I breathe in, I breathe out. I pinch myself and it hurts, on the verge of feeling pleasant as my mind stops racing to acknowledge physical pain. I must be alive, right? I'm checking in from the ... I want to write abyss but that's not right. My life is the opposite of void. It is a bottomless pit filled with pandemonium. Almost like I'm chained to the wall in the middle of Alice's Rabbit Hole. Yes, that's it. I'm Alice, floating in an endless Rabbit Hole yet chained to life's responsibilities, an invisible chain created in my mind feeding off the endless feedback from society, pushing mothers and their children to be smarter, faster, better so they can win ... what race? Pushing mothers and wives to lose the weight, look perfect, never fart, be housewife and whore. Part of me wants to fully support my family, pushing whatever is left of me aside, part of me wants to run for the hills and part of me knows it will never be enough. What a happy pie graph filled with glitter and rainbows.
Man I sound crazy.
Since last I wrote my twins are on the verge of their third birthdays - 17 days. Where has the time gone? Some parents think, "Oh my! Time flies!" However, I can't grasp that philosophy. Time flies but you're traveling in mud.
In mid-June, my autistic son went from therapy twice a week to therapy Monday to Friday. It was a summer program at his school with ABA, speech and occupational therapy as well as swim lessons. He was thriving in school so I figured why not? I want to take advantage of every service offered, within reason, especially when the insurance is footing the bill and time ticks down until he starts Kindergarten. His twin and I will figure out something to do during his school hours, I figured, so away we went.
We also returned to the prestigious institute where he was diagnosed with autism for a food therapy evaluation. Basically he eats milk, cheese, fries, an occasional chicken nugget, carbs like pretzels and chips, applesauce, cookies, Cheerios, pancakes, gummies ... I just want to get a damn vegetable into the boy. So, a group of quacks evaluated and concluded he needed therapy either once a week or once every two weeks. That would mean me driving to their offices two hours one way, offices that are surrounded by not-so-nice neighborhoods.
So, after talking with folks at his school, we decided my son could start eating lunch there and they could help him instead of carting my crazy train all across the state. It was a hard choice - do I take advantage of every opportunity or do I follow my intuition? What if they could have helped him better than his school? What if the sun dies out tomorrow? What if I get hit by a thunderbolt right now for all my bad thoughts? What if a pit opens up in the floor and Satan pops out and starts dancing? Gosh I am crazy.
One son at school, another at the playground, the park, the beach, the library, the store ... wherever they will let our wild asses go without costing an arm and a leg.
When it came time for the summer camp to end, his therapists suggested he continue daily, but instead of three hours a day he moved to five. So, here I am with a son in a special school for autism from morning to mid-afternoon five days a week.
My boys still get services through the Infant & Toddlers Program in our county but you get what you pay for when it comes to therapy. My autistic son gets OT, Speech, Development and PT through the school system in addition to his private school. As for his brother, I am doing a program through the school system to learn how to handle his ... enthusiastic temperament, aka Dennis the Menace. I think the title is Positive Solutions For Families. How flowery. I want to get him into some sort of preschool program, where they can deal with his inability to listen and follow directions, etc. but money rules everything around me and I ain't got none.
So, I'm alive. I took a shower yesterday, so that's positive. My legs aren't too hairy, I drink too much wine, I'm tired, I need to get a job so my one son can go to preschool but I haven't worked for years and have no skills other than madness. So, there's that.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Friday, May 27, 2016
2.5 Year Old Fraternal Twin Boys - Girl You So Cray
I am a stay-at-home mother of 2.5 year old fraternal twin boys. Well, I try not to actually stay in our home because if I did I would go insane from the evils of Cabin Fever. Well ... maybe I already suffer from a bout of insanity because it's said the insane don't recognize they are insane.
And no, I don't mean the Insanity workout the hens tweet and Facebook pictures of themselves doing, sweaty and breathless, desperately seeking confidence from outsiders so they can continue their lonely, sad existence. You exercised. Congratulations. No one cares except you and that isn't enough because you're pathetic.
