myself during these crisis situations.

Somehow, we manage to all go into the dining hall. However, Sienna remains at the door, as if to make a statement to remind us she didn't want to come to the dining hall. She sits on the floor and then starts to growl and scream. "I WANNA GO HOME. I WANNA GO HOME. I WANNA GO HOME."

A nice lady from our community who volunteers at the private school walks by and says, "Well, sometimes you just have to ignore it." This nice lady also happens to be a Kindergarten teacher from Sienna's school. The same school that claims that nothing is wrong with my daughter. She shows no sign of autism or any other pervasive developmental problems at the school and that, "only the mother must need parenting classes and counseling." This is a phrase that the school's psychologist shared with my husband before our case conference last year. This phrase haunts me daily - and sometimes at night it wakes me up from a deep sleep.

We eat, put our dishes on the rack. Luckily, there were only a total of six of us in the dining hall tonight so we weren't too embarrassed. We are able to bribe Sienna to get in the van with a cookie. She of course was supposed to get in control by the time we got home. But she didn't gain control, so she lost her chance with the cookie. Good thing, because I need all the comfort food I can get right now. Sienna stomps in the house then starts hitting her head saying, "I'm a bad girl. I'm a bad girl..." Over and over again.

Is this typical? People say, "Well, all kids have tantrums right? Your kids are just normal. Maybe they are hungry, or tired or maybe you just expect too much from them or you don't discipline them enough."

Do you really think that the tantrum that I just described in this story is typical? It is for us. It is a typical tantrum. It happens when we don't expect it and then they don't happen when we might expect it. I am living on the edge of the unknown every minute of the day with both my daughters. I could share a typical tantrum that my two year who is also on the spectrum does too. I will save that for another post...

What makes our family dynamics more challenging is that our family and friends don't accept our issues as atypical. We aren't allowed to talk about it, get any sympathy for it, any respite. We are constantly judged by the public when we try to run errands. We don't do anything for fun anymore because something might go wrong. So, we stay home. We don't even go to church any more. Talk about the worst place to feel judged as a parent! Then we are judged because we are told that we don't expose the girls to enough that we don't go out enough. It is a never ending problem that every person we know is trying to suggest or give advice. Until you walk in my shoes, don't judge a mom with children on the spectrum. If you know someone who has a child on the spectrum, don't try to fix it. Don't try to minimize it.

And, a public message brought to you by a mom on the verge to losing her mind:

If a child has been diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder, they cannot out grow it. It is not something that the parents did to them to cause it, and it is not contagious. Remember this.

Chicken Soup for a Mom's Soul (Autism Spectrum Style!)

Today was a Chicken Soup for a Mother's Soul moment that I must share!

You may recall from earlier posts that my daughter is somewhat klutzy. She is so aware with every bug crawling on every leaf around her that she doesn't look right in front of her as she walks, or in the case from this morning rides her bike. She had just snapped on her helmet and wrapped a scarf around the bike seat since it was cold to the touch to her and started on her way to school. As lil sis, Sarah and I stood at the door way, we blew kisses and said our bye byes. During one of my blinks, the bike went horizontal and Sienna let our her whale cry. I ran towards her, barefoot and bra-less for all the parents dropping their kids off at school across the street to see. From the panic of Sienna's cry, I was looking for a head that might have been decapitated. At the very least, I expected some bone to be poking out or blood guzzling into the lawn. Luckily, the cry had just been totally exaggerated a little "over the top."

Sienna sat there on the driveway, tears gushing. I helped her stand then she gimped towards our front door. I could hear a little girl's voice shout from across the street, "Sienna, are you ok?" as I closed the door and helped her sit on the chair right inside our foyer. Grabbing three Band-aids, I hoped I could "fix" the situation and get her to school without another tardy this year.

She insisted on putting all three of the Band-aids on herself. There were no scrapes or scratches or dents. She placed them carefully one on each knee and one on her shin. I told her that she still had plenty of time to walk to school. She told me that she was seriously injured and couldn't even walk. GEEZ MOM, DUH!

