Four Stages

*This is a post that I didn't want to write, but has been haunting me for days.  I hope that, when my son reads this years from now, that he knows how much I love him.


Stage One:  Celebration
October 18th was Noel's 5th Birthday.  It was momentous for many reasons.  It was a celebration of five long years of life.  It was his first birthday party with friends.  It was two hours of tears (his), frustration (ours), and epiphany (mine).  It was then that, maybe for the first time, I thought, "There's something wrong with him."  And it broke my heart.  But more about that later.

This is the first year that Noel's shown interest in having a birthday party with friends.  Thinking back, I'm pretty sure he was motivated solely by the possibility of gifts.  But whatever the reason, we were happy to oblige.

The party was dinosaur-themed.  The activities were a surprise.  Knowing what I know now, this was a HUGE mistake.  Monumentally bad, in fact.  He didn't want to drop the capsules in a jar of water to see the spongy dinosaurs at the end of the party.  He wanted to open presents.  And when we said that was fine, we'd open presents once everyone arrived, he stood at the front window and wailed and paced until the last person walked through the door.

We opened presents.  He tore through them as you would expect any five year old to do, and then, while we were setting up the next activity, retreated to his room.  Confused by our pleas to return to his friends, he came back down the stairs.  We painted rocks and decorated gift bags.

We did a Dinosar Walk.

We did an obstacle course, played Bingo, and hit the highly-anticipated pinata (which actually became "bash the pinata on the ground" when it fell off its rope after the first hit).

We ate dinosaur nuggets,

and, in a rare moment of elation, ate the birthday cake he'd been talking about for months.

We breathed a sigh of relief when the party was over.  We were grateful for four wonderful boys from the ward who were good sports, and didn't seem much bothered by the fact that their person of honor had his own agenda.  And what did he say when the door closed on the last retreating guest?  "Thanks, mom!  I had SO much fun!"

Stage Two:  Revelation

Here is my son as I sent him to his first day of preschool:

Yes, he's holding his blankie.

I was excited for him.  The preschool's reputation was excellent, and we'd been lucky to have secured a spot.  He'd had a few problems at the preschool last year, but not anything that a few added months of maturity and development wouldn't fix, right?  After two days, he was the subject of three "incident reports".    One for refusing to get off the bottom of the slide and kicking the teacher who tried to remove him,  another for flailing about at circle time and accidentally hitting one of the kids, and the last one for tugging on the rope the class was holding, and frightening one young child half to death.  Since then, we've heard about his difficulty with transitions, his fits over taking turns, whining when the activity didn't agree with him, yelling and interrupting the teacher, and refusing to go outside during playtime, but then later trying to bolt from class.  At this point, he's been to class six, maybe seven times?

I have an amazing pediatrician.  Very early on, he became concerned about Noel's sensory issues (freaking out when the dr. tried to check his ears, etc.), and had referred us to an occupational therapist for Sensory Processing Disorder.  But this didn't seem to fit anymore.  His sensory issues weren't the only problem here.  And so we returned to the pediatrician.

On October 28th, he told me that my son had Asperger's Syndrome.

Stage Three:  Desperation

I didn't know much about Asperger's Syndrome.  Only about as much as I'd learned on reality television.  So, the only thing I knew for certain was that he still had a real shot at becoming a top model.  "But my son can't be autistic!" I thought.  "He's affectionate and verbal and way more social than my 6 year-old." But as I did the research, the pieces of the puzzle slowly began to come together.  That damn puzzle, whose hundreds of pieces were laid out in plain view for five years!  It explained so much:  why vacations are a nightmare, and returning to our house brings him such a palpable sense of euphoria; why he is terrified of loud sounds, balloons, dogs, and the Backyardigans; why he watches the same TV clip or show time and time and time again; why he is still watching the same TV shows he was watching when he was two; why he has no emotional attachments to any friends and, when pressed to name his "best friend", says Keilana, a girl from his primary class who, undoubtedly, does not feel the same; why he has always described things so oddly, and why a two-way conversation with him is so tedious, bordering on impossible; why he has inexplicable meltdowns that seem to go on forever; why he seems to ignore you when spoken to, and avoids eye-contact, especially with people he doesn't know well; why he often retreats to the garage when stressed out by being watched by a babysitter; or why the train set and the car tracks and the legos never get any use after his older brother tires of them.  

