The Gift

It's been almost exactly one year (plus a couple of weeks) since I started this blog.  I did it half-jokingly and honestly didn't think I'd do much with it.  And I didn't for about six months.  Then one hard day in a year of hard days, I sat down and starting writing and it just came out of me.  It's been an amazing, cathartic, hard, beautiful thing for me. 

I've always had a secret dream of being a writer.  I've always had my nose in a book and a have a fairly vivid imagination.  In fact, sometimes I think that if my childhood had been just a little different, if I'd had more opportunities to take dance classes and learn an instrument and felt more confident and comfortable in my skin, I would have grown up to be on of those extra-creative, head-in-the-cloud types.  For better or worse, my life forces me to be ruthlessly practical. 

I hate being ruthlessly practical all the time. I hate thinking in budgets and coupons and how many uses I can get out of this one item all the time.  Sometimes, I want to be creative and dreamy and in my own world. 

Also I probably need therapy. But I'm cheap.

So, writing has been fulfilling two very important needs in my life--a creative outlet and free therapy.
I've needed both of those things this last year.  Our family is in a season of constant change and mishaps and it's been . . . difficult.  Honestly, it's been really, really difficult, like "I want to run away from home" difficult. So the writing has become a lifeline.

This all means when my fairly-new laptop decided to freeze intermittently and never again connect to the internet, it was the proverbial cherry on top.  It wasn't exactly the end of the world but it made writing more challenging for me. We have a desktop that's a dinosaur (in people years, it's seven years old; in computer years, it's 211 years old) but it's chugging along and so was I. 

Then, about a week and a half ago, I got a message from my friend Maria.  I met Maria about five or so years ago when both of our sons attended the same ABA therapy center together.  We're both autism moms which means we are card-carrying members of a very exclusive club.  (We also have a special handshake).  She also owns a local Baby Boot Camp and, after I had Katherine, I braved it and went.

It turned out to be an awesome experience. The atmosphere and especially the people encouraged me to keep coming.  I made more than a few new friends through Baby Boot Camp.  But, most of them, I don't see often.  We stay in touch through Facebook, might see each other occasionally, but otherwise, we are sort of friends from afar. 

But a week and a half ago, out of the blue, Maria called me and asked to meet with me.  "I have something for you," she said. 

I didn't think too much of it, to be honest.  So I arranged to meet at a local McDonald's and, while the kids played, Maria and I chatted and got caught up and wrangled kids (mostly mine). 

Then she handed me a large wrapped present with a card. "What's this?"

"It's for you.  It's from all of us at Baby Boot Camp."

"What?"

She smiled.  "God said that it needed to happen so I listened and we made it happen.  Just read the card."

So I did:

"Dear Sharon,

Thank you for sharing your story on "A Stone's Throw From Perfection." Your writing is poignant, honest, and real. You give us a greater understanding of autism but, most important, how God is ever present and always in control. Your friends at Baby Boot Camp Katy want you to keep on writing. We believe your writing can, does, and will inspire others. We believe your writing can reach the hearts of people near and far.  A crappy computer has no business on a writer's desk . . . and now we can add homeschool mom to your resume. We decided the crappy computer had to go.

Please enjoy this gift and we hope it blessed you and your family the same way you bless all those you meet!

Keep on Writing!
Love, Your Friends at Baby Boot Camp Katy
#publishSharon" 

(Yes, I have my own hashtag now).

You may have guessed already what was in that wrapped box--a brand new laptop.  For me.

Our family has been blessed many times over by more people than I can name. Everything from window repair to helping us pay for therapy.  I'm more grateful than I can say to these people and our family wouldn't survive with their help.  I'm not kidding, we'd fall apart. But having children (especially two with special needs) means they always come first.  Always. 

When I opened that box and stared at that laptop, I was speechless.  This was the nicest thing anyone had done for me, just me, in a long, long time. Maybe ever. The thing is that many of these women at Baby Boot Camp may have never met me, some of them know me in passing, a few would consider me a friend. Maybe they've read my blog a time or two and maybe they haven't. But this gift of a laptop was a life-changing moment for me. There aren't any excuses now. Now I write. And I know that I have a whole lot of mamas who are rooting for me. So it won't just be for me that I'll write, it will be for all of them too.