I responded, well, you have plenty of time to hobble and limp down the street to the cross guard. "Take your time sweetheart," I replied, ushering her to the door. I gently helped her down the porch. reminded her how brave I thought she was and said my second farewell. As she grabbed every thing she could hold onto, she slowly made it down the drive way, then, on the sidewalk, then, hop hop down the sidewalk very very slowly. As I chuckled inside at her thespian performance, I noticed two young girls across the street shouting at Sienna. They started walking away from the school, parallel with Sienna, cheering her on. I then watched Sienna cross the street and meet up with the girls. They both helped her carry her back pack and hold her hands as she waddled along.

Little tears blurred the heavenly vision for just a moment. This was something I had never seen with my own eyes before. Sienna had friends!!! Real, breathing, walking, talking and supportive friends - not just "nap buddies" (stuffed animals) or our pug, Clio to keep her company and hunt for bugs.

How sweet this morning was to me! Any of you other moms out there with children on the spectrum know how special this moment is I am sure! Thank you God for putting friends like that to help Sienna carry her load today.

Letting Go of the IEP

The case conference for Sienna is in five days.

I keep going back and forth on what my position will be during this conference. It was a year ago when we had our first case conference at Laketown Elementary. It was then that they had told me that the school's psychologist did not see anything in my daughter that would support our independent diagnoses and the previous school's IEP that we had brought along from Chicago. The IEP process in Chicago was so different than Laketown. In Chicago, the school system held my hand and partnered with our family. I safely trusted their opinions. Now, I am in a rural town. They are clueless about autism spectrum disorders. After digesting book after book and Googling the hell out of Autism, Asperger's, PDD-NOS, ADHD, Mood Disorders, Sensory Integration, Sensory Overload, Hyperlexia, Co-Morbidity, and the like, I am still a clueless parent when it comes to my own kids. I try to understand my rights as a parent, I try to remember conflict resolution, I try to realize my daughter's needs in the classroom. I am flying by the seat of my pants trying to parent my own children in the home, failing most of the time. It is impossible for me to educate and lead the school to help my daughter in the classroom, especially when they claim they don't see anything out of the ordinary.

The school's diagnosis stated that they didn't see anything that resembled autism. The psychologist suggested that I find counseling and parenting classes to help our conflict in the home. Sienna's Kindergarten teacher mentioned to me by email that she was so sad for Sienna. She suggested that Sienna was typical and the only thing wrong with her was that I had taken her to too many doctors for too many tests and that would result in a couple of sad days for her. She was referring the the week we had last spring when I couldn't get my five year old out of bed. She had no fever and no other illness that I could detect other than, dare I say it, depression. That saddens my heart to see my own daughter so limp that she isn't able to sit up to eat.

At our first case conference last fall, when they told me that nothing was wrong with my daughter, I was excited and more than ready to sign on the dotted line! "What? Nothing is wrong with Sienna?! Great!!! Coom-by-ya!" With pen in hand, I recalled a tip that I read on line about never agreeing or signing anything during an IEP meeting. Always take it home and sleep on it. That I did. And, but that night I had trouble sleeping. My youngest daughter was having a difficult night sleeping and whenever I would try to console her, I remembered what that counselor said about my parenting. I felt broken and nothing I did or didn't do could console my youngest. In fact, nothing I did or didn't do seemed right when I was trying to comfort Sienna all those sleepless nights during her infancy and toddler-hood.

The school seems to handle Sienna well. Sienna has been thriving since we have moved here. She gets in a high abilities program because she tested at the 99th percentile in reading and math. She has gotten 100s on her spelling tests. And, when asked, none of the recess aides or special ed or classroom teachers see anything out of the ordinary. They see a spunky, creative quirky styled little girl. And, isn't that what I want them to see?

Last year I spent so much energy fighting the case conference team. I turned my wheels in trying to convince them that something was wrong with her. I have decided that I don't want to do that any more. And, my therapist agrees so does my husband. On Monday, when we go in for our next case conference, they will most likely tell me again that Sienna doesn't need any services. That she is 'not eligible' for services. I think I will smile and simply say, "Her professional medical diagnoses, both privately submitted and the assessment acquired through the independent evaluation state that she has diagnoses that would allow services based on the IDEA. However, I agree that with all the intervention that we have been working on in the home in the past four years, Sienna is now thriving. We do have some goals for her that we would like your help with in the social arena for her and if I may consult with the teacher and counselor from time to time, I would appreciate that." And let it go. Let the school do what they need to.