Can you tell I'm a little burnt out? Little crispy, weary and worn out? Maybe I'm crazy. Like a mix of Gnarls Barkley "Crazy" and Disturbed's "Asylum" crazy - a dancing clown suppressing darkness.
Sound like mom of the year, right? I think I'm realistic, which is hard to come by among moms these days. When you think of a good mother, what comes to mind? Your mom? June Cleaver? Lois Griffin? Tommy DeVito's mom in "Goodfellas?" Beverly Sutphin in "Serial Mom?" Definitely not Margaret White in "Carrie" but you catch my drift.
My boys are happy and healthy. We joined a Monday morning playgroup, my autistic son gets therapy twice a week in a school setting (which my husband and I jumped through hoops for - therapy and the diagnosis itself), they both receive therapy through the school system for delays, when the weather is nice we go to the park, I take them to the library and grocery shopping even though they act like rabid skunks while there, we only watch "Sesame Street" when we watch TV, I feed them mostly healthy foods and milk or watered down juice, I don't spank and try not to yell, I don't cuss in front of them, they are healthy, well-fed and happy with a regular nap and bedtime schedule. They live in a reliable and warm environment. I don't shoehorn my needs before theirs like taking them to inappropriate places or making them do things they're not ready for just so I can do what I want.
So my insides are possibly blackened from delirium and I drink wine every night and don't always eat as well as I should but, at the end of the day, I'm doing my best. Isn't that what makes a good mom? Whatever your best may be, you're doing it and you're doing it well - not like fake-ass LL Cool J but like a human being.
Why can't moms be real? Why can't we say our kids can be frustrating? Why can't we say we don't enjoy most of it? I'm not having the time of my life right now. Yeah, when one of my boys reaches for me, hugs me and leans his head on my shoulder - it's one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had in my lifetime. When he won't go to sleep at bedtime and drives my husband and I crazy for 1-2 hours kicking the walls, terrorizing his brother, trying to get naked, breaking shit in his room, crying over nothing - no I don't enjoy this. I don't like changing diapers, watching motherfucking Elmo, cleaning up messes, listening to drama, taking care of two creatures who don't listen and don't respect my authority, etc. Why am I expected to like this? It's still taboo to not like your kids and express this viewpoint. Hell, it's still taboo for people to not want to have kids. It may be 2016 but the majority of people still one way or another expect you to get a job, get married and have kids (in whatever order). If you don't have kids we think you're selfish - or my husband and I are secretly jealous of you free time and lifestyle.
No I don't want to give my kids back. Yes I love them unconditionally. But why can't I say that it sucks?
And no, I don't mean the Insanity workout the hens tweet and Facebook pictures of themselves doing, sweaty and breathless, desperately seeking confidence from outsiders so they can continue their lonely, sad existence. You exercised. Congratulations. No one cares except you and that isn't enough because you're pathetic.
Can you tell I'm a little burnt out? Little crispy, weary and worn out? Maybe I'm crazy. Like a mix of Gnarls Barkley "Crazy" and Disturbed's "Asylum" crazy - a dancing clown suppressing darkness.
Sound like mom of the year, right? I think I'm realistic, which is hard to come by among moms these days. When you think of a good mother, what comes to mind? Your mom? June Cleaver? Lois Griffin? Tommy DeVito's mom in "Goodfellas?" Beverly Sutphin in "Serial Mom?" Definitely not Margaret White in "Carrie" but you catch my drift.
My boys are happy and healthy. We joined a Monday morning playgroup, my autistic son gets therapy twice a week in a school setting (which my husband and I jumped through hoops for - therapy and the diagnosis itself), they both receive therapy through the school system for delays, when the weather is nice we go to the park, I take them to the library and grocery shopping even though they act like rabid skunks while there, we only watch "Sesame Street" when we watch TV, I feed them mostly healthy foods and milk or watered down juice, I don't spank and try not to yell, I don't cuss in front of them, they are healthy, well-fed and happy with a regular nap and bedtime schedule. They live in a reliable and warm environment. I don't shoehorn my needs before theirs like taking them to inappropriate places or making them do things they're not ready for just so I can do what I want.
