letting go

As soon as your baby bursts into the world they teach you as their parent all about how to help your child grow. 




You mark a chart with feeding frequency and duration while in the hospital to ensure they are being fed adequately. And then you go home and you feed them around the clock. On demand or by a schedule. All with the hopes of optimal growth and development. I can still practically feel the drain of marathon nursing sessions until my boobs were raw and I was sucked dry of energy. There were days I was scared and convinced he was starving. Each visit and weight check at the Pediatrician rested my concerned mind. But it was worth it- because my baby was growing, filling out. 



Little round wrists and dimpled hands were the mark of a job well done. When it came to parenting- I didn't always know if I was doing the right thing, but I knew I was helping them grow.

And then we started solids. Introducing foods just as the books and my doctors recommended- single grain cereal, sweet potatoes, applesauce. For at least an ENTIRE WEEK I made baby food from organic produce. And it was too much work so instead I bought store bought and felt guilty. He grew just the same.

And boy did my baby grow. So fast I couldn't keep up. He filled out. He grew. He got longer. He crawled. It was amazing to watch their little bodies and minds that seemed to just know what to do next. It was impossible to comprehend. God, DNA, my blood, oxygen and genetics made this incredible little creature here in my arms, staring into my eyes, making to believe it was impossible that a moment existed before he came into the world.

He grew and grew and grew. He started to walk. A little drunken sailor walk that made me squeal and clap and jump up and down. He grew so good, my boy. Too fast really. I finally understood why the little old ladies would stare into my eyes and beg me to enjoy every little moment. So I tried, I really did. Even the awful ones were somehow better than the days before he was around.

And then he grew and he grew some more. His waddle walk turned almost instantly into a run. And then a jump and a climb too. He now had favorite foods- spaghetti and mac and cheese. It was so fun to watch him explore and play and eat and grow.He outgrew his clothes and shoes at a rapid pace. Every time his growth was charted and plotted at the pediatrician's office, I felt so relieved. So proud. Growing this little human was the most important job I ever had.



And now my first little baby is six years old. I've had my ups and our downs, but deep inside I've always felt equipped to do what's right to help him grow.

But there is one thing I still can't seem to grasp. Something that pains me and keeps me up some nights-- I just don't know how to let go. I'm just not cut out for it. I can't breathe just thinking about it. 



Last week my six year old boy started First Grade.  I still feel a little lost. I'm angry that it's not getting easier as the years go by. I don't get how I'm supposed to give this moving, breathing, incredible shiny part of my soul away every single day six hours a day. 


And although I know I have to let go, I really have absolutely no idea how. I don't know what it looks like. The baby books never mentioned it. There's no prescribed ointment or pill given at the doctor that will help me detach. It feels like lost and homesick and lovesick and sad. I'm envious of the parents who are nothing but joyful at the beginning of each school year. 

I always always want what's best for him. How can what is best sometimes hurt so much?
For now I can't deny or control my feelings so I feel them. Entertain the uncomfortable bastards. I can control my behavior. I will not not rent a car and wear a wig and drive by his school at recess eleventy-hundred times a day. 


I think parenthood is a mixture of holding on and letting go. Teaching them to grow and letting them grow all on their own then. Of doing and letting them do. Teaching them- and learning from them. It's crazy- the gauntlet of feelings we feel every day. Fear, joy, anger, frustration, pain, joy so big it flies out or your heart and can make you cry. The funny thing is- watching him grow and adapt and let go of me, is helping to show me the way. 

last day of summer

The opposite of what ails us is often the anecdote. We often try to treat ourselves with more of the same though.

I remember going through a parenthesis of hard time. I was 28 years old and recovering from a bad break up- that boy was the reason I moved from Missouri to Los Angeles in the first place. Work was so hard. Life was so hard. I felt lost and empty. So I ran more. I went out more. I was afraid to be alone. To feel alone. I filled myself up with noise and the hole grew deeper. I felt like I knew what I should do. I just didn't think I could actually do it.

