The 2020 Hike

Today is the last day of 2020. A day we have all been looking forward to. I’m reminded of some thoughts I had on vacation and realized that I never wrote them down. So here we go…..

In August/September we took our annual trip to Estes Park. Our family really needed a change of scenery after the hits that 2020 had brought.

Going to Estes Park is pure happiness for me. It has become my happy place. God’s creation is nurturing. The sound of a rushing river outside of the place where we stay is calming and to gaze at the strong silent strength of the mountain range restores my soul. My heart always skips a beat when we arrive!

This year, we wanted to try a new hike and start with one that wasn’t too challenging. So we decided to hike from Bear Lake to Bierstadt Lake and then to the parking area where we had parked our car. This would mean we only had to board the shuttle bus once, social distancing you know! When we began our hike, it was sunny, a bit breezy and really the perfect time of day to begin. The first part of the trail was easy with a little bit of down and up and down and up and lovely weather until we got to Bierstadt Lake. The trail was well marked and we felt comfortable and so happy to be in the fresh mountain air with the aspen leaves rustling in the wind.

Once we stopped at the lake and took a look around, we set off on the trail for the rest of the hike. Much of the trail was in flat forest land with pine needles carpeting the floor of the forest. The trail was not all that visible. And the further we walked the less certain I became. Positionally, I felt like we were headed in the correct direction. We kept walking and I started to notice that some trees had little orange flags nailed to them. About every ten or so feet, there was another orange flag. I realized that they were marking the trail. I felt so much better knowing we WERE going the right way. Then clouds moved in and it began to darken a bit. We are ALWAYS prepared for rain in the mountains EXCEPT for that day. I didn’t have our ponchos or even rain jackets with us. It began to rain just a little bit. I started feeling really worried about the rain and Tanner and how much longer it would be until we got to our car. The rain quickly ended and we kept going. I knew that the trail would descend as we kept on towards the park and ride lot. What I wasn’t prepared for was how rocky that descent would be. When we hike with Tanner, we have to constantly tell him where to place his feet, always encouraging him to watch his step. I was holding up the rear and I could see every misstep. The LAST thing we needed was a sprained ankle! We powered on as the rain came and went and I prayed diligently that we would make it down this part of the mountain safely. As I hiked, I was constantly telling Tanner where to step and yelling at Steve to slow down. I kept thinking about how this whole hike was exactly how the year 2020 had been for us.

• The year started out with the best day. The Dallas Stars played in the NHL Winter Classic at the Cotton Bowl. For a hockey fan it was the highest of high. Just like starting our hike at Bear Lake and going down in altitude, 2020 was so much the same. There were some good moments at the beginning of the year. A trip to NYC, Tanner’s LEAP day birthday celebration, an Eagles concert!
• But then things got dark and just like our hike it started to rain and the path became unclear. We lost 2 members of our family, one to Covid-19 and one to cancer, Steve lost his job, Tanner’s day program closed. Our future was so uncertain. All we could do was pray and keep our eyes on Jesus (little orange flags). Steve and I powered on and kept putting one foot in front of the other, trying to encourage one another, not letting the other person know how worried and anxious we really were. The journey was rocky, the rocks weren’t always stable, the rain came and went.
• On a hike there isn’t much to do except keep going. It’s always longer and harder than you think it will be. And then you see what you were hiking towards and realize you are almost there! We were relieved when we could see the parking lot through the trees! All of a sudden the way was clear.
• Much like one August Monday morning, out of the blue Steve got a call about a job. The perfect job. By Wednesday he had an offer. We were so relieved and grateful to God for answering our prayers. We could suddenly see the end of that trail!
• There continues to be so much uncertainty in our lives. Tanner is still home 24/7. We are doing our best to stay healthy and we mostly stay home. Who would care for Tanner if we were both really sick? We are not willing to take that risk. We are protecting our boy.
• All around me I see pain and uncertainty, but also joy and simplicity.
• 2020 has taken away many things, but that’s not all bad. It’s given us new things as well.
• For 2021, I’m praying for a new beginning, a new reset, for an end to the sick and the crazy and the unrest. That may not happen anytime soon. But I’ve got my eyes on the orange flags, focusing on where my Lord is leading me, and totally trusting that He knows the way!

Happy New Year Everyone!!!!!

20 Years of Autism

It was the summer of 1999.

The Dallas Stars won the Stanley Cup and secured the love of two Texans for life!

The U. S. woman’s soccer team won the World Cup….led by Texan Captain (and Richardson high grad) Carla Overbeck.