So my insides are possibly blackened from delirium and I drink wine every night and don't always eat as well as I should but, at the end of the day, I'm doing my best. Isn't that what makes a good mom? Whatever your best may be, you're doing it and you're doing it well - not like fake-ass LL Cool J but like a human being.
Why can't moms be real? Why can't we say our kids can be frustrating? Why can't we say we don't enjoy most of it? I'm not having the time of my life right now. Yeah, when one of my boys reaches for me, hugs me and leans his head on my shoulder - it's one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had in my lifetime. When he won't go to sleep at bedtime and drives my husband and I crazy for 1-2 hours kicking the walls, terrorizing his brother, trying to get naked, breaking shit in his room, crying over nothing - no I don't enjoy this. I don't like changing diapers, watching motherfucking Elmo, cleaning up messes, listening to drama, taking care of two creatures who don't listen and don't respect my authority, etc. Why am I expected to like this? It's still taboo to not like your kids and express this viewpoint. Hell, it's still taboo for people to not want to have kids. It may be 2016 but the majority of people still one way or another expect you to get a job, get married and have kids (in whatever order). If you don't have kids we think you're selfish - or my husband and I are secretly jealous of you free time and lifestyle.
No I don't want to give my kids back. Yes I love them unconditionally. But why can't I say that it sucks?
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Two Year Old Fraternal Twins: Mombie Madness
I have not posted since May 2015 - 10 months and counting. I could have gotten knocked up and had another hellion by now! Excuse me while I fist pump and breathe a sigh of relief!
So, my fraternal twin boys are closing in on two-and-a-half years old. I gave up counting months after their second birthday because it was getting ridiculous.
I just read over my last post (thank you Constance for commenting!) and it seems like a lifetime ago. It's the same crazy ballgame, I'm the same crazy umpire but it's a different inning.
My boys have been receiving therapy through the local school system for developmental delays. They both started with speech and developmental therapy for speech delays and help with fine motor movement, etc. The program is a year long and then there's a reevaluation to see if the child needs to stay in the program or "graduate." Baby B is set for graduation in a few months as he's talking up a storm - we can almost have a conversation. He needs to work on staying on task but what 2 year old doesn't? He's definitely deep into the terrible 2's (and from what I've heard 3's is worse! Pass the vodka) but that's normal.
On the other hand, Baby A has a long road ahead of him. Don't get me wrong, he's made great strides. He went from basically non-verbal (not babbling) to having a handful of words. His fine motor skills improved, he's learned some sign language and he follows simple directions. Soon after therapy started it was evident he was troubled with something more than just simple delays. He soon received an evaluation by an occupational therapist and it was determined he has sensory processing disorder and proprioceptive disorder. Basically he needs to move more than others and he's a bit clumsy.
While I have seen great progress with speech and development, his occupational therapy was nice but I didn't see much in the way of results. He was still constantly moving, still clumsy, still in his own world - a lovable loner yearning for sensory input. When I took him for his 2-year check up, his pediatrician strongly suggested an evaluation by a certified institution specializing in children with delays.
So, long story short he got an evaluation by a doctor. Then another by a speech language pathologist. Then another by an audiologist. Then another by a developmental pediatrician. Each doctor kept seeing things in him that needed another opinion by someone more knowledgable. Finally my husband and I were told that our beautiful, happy, sweet boy has autism.
I would be lying if I said I was over the news. I have come to terms with the news. I mourned my son for a while, I mourned the life I thought he would have and the person I thought he would have become. Then I realized this is who he is - he has autism. He runs around, typically in his own little world, smiling, laughing, obsessing on letters and numbers, holding on to random objects for hours at a time. He's socially awkward but not a hermit. There's nothing different about him but now we have a name for the sometimes troubling things he does. That's the hardest thing to come to terms with - he hasn't changed. He's still Baby A. He still loves the letter P, the number 2 and Elmo. He loves to count and read "Five Little Monkeys." He hasn't changed. I randomly remind myself he has autism. Life is so busy I often forget and then it hits me and I go, "Oh yeah. Well ... so what?"