I've had my new laptop for a week and a half now and I haven't told a single person about it except my husband.  Something about this gift needed to stay all mine for a just a little while.  Each time I use it, I smile and know I have a fan club.  Each time I tell myself I'm too tired or too busy to write something, anything, t day, I remind myself that there's a bunch of people cheering me on.

I have no idea what the future will hold but I do know God and I can't help but think that this has His name all over it, in this gift from these women, in the voice He's given me, in the way He allows me to stitch words together.   The future is not clear (it never is) so I'll keep on writing and watching and waiting because God doesn't work by happy accident. God works with purpose and God is working right now. 

__________

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When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, 'I used everything you gave me'.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/e/ermabombec106409.html

When I Went Away

Convertible hair!

You may have noticed that I've been a bit MIA the last week or two.  That's because about two weeks ago, I left (on a jet plane) and flew back to my home state of Oregon.

Alone.

By myself.

Without children.

For five whole days!

That's right, my friends, no one called me Mom 73,000 times in an hour or asked me for a drink of water the second I sat down and I slept alone in a bed (albeit still scrunched on about six inches of the edge because some habits are hard to break).  I wasn't in charge of anyone except for me, myself, and I (and we're a handful sometimes).  I didn't make a meal for anyone.  In fact, twice, I didn't even make my bed!

It. Was. Amazing.

A view of the Columbia Gorge

It was so nice to be surrounded by people who've known me since way before I became that "autism/tired/always-late-and-kind-of-flaky mom."  It was nice to joke around and watch whatever I wanted to TV (cable TV in my room. Hello! The Hilton called and they are jealous of my accommodations).  I did silly, fun things like ride in a convertible for the first time or go to a karaoke bar (although I wasn't brave enough to sing).  I saw people I loved and caught up with old friends.  I visited beautiful, familiar places like Multnomah Falls and the Gorge and saw mountains and big trees and many, many hipsters.

And, you all, I haven't laughed that much for a long, long time. It felt so good.
  
While I was away, my husband did a great job keeping the kids alive and entertained.  He didn't even call or text all that much (and I had anticipated he would). 

My first evening away, I got the following phone call:
Me: Hello.
Husband: Hi.  Ah, where's the duct tape?
Me: Um, why?
Husband:  I just need it.  Where is it?
Me:  The cabinet in the kitchen.
Husband:  Thanks.  Here, talk to Katherine.

I then spend five solid minutes listening to Katherine alternate between giggling and heavy breathing.  The husband never comes back to the phone.

I wasn't worried.  Mostly.

A couple of days later, I get a text message.
Husband: Interesting Day.  We are now the proud owners of one very large Rastafarian Banana.
Then I got this picture:

Seems innocent enough, right? It was a little stuffed banana with dreds.  Doesn't seem very big either. Weird but not a big deal. Then I got home and met him in person.

He was just a tiny bit bigger then I imagined.  Even better, our new banana friend, given to us by our elderly neighbor across the street, had a hole in it. So the den floor looked something like this:

Good old Rastafarian Banana was like a gift that kept on giving.  He got duct tape over the hole because Katherine loved him so much, she insisted he sleeps in her twin-sized bed with her.

Sadly, just yesterday, our good friend banana friend rode off into the sunset, his final destination some garbage heap somewhere.  The kids haven't noticed.  Yet.

Multnomah Falls

I should probably say that I feel guilty about going on this trip but I don't.  I needed this mom-cation
more than air.  I love all my little people.  They are beautiful, sweet, loving gifts but they are incredibly high maintenance, a fact my husband now become very familiar with.  He pointed out, after I got back, how lonely it was to be at home with the kids all the time (yup), how much attitude Ben has (um, yeah), how Katherine really commits to a temper tantrum (most definitely) and how Gideon can get into a maximum number of things in a minimal amount of time (very true).  How thankful I am, though, to have a husband that saw how badly I needed a break and didn't bat an eye?

I came back from Oregon calmer, refreshed, lighter.  Of course, real life came back with a vengeance (dentist appointments, Daniel broke his glass, Gideon continued his rage rampage, and Katherine ended up with a trip to urgent care for a cut on her foot--all in the first 48 hours I was home).  Honestly, it seems like those five days happened in the distant past.  But it did happen and I have the pictures to prove it.

And you can bet I'm already planning next year's trip.  

__________

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Our Great Adventure, Part Two

If you have not read part one of our Great Adventure, take a moment and do so right HERE.

