My most recent parenting fail... Sorry, but it's not a funny one this time :-/

I'm beginning to think that the hardest part of raising kids is letting them go.  Now, none of mine are quite old enough to leave the nest yet, so I'm not talking about the big, scary, drive them halfway across the country and then leave them there so they can attend the college of their dreams sort of letting go (though a dear friend of mine just got back home from doing that very thing with her oldest... you are one brave woman, Melinda :-D ).  No, I'm talking about the kind of letting go that comes from realizing that the time has come to step back as a parent and trust your kids to make their own decisions, even if and especially when you're not there to make sure that they do, in fact, make the RIGHT decision.

Today, one of my kids made the wrong decision, and I was at work in another town and completely unable to do anything about it.

Now, before any of you who know me start emailing me with questions of "OMG!!!!!  WHICH KID WAS IT AND WHAT DID THEY DO???  HOW MUCH BAIL MONEY DO YOU NEED AND HOW MANY MONTHS UNTIL YOU WANT TO HAVE THE BABY SHOWER AND WILL YOUR HEALTH INSURANCE COVER DETOX OR WON'T THEY???", let me just assure everyone that no, none of them are pregnant, all of them are home and not in jail, and they've all already finished their homework and are currently already in bed-- each one by themselves, too, just in case some of you (really, seriously?) were going to go there :-P  What happened this morning was in all actuality a very minor thing, with no foreseeable long-term damage done.  And I'm pretty certain that it's not an ominous harbinger of an oncoming storm of teenage rebellion either.  But it DID bring me to a place of questioning whether or not we've been making the right decisions all along the way and discovering that, honestly, I'm not as great a parent as I thought I was :-/

As parenting goes, I've always been a big fan of natural consequences-- sometimes parentally engineered "natural" consequences, but more-or-less natural, logical, reason-led ones all the same.  Toddler daughter refuses to pick up the pieces of her puzzle in a fit of "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO I'M ALMOST FOUR AND SO I'M ALMOST ALL GROWN UP AND YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF MEEEEEE!"; toddler daughter watches as said puzzle pieces are thrown into the trash can along with the rest of the garbage on the floor.  Son #1 decides to throw wet paper towels all over the school bathroom to see how far up the wall he can get them to stick and whether or not he can actually get them to defy gravity and cling to the ceiling; son #1 gets to spend an afternoon helping the custodian clean up said bathroom.  Son #2 decides to ignore the warning about coming home before curfew from his friend's house (which, incidentally, is only 100 yards down the street, so he theoretically could have just hollered to say he'd be late); son #2 finds himself grounded and disallowed to go by himself to a friend's house on his own for the rest of the week.  Basically, you make your choice, you evaluate the consequences, and then you decide if it's really worth making that same choice the next time... pretty simple, no?

We Christian parents especially like to put a hedge of protection around our kids by making sure they only watch the right shows, listen to the right music, read the right books, hang out with the right friends, etc.  We figure that if we only give them good role models to follow and we shield them from negative examples, then they won't know to choose the wrong and will generally make the right decisions all throughout their lives.  We bet that if we raise smart, moral, good church-going kids, we can help them to avoid so many of the pitfalls of secular life... and it's actually not all that bad of a parenting plan, to be honest.

The downside is that we often end up sheltering our kids' decisions so that they only have good options to choose from and gentle consequences to remind them of the unconditional love of God.  And that, as I look back on things tonight, has been the parenting road we ended up on; I'm hearby pleading "GUILTY" to trying their whole lives to protect them from the consequences of their own native stupidity :-(  As kids get older, though, we as parents need to give them more responsibility for their own actions and more freedom in taking those actions.  And sometimes, this means letting them step out of our sight and hoping, with fingers crossed and eyes closed, that they'll have learned enough to not choose the door labeled (in big red, dripping, invisible letters) "This Is the STUPID Option... STAY AWAY!"

It was hard this morning to drive away, knowing that, though I had given my child specific directions and a definite answer to their question of "So, Mom, can we...?", I was leaving them in a position of temptation with no way to enforce my will and preferences in the matter.  And I knew that, theoretically, my child might choose to disobey and do what they wanted to do, hoping that I wouldn't find out.  But because love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things, I trusted that my child, whom I love with all my heart, would resist temptation and do the right thing simply because I had asked them to.  I honestly thought that, because I said "No, you can't... Sorry...", it would be enough to ensure that they actually did what I wanted them to do.

