Before kids, I was one of those people who liked things, “just so.” A place for everything and everything in its place. I was, what you would call, “anal.” In general, I am a very detail oriented person. And a planner. So I like to plan everything down to the very last detail.
And then I had kids.
And I tried it for awhile, I really did.
When I had one child, it could sorta manage it. I mean he would nap and I could tidy up. We weren’t outnumbered yet. And then I had #2 and….well now things were technically tied up but in reality the energy of two boys wayyyyyyyyyyyy outnumbers the energy of 2 grown ups. And then Jared started to get a bit older and get into stuff (read: needed to be chauffeured everywhere) and Luke got diagnosed with autism (read: needed to be chauffeured everywhere, too) and then I got a part time job and then I started doing all kinds of volunteer work at the school and with Autism Speaks and sometimes I even throw in a minute to craft and if I’m lucky I sleep in any given day. I mean, sometimes I even make dinner.
Most days I think to myself, “If someone were to just drop by for a visit, I would cry.” Because usually you can’t even find the floor in my house. I’m not even kidding. It’s that bad. Laundry piled to the ceiling (clean or dirty), dishes in the kitchen (clean or dirty), books, papers, magazines, school work, bills, etc. I mean the office is a wasteland. I do have standards when it comes to the bathroom and praise God for the invention of Clorox wipes because at least I know that my toilet and sink can be sanitized in under a minute. Phew! I won’t even discuss my bedroom which is, in my house the room where everything gets dumped/hidden until I can, “deal with it later.” And later is a long time from now.
But the reality is, you have to pick your battles. And this just isn’t my battle right now. It can’t be. When it comes down to making the decision of spending time with my kids or mopping the kitchen floor, I’m going to pick my kids every single time. I have a child with autism. He requires a lot of attention and a lot of time. Guess what? That’s the greatest investment of my time I could ever think of. I know deep in my heart that one of the reasons that Luke does so well is because I have devoted so much time to him and his therapy and his recovery. And I don’t just mean driving him around. I mean getting down on the floor with him and doing the work. I mean pushing him for his words when he doesn’t want to use them and I know it’s going to make him scream even louder but we do it anyway (and it pays off almost every single time). I mean sitting with him outside while he jumps on the trampoline and swims in the pool and gets his gross motor stimulation so that he is more receptive to learning when we come inside. I mean deep frying gluten free french fries 12 times a day when that’s all Luke will eat. I mean squeezing his legs until my hands hurt and he’s laughing hysterically because the deep compression makes him feel better. And yes, I mean the quiet moments when we read stories at the end of the day and once in awhile I even get a cuddle.
At the end of the day……… no really, at the end of the day, my days, I don’t want people to say, “Wow, April really kept a clean house, April really knew how to plan a party down to the last detail, April always kept her van really clean.” What I pray that people will say, “Wow, April led a great life. She raised great children, she gave back, and she made a difference. She was a great friend, a great liver of live, a great wife, and a great daughter,” and God willing my own children will say, “she was a great mother.”
In the big scheme of things, no one will ever remember what kind of food you served at your party, as long as they had fun. No one and I mean NO ONE will remember how many days you didn’t shower before you dropped your kid off at school. NO one will remember the day they stopped by your house for a great cup of coffee and even better conversation and you had piles of laundry on the floor. No one will remember, or for that matter even notice that you wore pajama bottoms on an emergency run to Target.
When we went to Atlanta a few months ago, we were meeting a very dear friend of mine from college that I hadn’t seen in 10 years. I really wanted to make sure we all looked our best. OK, just clean. When we left for Atlanta in the morning, Luke did NOT want to get dressed. Fine. I threw the clothes in the van and figured we’d just change his clothes on when we arrived. I was desperate to just get on the road without a fight. We made a pit stop along the way and I managed to get Luke into his shorts and shoes. Phew! More than halfway there, but he was still not willing to put a shirt on. He was pretty enthralled with the skateboard on his jammies. Ok, don’t panic, we still had 2 more hours to go. We arrive in Atlanta, just moments before we are about to see Rick and once again, I attempt to put Luke’s cute, and clean shirt on. He was not having any part of this. And he was screaming about it. And not only was he screaming, he was using his words and making beautiful sentences like, “I want skateboard shirt! I don’t want fishy shirt!” So my choices are ~
a) continue to argue with Luke until the screaming and the fits escalate into pure ugliness and this puts everyone in a horrible mood for walking around World of Coke
b) force the shirt on him by literally pinning him down and wrestling the shirt *I* want on to him or
c) see picture to the right
And guess what? Rick never said, “Wow, check your kid out, he’s wearing a pajama shirt! You are a horrible mother!” And ya know what else? I posted the pics on facebook and this blog and no one wrote me a letter in horror about the fact that Luke was wearing a pajama top, in fact, I’m pretty sure, no one even noticed.