Former Plano resident Lance Armstrong won his first Tour de France. (Years before he finally admitted he was doping.)

It was a good time to be a sports fan from Dallas.

However,  in the midst of all of this sports excitement…..trouble was brewing in Carrollton, Texas.

Tanner had been referred to ECI in the Spring of 1998. He had endured a series of evaluations, tests, therapies and doctor visits…..nobody really formally touching on an autism label but dancing delicately around with a diagnosis of PDD-NOS (Pervasive developmental delay – not otherwise specified), speech delay and sensory integration disorder.

That summer we were balancing the busy schedule of six year old Adam (sports, sports, sports) and trying to wade through the endless amount of information that was available.

I had planned a fun family vacation for the first week of August. We headed to San Antonio, the Riverwalk and Sea World.

It was on this trip, that the realization of our life with Tanner truly began to hit home.

It was HARD. We didn’t really know what we were doing, but looking back, I realize we were totally over stimulating Tanner. New sounds, new sites, so much activity.

There was a lot of crying.

He covered his ears with his hands constantly. Even when we didn’t think things were loud.

And the biggest thing.

He wouldn’t sleep. He kept crawling out of the pack and play. Benadryl did nothing. I started to hyperventilate. Not hysterically, I just could not catch my breath and fill my lungs. Total anxiety. (Something that has happened me before, so I recognized it. )

We were all miserable.

We packed up a day early and returned home.

That trip was a turning point.

I realized that Tanner was not going to “get better”, even with all the things we were trying.

I realized that this new world was really hard.

I realized that Adam would suffer.

I realized that we had to figure out how we were going to do this…..life…..with a neurotypical child and a child with “something wrong”!

It would be January of 2000 that the formal diagnosis of autism would come.  By that point, we were knee deep in constant strategy, just learning how to live each day.

But there it was.  The label.  Autism.

Somehow, over the next 20 years, we muddled through.

Divide and conquer…..someone always doing things with Adam so that he never missed out on all the things a normal boy should be doing.

Steve and I settled into a routine of work and respite. One spelling the other so that we could take turns escaping the rigors of a child with special needs.  We had friends and family that helped out and for that we are so grateful.

And here we are today.  2019. 20 years of autism.

We are older. Wiser. Exhausted.

And guess what? We have 20 more years ahead of us and more! Steve and I will be in our 70s in 20 years. Tanner will be in his 40s.

We will always be caring for our child.

This new season…..the season where we aren’t supposed to have our kids living with us……this one is the hardest.

When Tanner was in school, all of my other friends had kids in school also. But not anymore.

No empty nest.

There have been several times when I think about what autism has taken away from us.

Having a special needs child means grieving for the life you thought you and your children would have.  Because of my positive and optimistic nature, I don’t dwell there often. Pity parties come and go, but there are things to be celebrated as well.

I’ve learned to find ways to escape. I believe my “things” are much more joyful for me because of our situation. Dallas Stars games. Michael Buble’ concerts, dinner with friends, planning the next trip, laughing at the antics of my closest friends…..

I take none of those things for granted. They give me respite and time for renewal.

Adam is doing well. He’s out on his own, working at a job he loves and doing something he was made for. He is who he is because of his brother. He’s missed out on a lot of things, but he’s also more compassionate because of the things he has experienced.

I know that Steve would agree with me when I say we couldn’t have survived without our faith.  God has been present in unimaginable ways since BEFORE Tanner was even born.  His hand and His voice have been comforting in so many ways.

Tanner is a very happy young man.  There are so many things that are hard, but he has come a LONG way since that August in 1999. He does things that I never imagined he could do.

I pray that in 20 years, I will be able to look back and say the same thing.

Not a Happy Day

It’s been two hours. I’m still mad and frazzled.

I took Tanner shopping with me this afternoon. We went to one of my favorite stores. I need some new pants for work.

It wasn’t very crowded. I selected a few pairs and headed off to the dressing room with Tanner in tow. The attendant at the front stopped me and told me Tanner couldn’t go in the dressing room with me. I explained to her that he had to go with me or he would walk away. I said, “He has autism.”

She continued to say no and told me that I had to go to the men’s dressing room to try on the ladies pants. I told her that Tanner goes with me into all the dressing rooms, that he is like a preschooler and he will be fine with me.

She said no.

Another customer was shopping nearby and she looked at me sympathetically as I walked away. I could tell she was as stunned as I was.

I walked towards the men’s department, processing what had just happened. My thoughts started at “I really need some pants, just go try these on.”

