I love to see the...

4 am again...just me this time (well and a little tylenol for teething baby Levi).

So while ago I was headed to the temple.

Before I dropped the kids off at Grandma's, I thought I'd do a little drive-by teaching moment.

So I drove up to the temple (paused the DVD:) and said in my best primary voice, "Look McKye! What do you see?"

I watched him in the review mirror as he carefully looked out his window.
Then his face lit up and I thought ahhhh, here comes one of those little
"it's all worth it moments".

McKye then proudly announced...

"A BUS!!!"

Sure enough, there sat a big orange school bus, right in front of my life-size object lesson.

Now to be fair, he's been a little obsessed with the bus on Doodlebops lately (after I forced it upon him as a more age appropriate alternative to rockin' it out to Blur's Wahoo song all day long:)

"What else do you see?" I prompted.

Well, the temple ain't small, but the kids looked and looked...
I finally resorted to humming
"I love to see the..." to which he clued in and exuberantly declared,

"TemPOH!"

Sometimes I think Heavenly Father has things He wants us to see, learn and understand, but we can only see the buses. Like He wants to me to see the beautiful uniqueness of each of my children and but sometimes all I'm seeing is dishes in the sink. (Granted, I think McKye enjoyed the bus, more than I enjoy dishes, but I think the analogy still works).

Hopefully, today I can see past the buses.

(Well, the tylenol ain't cutting it, Levi wants his mom. So I guess that's it for me.)

Photo by my AMAZING friend and hero Rhonda

A hurler of lightning bolts? nope, just a mom.

It’s late.

But as I try and go to sleep, I’m reviewing the day, trying to think of the good things…

We were on our way home and thunder storm was just starting to charge the sky.

I love thunder storms. One of my favorite childhood memories actually, is everyone piling into the living room, which had the biggest window in the house. The drapes thrown back like curtains on a stage, settling down into our carpeted seats, ready for nature to put on a show.

Drama. Thunderstorms are all about fantastic drama.

So because McKye is a tad dramatic (huh? Where would he get that?) I thought, Hmmm, McKye would love this.

So I paused Tarzan, (cuz my boys can’s seem to make it a block in the car without wanting a DVD)

Pulled over, and told McKye to look out his window.

I was right. He loved it!

The lightening would flash and he would look at me and giggle.
After each flash he call out, “Again! Again”

Then it dawned on me.
He thought I was somehow making the lightening happen.
That he could say “Peeezzz Mahh-mee” and I’d grant him another flash in the sky.

Which, as I laid in bed tonight thinking about what was a fairly mediocre-at-best day of mothering, I thought, “Wow, I am his whole world!”

Every snack, every show, every sippy cup, every tickle comes from me. Every explanation, every new vocab word, every correction from me to him. I am so much a part of his life, that he would see lightning in the sky and assume somehow I had arranged it for his own personal viewing pleasure. I am the face he sees as he reaches for me to pull him from his bed in the morning, and the last face he sees as those same tired arms lay him back down to his dreams.

That is a lot of power. Maybe not the power to produce lightning bolts.
But the power to shape a whole little life.

Another favorite parenting quote I think speaks to this unbelievable power we have in our children's lives.

"It is my personal approach that creates the climate.
It is my daily mood that makes the weather…
I possess a tremendous power to make a child’s life miserable or joyous. I can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration. I can humiliate or humor, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is my response that decides whether a crisis will be escalated or de-escalated and a child humanized or dehumanized." ---Haim Ginott, Educator

That is a huge trust.

Makes me think of D&C 121

36That the arights of the [motherhood/parenting] are inseparably connected with the powers of heaven, and that the powers of heaven cannot be controlled nor handled only upon the principles of righteousness.

37That they may be conferred upon us, it is true; but when we undertake to acover our sins, or to gratify our pride, our vain ambition, or to exercise control or dominion or compulsion upon the souls of the children of men, in any degree of unrighteousness, behold, the heavens withdraw themselves; the Spirit of the Lord is grieved; and when it is withdrawn, Amen to the [power] or the authority of that [mother].

39We have learned by sad experience that it is the nature and disposition of almost all [parents], as soon as they get a little authority, as they suppose, they will immediately begin to exercise unrighteous dominion.

40Hence many are called, but few are chosen.

