When my boys got home from school today, the first thing they did was run to the bag of candy they got at their class Valentine’s Day parties yesterday. Jacob opened this big, twisted, rainbow colored sucker that will probably take him 3 hours to eat. (Yay, sugar!)

Christopher, after choosing his own treat, came running up to me and said, “Mom! Avery had the same sucker Jacob has and guess what! She brought it to school today. She had it in her pocket at recess and showed it to everyone! And guess what else! She let us all have a lick and I got the first lick!”

As I shuddered at the idea of about 15 nasty little tongues licking the same loll pop I said, “Well, at least you got the first lick and didn’t have to lick after anyone else.” His response… “Well, I licked it again but don’t worry, Avery wiped it off on her sleeve after each person took a lick so, it’s ok.”

Ugh.

It happened. I’ve spent the last eight years wondering how we would discuss it only to have it come upon me with no warning. Jacob was in the shower and I was in the bathroom with him, making sure he stays on task.

I was leaning against  the sink, lost in my own thoughts about Thanksgiving next week,  mentally going through my list of things to do when his sweet little voice called out, “Mom, do I have autism?”

I froze with fear. I realize I have no idea how to respond to this but I know that I must and that I have to do it alone because Jim is working late tonight. I can’t get this wrong. If there was ever a time I needed to keep my composure and find the right words it is now.

I slid the shower door open slightly so he could see my face and I said, “Yes. But, do you know what Autism is?”

“No, but Kamari told me I have it.”

I said, “How about you finish up your shower and we’ll have a little talk when you’re done. Does that sound alright? That way, we won’t get the floor all wet!”  He giggled and agreed. I had a few minutes to think about what I should say but it didn’t feel long enough. My mind was racing.

After he dried off and put on his pajamas, we went downstairs and sat on the couch. Before I even said one word he asked, “Have I always had autism?”

“Yes,” I said, “You were born with it.” I explained to him that, when he was fifteen months old, we noticed that he still wasn’t talking at all so we took him to see a doctor. “But, how did they know I have autism?” he asked. I told him that it was a special doctor that knew just what to look for with little tests. “But, you had so much fun because the tests were really like little games that you got to play. Once they told us you had autism, we started working with a bunch of people that specialize in helping little boys and girls learn to talk. That is how we met Miss Christy! And, all those people worked really hard to help you talk because they also knew what an amazing kid you are and how smart you are.”

“So, having autism makes me special, right?” he asked.

“Yes! It does make you special. Remember how you used to be afraid of loud noises and going to the bathroom in public places and being around a lot of people?”

“Yes, but I’m not afraid anymore,” he reminded me.

“That’s right!” I said. “You faced your fears and you go into bathrooms all the time and you don’t even plug your ears! And, now you go to parades and parties and you enjoy yourself! Do you know how many people go through life and never face their fears? Autism made you brave enough to do that! It also makes you really smart and really kind and that’s why so many people love you so much.”

He smiled at that and said, “So, having autism is a good thing, right?”

I pulled him into a hug and said, “Absolutely.”  He hugged me for a minute and then said, “Can I have a cheeseburger now?”

I laughed and said, “Yes,” and he trotted into the kitchen. I sat back on the couch, let out a big sigh and realized I handled it just fine. And, more importantly, so did he.

Right or wrong, we believe in the Tooth Fairy in our house. (And Santa Claus and The Easter Bunny… you get the picture.) Monday afternoon, Christopher lost a tooth. He put it under his pillow and woke up the next day with a crisp dollar bill, tooth gone.

Two days later, he lost another tooth.  He pulled it out Wednesday morning as soon as he woke up. He was very excited that the Tooth Fairy was going to come see him again so soon! He was so excited that he jumped up, got ready for school only to realize about fifteen minutes later that he couldn’t find the tooth he had just pulled. We searched frantically until the bus arrived with no luck.

Before he went to bed Wednesday night, we looked again but couldn’t find it. So, we wrote the tooth fairy a note instead. She was kind enough to give him the dollar and take the note. But, last night, we found the missing tooth! Jim, Christopher and I were in our bedroom discussing whether or not the Tooth Fairy would come back that night to get the tooth and whether or not she would leave another dollar. The answer, of course, was yes, she would give him another dollar now that he found his tooth.

Jim was looking around the top of his dresser for an envelope or baggie to put the tooth in to keep it safe. He picks up the plastic baggie containing the tooth Christopher had pulled Monday and says to Christopher, “Here, we can just put it in this bag with your other tooth.” I immediately turned to Jim with a look of horror on my face, waiting for Christopher to catch on. Jim quickly realized his error, eyes wide and waiting for the fallout.

Christopher ran over, then stopped in his tracks and said, “Wait a minute. Where did that tooth come from?”