So, as Pete the Cat says, I am still walking along and singing my song. We joined a local playgroup for some socialization (for ME and the boys!) and have been trying to get out more - thanks to the weather and the Brica By-My-Side Harness Backpack - I know, a freaking leash! But I'm telling you it has been a lifesaver. I get some crazy-ass looks (especially since I live in a very small town) but now we are mobile! Mobile and safe! They still manage to terrorize the local library and cause a scene every single damn time we go in there but there's only so many items you can buy on Amazon!
Baby B is going to start Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy soonish (if insurance can get with the program) as suggested by his developmental pediatrician. My new motto is: you never know until you try. I've heard good and bad things about ABA, as I've heard good and bad things about most everything in life, but I owe it to him to give it a go and see if it helps him thrive. He recently received a physical therapy evaluation and will start therapy to address low tone, which is a whole new can of worms I am NOT going to google and drive myself crazy over. His therapist recommended swimming so my big butt dons a skirted mom-suit every Monday night and Baby A and I hit the pool for the Water Babies class.
Honestly I don't know how I feel about Baby A having autism and various delays. He has five therapists and he's only 2! I have twins, one with autism and I have to be his advocate (something I have had to deal with many times already ... story for another day) so, needless to say, my cup runneth over. I don't want to try to put it into words because I won't do my feelings or him justice. I am feeling all the feelings and I love him very much so let's change the subject ...
My better half and I are trying to lose weight. He less than me (isn't that always the case ladies?!) but still it's a struggle. Losing weight - whether 5 or 50 lbs - is never easy, especially when you have twins! That was actually supposed to be the theme for this long overdue post but I got to talking about the main attraction - my sons! - and got lost as I am prone to do since they literally take up my entire day every day. However, it hit me that I have been trying to lose weight since 1995. Twenty-one years of gaining, losing, emotionally eating, fad diets, cleanses, letting myself go, new workout programs, a twin pregnancy where I gained 75 pounds ... that's crazy.
The boys are going to be 3 in October so I can't blame it on baby weight anymore. It's hard to find motivation lately because life is so chaotic and emotionally draining so I am trying to focus on eating healthier and getting more exercise because I will feel better and be a better mom and wife. I need to fuel my body. Now, I get my damn cheat meal (more like a day) on the weekend! That's non-negotiable but I need to work on actually deserving the cheat - which means stop randomly cheating during the week!
I'm a mombie - a mom zombie - but as I tell my boys often, "We're getting it done. It may not be pretty but we are getting it done!" What's "it?" I have no idea just as I have no idea what I'm doing!
So, my fraternal twin boys are closing in on two-and-a-half years old. I gave up counting months after their second birthday because it was getting ridiculous.
I just read over my last post (thank you Constance for commenting!) and it seems like a lifetime ago. It's the same crazy ballgame, I'm the same crazy umpire but it's a different inning.
My boys have been receiving therapy through the local school system for developmental delays. They both started with speech and developmental therapy for speech delays and help with fine motor movement, etc. The program is a year long and then there's a reevaluation to see if the child needs to stay in the program or "graduate." Baby B is set for graduation in a few months as he's talking up a storm - we can almost have a conversation. He needs to work on staying on task but what 2 year old doesn't? He's definitely deep into the terrible 2's (and from what I've heard 3's is worse! Pass the vodka) but that's normal.
On the other hand, Baby A has a long road ahead of him. Don't get me wrong, he's made great strides. He went from basically non-verbal (not babbling) to having a handful of words. His fine motor skills improved, he's learned some sign language and he follows simple directions. Soon after therapy started it was evident he was troubled with something more than just simple delays. He soon received an evaluation by an occupational therapist and it was determined he has sensory processing disorder and proprioceptive disorder. Basically he needs to move more than others and he's a bit clumsy.