The flip side is, he is a whiz at anything electronic, which is how he spends all of his free time.  He knew his shapes and the alphabet when he was learning to talk.  He had his brothers early-reader books memorized after hearing them read once or twice.  He is moved by music, once he gets over the initial shock of its sheer volume.  He is the most affectionate child I've ever met, and I am the lucky recipient of his many, many hugs, kisses and cuddles.  He is, 90% of the time, much easier to parent than his older brother, since a computer will keep him occupied for as long as you'll let it.

As the puzzle became whole, I cried.  I cried for the future, when being a quirky teenager is much less acceptable than being a quirky kid.  I cried when learning that, as a result, the possibility of depression and anxiety is a very real concern for him.  I cried when I thought of all of the people who wouldn't understand, and would already hold him to a higher standard because he is bigger and older than all of the kids in his grade.  I cried thinking about how he wants to be "good" so, so much, and how he doesn't even understand what that really means. 

Stage Four:  Determination

And then I stopped crying, and I started reading.  The stack on my nightstand currently contains four books about Aspergers, my scriptures, and four trashy chick lit novels (a girl has got to make it through the day -- I thank my "stories" and chocolate).  I will soon become, I believe, the "foremost expert on Aspergers that doesn't have a degree or any sort of credentials".  I've already learned a lot.  We've started posting a daily schedule and are soon starting on social stories.  He sits on a balance disc to eat and do homework, which I make him do every day to help him focus.

Because, ultimately, he's more than a diagnosis.  He's my Noel.  He has been, and always will be.  The only difference is that now I know I can help him.  And there's great comfort in that.  I also take comfort in knowing, with 100% surety, that I volunteered to be his mother in the preexistence, under these conditions.  It totally sounds like something I would do.  I overestimate my abilities on a regular basis. I also take comfort in knowing that I have a partner in all of this, a husband who is supportive and loving and is a shoulder to cry on when I've gotten another report from preschool.  I am not unaware of all of the blessings that have brought me to this place.  And I'm sure that, sometime soon, I'll see his autism as a blessing as well.  But until then, I'm going to go read my chick lit and eat a Milky Way.  Oh. . .Milky Way. . .

New feature

We have added a new feature to the blog. Well, really we have added another blog. See, the downside of this whole private blog thing is that there is no way to "subscribe" to the blog through google reader or other news aggregators. Though really, who uses an different RSS feed reader?! (Was that comment too nerdy? Probably.)

So if you want to subscribe to our blog, subscribe to singlepotnotifier.blogspot.com. We'll post a link there when we have a new post here. So you don't have to miss one. It is our gift to you.

My kind of paradise...

When Amy I were first married we were fortunate to get to go on a family vacation to Hawaii. It was a so much fun. The days consisted mostly (entirely) of sitting on the beach and reading. I think I read 8 books in 5 days. It was paradise. I had never been there before, and I was astonished as we drove around  the island at how beautiful and amazing it was. The vistas were so spectacular they were almost unreal. It was like living in a postcard.

A couple of weeks ago Amy and I went with her family to stay in a beach house in Arch Cape, Oregon on the Oregon coast. It was that same kind of beautiful. The beach was enormous and gray and surrounded by pine trees wrapped in mist. (Much like my bald head.)

It was gorgeous. Not in the same way that Hawaii was, but in a much more me sort of way. I'm sure you haven't noticed, but I'm not really a beach body guy. So a cold, windy, gray beach is much more my style. 

Because Oregon is the most beautiful place on earth, this was the path that you followed from our beach house to the beach.

Really? Isn't it charming?

We spent a lot of time sitting around the beach house playing games, and a lot of time eating the best sugar cookies on earth from a little bakery we discovered, and a lot of time playing on the beach. The beach was beautiful and horrifying. The waves would be at your ankles one second and at your waist the next. So we spent a lot of time trying to keep the kids alive. 

Lila was in heaven. As soon as you let her go, she would run towards the ocean until you plucked her out of the ocean. 