Afterall, I have a two year old who stays home with me who is on the autism spectrum. I need to reserve my energy for her. I can't lead the school in helping them recognize the early signs of Asperger's. I used to tell myself that God called me to this town to help the other parents who couldn't help themselves win the fight with the school system in helping their children on the spectrum. But I can now hardly manage my own family let alone advocate for the entire town. In God I trust.

Why Does God Allow Boo-Boos?

Some of you may recall a post I wrote earlier about Sienna falling off of her bike and what a typical boo-boo drama brings to our family. Sienna has been having a difficult time dealing with her new boo-boo. We can distract her from it most of the time but there are those moments when she obsesses about it. I think for a child on the spectrum, boo-boos can send a blip through the nervous system.

Sienna asked me this morning, "Momma, why does God give us boo-boos?"

I replied, "God doesn't give us boo-boos, but he allows us to have them so that we become stronger."

Anyone else have another answer? Please comment!

Ambition is a Virtue?

When did people stop thinking of ambition as a sin and start thinking of it as a virtue?

This was a quote from a movie we watched last night, "The Other Boleyn Girl." I have struggled with ambition my entire life. In fact, I was raised to believe that if I wasn't ambitious, then I was lazy. And lazy was a sin! I would cram all sorts of activities and sports and social outings into my schedule. I never had time to breathe or think.

That belief system was only fueled more once I entered into my career. It was because of this ambition, I wasn't able to enjoy being a woman or being pregnant. Anything that slowed me down was not an asset but a liability. Being pregnant brought along morning sickness and big frumpy clothes. This only put my once fast track career path on a slow detour. I had my eyes on the prize and pregnancy did not become me. The prized package I had my focus fixed upon was filled with nice designer clothes, hot of the racks, designer purses and vacations to places that some people couldn't pronounce, new clients with the top 100 Fortune 500 companies and invitations to the hottest weddings and fund raisers. I believed that to achieve one of these items from this wish list, you had to have all of the items.

I never quite achieved those extravagances. God had another plan for me. He loaned me two beautiful children. He allowed me to name them Sienna and Sarah but he created each hair on their heads and hand crafted the very nature and laughter of both. Both girls are high spirited with bouncy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that can see the bottom of my soul. They are both on the autism spectrum and they raise the bar when it comes to being challenged as a parent. They slow me down. They force me to have true friends who are ever accepting. They remind me that love from the heart is greater than the clothes on our backs. They teach me new things every day about what is important in life.

They have changed my value system that I had clung onto since I was born until they were born. They have made me realize that ambition is not a virtue. I now strive for the fruit of the spirit which I believe are the truest of all virtues. These are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. I want them to bear the fruit in their lives so I am forced to bear these fruits in our home. These virtues do not come easy for me. I was not raised to understand the fruit of the spirit although that is what I truly hungered for as a child. And today as a mother, my ambition is now to slow down and consider the fruit as the prize and legacy to pass down to my children.

A Mommy and Boo Boos

The picture in my mind of a mommy caring for her child when she has a boo boo is seeing the child, sitting on the toilet, seat and lid down of course. The child sobs inhaling a quick one-two breath as a tear falls from her eye onto her leg that is propped up onto the bathroom sink. The mommy has her organized first aid kit ready and applies the antibacterial ointment and then a Band-aid and softly gives the boo-boo a little gentle kiss. The kiss instantly heals both the boo boo and the anxiety of the child as the daughter gets up, says, "Thanks Momma!" and then runs off to play with the harp music fading off in the distance.

OK. So, maybe the harp and the "Thank you" is a little over the top, a girl can dream can't she?!

This girl is learning that what I imagined as a typical mom healing a typical boo-boo to a typical child is merely a fairy tale. As a young toddler, Sienna was very accident prone. She would walk forward, with her head turned backwards and run straight into a glass door knob. She'd panic and scream and run away and hide far away from me. I would try to run to her to console her but then I realized that I just caused more anxiety to her little two year old body and brain that was just learning how to make sense of what just happened. I still get upset when I realize that I can't help my little girl and her boo boos. I have bought all kinds of boo boo packs bulk packaged Band-aids. But, even these don't provide any relief to Sienna when she falls or bumps into things. It is so heart wrenching to be a mom and not be able to comfort my child when she is hurting.