41No power or influence can or ought to be maintained by virtue of [our motherhood], only by persuasion, by long-suffering, by gentleness and meekness, and by love unfeigned;

42By kindness, and pure knowledge, which shall greatly enlarge the soul without hypocrisy, and without guile—

43Reproving betimes with sharpness, when moved upon by the Holy Ghost; and then showing forth afterwards an increase of love toward him whom thou hast reproved, lest he esteem thee to be his enemy;

We have power, but it has rules.

Choosing to speak

That was a big thing for me to post that poem about Aaron. Scary. May not have done it with a little more sleep-induced-sanity.

But I did. And it made me realize I'm ready to commit to writing again.

I was talking to a friend Desi about it, cuz that's what we do, talk on the phone--a little voice of encouragement and understanding amidst the chaos that is our three-son-lives.

I was explaining it was hard to write when I don't really have a specific audience in mind. Then I thought, I'm writing to the moms that don't have a Desi to call. Who just need a bit of encouragement. (Ironic this was ME today. After super, with bedtime still feeling way too far away, and Ben not due back for still a couple nights, I threw my kids in the ol'minni van, ended up in a friends drive way...she scooped-up what was left of me, got my kids entertained (always easier with other people's toys), her husband made us cookies, while I sat on her couched and cried. Yup, just due for a little cortisol release.

Women just need women. At least this one does.

As I discover this new blogging world (so many people tried to tell me, but I guess it just wasn't my time). I am amazed with the strong female voices. And the support and understanding we can find. It's crazy to think that a century or two back woman writers had to take on male names to get published. Now we can just log in and start putting our minds and hearts and experiences out there, to be heard and felt and related to.

I found this amazing post, that spoke to the writer in me...the little dormant writer who waited so patiently, trying to remember the sunlight, while she sat in the dark, tucked away under the dimness of more pressing "things to do". She's still adjusting. Squinting. Pupils anxious to open wide and take in the light.

And was she ever inspired by this post and the poem that is quoted, that I decided to post in it's entirety. Honestly read this:

LINK TO AMAZING POST

fav line? when human beings speak and other human beings listen, we all develop charity. And God is a big fan of charity.


LITANY FOR SURVIVAL
For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone
for those of us who cannot indulge
the passing dreams of choice
who love in doorways coming and going
in the hours between dawns
looking inward and outward
at once before and after
seeking a now that can breed
futures
like bread in our children's mouths
so their dreams will not reflect
the death of ours:

For those of us
who were imprinted with fear
like a faint line in the center of our foreheads
learning to be afraid with our mother's milk
for by this weapon
this illusion of some safety to be found
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us
For all of us
this instant and this triumph
We were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are afraid
it might not remain
when the sun sets we are afraid
it might not rise in the morning
when our stomachs are full we are afraid
of indigestion
when our stomachs are empty we are afraid
we may never eat again
when we are loved we are afraid
love will vanish
when we are alone we are afraid
love will never return
and when we speak we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed
but when we are silent
we are still afraid

So it is better to speak
remembering
we were never meant to survive

- Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn


Two of my fav lines?

standing upon the constant edges of decision


I'm so bad at decisions(ask my husband!)

learning to be afraid with our mother's milk

Maybe just cuz I'm nursing...no really I love how it sets a commonality. We all have our fears.

And we can all find a voice.

"because I have a voice!" King's Speech trailer...goosebumps every time at that part!Sorry couldn't resist, the scene kept playing in my head:)Probably just means it's late and I should go to bed.

It doesn't make sense

I don't understand how yesterday, with absolutely no sleep, and tons of stuff going on, we had like the best day ever.

And today, when everyone should be perfectly well rested and happy-by-golly, everyone, including me, is so non-stop cranky.

I guess I underestimated divine compensation: Yesterday I had heavenly help, and today I need to calm down and get some!

Yesterday (insert Beatles song playing in background), as I blew bubbles for McKye (see, good day right!) one of my blows failed to produce bubbles, and McKye in this sing songy voice looks at me and says (with wisdom and perspective only two year olds can muster) "Oh, try again!"

Good advice McKye.

I should go pray, and "try again". I think I will.

And then I'll see if my baby has an allergic reaction to the strawberry he just sucked on while I wrote this.

Two posts collide...ooo I love mashups!

Aaron is a funny kid. So lest my early morning poem



paint to romantic a picture of my eldest son...

Allow me to share just few moments from yesterday.

First, remember those potatoes I planted? Aaron was instantly obsessed with taking the fresh clumps of dirt from the "garden" and dropping them on the cement, delighting as they crumble (sure glad we got that yard clean-up at the Ward's last service auction:) Oh that's not all.

