About 6 weeks ago, after sending an email to a professional,
I noticed that I had written that I was “building out my calendar” and needed
to verify a few appointment times. I
thought, ‘that’s a funny way to say that—building out my calendar.’ I pictured myself getting off the phone with
a pencil behind my ear, but then taking a nail from between my teeth to drive
it into a 2 x 4 to create a sturdy frame in which to house the people, ideas
and supplies involved with my appointment.
It made me smile at the time, but then I didn’t think about it for weeks
. . . until today.
Where a husband and wife blog to: continue the story told in a book called Dancing in Cornmeal: Life with Autism; enhance the conversation about autism; relieve a writer's need to write; inspire (when the stuff here is really good); network; and share - especially recipes that follow the SCD and Paleo diets. See "Welcome" under TOPICS for a better description, then just keep reading along...
Friday, July 27, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
We Can’t All Be Morning People
Lauren was in a fabulous mood upon getting out of bed
today. While helping her in the shower,
she was smiling while looking at the T-shirt I was wearing, which is a favorite
of mine.
“Mama’s T-shirt is pretty silly, isn’t it?” I said.
She giggled and I said, “What’s so funny?”
Lauren quickly tapped a point on my shirt and I knew where
she had pointed. Here’s a photo of the
front of my T-shirt:
Lauren had tapped the 3rd ducky and then giggled
again.
Okay, it wasn’t actually morning when Lauren got out of
bed. It was a few minutes after 12 Noon,
as she hadn’t been interested in going to sleep until around 3 AM this
morning. Mom had slept in a bit,
too. It was definitely an inside joke.
Exchanges like this keep me firmly hanging onto the notion
that Lauren can read. Or was the “down
ducky” enough of a joke to her? (Or
maybe the googly-eyed duck was the silly part . . .?)
Anyway, it was a lovely exchange that added cheer to my
morning . . . er . . . afternoon.
Written May 20, 2012
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Weird Things We Did This Week—July 21, 2012
Cut a hole in a wall.
Okay, so I could try to sell the cutting a hole in our wall as a
renovation design choice. But let’s face
it. I would never have considered the
hole in the wall as part of our remodel design had I not been problem-solving
around autism.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
The Real Story of the Last 10 years: Part IV: Awesome Kids and a Stronger Marriage
Here is another, and
the LAST, of some other valid perspectives on “the rest of the story” or “our
family’s last 10 years with Lauren.”
We raised some awesome kids and grew a stronger marriage.
This is the last, and one of my favorite, perspectives of
the last ten years. I’ll start with the
awesome kids. Lauren is our awesome kid
that my book and this blog has told much about and will tell more about; so this post is
really to mark some appreciation for our other awesome kid—the unsung typical
sibling, Bryn. Bryn happens to be a
lover of virtually all things that life has to offer, a fine musician, a
talented artist, a creative crafter, a respectful daughter, and a good
friend. But the pictures I’ll post here
are representative of the thing that she is that has brought the most
unexpected, happy tears to my eyes over the years—she’s a sincerely loving
sister.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
The Real Story of the last 10 years: Part III: Dear Friends and Loving Gestures
Here is another of
many valid perspectives on “the rest of the story” or “our family’s last 10
years with Lauren.”
We were surrounded by dear friends and loving gestures. That’s also a great description of what our
life with autism looked like over the past ten years.
There’s no way I could remember the many blessings in the
order they occurred. I don’t have files
with dated invoices and names on top for each occurrence like I do to help me
recount the medical history. (Wow, that
makes me reflect on what I obsessively save in a highly organized
fashion!) But even without such memory
aids, these events are what I can retrieve easily in my brain, whereas, for the
life of me, I can’t remember the name or office location of the last
neurologist Lauren saw.
So here’s more of the REAL rest of the story with a
perspective of gratitude, with a promise that the first mentioned isn’t
necessarily “first,” and the last mentioned isn’t necessarily “last.” Every memory and person included should be
considered FIRST in that it/he/she are important to who Craig, Bryn, Lauren and
I are today, and was worthy of mention in this blog post.
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