Next, I went to “Forget you XYZ Store. I’m not spending one penny here and I’ll never come here again.” (Big problem because I like this store!)

And then I settled in to, “Time to speak to the manager.”

I walked to the front, feeling mad and frustrated. It’s been a long day. I was already feeling over emotional. Tanner was up at 3:21, 3:45 and more times after that. I got up with him because I knew my husband was going to be driving around with customers all day and I wanted him to sleep.

And then, after I dropped Tanner off at dayhab this morning, I drove a different route to work because of the rain and traffic. I drove right by the elementary school where Tanner used to go for summer school when he was really young. That triggered the memory of the awful teacher who wouldn’t change his pull-up while he was there and he would come home with a diaper rash every day. And then that triggered the memories of many other yucky situations we had to endure when Tanner was little. I’ve put so many of them out of my head, but they all came back today.

By the time I was turned away from the dressing room door, well, that was just it.

I calmly asked for the manager. Then I had to wait for her. Then four checkout ladies stood there and stared at me until the manager appeared. I calmly explained the situation and what had happened. She said that I could try on clothes wherever I wanted to and that there was a dressing room toward the front that she could unlock. She was very kind.

I tried on some pants and settled on a pair and paid for them. I told the cashier lady to tell the manager thank you.

We got in the car and I cried.

I cried because Tanner is 22 years old and still has to go to into the restroom with me when we are out. I cried because I was humiliated explaining my situation in front of all of those ladies.

I cried because I am really tired of autism.

I am REALLY tired of autism.

I am so tired.

Don’t fret for me. I don’t fret much. But today was a bad day.

Tomorrow has to be better.

It will be if I can get some sleep.

Memorial Day

This Memorial Day, I have a powerful memory to reflect on.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Washington DC to visit a friend. I was able to spend one whole day exploring the National Mall, seeing new things and revisiting a few of my favorite spots. I love DC and have been fortunate enough to visit there several times.

One of my “must sees” was the World War II memorial. This memorial was completed in 2004 and is a beautiful memorial. It sits just across the street from the Washington Monument and at the end of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. It is in my top four “fave” places in DC.

I had intended to arrive at the memorial before noon as I had a timed entrance pass for the new National Museum of African American History and Culture for 12:30 but walking along the Mall always takes much longer than you think it would. So my visit to the memorial had to wait until after my Museum visit.

I could write about five blog entries about the African American Museum and not even scratch the surface. There is so much to see and learn and think about. I went through quickly and will be happy if I can return again someday.

I left the museum and headed off for the World War II Memorial.

As I was approaching, I saw five tour buses drive up with a police escort and park off to the side. My immediate thought was that maybe that was an Honor Flight group. Don’t know what Honor Flight is? Check out this link. Www.honorflight.org

For a few years now, I have had the desire to be an escort for a veteran on an Honor Flight. I’ve wanted to do this in honor of my Dad. My Dad was a Vietnam War veteran – he was a reconnaissance pilot. He served our country for 27 years. He ultimately succumbed to Agent Orange induced lung cancer in 2013. However, I have come to realize that time and our own family circumstances will most likely not allow me to volunteer in that capacity.

So imagine my delight and then overpowering emotion as I realized that, yes, those buses were full of veterans coming to visit the memorials. As they began appearing around the area, some walking, some in wheelchairs, I was overcome. The tears fell from my face and I could not believe that God had actually brought me to that exact place at that exact time so that I could witness something that I had long wanted to be a part of.

I took a seat on a bench and soaked it all in. I watched as other people there realized what was happening and started greeting the veterans. There only a couple of WW II veterans but many were Korean and Vietnam veterans.

I sat there so grateful for their service and for the opportunity to see this visit happening.

After several minutes, I composed myself enough to speak to a few of the veterans. I thanked many of them for their service.

I stayed as long as I could and then reluctantly set off to head to the airport.

There are many lovely components of the memorial. But my favorite is this wall of Stars. Each star here represents 100 lives lost in WW II. There are 448 Stars.

The engraved stone in front of them says “Here we mark the price of freedom.”

I heard on the radio the other day that more than 1 million lives have been lost in defense of our freedom. May we never forget the sacrifices made.

Our freedom is not free.

God Bless the men that have paid the price.

God Bless America.

The Coming Weight

I touched it Tuesday night.

Well, really, it abruptly landed in my conscience unexpectedly.

I didn’t hold it very long. It was too heavy.

I sat with it for just a few moments and then it was gone.