Don’t sweat the small stuff, and it’s ALL small stuff.
The only one stressed out about Luke’s shirt ~ was me.
And guess what? The Mc Donald’s cups and the crumbs and the stray French fries will be in your van tomorrow. The dishes? Sorry but they’ll still be there tomorrow and they’ll be more crusty then they are today. And unfortunately, the laundry fairy isn’t showing up anytime soon. But your kids, they are right here, right now, and you’ll never get this moment back again.
And maybe it’s a teaching moment, and maybe it’s a silly moment, and maybe it’s a loving moment, and maybe it’s just……….. a moment. But it’s yours to cherish. It’s yours to make of it what you will. And that is the greatest gift you’ll ever be given.
So yes, eventually we make time to clean the house and tend to the details and sometimes it even gets done all at once and by that time we are so tired that all we can think to do is pass out, but in reality~
Don’t sweat the small stuff, and it’s ALL small stuff.
And that’s easy for me to say, because I’m on vacation right now! =)
The real test of a man is not how well he plays the role he has invented for himself, but how well he plays the role that destiny assigned to him.-- Jan Patocka
This is one of my favorite quotes, and I’ll tell you why. My first son, Jared was born with a very serious congenital heart defect called transposition of the great vessels. It’s where the two main arteries of your heart are switched and that combined with a series of holes in his heart meant that the chances of Jared surviving were not strong. I came home from the hospital after having him and was in a great state of depression. I had one of those calendars where you flip each day and there’s a new quote. This was the quote that was up on the day I came back from the hospital. And a lightbulb went off in my head. This was truly, a turning point in my life.
The real test of a man is not how well he plays the role he has invented for himself, but how well he plays the role that destiny assigned to him.
You see, my whole life I had thought about getting married and having babies. You know the whole “white picket fence” thing. When I found out I was pregnant, me in all of my “type-A” glory starting planning every moment. Yes I was one of those women that had my bag packed for the hospital two months early “just in case.” I couldn’t handle the thought of anything going wrong or, heaven forbid, not according to plan. My plan.
I couldn’t wait to have my baby via a totally painless birth, bring him home to his pristine and perfectly decorated room, put him in darling little outfits (that he would never spit up or poop on), sit around and coo at him all day long (and look fabulous doing it) , and then sometimes take him out to show him off in his $300 stroller while I shopped at Ann Taylor again because I immediately fell back into my size 2’s.
This is the role that I invented for myself. NOT the role that destiny assigned to me.
Insert lightbulb here.
I realized at that moment, that you know what? No matter what happens, no matter how this plays out, whether Jared made it or not, this is the role that destiny assigned to me. No longer was this about ME, but this was about my life as Jared’s mother. And I stopped crying and I pulled up my bootstraps and I got to work. I got to work figuring out what I was going to do to be a part of the solution. “Destiny” or “God” or “The Fates” or whatever/whoever gave Jared to me because it is my destiny to be his mother. We were destined to be together. He was destined to change me and I was destined to change him.
So what does this have to do with autism? This blog is, after all, called “April walks with autism,” so I better stick to the point.
The point is, that I never would have realized in my wildest dreams that going through what I went through with Jared was given to me in order to prepare me to be Luke’s mom. Each challenge, each struggle, prepares you for what could be the greatest fight of your life.
I was a maniac when I was pregnant with Luke. In fact, I thought long and hard about not getting pregnant again because I didn’t want to put another baby through everything Jared went through. But in the end, we obviously decided to have another baby and I was a complete freak about getting ultrasounds, fetal echocardiograms, etc. I wanted to know exactly what I was up against.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
I cried for exactly one hour when “they” came out and told me something was “wrong” with Luke. And then I pulled up my bootstraps again and remembered….
The real test of a man is not how well he plays the role he has invented for himself, but how well he plays the role that destiny assigned to him.
This is the destiny that was assigned to me. Time to be a part of the solution.
I never thought I would have it in me to be the parent of a special needs child. But once you accept the fact that there are certain things you cannot change and embrace those things with open arms, you are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for.
Some days are ugly and full of tears and sweat and blood and vomit and puke and poop and self doubt and screaming………. but…… it’s still your fight and it’s always your destiny.
I’m not much of a religious person, OK I’m not “any” of a religious person, but this……. It just speaks to me on so many levels.