While I have seen great progress with speech and development, his occupational therapy was nice but I didn't see much in the way of results. He was still constantly moving, still clumsy, still in his own world - a lovable loner yearning for sensory input. When I took him for his 2-year check up, his pediatrician strongly suggested an evaluation by a certified institution specializing in children with delays.
So, long story short he got an evaluation by a doctor. Then another by a speech language pathologist. Then another by an audiologist. Then another by a developmental pediatrician. Each doctor kept seeing things in him that needed another opinion by someone more knowledgable. Finally my husband and I were told that our beautiful, happy, sweet boy has autism.
I would be lying if I said I was over the news. I have come to terms with the news. I mourned my son for a while, I mourned the life I thought he would have and the person I thought he would have become. Then I realized this is who he is - he has autism. He runs around, typically in his own little world, smiling, laughing, obsessing on letters and numbers, holding on to random objects for hours at a time. He's socially awkward but not a hermit. There's nothing different about him but now we have a name for the sometimes troubling things he does. That's the hardest thing to come to terms with - he hasn't changed. He's still Baby A. He still loves the letter P, the number 2 and Elmo. He loves to count and read "Five Little Monkeys." He hasn't changed. I randomly remind myself he has autism. Life is so busy I often forget and then it hits me and I go, "Oh yeah. Well ... so what?"
So, as Pete the Cat says, I am still walking along and singing my song. We joined a local playgroup for some socialization (for ME and the boys!) and have been trying to get out more - thanks to the weather and the Brica By-My-Side Harness Backpack - I know, a freaking leash! But I'm telling you it has been a lifesaver. I get some crazy-ass looks (especially since I live in a very small town) but now we are mobile! Mobile and safe! They still manage to terrorize the local library and cause a scene every single damn time we go in there but there's only so many items you can buy on Amazon!
Baby B is going to start Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy soonish (if insurance can get with the program) as suggested by his developmental pediatrician. My new motto is: you never know until you try. I've heard good and bad things about ABA, as I've heard good and bad things about most everything in life, but I owe it to him to give it a go and see if it helps him thrive. He recently received a physical therapy evaluation and will start therapy to address low tone, which is a whole new can of worms I am NOT going to google and drive myself crazy over. His therapist recommended swimming so my big butt dons a skirted mom-suit every Monday night and Baby A and I hit the pool for the Water Babies class.
Honestly I don't know how I feel about Baby A having autism and various delays. He has five therapists and he's only 2! I have twins, one with autism and I have to be his advocate (something I have had to deal with many times already ... story for another day) so, needless to say, my cup runneth over. I don't want to try to put it into words because I won't do my feelings or him justice. I am feeling all the feelings and I love him very much so let's change the subject ...
My better half and I are trying to lose weight. He less than me (isn't that always the case ladies?!) but still it's a struggle. Losing weight - whether 5 or 50 lbs - is never easy, especially when you have twins! That was actually supposed to be the theme for this long overdue post but I got to talking about the main attraction - my sons! - and got lost as I am prone to do since they literally take up my entire day every day. However, it hit me that I have been trying to lose weight since 1995. Twenty-one years of gaining, losing, emotionally eating, fad diets, cleanses, letting myself go, new workout programs, a twin pregnancy where I gained 75 pounds ... that's crazy.
The boys are going to be 3 in October so I can't blame it on baby weight anymore. It's hard to find motivation lately because life is so chaotic and emotionally draining so I am trying to focus on eating healthier and getting more exercise because I will feel better and be a better mom and wife. I need to fuel my body. Now, I get my damn cheat meal (more like a day) on the weekend! That's non-negotiable but I need to work on actually deserving the cheat - which means stop randomly cheating during the week!
I'm a mombie - a mom zombie - but as I tell my boys often, "We're getting it done. It may not be pretty but we are getting it done!" What's "it?" I have no idea just as I have no idea what I'm doing!
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