When I last left you, we'd finished three full days of our road trip form Texas to Oregon.  We'd been to the Grand Canyon, seem more of west Texas and New Mexico than any person needs to, and had arrived, exhausted at a sad Motel 6 in the sad desert town of Barstow, California.

I'm not sure what strange voodoo is going on in Barstow but I have yet to meet someone that had fond memories of it.  Then again, after hours of desert and desert and more desert, Barstow seemed like, well, an oasis of Del Tacos and Wal-Marts and gas stations.  But it is, in fact, where our Great Adventure seems to take a turn.

August 4th--Day 4 (Also our 14th wedding anniversary)

7:24 am. Local time

Barstow, California

Katherine takes a nose-dive off the bed, hits the end table and ends up with a mouth full of blood (cut lip inside).

Then the electricity goes off.

Time to get out of Barstow.

_________

Our morning started out with Katherine falling off the bed and hitting, what we thought at the time, the corner of her mouth.  There was a lot of bleeding, as often happens with mouth injuries.  She cried and she threw up.  At the time, I was certain the throwing up was because she was so upset.  It took about 10 minutes to calm her down and then she played happily in the bathtub.  We thought that was that. 

Of course, that wasn't that at all. 

9:47 pm local time

Mohave Desert. Again.

I'm in the land of pop again. :) (If you don't know what that means, you've lived in Texas too long).

10:37 am local time

Mohave Desert

Looks like Katherine hurt more than her lip when she fell. Just called our dentist. Waiting to see if we need to take her somewhere when we hit Bakersfield. Prayers appreciated.

________

About two hours on the road, Katherine became crying, really crying, completely inconsolable. We pulled over.  Guys, we were literally in the middle of dessert. There was nothing around for miles.  Just dirt, a couple of cactus and our minivan.  After I checked on her, I realized that she had hit her mouth much harder than we've first realized.  (Warning: This picture is a little graphic.  If you have kids, you've probably seen worse). 

We took a picture and phoned our dentist's office back home who had me text a picture.  (By the way, I love our pediatric dentist).  They assured me it would look worse before it looked better and I was given instructions on how to care for it including, wiping with a warm washcloth, cut up her food into small pieces, and make a dentist appointment when we get home. 

12:33 pm local time

Bakersfield, California

Eating lunch at Denny's and just realized I forgot the wedding present. Considered sending Carl back for it but it IS our anniversary . . . .

3:37 pm Local Time

Shandon Rest Stop, California

Highway 101, here we come.

Our view from the rest stop.  Sadly, the drought brought brown, brittle grass everywhere we looked.

4:53 pm Local time

Cambria, California

Well, it wouldn't be a vacation unless someone puked. 

________

And it was Katherine.  Who, you'll remember, had fallen and hit her head hard on a night stand that morning and had already thrown up once before. 

5:09 pm Local Time

Highway 1

Look what we found!

The kids seeing the Pacific Ocean for the first time.

7:59 pm Local Time

Monterey, California

Made it to Chili's after a terrifying, beautiful, exhilarating drive up Highway 1. I had to close my eyes a lot which was okay because I wasn't driving.

__________

Ah, yes, Chili's.  Have you ever wondered what would happen if your child projectile-vomited during dinner hour rush at a restaurant?  Never fear, I can answer that.  

Katherine seemed to be feeling better.  It had been a long day on the road and we were all tired and hungry.  We'd just settled in to eat some chips and salsa when Katherine blew.  And she blew everywhere.  They had to move us and the table to get everything up.  We weren't sitting in a quiet little corner of the restaurant.  Oh no, we were in the middle of it all.  

We gave our waiter a very good tip. 

But I wasn't as concerned about cleaning up the puke as much as the fact that this was the third time in less than twelve hours that Katherine, who'd had a nasty run-in with an end table, had thrown up.  I called our pediatricians' office on-call doctor after I changed her clothes and then mine (because, of course, I got it too).  The pediatrician told us we really needed to take her to an emergency room to be checked out.

We drove to Salinas, California (a bit outside of Monterey) and checked into the Wagon Wheel Hotel (can you guess what their logo was?) just after 10pm.  It was decided that Carl would stay with the boys and sleep while I took Katherine to a local emergency room. My GPS did not fail me.  It took me directly to the nearest local hospital.  It was also the county hospital.

"Are you lost?" The woman at the desk asked me as soon as she saw me.