Jonah liked the beach because it allowed him to start a new "nature collection." He likes to do that when we are out and about. This nature collection was of some weird snot looking things that were all over the beach. Really, what the heck is that thing? He had a whole big handful of them. It was charming/disgusting.

Amy and I decided that we officially are retiring here. See those little white and brown houses on the ocean? We want to buy one and live out our old age there. Actually, I want to buy a house a few miles north, right next to that bakery. For reals, they had these pecan praline cookies that made me see the face of Heaven. 

Noel, surprisingly, liked it too. Usually at the beach he spends most of the time complaining about the sand, and the water, and the wind, and the air, and the light and the everything that isn't a Wii. But he really got into it.

Check out my killer photog skills. I call this one "Reflections of a Yellow Bucket."

It was fun to see cousins and aunts and uncles. Amy was amazing and planned the whole thing, including planning and prepping all the meals. It ruled. Nothing like just showing up for vacation with everything planned. She is truly the greatest. See more photos here. 

It was the perfect 4 days. And the best part is, the bakery is only like 10 minutes from one of my stores. Next time I am there I think I need to stop and get some of their Tillamook Cheese biscuits. Hold me. 

Blessed

Every once in a while, someone comes along who has such an inspired, righteous, warm presence that I think that, even if I didn't have a solid testimony of the gospel, I would know it was true, simply based upon knowing this person. President Hinckley was one of these people. Another one is President Dalton, our stake president. Every month, the members of our stake are able to listen to him speak, at monthly firesides based upon different topics pertaining to the family. A couple of weeks ago, I was asked to play the organ for the opening and closing hymns at this fireside. This was the first one I was able to attend, due to a nursing baby and general laziness on my part. The topic was Teaching Your Children. It was exactly what I needed to hear.

It would be difficult to list the many things that I learned during this hour. One of the biggest points I took away was this: Are we living and modeling for our children the way we want them to live? This means being a good example, modeling integrity, work, honesty, service, respect for others and accountability. Sure, we go to church. We say our prayers at mealtime, and we probably try to do our weekly FHE even when, if you're like our family, it often ends in utter failure. But do we really model the behavior that we expect from them? As Pres. Dalton pointed out, how often do we say, "Listen to me!" when we never stop to listen to them. How often do we speak out in anger when we're trying to get them to calm down? How often do we demand their love and respect, when our actions are not demonstrating our love and respect for them?

To say I struggle with these things is a gross understatement. How to raise my children in righteousness and teach them to love and respect others consumes most of my waking thoughts. There's so much to do, and so much that I do poorly, or don't do at all. So this week I decided I'd focus on three of Pres. Dalton's bullet-points: 1) Teach them the gospel. 2) Teach your children to love and serve one another. and 3) Teach children obedience. Seriously. If I could successfully do this, I can't even tell you what a difference this would make. But I think I'm realistic enough to know this will be a life-long challenge. And you just have to have a go at it and hope for the best.

Serving and loving one another. This has to be the key, right? So every day this week, we chose a popsicle stick out of a cup with another family member's name. And that is the person they would serve that day. They would need to think of kind things to say or do for that person the entire day.

Here were some first week hiccups:

1) They don't get it. Kind of a big hiccup, right? But I have to tell myself that even if 1% seeps in, slowly they'll understand. For instance, the first day Jonah had Josh's name. So he decided he'd play some board games with Josh. Cause Josh LOVES board games! We had a discussion about how, the next day, he should try to think of something the other person would enjoy, not something that HE would enjoy. The next day, he had my name. He thought maybe we could play some board games together. Doesn't. get. it.

2) It's hard to serve your kids when you're the mom. You're serving them all day long. I'm deciding the key must be to point it out more often. "Noel. I have your name today. So I'm helping you pick up your toys!" (even though I do it every single day).

3) When Lila gets your name, too bad for you.

4) Consistency is key. I'm the worst at this. Some days it just feels like we draw out the popsicle stick and go about our regular day. I'm not sure I have the pep in me to keep it going. Suggestions?

Anyway, this wasn't meant to be a sermon. It's just a reminder to me that I need to work on this all of the time. And I'll let you know how the popsicle sticks go. Today I have Lila and she has me. I'll just point out to her that I'm doing her a service when I change her poopy pants.