It was similar to a wave of grief.

However, waves of grief wash over us and eventually wash away.

In the beginning, when grief begins, we feel like we are drowning and we head towards the shore until we can stand. As time passes, we get to shallower water. The waves of grief don’t hit us quite as high anymore. And then they hit lower and lower until we learn to walk out of the water.

We learn their ebb and flow. Sometimes we choose to let the waves wash over us again. And sometimes a wave comes in faster than we thought it would and catches us by surprise. We are usually strong enough to swim and walk away.

But this wasn’t a wave.

It was a weight.

It was similar to a weighted fitness ball. A heavy one. When those are thrown to you, you aren’t expecting how truly heavy they are. So you catch it and then drop it quickly.

I’ve been carrying some weighted balls for a long time now. They are a permanent presence. Sometimes a wave of grief washes over me even while I am holding a ball. The weight of a ball and the feelings can intertwine with one another.

I have learned to only play with the lighter balls….always knowing that the heavy one will be thrown at some point. The lighter balls are still weighted, so they require work.

But that heavy ball….wow, it is so heavy.

I know I have to hold it really soon…..and this time, it won’t be temporary.

It is not going away.

Sure, there might be people along the way that will hold the ball from time to time, but it’s not their ball and they will give it back.

This heavy ball will always be my ball, and I have to figure out how best to hold it.

Today I am praying that God builds my muscles over the next ten weeks.

That heavy ball is coming back very soon.

And I won’t be able to drop it.

The Day is Finally Here…

Adam is moving out. By the time I get home from my wine weekend, he will have set up shop in his new place. Adam has lived at home all through college. So this day is long in coming.

I have felt that the timing was unfortunate. We have had our trip planned since November. But then I realized that God’s timing is perfect. What better time for Adam to finally leave the nest than when I am distracted.

Oh, don’t be mistaken…..I am ready for him to go. He needs to be his on own. He has been longing for independence for a long time. I want him to have that.

It’s not usual for a young man to live at home until he is 25. But then, nothing about our life has been usual.

I’m truly excited for him. He will have his own space. He will be away from the chaos that is autism, the sudden eruptions that take place unexpectedly.

He will have normal.

Adam hasn’t had normal since he was 4 years old.

Adam is well adjusted. But that doesn’t mean his brother’s autism hasn’t taken its toll. I hear it in the things that he says. I see it in his actions, his priorities, his choices.

So now he will be free from the everyday grind of a brother who doesn’t always sleep well, makes a lot of noise and so much more.

It will be interesting to see how Tanner reacts. I suspect he will sense the absence, but just keep on trucking.

I will be sad not to see those blue eyes everyday. But I will be happy knowing that he is happy.

Adam will be sooooo very happy!

And I will be okay…..in a few days.

A Different Perspective

I’m struggling with some emotions today. So it’s time to write. 

These words should say it all. 

Hurricanes. Storm surge. Floods. Tornados. Devastation. Loss of everything. No home. No car. No material possessions. 

Mud. Mold. Trash. Debris. Destruction. 

Human spirit. Rescue. Boats. Volunteers. Donations. Church groups. FEMA. Red Cross. Shelters. Compassion. Hard work. Cleanup. 

The first group of words prompts the second group of words. 
Here are some more words. 
Autism. Disability. Isolation. Behaviors.
Repetition. 

Repetition.

Repetition.
Lack of sleep. Noise. No words-but lots of noise. Destruction. Poop. Yes, poop. Discrimination. Stares. Seizures. Doctors. Medical bills. Therapy bills. 
Never. Ending. 

Lifetime. 

No telethons. No volunteers. No help with the poop. No relief from the repetition. No donations of money for therapies or services. Government cuts for therapies or services. No insurance coverage. No catching up on the sleep. No compassion among the stares. 
No rescue. 

Never. Ending. 
Lifetime. 
Hurricane survivors will rebuild. The misery will end at some point. 

The rescuers will return to their normal lives. The donations will end. People will reminisce. But it will be over. It may take a long time. Things may never be the same. But that chapter will end. 
Not so for the family dealing with a severe disability. 
The chapter never ends. 
—————–

Please do not think that I am not compassionate towards the millions of people that have been impacted by these storms. My heart hurts for all. 

But day after day and year after year, I see many in my special community fighting battle after battle and no one helps. No one rescues. 

Some families will drown in the flood of their own tears. There are thousands of families across our country that need help. But there is no media to cover their storm. 
This is what truly breaks my heart.

Days in the Sun…..