"I don't think so?"  But maybe? "We're here passing through on vacation and she fell and needs to see a doctor." 

"Okay then," she replied and talked me through the admittance process before sending us to the waiting room, which was small and cramped and guarded by two police officers. 

There were two seats left . . . right next to a man in an orange jumpsuit wearing handcuffs on both his hands and feet.  Next to him sat his own personal prison guard.  We sat and the prisoner smiled at Katherine, showing a smile missing quite a few teeth except the few hanging on by sheer will.  

"She's cute," he said.

"Ah . . . ." I mean, really, what am I supposed to say?

"Shut up," the guard growled.  "No talking." The prisoner slumped down and didn't say another word. 

Katherine eventually fell asleep in my arms while we waited and waited and waited and  . . . . well, you get the point.  My phone didn't work in the hospital so I spent most of my time people watching.  An older man who looked homeless sat across from us, his belly distended and uncomfortable looking.  A family sat behind him, the little girl with dark hair and even darker eyes playing peek-a-boo with me. A very drunk young man whose friend had just been hit by a car sat to the left of me. He cried and spoke loudly and I learned more about his life than I ever needed to know.

Hanging out in her hospital bed, waiting
for the doctor.  

Katherine slept on and then, finally, we were called back.  The triage nurse fawned over a now-awake Katherine and then moved us to a second waiting room.  Here, Katherine got her second wind and danced around to "Uptown Funk" for 45 minutes before we were given a bed.  The bed was in the hallway.  For privacy. there was a curtain.  The curtain did not block out the sound of the young man getting arrested in the bed across from us.  

The nurses and hospital staff were all very nice and happily ooh'ed and ahh'ed over Katherine.  I got the feeling they didn't see many almost two year olds with infectious smiles.  After all that, the doctor spent ten minutes with us, declared a very mild concussion, told me what to look for, and sent us packing.  

So, a very tired Mommy and a now rather awake Katherine headed back to our hotel room around 1:30 in the morning. 

1:44 am Local Time

Salinas, California

Apparently it's never really a family vacation unless someone ends up in the emergency room.

She's fine but a loooong night.

_____

That, my friends, is day four of our trip.  But, my friends, I'll warn you now, the puke is just getting started.  Part three will be coming soon . . . .

_______

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Our Great Adventure: Part One

Last summer, one of my very dearest and long-time friends was getting married back in my home state of Oregon.  She asked me to be a bridesmaid so I had to go.  And somewhere along the way, my husband and I got the brilliant idea to make a family road trip.

We live in Texas.

That's roughly 2200 miles one way, if we take the direct route.

This is with four children in our 12 year old minivan.

I know, you're thinking that this had the makings of a dream vacation, right? Honestly, we rarely go anywhere.  Vacations are expensive and difficult with four children, especially when two have autism.  But we were determined to make this happen.  We wanted it to be one of those trips the kids looked back at when they grew up and remembered with fondness.  To this end, we added extra stops.  It was on our list to see the Grand Canyon, the Hoover Dam, and the Redwoods, to name a few.

This trip would be our Great Adventure.

The Trip to End All Trips.

And it was! But, as is usually the case with our family, most things didn't go as planned.

I present to you: our summer vacation.  This story is told mostly in Facebook status updates and pictures and sarcasm and laughter.

Day 1: August 1st 

8:30 a.m.

Oregon or bust. (But bust isn't really an option).

10:38 am. 

Two hours on the road and a stop for a bathroom break.

Ben: This is boring.

Noon

Stopped at a McDonald's for lunch in San Antonio.

Daniel: Is this Oregon?

1:59 pm 

UPDATE

Ben has threatened to run away.

In related news, I have a headache.

3:42 pm

Middle. Of. Nowhere. Texas.

Some pretty decent places to hide a body. If you're into that sort of thing.

5:47 pm

I was wrong. I am NOW in the Middle of Nowhere, Texas.

An unfortunate turn of events when you've has to pee for the last 75 miles.

And no, Daniel, still not in Oregon yet.

6:23 pm

Stopped at Pizza Hut for dinner in Iraan, Texas.  A town, in the middle of nowhere in the middle of nowhere Texas.  But they had gas stations and bathrooms so it was all good. 

9:23 pm

New Mexico! Which looks a lot like Texas.

9:18 pm (local time)

Arrived at the Motel 6 in Carlsbad.* Should be fun squishing everyone in tonight. Adults exhausted. Little people are ready to party. Where did I put that Benadryl? Hmmmm . . . .