Oh, basically he's decided that summer is here, and for Aaron, "summer" means nakedness (see, you thought it was just a metaphor in the poem didn't you?) So, whenever I talk about him outside, it's pretty safe to say he's sporting just his undies ( wow, look at me, mother of boys, finally breaking the habit of saying "panties"). PS potty training was a big deal for us, not a day goes by where I don't absolutely marvel that he "got it". PPS we just moved, and I also wonder everyday what the neighbors think of me, and my child's trampoline-jumping-attire or lack thereof.

Okay, so in comes Aaron from destroying my latest conquest (hence I choose a hearty vegetable), and heads to the potty. Apparently his garden tromping had resulting in him getting a prickly in is foot, cuz next thing I know, I walk in to find him with his foot IN the toilet, flushing it over and over again. After my initial shock, I thought his foot swirling was really quick resourceful.

He keeps us entertained.

McKye is also entertaining in very different ways (More stories to come, I'm sure).
Seeing as our yard is obviously not going to be featured in home and garden, McKye "planted" a bazillion dandelions yesterday, as I tried to get thee perfect picture of him and my favorite plant. No really I think dandelions get a bad rap (without dandelions think how much joy kids would be deprived of, not to mentioned the many moms and teachers who would have missed out on being presented with bouquets of appreciation)

"Gardening", or as I tend to think of it "My Nemesis"

nem·e·sis/ˈneməsis/Noun
1. The inescapable or implacable agent of someone's or something's downfall.

Yup, that sounds about right.

Okay, so am LDS. (Ha! As if you hadn't figured that one out!...even though I haven't figure out how to put a link on here to the Churches, website, at least a pretty link with a nice picture, how I want it).

And I try to be good. This does not mean I am oblivious to the never-ending list of sins, weaknesses, and general character-flaws, lapses of judgment, and flat out wrong choices I have, that I constantly am trying to use the Atonement in my life to overcome.

But that's not what this is about. This is about my general desire to "be good".

This means I listen in general conference and try to apply the counsel.

Some counsel if apparently easier for me than others. Date nights with my husband, all over that. Family home evening, family prayer and scriptures, at times challenging but I have a testimony of them and know they're important, so we do them (our last FHE lesson was on the trampoline and lasted about 3 seconds, but we did it!) Even things I've had excuses for in the past, like food storage, we have bucked up and at least started.

But then there is the counsel, that for some reason, whenever I think about it I feel paralyzed: gardening.

Since our first year married I have told myself, just start small. A cute little garden box with lettuce...and every year nothing. Not nothing grows...but I DO NOTHING.

Maybe it's because I come from a little village (yup not a small town, it is classified as a village...which is just slightly bigger than "hamlet" for those of you who mistakingly refer to places with populations in the thousands as "small") where EVERYONE grows immaculate and HUGE gardens. My own grand-parents (not LDS, by the way) had TWO gardens, each as sprawling and well producing as the other. I have multiple pictures of me as a child propped up on various prize-winning produce(not sure if I was there to add human interest, or just used to show the scale).

Holy cow! Had to post picture on the left, McKye totally makes that face!

I have childhood images of these giant pumpkins, and never-ending zucchinis, and the most delicious fresh peas and carrots. I think I also have memories of all the adults always in their gardens, planting, weeding, watering, harvesting....which my adult mind I think has converted to the reality of a WHOLE LOTTA WORK!

Which, I search my soul and ask, "Soul, are you just lazy?"

But I work hard at a lot of things...but I kinda like results.

Childhood memory number two: We had to plant something for school. Not even sure what was suppose to grow in that little Styrofoam cup of dirt( "I call it cup of dirt!...if you're gonna read this blog you better go listen to the comedian Brain Reegan on youtube, or a lots gonna go over your head:). Well guess what I grew? A weed. Yup, the only thing that sprouted after my toil and nurturing, was a weed. I think that was a defining moments for me. Where I decided the green thumb of my grandparents lay dormant in my DNA, and maybe I would pass it on to my posterity, but for me it just wasn't gonna happen.

Well, that's all fine and dandy until your a good mormon-girl trying to be good.

I had lots of excuses, but deep-down I knew they were all just cop-outs. I made an off hand comment to my husband about it, to which he replied (in that beautiful, exaggerated way he always does, that makes me realize the silliness of my thought-pattern VS what I actually believe) "Nope, we're not good mormons", to which I, almost involuntarily responded defensively (like I tend to do) "The Lord doesn't give us commandments just to give us more things to do! He gives us commandments FOR US, because He knows they will bless us!"