But that Jim Brett is quick. While having had a momentary lapse of sense, he came up with an excuse. He looked back to his dresser, hid the bag quickly, turned back to Christopher and said, “I’m so crazy! I don’t have your other tooth! The Tooth Fairy took it. I saw a piece of lint that looked like a tooth. But I was wrong. Let’s go downstairs and get a fresh baggie with no lint in it to keep your tooth in so it’s nice and fresh for the Tooth Fairy.”

Christopher looked doubtful for a minute but it appears we got away with it… this time. He certainly wasn’t questioning it when he awoke to find another dollar under his pillow this morning.

I remember when I found out my Aunt Julie was going to have a baby. She was the first pregnant woman I had ever spent time with and I was fascinated. I would sit at the kitchen table at my grandma’s house, listening to Julie talk about the baby and everything she was experiencing and watching her as the months went by. I was so excited to have a new cousin. I had never been around babies before Chaz and I fell in love with him the first time I met him. He set the groundwork for how I would feel about all my future cousins and nephews and niece.

After Chaz was born I would go to my grandma’s just waiting for my Uncle Charlie and Aunt Julie to come over with him. I remember sitting on the living room floor next to Pawpaw’s chair, Chaz lying on a blanket on the floor and I could just watch him for hours. In one of those visits Pawpaw said to me, “Shelly, I believe you’re gonna stare a hole through that baby you’re looking at him so much.”

The first time Julie let me take him to the park I was so jazzed. I carried him on my back all the way there and he ran that little mouth the whole way, giggling and talking about everything. I loved making him smile and I loved running into my friends and getting to show him off a bit.

When I was in college, Chaz was one of my regular visitors, stopping by just for the hell of it. No reason, he just wanted to hang out with me. My sister, Amy, and I used to laugh and say that he would be the one to have to take care of us when we got old. His reply was always, “I’ll take care of both of you and I’ll love every minute of it.”

I have spent many hours laughing with him but he has also been there with me through some tough times. I have poured my heart out to him on many alcohol fueled evenings and he has never judged me. He always listened with an open mind and an open heart and all the hugs I needed. And, who else could I count on to show up at my apartment to scare the shit out of me, pounding on my door and announcing “It’s Reagan!” after I had just watched “The Exorcist” at the theater?

Chaz you are like the little brother I never had and I love you with all my heart. I miss getting to spend time with you but I cherish all those memories we have. I wish you the happiest of birthdays, my sweet cousin!  You deserve the best!

I want to share a conversation I had with my son tonight about dinner. Did you hear what I just said? I said conversation; with my autistic son. The same son that couldn’t speak at all when he was three. The same son that didn’t want to do anything but sit on my kitchen floor and spin my pot lids over and over and over and over again. The same son that, when he started school, ran for the first circular object he could find in the classroom so he could spin that over and over and over again.

Trying to talk to Jacob in the past usually meant repeating the question to him at least three times and, even then, you had to coax him on how to answer with more than one or two words. Conversations just did not happen. We would ask questions and he would answer with as few words as possible, all the while, walking away from you or looking away, looking anywhere but directly at you. He could ask for things he wanted or needed but, again, with as few words as possible. If he was thirsty, he would come to me and say, “Water.” Not, “Mom, can I have some water?” Or, “Mom, I’m thirsty, can I have a glass of milk?” Just, “water.”  In any given situation, he used as few words as possible because he didn’t want to engage with us. He just wanted to get back to being alone.

We have all worked so hard to help him come out of his own head. I think it is finally starting to pay off.

Tonight, two great things happened. I was upstairs giving my youngest a bath. Jacob was downstairs watching a movie.  He came upstairs and into the bathroom, looked me right in the eye and said, “Mom, what does biotch mean?” After laughing a bit I asked, “Where did you hear that?” He said, “On this movie I’m watching right now. These bigger boys said it to one of the younger boys. I think he was being a bully.” After I explained that it was just a bad word he went back to watch something else.

Then, after his shower, as he was drying off I said to him, “Buddy, you know those chicken and apple sausages you like?” And before I could go on he said, “Yeah, Mom. I saw that you cooked them for me, thanks.”

Do you know how huge this is? I mean actual conversations! They have been happening more and more this summer. I just had to go hide and cry. I am so amazed by this boy. He has worked so hard to come out of his little autistic shell. It’s been a lot of work for us as well as Jacob. But, if I can help him be more successful, it’s worth every ounce of energy I have to give.

We’ve been doing the GAPS diet since last March.  When we first started it I thought Jacob was going to be the one that gave me the most difficult time about it. It turns out that Christopher is the resistant one. So much so that he refused to eat and started losing weight. Needless to say, he is on a less restricted diet than Jacob now.