Wow…..It has been a very long time since I sat down at this site to write.  That’s not to say I haven’t been writing.  I write in my head all the time.  Sneaking away from my family, my job, my household duties, etc. is hard to do.  I must have a clear head and no distractions!  Not easy to obtain these days.

But a few weeks ago, I saw “Beauty & the Beast.” Have you seen it yet?  Please go.  It’s a beautiful film, with beautiful music.  Yes, we know all the songs.  But there are new songs.  And one of them captured my attention and then my thoughts.  I’ve included it here so you can listen.

The song is lovely and the lyrics are very meaningful.  This is the line that caught my attention the first time I heard it.

“How in the midst of all this sorrow, can so much hope and love endure?”

To be honest, I wanted to shout out “Jesus”!  Because that is what I believe.  As a Christian, we know that hope and love are here because of Him.  And He is truthfully the wind beneath my wings.  I don’t talk about that much, but my faith is what gets me through each day.  Somewhere in my DNA, God has instilled in me a faith and positive disposition.  It’s in my nature.  When things are really yucky, I might be down for a while…..but not usually for long.  I know where that will comes from.

There is also more to this song.  As I listened to it over and over……I recognized my community.  My little club of special needs families.  Our lives were like “Days in the Sun”.  And then it happened…..whatever we are facing.  A diagnosis we were not expecting.  A life we did not plan to lead.  Grief and uncertainty are daily companions.  Much like that of the Beast, Mrs. Potts, Lumierre.

And yet, for most of us, like the characters in the story, we still have hope.  Hope for a cure.  Hope for a better future than the one we look towards as our children become adults.  Hope for improvement in our loved one’s symptoms.  Hope for new skills to be learned.  Hope for a good night’s sleep.  Hope for a day to be seizure free.

Madame Garderobe sings the following line.  “Oh, I could sing of the pain these dark days bring.  The spell we’re under, still, it’s the wonder of us I sing of tonight.” Oh, yes…….we special needs parents can sing our woes.  We talk about the pain, the hurt, the uncertainty.  But when I look at my community, I also see joy.  Along with the wonder and admiration that we have for each other. We laugh……we laugh about things other parents can’t even imagine.  I mean, can “poop really hit the fan?”  According to my friend, the answer is yes.

Where does the joy come from?  I believe it’s love.  We love our kids fiercely despite the challenges they bring to our lives.  We love them when they accomplish new goals and when they regress to behaviors we thought they had left behind.  We love them when they sleep (we love them A LOT during sleep!).  We love them when they can’t express an emotion and they act out with aggression or when they hug our necks and play with our hair.  Joy comes and it goes……and this life is not always joyful.  Not every day.  But I think I have a truer appreciation of each joy when it shows up.

Belle sings, “I was innocent and certain, now I’m wiser but unsure.”  Boy, I can relate to that.  You grow up, you get married, you have kids, you raise your kids, they start their own life.  I had that plan all mapped out.  I was so innocent and certain……that is true.  And then, BAM……God said, “No, I have a different plan for you”.  That was not what I was expecting.  I’ve had to learn and to grow, to persevere and be creative.  I’ve had to come to terms with our situation – still working on that.  I am definitely wiser and more unsure than ever.  Yep, I think she is singing about me!

And then to me the crescendo of the song is the part that really hits home.  Belle sings “I can feel a change in me, I’m stronger now, but still not free.”  I am stronger.  And my fellow parents are stronger as well.  We have grown, but we are not free.  There is no freedom from the worry or the work that comes as a parent of a special needs child.  Parenting a young one is hard….but every day I am realizing that those days were a breeze compared to parenting an adult that should be living their own life.

Jesus will be with me on this walk.  He has already carried me more times than I can count.  His presence is real.  His love is certain.  That’s how my hope and love endure.

Days in the sun will come shining through.   Eventually. Here on earth if a miracle happens.  Or in heaven, when Tanner can finally tell me why he got up so early every day!!!

 

 

 

 

September 11…..14 years ago

We all remember where we were. We all watched. We all felt the pain. We were all horrified.

Where are we now?

A couple of days ago, I watched a short documentary video about the people that were evacuated from lower Manhattan by boat. It was fascinating. I had never heard that part of the story before.

How is it, that so many years later, we still hear new stories?

This morning, on the news, they covered the first few minutes of the Memorial Ceremony at Ground Zero/World Trade Center Memorial. Just as they were broadcasting the audio from the service, I heard the name……Andrew Anthony Abate. It sounds familiar. Probably because his is one of the first names read every year as family members read the names of those lost in the World Trade Center.