When people make excuses about scripture study or temple attendance, all I can think is "But don't you realize how amazing those things are! Don't you know what your missing out on!"

Long story short: I grabbed my brother (who's living with us for the summer, which is pretty darn lucky for me, seeing as my husband's work requires him to be gone traveling 4 days a week and on his phone 24/7....see? totally good excuses...no husband to help me plant a garden!)Okay so I grabbed my poor brother, a shovel and some potatoes i had forgotten about that had started to sprout in the pantry, and we threw them into the flower bed my kids had trampled in the few short months we've lived here.

Done and done. I'm a gardener.

Who knows if they'll grow. And I probably could have done a little raised garden, with little labels for the cute little rows, but as my Releif Society President is often quoted as saying

Doing something is better than nothing.

"And while it wasn't much, it wasn't nothing."

So if you have that one commandment, you just can't seem to get yourself to follow...my advice? Figure out what your pre-concieved expectations are about it, smash em, and just do what you can do. ( not "just do your best"...hate that phrase, cuz I can always conjure up a better standard of "best" for myself).

My mission president and his wife had a sayging for their family,

"Anything worth doing, is worth doing poorly."

Go ahead, read again, it wasn't a mis-print. Sometimes we get so hung up on having the perfect family home evening lesson, that we don't have one. Or we ignore a prompting to visit someone cuz we don't have any bake goods on hand to take to them (my wise, wise friend, just keeps a case of chocolate bars, for just such an occasion...though I have learned that even though sweets are good, sometimes, a hug is enough). Or because we can't fill our food storage pantry immediately we don't go ahead and just buy one can extra to start.

Learning anything, takes practice, and always involves a period of not knowing how. Having to learn, which means mistakes ( I think I planted the potatoes too close), and not-so-perfect outcomes (I probably won't get too many potatoes). Sheesh, I've been thinking about starting a blog for years...but I didn't have the time/knowledge/or skill to make it as cool-looking or as clever-sounding as other peoples, so I just didn't do it.

But sometimes the blessing don't some in the results, but in the process, and discovering that you can do things you thought you couldn't. Like writing a blog, or tossing some old potatoes into the ground.

4 am ...again

So this is the inevitable sentence I haven't yet posted.

Our oldest son, Aaron, has autism.

There is literally (yup, I DO mean literally) volumes I could write about his diagnosis, our experience learning about, dealing with etc and maybe eventually I will. But tonight... this morning, I only mention it as necessary info for the other inevitable sentence:

I don't sleep very much.

NOW, please understand. I'm not posting this as an invitation for sleep solutions or advice. I don't need a bunch of people telling me about regular bedtime routines or the miracles of melatonin...we've been there done that. And we got here. A place where I have just had to ACCEPT (a very important concept when dealing with the mystery that is Autism) that for some reaosn Aaron just doesn't need as much sleep--that he propably never will. And, so as long as we live under the same roof, which coudl possibly be longer than the 18ish alloted years we'll spend with our typical kids (please other "Autism mommies" (see below) don't get after me for not beleiving enough, cuz some days, especailly at 4am, I just tend to dwell in the land of probably Vs hopfully)...even I had to reread to make it back through that parenthetical...it means while Aaron is in our home, sleep is just gonna be a thing that doesn't always happen. and it okay. Most nights.

It's the unpredictably, that kills me. Some nights he seems to "stock -up" and acts like a teenager when we try and drag him out of bed (usually the nights my baby decides to nurse non-stop, or my toddler has night terrors....OK parents, kids totally tag-team us don't they!?!?!?)
And then other nights, like this one, he just wakes up, at 3 or 4 in the morning, for the day.

Again please understand, I'm not writing this for solutions of even sympathy, but simply cuz it's my life.

In fact, I think I actually went through the grieving process, over the loss of my sleep.
Let's see.