Before this happened, though, during the school year, he was constantly getting into trouble for trying to get kids to share their lunch, particularly when the school lunch was pancakes. He was so desperate to have one that he actually took one out of the trash one day. (Fortunately, one of the lunch aids saw him and guided him away.)

Now, his friend, Erin, who stole his heart from the first time he laid eyes on her, was always offering Christopher bites of her lunch or snacks. Poor Ms. Holmes constantly had to keep an eye on them during Kindergarten snack time. She tried to be vigilant and support our crazy diet! Most days, she was successful in intervening so Christopher did not eat something he wasn’t supposed to.

Based on what Christopher told me tonight, those kids were sneakier than she knew.

During dinner, Jacob, Christopher and I were all just talking about random things when Christopher said, “Hey, Mom. Do you remember my friend, Erin?” I told him I remembered her.  “Well,” he says, “I never told you this but, one day Ms. Holmes gave the class Goldfish for our snack. Remember that I wasn’t allowed to have them and I always had my own special snack?” I told him I remembered that, too. “Well, this one day, Erin was eating her Goldfish snack and I looked at her and said, ‘It’s been a really long time since I had any Goldfish. I sure would like one now.’ And, you know what she did?”

I said, “No, what did she do?”  “Well, she gave me some of her Goldfish as a secret! And, before Ms. Holmes saw me, I ran over and hid them in my cubby! When I came back inside from recess, I ate them! And no one ever knew! Then, we started doing that every time Ms. Holmes gave them Goldfish! So, I had secret snacks all the time! Isn’t that cool, Mom?”

Then I said, “You realize you just told on yourself, don’t you?” He just shrugged and said, “It was a long time ago so it’s ok. And besides, you pretty much let me eat whatever I want now so it’s ok, right?” Sheesh.

Jacob’s bus arrives at approximately 8:40 in the morning. They are almost always on time. In order to get everything done that I need to, Jacob needs to be up and out of bed by 8:00AM at the latest. But, like a lot of kids on the spectrum, he has a difficult time calming down at night.

He is doing fantastic things these days. He is talking more (and not just about his favorite shows or stories), he is playing with his brother with some great pretend play, he is participating in group activities at school and even volunteering answers during group reading! I don’t see him stimming much at all during the day but it seems to catch up with him in the evening. That’s fine. I’ve got no issue with that. I love seeing all the progress he’s making.

So, by 7:45 or 8:00 in the evening, he starts getting wound up and jumping around the room. He brushes his teeth, gets dressed for bed and then says, “Dad, I need some time alone in my room, please.” So, he gets it. We hear him up there jumping around and talking and laughing. (Sounded like he was going to come through the ceiling last night!) I asked him what he was talking about and he said, “Mom, I’m a Power Ranger.”

What all that means is that he is still awake most nights until at least 10:00PM, sometimes closer to 10:45. What that also means is that he is TIRED in the morning. Fortunately, he is not grumpy in the morning. (Very un-Bailey like.) When I go to wake him, he will say, “One more minute?” I usually give it to him. Most days, he’ll lie up there a few more minutes and then come down without any more prompting from me. (Again, very un-Bailey like… he certainly doesn’t get that from me.)

That gets him downstairs most days by about 8:15 or so. And, though I have his breakfast ready and waiting for him, I still have to get all of his supplements ready (two of them are liquid ones that you have to shake up so I can’t pour them until he is ready to take them), make sure he takes them and has time to eat and get dressed AFTER I have put some oils on his feet that help with his allergies. (Needless to say, I run around like a crazy woman trying to make sure he gets everything he’s supposed to.)

Today, we went out with me shoveling the last few bites of his breakfast into his mouth as we walked down the yard to the bus, while he was putting his backpack on his shoulders.

Once he’s on the bus, I let out a big sigh that we made it (sort of on time) once again.

Why then does he wake up at 6:45AM almost every Saturday?

Crazy as it sounds, the look of pain on my little Bean’s face when he broke his arm has been haunting me a little bit. Thankfully, I have a new, wonderful picture in my head of his sweet face! I took him to school today for the first time in over two weeks. He was a little nervous about going and even tried to talk me into letting him stay home one more day. But I convinced him he would have fun. Wow, was that an understatement.

When we got to the school, he was still a bit tense and started stalling in the office. But, when we walked into his classroom, you’d have thought a cloud of fireworks just went off in there! Those kids turned and saw Christopher and they all started screaming and smiling and running towards him. His little face lit up like the sun!! They all came running and started hugging him and yelling his name. He was like a rock star. And, oh, that face! You know how kids get that wide eyed, open mouthed, smiling from ear to ear look when they are really excited? That’s the look he had. It was amazing and so incredibly heartwarming! I think he almost cried he was so excited.  I can’t get the picture of that sweet smile out of my head!! And, I love it! (Unfortunately, I was so wrapped up in the moment I didn’t think to get an actual picture!)