Finally I did, because nothing else was working and I was broken. Instead of running, I chose to walk into my fears. Walk into the silence. Walk into the thinking I couldn't escape yet tried desperately to avoid. I booked two nights away at a shack called The Nurturing Nest in Palm Dessert- a city near Palm Springs. There were no TVs. No cell phone reception. Just a pool and hot springs that smelled like rotten eggs and promised healing properties. I was awful company- at first. Jittery and bored and anxious. And it sometimes takes so long to peel off the layers we build to cover unease, insecurity and pain. I had a tiny 1960's looking kitchenette and shelves of old books. I relaxed. I read. I hot-springed and stunk.

Although I was extremely excited and ready to drive home, I was glad I went. It did me good. And after that trip, I didn't need other people so much. I didn't need TV so much. I started to make friends with me- so I could think in length and not in hamster ball.

Whatever scares you and sounds like the worst ideas ever may be exactly what you need.

Today we adventured on our last day of Summer before school starts.


We went on our first train trip. Jump and Flaptastic.




The only thing more awesome than riding a train is watching your favorite little people ride a train.


We went to a city called Hanford. It's in the Central Valley of California and is about a 35 minute train ride. It was like we were on an old set of the movie, Back to the Future. SAVE THE CLOCK TOWER!




We visited an old carousel built in 1932. Grey rode a horse for the first time. His name was stormy- which is just so totally Grey.


Doodle played it safe and sat with me.



We also went to a place called Superior Dairy- a classic 1920's ice cream parlor complete with pink vinyl booth seats.







Each ice cream dish was bigger than the next.







It's impossible to be sad and watch kids eat ice cream


Our friend Sawyer was double spooning it

And here is his instant reaction when his Momma said, "all done" because we had to leave to catch our train back.



I freaking love that kid.


The ride home felt like it was five minutes long. I wanted to stop time. Thank you God for perfect moments in our imperfect life.



I've been on a see saw all day. Heavy and filled with dread over Greyson's first day of school tomorrow. I'm not ok about it. And I'm desperate to add contingencies to make myself sound stronger than I actually feel. But it will be great! We will do awesome! I'm Annoyed we have to leave the house by 7:55 every morning. "You'll get used to waking up early once you have kids" they lied. Dreading making a lunch and not wearing pajamas past 8.

I'm Hopeful. Rip off the band aid and then it will be fine. Grey will adjust. Mommy will adjust. Beginnings are hard. Watch Grey- he has to do hard things all the time. Learn by his spirit, his shining example.
Dread. Hope.
Bad. Good.

Up and down
Up and down

Life

It's got me thinking- if letting go of the boys is this hard, this horrible... I must really need to do it more to get used to it. I shush that voice that says- BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT. They have autism. They need me.

Because the truth is, autism or not- they are growing up. They need more opportunities for independence and change. And as usual, in their ability to adapt will somehow show me the way.


It goes by so fast...We can't slow down but we can hold on and enjoy the ride.

life is change

Next week marks the beginning of a new school year for my favorite 6 year old in the whole world, Greyson Kelly. I'm keeping Parker out of the public school system for another year. 

Some scenes from Summer...









Evening family walks always sound like a bad idea until we go. And then I'm amazed by the world, the hot evening breeze and the buzz of street lights. I looped Jack the dog's leash around Greyson's waist and it is a memory I hope I see again when I die. Greyson giggling and running and Jack practically smiling. Pinch me good.






I'm teaching Parker all my best pole moves. 







The fact that Summer is over and school is starting up again has paved every thought of mine this week. I'm anxious. I'm not ready for the whole new Teacher, new classroom thing. Change is so hard. Beginnings are hard. 

And that got me thinking- middles are pretty hard too. Yep, in fact- it's often the time in between that I struggle with the most. They take forever. Much longer than we would like or expected to wait. And heck- you know what?- endings are hard too.  All of life is hard. Which is actually kind of freeing because it takes some of the pressure off beginnings.

Because life is easy. And then hard again. And then easy and hard. Again and again. And I'm pretty sure that's exactly what life is supposed to be. We fret the hard. Curse it. Beg it to end. And when it's easy-often we don't even get a chance to enjoy the easy, because we either don't notice it - or we are nervously waiting for the other shoe to drop. We know the hard is right around the corner. 

Why do we spend so much time fearing the hard of the future, hating the hard of the present, and obsessing over the hard of the past? Why do we protect ourselves from the cascading joy of easy? 