His name may be familiar, but I know nothing about Andrew. So I did what any person in 2015 would do. I googled his name. I want to know more about this man. The name that I seem to hear every year. I know that he is more than a name. He is a son. Maybe a husband. Maybe a father.

So I find his obituary. In reading the tribute, I find out the saddest thing…..he has a brother. Vincent Abate. Vincent and Andrew both worked for Cantor Fitzgerald. On the 105^th floor of Tower 1. A mother lost both of her sons in one day.

This is hard for me as I have 2 sons. I cannot imagine. Andrew was married. I cannot find anything that says Vincent was. They had no children.

I am so sorry for this family. So sorry for their loss. I have seen their pictures on the internet. I now have a face to go with the names. It seems a little more personal to me, this sudden interest in this man.

And then, today I thought……they always cover the beginning of the service. We always hear the As. Some might stay towards the middle. But there were so many people. What is the last name read?

So, as any normal person would do in 2015, I googled.

There he is….Igor Zukelman. He was from Ukraine. He came to New York in 1992. He became a U. S. citizen and was especially proud to save up the money to buy his first car. He had a son. He was on the 97^th floor of one of the buildings. I don’t see much else about him. I am so sorry for his family also…..for his little boy that must be a teen now and surely must miss his dad.

Two more names, faces to add to my memories of that day.

More stories.

I hope that none of us ever forget. I don’t want anyone to take for granted that you have heard “enough” about that day. That you surely have heard all the stories. There cannot possibly be enough time in any day to hear everything from the people that were there.

This is how we remember. This is what I will do in the future. Look for a new story, google a name from the list.

Always being respectful of their lives…..so many lives. I hope they are each remembered today. And every day……every year. By a loved one. By a friend.

Or even by a stranger in Texas that googled their name.

Wound Tight

There are often times that I am reminded that being Tanner can not be easy for Tanner.
Most days, Steve and I are caught up in the daily trials of what it is like to live with Tanner. I don’t always think about what it is like for Tanner to live.
But last night, I was reminded that his life must be frustrating at some times.
Over the past week or so, we have been battling with a finger wound. It started out as a simple scratch on the middle finger of his right hand. Tanner has some type of super sensitivity in his hands and fingers. He WILL not wear a bandaid unless you sit right next to him and hold the hand that the bandaid is on! In a similar sense, the healing process of a finger wound causes some issues for him also. Just when that wound has the perfect scab…..there must be something about it that drives Tanner so crazy that he has to pick it off. And then we are back to square one.
So…..as we have battled with this wound that becomes fresh every couple of days because he has picked off the scab again, we have become frustrated with him. As a result of his finger picking, he does not get to play with his iPad. This royally ticks him off.
And so there is the cycle……and as it progresses, we all get frustrated and I get angry because I cannot understand why he can’t just leave the finger alone.
Sunday night and yesterday, Tanner was pretty agitated. He was talking non-stop and was slightly aggressive with both me and Steve.
Last night I put him to bed at his usual time. Forty minutes later, despite all of his “make him sleepy” medications, he was still jibber jabbering non stop. I was ready to go to bed, but don’t like going to sleep if I know he is still awake. I decided to lay down with him until he went to sleep.
So, you know that time when you are drifting off to sleep and you can feel your body relax…..it does that twitching thing occasionally…..sometimes startling you as you fall asleep if the twitch is sever enough? Well, last night, as he finally started to slow his mouth down and relax a little bit, Tanner’s body began to twitch.
Snuggled up to him, I could feel him finally relaxing as the twitching went on for about 5 minutes. It was then that I realized how stressed he must be sometimes. He gets so wound up and obsessed about a certain thing and the longer his frustration lasts, the tighter he is wound. And I am sure that having an “at our wit’s end” set of parents that are frustrated with him is not easy.
He loves us and I know he doesn’t understand when we are angry with him sometimes. We are his constant companions and best buddies.  I know he knows when he is doing something that he is not supposed to, but he just can’t help himself.  I feel that way about cookies!

So this morning, I tried to be extra patient with him, even when he was up before he should have been and appeared to be wound just as tight as before he went to sleep.  I gave him a lot of extra hugs before he got on the bus and reminded him of my expectations for the day.  DO NOT PICK YOUR FINGER!

I’m thankful for God’s reminder that it isn’t easy to be Tanner.  So even while guiding him and trying to teach him appropriate behavior, I need to remember to be patient and loving.  Not always easy.  But I’ll try my best.