I had to spend the day there with him today to make sure he didn’t get too jostled around and to sort of help him figure out how to navigate in the classroom with his arm in the cast. When we left near the end of the day, as we walked to the car together he said, “This was the best day of the entire school year!”

Tonight when I go to bed, that is the face I will see in my dreams. And, I think Christopher will see all those kids running for him with excitement on their little faces and he’ll fall asleep with a smile.

There is nothing worse than seeing or hearing you baby in pain.  Jim and I were in the kitchen getting lunch ready when I heard the most horrifying sound I’ve ever heard. There was this horrendous crunching sound and then a cry that came out of Christopher’s mouth that I will never forget. I ran into the Living Room to find him holding his poor, twisted little arm. His eyes were so big and the pain on that little face broke my heart into a million pieces.

I gently scooped him into my arms and tried to comfort him but called out to Jim, “He broke his arm!” Jim got on the phone and called 911. They were here in five minutes and Christopher got his first ambulance ride. The paramedics were so fantastic. They were asking him some questions to distract him while they tried to brace his arm for the ride. When he got into the ambulance he looked at me with those big brown eyes and said, “Can Pooh Bear come with me?”  I’ve never seen Jim Brett run as fast as he did to get that boy his bear.

When we got to the hospital, Christopher cried, “Please don’t give me a shot.” He was more worried about that than anything.  When they did have to put the IV in, he tried so hard to be brave but he cried and cried and cried. Two seconds after it was in, he stopped crying and looked at me and said, “That wasn’t so bad after all.” He made it through x-rays like a champ. He was so fascinated with all the equipment that he didn’t flinch at all.

When they were getting ready to reset his arm, they told us they would give him enough of a sedative that he would not remember but that he would probably feel some of the pain. They let us stay in the room until the sedative set in. Maybe it’s just me but, watching my little baby falling into that drugged sleep was also sort of horrifying. I’m glad it helped him but watching those little eyes roll back in his head tore me up. But hearing his cries of pain as they reset it was much worse. We were three doors down and they had closed the door but I could still hear him begging them to stop. These are sounds that I am sure will live on in my dreams for a while. Jim and I just sat there praying that our little boy’s arm would heal and that he wouldn’t be in too much pain.

When we were called back into the room, there was a young man holding Christopher’s arm in place while the splint was setting. He was so kind and encouraging while Christopher was coming out of the anesthetic. Christopher looked up at him and said, “Who is this nice boy helping me.” That young man looked up at us and said, “My name is Gabriel.” Seriously? I don’t care what anyone else believes… I know that was God answering a prayer.

I will admit there was some humor watching him come out of the sedative. That wonderful sense of humor he has came out in full force. He was a little upset and confused but he kept saying, “Will one of you tell me if this is a dream or real because I’m seeing two of everything. I see two dads and I know I only have one dad so something funny is going on here.”

The good news is he is home safe now. He is resting comfortably on the couch, watching PAW Patrol. The doctor told us to keep him home from school this week and actually said, “Let him watch lots of movies.” Christopher has already reminded me of that several times.

Well, it’s been a busy day! In all that cooking and playing and opening presents I forgot to shout out to the world a Happy Birthday to my little Bean!!! At 6:30 this morning, Jim Brett and I were reminiscing about the day we went to the hospital! I remember asking him to let me drive because I was having a c-section and I knew I would be able to for a while.

I remember having to say goodbye to my little Jacob, whom I had never been away from for an entire night, let alone 3 days. While I was excited for my little Bean to enter the world, I was devastated leaving my little J-Bird.

And I’ll be eternally grateful to Joan for being here with us that week! You helped in so many ways. But my most fond memory is from when we were in triage and they could not get my IV in and they were on the 5th try. I looked over at you and, without saying a word, the look you were giving me gave me the courage to let them try one more time. (Not that I really had much choice.) You looked so empathetic but also so encouraging. Like you were silently telling me, “You can do this.” That helped me take that deep breath I needed to buck up and stay calm. Once they finally got the IV in and my tears of gratitude that I wouldn’t have to do it again started, you cried with me.

(Right after I came out of surgery and I had that maddening itchy feeling from the epidural, you scratched my back for me so Jim Brett could hold his son! Thanks for that, too!)

I can’t believe that was all six years ago. My little Christopher has given me so much joy. He is such an amazing little guy! He is super smart! I love watching his little mind at work. And what a sense of humor! That child makes me laugh every single day.

Happy Birthday, my little Bean! I love you to the moon and back!!