DENIAL: Oh for sure. This was when I did welcome any all advice I could get on the subject. Read hoards of books. Thought this or that would FIX it. Tried to tell myself it was a phase.

the hardest part about autism for me (well at least in my mind at this momemt)..and again "Autism mommies" (as I call other mothers of kids with autism, although grammatically it makes no sense) are gonna tell me "It gets better" which I don't doubt, but still it's always there. I'll always remember being at my book club, where the grandmas in our group ( who i love!), all sweetly nodding their well-meanign heads, telling me, maybe even in reponse to me sharing some of my sleeplessness, "It will all be over in a blink. It goes by so quickly and before you know it they'll be all grown up." Grown-up yes, and I totally get the whole fleeting childhood truth they were sharing. But it still hurt. Because with Aaron yes, childhood will, like with our other kids, happen in a flash,and we'll miss the little fingerprints and tickling chubby toes, but with Aaron the... watchfulllness (is that the right word?) may never end. I know paretning, with it's attendant worrying, loving, caring, stressing doesn't end for any parent, but there is just less of a....wow this is hard to describe...less of an "OK, these young years are hard, so push on through, give it all ya got, raise em right, good job, off to college with you now" feeling when raising Aaron. I feel more to pace myself, to prepare for, and set a foundation of understanding for a situation and a relationship that is going to persist in our lives, indefinitably. ( I have a problem over explaining in my writing, and have to consitantly resist the urge to state the other side of things..i will try a resist and let that last paragraph just be what it is)

Huh, his sleep is totally this microcosm metaphor for his autism in general I'm realizing. When I get bent on changing it I find frustration , hopelessness; when I see it for what it is and embrace it, things get better (not always actually but they sure seem better). Ooo but we're jumping to the end. First...

ANGER: Oh boy did I feel that one. Still do some nights. Compound that with not enough sleep and you get pretty irrational! I felt like everyone else in the world got to sleep, and it just wasn't fair. Since then I have been privileged with the friendship of lots of other moms, some who regularlly sleep less than me, somehow ( in some warped way) this makes me feel better. Now, if only we could somehow coordinate our sleepless nights so we could chat on the phone, but for some reason 4am just never feels liek a good time to call:)

BARGAINING: Oh boy did I ever. In fact, I've come to reallize there is one prayer God does not answer. "Ppppppppppplllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeee Heavenly Father just make this kid sleep"...it's obviously sincere enough, although we also continually add the vain repition of "help us all to sleep well tonight", in to our evening family prayer too. So, I've had to think a lot abou why He doesn't answer. And I've had to just decide, it's because it's not His will. His will is for us to know and be like Him.(The Lord is up ALL night listening to and answering our....is children's... prayers:)

There's a Christian song I heard once on the radio that i rushed home to google the lyrics too


The line that hit me?

What if a thousand sleepless nights, are what it takes to know You're near.

Yup, Heavenly Father knew for me, I needed some sleepless nights to reach out to Him. And I really have had some beautiful nights. Holding my son and feeling the Lord hold me....ACCEPTANCE.

(I skipped writing about the stage of depression...the very topic of not sleeping sounds depressing enough to me:)

And now I can just blog at 4am right?!?

To close I'd like to share a poem I wrote, on another sleepless night. It almost feels too personal, but when i think of things that I've read that have really touched me, I think what if that person hadn't shared that because it was "too personal". This blog format is an interesting one to me...we just put stuff out there. But I guess that is kinda what writing is: putting yourself down on paper, outside of yourself so others can see inside.

Muh! I'm not really that private of a person anyways:) So here it is:

(I posted the photo, cuz to get it you hafta know Aaron likes to play with my hair..A LOT!)

Thoughts on Aaron at 4 am

Through the darkness he seeks my hair

He does not pull

Still the resistance is crucial

Strands wound

bound by little fingers

bound by unknown laws

There is a must

a mysterious never yielding must

No control, no choice

but somehow controlled and chosen

Enjoyment?—yes

but mostly just a driven need

Inexplicable, maddening

But then in another time he would be considered mad

would he not?

This perfect son of mine

Perfect—not in a striven for, sought for, fought for way

No that will be my path.

But a different more innocent perfection

One given

Granted—by mercy I suppose

Though we term it a punishment;

a prison keeping him from the elusive “normal”.

My own little Adam,

wandering, naked

apple in hand

Unaware that the rest of us live in

a fallen world,

that is still his garden.

Inexplicably, unexplused, exempt even

he remains

Immovable

(get down from there)

Unchangeable

(though the therapists try)

The rest of us exiled and him…

Protected?

A cherubim and a flaming sword

Alone?

Or are the unseen cherubim company enough?

Untouchable?

No

Eever reaching,

ever touching

he weaves his mysterious soul

around my baffled heart,

as gently and purposefully

as he winds my hair

in and around his small deliberate hands.

And I let him

Because—he needs to?

or because I need him?

My gift.

My son.

A piece of my salvation.

My guide back to Eden—

Barefoot on our stony path



I hope it is only I that feels it.


Speaking of feeling things, I'm gonna feel this in the morning. My other two should be up in a hour...