If you are like me- you are afraid to enjoy the easy. I hunger for happiness but don't want to need it as much as I sometimes do. I don't want its absence to scare me. I'm afraid I will be wading in easy's beauty - and then BAM. It all goes to shit. I think part of that is how I'm wired- it's just me. But part of it is because of autism. Many people go through post traumatic stress when life's huge stresses threaten to break you. Whether it's a diagnosis, loss or a major life event. And you are forever changed after it- there's no going back. Ever. And you never want to feel that unguarded, unprepared and traumatized again. So you prepare for bad instead of embracing good and you work to control and plan everything.

And change scares me more than scary movies in the dark. Because when something is totally brand-spanking, top to bottom new- it's impossible to plan for each and every possible life scenario. I am at life's mercy again- just like I was with autism. And that scares me. 

My rational mind knows that a change in Teacher or job or home is NOTHING like a diagnosis of autism. Running out of fruit snacks or our grocery store no longer carrying our favorite brand of gluten free bread isn't autism. But sometimes my mind doesn't like to be rational. If it smells like change I will run if I can. And if I can't? I will be freaking out inside. Many of our fears aren't rational- but we don't know that until we talk them out. Until we place them under the light. And then sometimes when we do that, change is no longer a scary movie. It's like a Disney movie, complete with catchy soundtrack.

Change has a bad rap with control folk freaks like me. So I'm working on it sister. Change is clearly a thread throughout all of our lives. How much easier would all of life be if we learned to befriend change, instead of fear it?

What if we came up with a plan. A plan to recognize the easy and walk right into the hard. Talk/write our feelings out and remember that no matter the circumstances- we can all relate to each others feelings. 

We each have been given this special story to live. And if we don't like our story- CONGRATULATIONS. We have the skills to make CHANGE. And maybe for once, change can be a good, good thing. Admitting we can't control much but our thoughts and choices. NOT THE WHOLE WORLD.  The opposite of change isn't staying the same- it's dead. We can't be alive and stay the same. 


We are constantly growing, changing and evolving. 


So happy to be alive with you,

Chrissy

hello perspective

The orange circle in this image doesn't change size. Nope, not at all. And if you are stubborn like me- it will take you awhile to believe your eyes. And then you have to measure it against something to prove it. And you finally will have no other choice but to realize it's true. Hello dizzy.

But also- HELLO PERSPECTIVE. This image illustrates everything I TRY to think and do and feel and believe in life. 

Things related to autism take up a BIG part of our day. Speech, Behavior Therapy, tantrums, lining things up, going slow, repeating directions, extreme pickiness, screaming, repeating directions, repeating directions, REPEATING DIRECTIONS... But that's just TIME. 

Autism takes up a SMALL part of our whole entire life. I think of my boys simply as my children. My stubborn, brilliant, pain in my butt gifts from God. Days go by and I don't think of autism. I try not to focus on it when I don't need to. My boys are a million different things- least of all autism. 

When I first realized autism was part of our story that damn orange dot took up my entire world. Every thought, every moment of every day, every dream and every nightmare. I realized that I couldn't do a thing to change that damn dot. And at first- that sucked more than anything has ever sucked in my life before. My heart felt like it was suffocating. But after all of that I also realized that all the other dots were up to me. That makes this control freak SO DAMNED HAPPY. The size and content of the other circles are absolutely up to me. And it's my job to make those other circles so big that they out shadow the autism. 

And here's the thing-We ALL have an orange dot in our life. Every one of us. That thing that challenges and isolates us. That rests heavy on our shoulders. The thing that we are afraid that no one else can understand or even begin to relate to. Our circumstances are different, but that doesn't matter. Quite often our feelings about our circumstances are the same- and that is really what matters most to us as human beings. To understand and be understood. And although we can't change our orange dot, we can change so many other aspects of our lives. Those are the blue-ish dots. It's up to us to make them bigger. What they look like depends on what is important to you in ACTION- not just in words. 

We must DO. Whatever you fill your blue dots with is up to you. My blue dots are: God, marriage, Mom-ing, friendship, working out + feeling healthy, daily adventure and being creative. Every week I make contributions to those blue dots to make them grow bigger. Those aspects of my life are not perfect- but they are important to me so I work at them. I fill up those blue dots up, and in doing so- make the orange dot look and feel much smaller in comparison.

The things you can change in your life are huge and important. Take a look at your circumstances is a new way, and in doing so you may just change your life.