Not only did my child do what I had specifically forbidden them to do, but I had to find out about it from a sibling who couldn't keep their mouth shut.  (Yeah, I'm pretty sure there's going to be some holy Christian smackdown going on as soon as they all head out the door in the morning...)

But you know what?  This is a part of letting go.  At least it was a little mistake, and not one that's going to shape future generations of our family.  At some level, I needed to realize that my kids are not just extensions of my own self-worth, reflections of my ability to parent like a boss.  Each one of my kids is their own independent human being, with their very own imperfect nature and their very own will, with just as much of a right to be wrong as I have.  They're going to go off and make their own choices, and sometimes those choices are going to be "Screw that, Mom, I can make a better decision on my own, thank you very much."  And when those decisions have been ripped out of my grasping, clawing hands, then sometimes the consequences are out of my hands as well, and I won't always be there to catch them when they fall broken to the ground.

This time, though, my husband and I have to-- get to-- assign the consequences.  And we have to walk the fine line between realizing that no lasting harm has been done and not wanting that harm to come knocking at our kids' doors in the future.  How do we assign a consequence for disobedience that's fair and proportionate to a (really pretty minor) offense but still teaches them that, hey, Mom and Dad aren't idiots and you really should listen to them sometimes?  How do we make sure that we don't overreact and punish them too harshly simply because our feelings are hurt and our trust broken?  Or how do we make sure that this consequence gives them something positive that they can hold on to for the rest of their lives and pass on to their own kids someday (who probably won't listen to or obey them any better than they do us right now...)

To make the situation even stickier, tonight I had to admit to myself and to my husband that I've been making parenting decisions all along that have helped to create the situation that tripped my child up this morning... How do I go now to my child and apologize for my own parenting fail and still expect them to respect my wisdom and authority as their mom?  I'm really, really hoping for and counting on the fact that the Bible says that God resists the proud and gives grace to the humble (1 Peter 5:5), because I'm really going to need His grace tomorrow as I share a big ol' slice of humble pie with my child :-/

Actually, strike what I said in my first sentence... maybe the hardest part of raising kids is the not knowing how badly you're screwing them up until it's too late to do anything about it :-/

(I seriously need to start cruising Facebook or hanging out with my daughter's genius friends again... This blog and my sanity are both looooong overdue for a funny post for a change... o.O  But for now, I think I'll just head to bed with this song running through my head; I'll probably end up playing it tomorrow for my kid and pretty much every time I screw up again from now until forever...)

Faith is...?

First off, my apologies to anyone out there who was paying attention and noticed that I haven't posted anything since April... I've been super busy spending time with my family, which has included:

• Subbing... and more subbing (the end of the year is generally like that, as teachers need time off to plan for the next year and whatnot),
• Working with my freshman to plan the rest of her high-school coursework,
• Helping her prepare for and then watching her perform in her first high-school drama production,
• Getting my 8th grader graduated from middle school and ready for high school,
• Chaperoning his end-of-the-year band festivals and field trips,
• Keeping my 4th grader from driving his older siblings completely bonkers (partially bonkers or almost-totally bonkers is OK though... it helps keep them from getting bored ^_^ ),
• Coordinating with various and sundry friends and family to get all 3 kids to their assorted scouting activities and camps,
• Dyeing my daughter's hair bright orange so she could portray Lucille Ball for all of the little Brownies and Juniors at Girl Scout Day Camp (it's still streaked pink in spots where the cherry Kool-Aid took more deeply to her hair than the Ion Color Brilliance Semi-Permanent Orange did),
• Spending 4 days camping at the coast (and being entertained by watching my daughter trying to find cell phone reception on the beach... "Wait!  Stop walking!  I've got bars now!  Just so long as I don't move off of this rock right... here... Oh, hey, he's calling me back! Hi there, handsome... Drat!  Gone again... Grrr... CURSE YOU T-MOBILE!!!!")
• Welcoming my baby nephew (the first child for my sister and her hubby :-D ),
• Hosting my niece from Virginia and watching as much Doctor Who as physically possible in 5 days time... which just proves the wisdom of images such as this:

... and probably half a dozen other things I've already forgotten about but that most likely seemed critically important at the time :-)