Take yesterday for example. Sienna learned to ride her bike without training wheels last week and we are proud as peacocks for her. She just wheels around and navigates her bike like a six-year-old-on-a-purple-princess-bike-professional. Yesterday as I was getting dinner ready, the front door flew open and I saw Fred holding Sienna like the men held Marilyn Monroe in "Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend." Only, Sienna wasn't draped in diamonds and a red dress, she had her bike helmet on and her butterfly polka dotted sun dress was covered in dust and gravel. She screamed like she was dying so I quickly ran to her. Fred dropped her off on the couch for me to do triage and he left to go get the bikes he had to leave five blocks down the street. Sienna wailed. Her sister Sarah rushed to see what was wrong and started crying at the sheer intensity of it all. I put on my sincere and worry face and asked her what happened. She screamed in a "scratchedy" volume that only a mother could love. It reminded me of the small penguin on Happy Feet, but that is another post for another day.

I told her to try to relax while I sprinted to get my handy dandy first aid kit. OK. So, I am not that organized at all. In fact, the only way I was able to locate a Band-aid was because every time, I mean EVERY time I go to the grocery store or drug store or any store, I buy Band-aids. My daughters go through Band-aids like they go through water. They love Band-aids and tape in fact. Don't ask me, it's a sensory thing... Any way, back to the trauma. So, I grabbed the box of Band-aids and with a leap and a wink I looked Sienna in the eye. I told her I would put a little ointment on the Band-aid and then put it on her knee. You see, with kids on the spectrum, you have to constantly tell them what is happening next. That way, in a world that seems so out of control for them, they are able to have some heads up to what is about to happen next. So, I was just remaining in step with my usual form of communication with Sienna when she let a demonic yelp and appeared as though she was going into convulsions. I tried resting her fears with both hands up to show her I had dropped the weapons, er... I mean the Band-aid and ointment. She then kicked at me, not caring if my face was in the way and shouted, "Get away from me! Get away!" She repeatedly screeched out "No! No! NOOOO!!!!" in a sort of rhythmic chant as if she were being attacked in a horror film.

All I wanted to do was put a Band-aid on. I have never tried using any strong burning antibacterial medicine that might have given her a fear to all future medications. I tried to comfort her with just a wet paper towel which she threw across the room. "How about the soft Nemo boo boo pack?" I gently suggested. Again, "No! No! NOOOOO!" Coupled with a "GO AWAY!!!!!!!"

So, I ushered her little sister and we walked out of the room. I tried to go back to fixing dinner all while Sarah kept asking what was wrong with 'SeeStu." I repeated her question to her with clear pronunciation. Another method I practice in trying to help my two year old's speech. I said, "What is wrong with Sister?" Ummmm....

That my friends is a loaded question! Oh, where do I begin?

And today, I leave you with this quote, "I just want to be a mommy who kisses her little girl's boo boo when she falls off of her princess bike. That's all I want. Is that too much to ask?

Somewhere

Somewhere, there is a mom who has a child with Autism.

This mom could be your cousin or niece, a neighbor, lady at church or in front of you at the grocery store. You might run in to her at a soccer game or at a new mom's play group in the neighborhood...

For full view, click here >>>

8 Things I have learned on Jon and Kate + 8

One of my favorite shows is Jon and Kate + 8. I enjoy the personalities of Jon and Kate and their little children. I cry and laugh, but most of all, I learn a lot from it. And, being a mom to two children on the autism spectrum, I need all the encouragement and parent tips I can get!

Here are the top eight things the Gosselins have taught me:

1. Free tummy tucks do come true.

2. If Kate can take 8 kids to a boutique to paint pottery, then maybe I can take my 2 kids too.

3. There is a family out there with more shoes that we have.

4. Monkey Bread is reserved for Christmas mornings only.

5. Each child needs his or her own special day alone with the parents every year.

6. Having the kids sweep after dinner "may only pick up a couple of crumbs, but that is still better than no crumbs."

7. No matter how much I want more kids, seeing the clip of Kate's pregnant stomach is the best type of birth control ever!

8. You can still be a cool mom like Kate and not feed your kids SunnyDelight and fruit snacks.