In the meantime, here are some photos from a family photo shoot at the Wahkeena Falls. Here are some details from the shoot: 1) Lila, the smiliest baby in America, would not smile. 2) Noel lasted for about 2 photos, and then complained the rest of the time. And also ran around the falls not paying attention and giving me a heart attack every time he appeared to be falling off of the rocky terrain. 3) Wendy from Blue Lily Photography is a miracle worker. The fact that we had any salvageable photos, let alone several truly beautiful ones, means maybe we need to stop going to that crappy Portrait Innovations and fork out the bucks for a pro.

The Week

A Good Week For. . .
An Obssessive-Compulsive Mother's Heart. When it was discovered that her six year old son could make this:

look like this. . .

. . .within 15 minutes, without supervision. Not 'cause he wanted to (he was being punished), but it's nice to know that he's been trained well. Here's hoping he'll make a career as one of those professional organizers on Hoarders. Blech!!

Self-Esteem. To think that this:

came from Josh and I, you figure you must be a little cuter than you thought you were.

S.O.S. Pads. (Or a bad week for them, depending on how you think S.O.S. pads garner their self-worth) Since ALL of the elements on my new stovetop are dishwasher safe. Hurrah! It almost makes up for the fact that I have a black stovetop. I said almost.


Hoarders. (In case it isn't abundantly clear, I'm obssessed with Hoarders) While at McDonald's today, I looked at Lila's Madame Alexander doll toy and thought, "Do you think there are people who actually collect these?" when, not five seconds later, a woman (who looks just as you'd imagine) shows her mother the TWO sets of dolls she'd bought to complete her collection. Of McDonald's toys. Those people are weird. And probably rich off of E-bay.

Self-Preservation. I went to a movie by myself last night and, as I sat in the dark movie theater, eating my huge box of candy, I became a little less of the giant frazzled mess that I was when I left home. And I even went home after the movie, rather than check into the motel for three days as I'd threatened. Thanks, Jennifer Aniston and Jason Bateman, for a kinda weird, semi-amusing movie. Let's be honest: most of the thanks goes to the candy.

A Bad Week For. . .
Clean Clothes. Lila has given up on the highchair. Since it's much easier to feed herself at the table, where her food is at nose level.

Blockbuster.

The Binghams finally joined Netflix. We've never been movie people, so we didn't really see the need. But now we get the hype. Those geniuses at Netflix and their instant streaming! All this for $9 a month? I easily pay $9 a month in overdue fees at Redbox. As much fun as it's been, waiting in line for Redbox along with the people without teeth, I'm gonna have to say Adios!

Of planes

Looking out the back door of the library

The end of August in Hillsboro brings the amazing annual Hillsboro Air Show. People come from all over the place to...well, what do you do at an air show? All we know is that it is annoying because there are people on lawn chairs everywhere staring up at the sky and about every 4 minutes our house rattles as some sort of jet buzzes overhead. If you have ever tried to put a toddler down for a nap during an air raid, then you know what I am talking about.

Since I would rather have my hair miraculously regrow only to have it fall out again than go to the actual air show, we decided to take the kids to the library where we could get some books and feed the ducks that live in the pond in the park out back. Conveniently, the library is located right next to the Hillsboro airport, which meant getting there involved going past three separate police barricades and explaining that we just wanted to go to the library. (But isn't that what we would say if we were really going to set off fire bombs on the runway?) When we made it, there was nary a soul there. Good day to choose books! And, there were also very few ducks there - they were hiding from the blitzkreig as well. So the duck feeding would go from this:

to this as jets buzzed over head:

Jonah decided that while we were there he wanted to start a nature collection. The collection was based on two key nature items. Acorns and Box Elder Beetles.

Somehow, Jonah caught about 40 box elder beetles (that might be an exaggeration) and would force a new one into his hand without letting the others go, which Amy and I thought was super gross. Here are the trapped beetles fighting for freedom:

Lila wanted to spend all day in the tunnel that goes under the road so that she could yell and listen to the echo. I even took some video, but discovered that the still picture was much more charming without the screaming (and echos) in the background.