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
For the record, Jared is 8 years old and growing strong. He had extensive testing just last week where docs looked at his heart via 3-D imaging and it looks GREAT.
And Luke? Well he’s a 5 year old with autism who loves to swim and run and jump and play and read books and sometimes scream and eat really particular things and have strange quirks, and not wear pants very often, and fixate on things and mostly laugh hysterically ………… but I’m pretty sure
that’s his destiny.
Special thanks and shout out to Andy and Leigh Gibbs for teaching me how to make my blog look good! =)
Sometimes, I'm just in the mood for a little JT. OK in reality, I'm ALWAYS in the mood for some JT. But today, I need to get my "sexy back" or in this case, my "A" game.
The thing about being a parent is that you need to have your "A" game on at all times. *Sigh* (I sigh a lot in my blogs, don't I?) I mean you never get a day off or a moment off or a minute to yourself ever again. Suddenly everyone is watching YOU waiting to see how YOU will react. Which is really fun when all you want to do is scream, or cry, or sob, or break down. But, you don't get to do that. Because if Mommy loses it, then EVERYONE is going to lose it, which............
only makes it WORSE for Mommy.
And the last thing we ever want to do, is make things worse for Mommy.
So Mommy puts on a brave face and smiles, even though sometimes she wants to die inside.
Sometimes I think this is the single hardest part about being a parent. Because we all know that suddenly we lose our identities to our children. You give birth, and from that moment forward you are known as, "Jared's Mom," or "Luke's Mom," and "April Schmidt" ceases to exist. Suddenly everything you do, everything you live for, every decision you make, every smile you fake, is for your kids.
And that's OK. Most of the time.
DO NOT misunderstand, 99% of the time, my smiles are real. I am one of those people who genuinely loves and ENJOYS my children. There is no place I would rather be than with them. However, there are days when you just wake up in a damn funk and you want to sit and pout about it. But I don't have that option. On the few occasions I have "lost it" in front of my kids, I can see the look on their faces, "Oh.MY.God. The Apocalypse is near!" and I scramble to make things right really fast.
Today is one of those days where the laundry is piled up to the ceiling, the entire house needs vacuuming, the flowers need watering, the garden needs weeding, the backpacks need to be emptied (I mean, school has been out for almost 5 days now), dinner needs cooking, bathrooms need bleaching, husbands need _______, floors need mopping, kids need loving, toenails need painting, camps need scheduling, parents need calling, etc etc etc etc etc etc. All of this and I woke up in a funk.
It's almost like being an actor, ALL THE TIME. No matter what phone call you just got, "You owe the IRS $10,000." you have to hang up the phone and put on that brave face for your kids. How about being in the checkout line at Target and one kid is screaming, the cell phone is ringing (and you can't find it), it's time to pay (can't find your debit card either), and the other one has just pooped and it actually fell OUT of his diaper and it is sitting in a neat pile on the floor.... your body tempurature just went up about 200 degrees and you're quite certain you have those really gross wet pit stains on your shirt and YOU have to pee yourself so you're really uncomfortable......... smile! How are you going to make this a "teaching moment?"
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
By the way, that target thing? It's a true story. Swear.
The thing is, those little eyes are on you ALL THE TIME and how we respond and react to everything~ the big things and sometimes, more importantly, the small things really does teach our children a lifetime of lessons.
In short, this is WHY being a mom is the hardest job you'll ever love.
And, it is the MOST important job you'll ever have.
Because one way or another, we find a way to pull it off. Every.single.time.
Well, almost.
And yes, I have Whitney Houston playing on my blog. Because I'm cheeky that way. No really, it's a joke.
So much can change in the course of one day.
Even one moment.
Today my bestest friend got on offer for representation. I’m not sure if that’s the right terminology but I do know that’s a really big deal. This is Myra’s dream coming true. She quit her job and everything she was doing and said, “that’s it, I’m going to write a book.” And write she did. Today that dream became a reality. I’m so thankful I got to be a part of this journey with her, one of the lucky few she let read even the really ugly early copies (according to her, not me, I always loved it). And today I got to be there when she got the news. It was a great moment. One that I will never forget. Funny how life can change so fast. Yesterday she was “someone who wrote a book,” and today is she is a breath away from, “author.”
When I was pregnant with both of my boys, my biggest fear was coming home from the hospital without a baby. I never gave much thought to things that could go wrong LATER. Especially as a first time mom my primary focus was getting the baby OUT and getting the baby HOME. So you bring home your little bundle of joy and the fun begins. Every little tiny breath your baby makes is the most exciting thing in your life. Every time your baby looks at you, laughs at you…the first smile…first step, first words, and so on.