*In order to save money, we did, in fact, all share one Motel 6 room.  A couple of kids slept on blanket pallets we made on the floor (we brought blankets and pillows) and seemed to think it was "fun."  That's how you do it when you're on a budget. 

Day Two: August 2nd

7:52 am (local time)

Daniel helped me load up the van because "he's a servant of all" (his words).

Grand Canyon here we come (after a whole lot of New Mexico).

10:21 am local time
Roswell, New Mexico

I call this picture, "Family Reunion."  

1:12 pm local time

Rest stop on I-40, Somewhere, New Mexico

Daniel: Is this the end of New Mexico?

4:28 pm local time.

ARIZONA! (Nope, Daniel, still not Oregon).

7:46 pm local time

Flagstaff, Arizona

Family vacations are so much fun! Can't wait to do it again next summer. Except maybe leave off the family part . . . .

Day 3: August 3rd

4:41 am Local time

Some of us have not quite adjusted to the time zone change. Gonna be a LOOOOONG day.

9:32 am Local Time

Williams, Arizona

Gateway to the Grand Canyon!

1:37 pm Local Time

Mission accomplished!

And all the children survived . . . But the Grand Canyon will forever be changed. 

:)

4:59 pm Local Time

California, baby! I'm just one state away from Oregon!

6:15 pm Local Time

Mohave Desert, California

Dear Mohave Desert,

If you grew some trees or an amusement park, more people would like you.

Sincerely,
Me

8:45 pm Local time

Barstow, California.

Del Taco. Motel 6. Tired. Sleep.

This ends our third day (and also the first installment of our Great Adventure story).  Seems like a pretty simple story.  Everything seems to be going as planned.  But day four will bring an accident in a hotel room, puke and more puke (because these are my children) and an emergency room visit.  

And that's all just day four!  Keep you eye out for Part Two coming very soon!

_________

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For My Husband on Our Anniversary

On August 4th, my husband and I will celebrate our 15th wedding anniversary.  This hardly seems possible that it's been that long and yet, some days, it feel feels like we've been married forever.  These years of our marriage, I have decided, are like the thick of the battle; we're in trenches. We're overrun by children and stress.  Half the time, we can't figure out how to communicate with each other; the other half of the time, we fall asleep mid-sentence.

This anniversary we'll be surrounded by the four tiny people were crazy enough to create. I'll probably make a dinner no one will like.  We'll wrestle to get everyone in bed and then we'll pass out trying to watch another episode of "The Walking Dead."  (It's the same episode we've been trying to watch of the last week).

Married with kids? It's not glamorous or peaceful.  We rarely get five minutes to ourselves, let alone five minutes with each other.  When we are alone, we bicker and argue. There are more days where I'm annoyed than not at my husband and I'm certain that feeling is mutual.  There have been days when I have wondered what in the world am I doing?  Why am I married?  (I'm also sure that feeling is mutual).

Marriage is hard.  Marriage with kids is harder.  Marriage with kids with autism is super hard. But I'm proud of us for sticking it out.  When many, many people would have broken, my husband and I held each other together, usually with duct tape and prayer. We may fight and push each other's buttons but we get through the hard stuff as a team.

Sometimes in the midst of all that hard, ugly things life throws us, it's hard to remember the why. Why did we fall in love?  Why did I pick this person? Why is this worth sticking it out?  Why?  Why is always such an annoying question. It sits in the back of your brain and pecks away at you until you figure out the answer.  And frankly, this question needed to be answered.

So, for my husband whose love language is words of affirmation, and, for my husband, on our anniversary (and also because this is free and we're on a budget), here is why I love my husband (in no particular order):

1.  He makes me laugh.
2.  He's extremely smart and well-read.
3.  He's humble.
4.  He's compassionate with those that are hurting.
5.  He clearly has good taste in women.
6.  He works hard, even at a job that would not be his first choice.
7.  He's an all-around good guy.
8.  He's an amazing father, to children that can be difficult.
9.  He puts up with me.
10.  He loves Jesus.

I am very thankful to have Carl as my husband.  Our road has not been an easy one.  We've held on through bumps and bruises, through anger and disappointment, but somehow, we've always held on to each other.

Happy anniversary to my love.  I don't say it enough but you are the very best that God could have given me.

_________

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