It turned out to be a great outing - all of the fun of seeing jets fly in formation overhead, and none of the annoyance of actually attending an air show. I tried to get a picture of a plane in flight, and while I would love to write an entire blog about how the camera app on my android phone is clunky and has a poor interface and lacks the grace of the iPhone camera app, that's a whole other Oprah. I didn't get any plane action shots.

But I did get this one of Lila and a flower:

And this one of the kiddies.

And just because they are cute - Lila amongst the tomatoes:

Test Post: Lila likes spaghetti

I want to see how this whole private blog thing works, but I didn't want to just send out a test that said test...so here are some pictures of Lila liking spaghetti.

I remember once on my mission for Halloween we made a "spook alley" for the members in the basement of one of the church building. It had all the usual trappings of a spook alley - zombies, guys with chain saws, etc. As the Italians walked through they would say "Che cos'e'?" What's that? And we would explain, "Oh, well that is a guy with a chain saw - see, he is crazy and he might kill you...so..." and they would say. "Oh." and smile and move on. At the end of the spook alley, we had a guy with pounds and pounds of spaghetti pouring out of his shirt. He would lay there and moan and groan and eat the spaghetti like he was eating his own guts. We called him "Spaghetti Guts Guy." When the Italians saw him, they would say "Mangia spaghetti molli freddi??!?" Is he eating cold, over-cooked spaghetti??!? And that would cause them to run in terror.

End of test post. (That story is 100% true, FYI.)

We're going black ops

Hey all. Amy and I have decided we are taking this blog private. I wish it was so that it could be a SUPER EXCLUSIVE blog full of awesome INSIDER information. Mostly is is because we realize that we post a lot of pictures of our kids, and our last name, and pictures of our house, and we want to be safe.

Do you know that I am the king of the worst-case-scenario? If I am ever just staring off into space, I am usually imagining what I would do if a tsunami hit, or if the zombie apocalypse finally started (Insider tip: head north. The zombies will freeze) or if an axe-wielding psycho kicked down the door. So I don't love the idea of a lot of our private information being out in the ether for any crazy to see.

I do, however, love to use this blog to keep connected with family and friends and want to keep that going. We will do our best to invite everyone who we could think of might be interested in reading this blog. Don't be offended if you don't get an invite - it probably just means I don't have your most recent address in my address book. And really, we are not exclusive. Come one and all, unless your name is [email protected]. So if you want to be sure to get an invite, please email me at jooshanoosh [at] gmail [dot] com and I will make sure you are on the list.

Blog going black ops in t-minus 4 days...or round about this weekend when I remember to do it.

All Boy

One of the interesting things about raising children is seeing them become little people, with their own unique personalities that develop before your eyes.  My two boys, raised 18 months apart, could not be more different.  It's easy to see God's hand in all of it.  Noel's ideal day would be staying in his pajamas all day long and lounging about, watching TV, playing computer games and hanging out with his self-proclaimed "best friend":  me.  Jonah's ideal day would be going from one scheduled activity to the next with a huge group of friends, from sun up 'til sun down.  The boy never tires.  If I had two Noels, we'd never get anything done.  I'd spend the whole day dealing with tantrums that are the result of trying to get them out of the house.  If I had two Jonah's, I'd already be dead.  From exhaustion.  Luckily, I have a Jonah and a Noel.  One serves as a calming influence, the other as the pep squad leader.

They have two friends in the ward whom they love.  They all share a love for adventure and, well, being boys.  The other day we headed out to the Jackson Bottom Wetland Preserve.  Our friends were old pros, but we'd never been.

Here we are being instructed by our good friend, Ian, about the many animals we may encounter on our explorations.  Ian knows more about birds than I know about. . .pretty much anything.  He also appears to be quite an engaging instructor, as seen by the looks on the boys' faces.  You can also see their "pets" under their arms, which they're sadly coming to the realization will be their only pets, until they're adults and don't care that their parents won't come visit them because they have a dog.

Lila loved it.  Because she loves everything.

So determined, yet so carefree.  P.S.  Apparently wetlands are real pretty.

Thank you, boys, for showing us a new spot that we loved.  And most of all, thanks for being such great friends!