But what if your baby never actually does any of those things? I mean, he looks fine from the outside. The doctor is telling you everything is ok and he’s a doctor so he has to be right, right? But why in your heart of hearts and gut of guts do you just know something is off? I mean you made it to one year and the baby is still breathing so that’s a good sign you’ve done something right? Isn’t it?
Here comes one of those moments.
I’ll never forget this as long as I live. As I think about it, it’s like I’m transported right back. As if in a movie, when the camera zooms way in really fast and zeroes in on the main character’s face ~ that’s me. Luke is about 16 months old….one night Jeff and I are sitting at the dining room table. He’s working on his laptop, I’m thumbing through a magazine. I stop at one of those “Dear Dr.” articles and start to read… “Dear Doctor, one of my friends suggested that my son has autism! I don’t know what to do!” And “Dear Doctor” writes back, “if you can answer yes to 3 of these 10 questions, then your child may have autism and you should see your health care professional immediately.”
I answered yes to all ten questions.
Does your child fail to respond to his or her name? Does your child avoid making eye contact with you? Does your child appear not to hear you? Does your child avoid being held or cuddled? Does your child seem to be unaware of others' feeling or emotions and prefer to play alone? Does your child perform repetitive movements, such as rocking? Does your child become bothered with small changes in their routine? Does your child appear to be unusually sensitive to their environment through light, sound and touch? Has your child developed specific routines that are easily identified? Does your child point to desired objects?
All of a sudden, our dreams changed.
I cried when they diagnosed Luke with “ECDD” (code for “we know something is wrong, we just don’t know what), But what needs to be understood is that I never, ever cried for me. I cried for him. I cried because I didn’t want life to be even harder than it already is for him. I cried because I thought, “He’ll never lead a normal life.” (ha ha) So I started to dream that Luke could have those things. I started to dream and fight for ways that we could actually make life easier for him. Now, instead of dreaming your child will someday go to Harvard or become a doctor, you dream that your child will speak. You dream that your child will look at you. “I’m his mother for f$%k’s sake, why doesn’t the child even LOOK AT ME?” (I actually said to the pediatrician at some point: I have the general feeling that Luke doesn’t care whether *I* live or die, as long as someone brings him a bottle.) Suddenly you dream that your child will be able to point at a desired object….when up until that moment you didn’t even realize that was something you SHOULD care about.
Suddenly, the really LITTLE things became big dreams.
Today was Luke’s last day of preschool. He spent 2 years at the early childhood program at Longview Elementary. I could write 100 pages about how much I love those women. He has one “teacher” (they are all teachers!), 2 aides, a speech pathologist, and an occupational therapist. Every single one of those women are like his mom away from mom. I owe them my life, they gave me my son back. Enough with the crying already!
My point is…. Today my dream came true, too. Today Luke accomplished a really huge goal. 3 years ago Luke’s therapist in Michigan told me that I was making a HUGE mistake sending Luke to school. That Luke would get “lost in the shuffle,” that he would end up in a corner playing alone. That we would lose all of the progress we had made up until that point. But sometimes, when you are reaching for a dream, you need to take a risk. You need to put yourself out there and take a chance. And we took a chance. We believed in Luke and he more than rose to the occasion. Even one year ago I would have NEVER said that Luke would be ready for kindergarten at this point. But guess what? He’s ready. What a difference a year can make. A day can make… a moment.
Does your child fail to respond to his or her name? NO! Does your child avoid making eye contact with you? NO, NO, NO! Does your child appear not to hear you? NO! Does your child avoid being held or cuddled? Not by me! Does your child seem to be unaware of others' feeling or emotions and prefer to play alone? Not on your life!!! Does your child perform repetitive movements, such as rocking? Nope! Does your child become bothered with small changes in their routine? Sometimes Does your child appear to be unusually sensitive to their environment through light, sound and touch? Once in awhile but we know how to manage it now (popcorn and icee = trip to target!) Has your child developed specific routines that are easily identified? Yep, and I have some too! Does your child point to desired objects? Please, that’s so 3 years ago!
Being at Luke’s party today, watching him play and interact and converse and look people in the eye and point and initiate and engage….. is truly a moment I will never ever forget. A life changing moment.
Phew! What a big day we ALL had! Congratulations Myra McEntire for taking a risk and achieving the dream. And kudos to you, Mr. Luke Schmidt ~ you're on your way!
Your dreams come true when you act to turn them into realities. Anonymous