I've also kind of been suffering from a bit of writer's block... It's not that I have no ideas for what to write about; it's more like none of the ideas go very far before I lose interest or get frustrated with the tone my writing seems to be taking.  So I've been taking a bit of a break from the blog and refocusing on what's really important :-)  And now that the summer is winding down, I'm feeling the pull back into writing... which makes me happy :-)

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Once again, I've been inspired by conversations with my daughter's friends, particularly those who are the staunchest non-Christians.  It always intrigues me to hear what they think of my chosen religion; I'm fascinated by how they can be so totally off and yet so right on about it at the same time :-)  So... One of the ideas I've been toying with is the concept of "The Top 10 Myths of the Christian Life."  Except that now I'm up to 20...  10 myths that we Christians seem to hold and 10 myths that non-Christians seem to hold about us.  So, since that post may take a while to fully come together and might well take up billions upon billions of bytes of web data, I figured I'd start with an idea from one of those lists and just kind of run-- or more like sprint, since I'm hoping this will be a relatively short post-- with it...  Though at the moment, I fear this is going to take a LOT longer than I intended it to, mainly because my beautiful and brilliant daughter is sitting three feet away from me and going on and on about the fascinating history of Catherine of Aragon, Henry VIII, and the Holy Roman Empire o.O  Which is just a wee bit distracting, especially when she keeps referring to the King of England as a narwhal (our pet term for hyper-hormonal teenaged boys)...

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There seems to be this idea out there of "faith" being this nebulous set of standards that religious people use to justify their behavior.  If I don't let my daughter or son go to see an R-rated movie, it's because such things "go against our faith."  If I vote for candidates who support limits on or the abolition of abortion, I'm doing it "because of my faith."  If I choose to homeschool my kids or put them in Christian schools, I'm doing it to "defend their faith."  And if I listen to Christian radio or watch Christian TV, I hear constantly about the dire need to "fight for the faith."

But what IS this "faith"?  And what does it mean to "have faith in" something?

The Bible says that faith is "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1, New King James Version).  It is (as my 10-year-old's Bible phrases it) being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you can't see.  For me, this puts that grand notion of "faith" into a concrete, tangible form that I can totally grasp.

We live about 100 feet from a 4-way intersection in our small college town; whenever I leave to drive pretty much anywhere, I pretty much always drive through this intersection.  When I approach the intersection, I hope that my brakes are going to work; when I press my foot down on the brake pedal, I'm pretty certain that it's actually going to do something to help stop the car.  I don't know for sure that the brakes are going to work; I can't see whether or not the brake lines have been cut in the night or if the bolts that connect the various parts of the brake system have snapped (can you tell yet that I'm really not a car person? ^_^ )  But still, I stomp down on that brake pedal as if my life depends on it... especially at about 2:45 in the afternoon, when all the crazy teen drivers are leaving the high school that's about 2 blocks further down the road o.O  Basically, I have enough faith in my brakes to put them to use and trust that they're going to keep me from slamming into the side of that jacked up Toyota pickup filled with a half-dozen teenaged boys who seem to forget on a daily basis that that funky red octagon does not mean "Gun it!"

Some of the other things I put faith in are a little less mundane.  I have faith that, if my home gets broken into, I can and should call the police and have them investigate; I also have faith that, if the burglar is found, he will be prosecuted in the court of law.  Why do I have this faith in our police and legal system?  Not because it always works the way I expect it to or because it's always worked perfectly in every circumstance, that's for sure o.O  But I do have faith in it because it seems that, more often than not, it does work, and I have never found myself shortchanged by it.  If I ever do find myself on the losing end of the legal system or end up being ripped off by the cops I assume are going to protect me, I might change my point of view on the system.  But for now, based on my own personal experiences, I choose to have faith in the system.

And then there are the big-picture things of life that I also put my faith in.  I have faith that, if I raise my kids to respect others, work hard, be obedient to parents, teachers, employers, and police officers, and think critically, then they will be successful in their lives as adults.  I have absolutely no way whatsoever to prove now that they will end up that way; in fact, there are countless examples in the world of kids whose parents did everything "right" but who still ended up shipwrecking their own lives as teens or adults.  I choose to have faith in the belief that we're raising our kids right because to not raise our kids this way seems to be begging for trouble.  And as we raise our kids and watch them become respectful, smart, responsible young adults, I see confirmation that my faith in their upbringing is valid.

Brake lines... law & order... good parenting: These are some of the things I choose to have faith in...

And so, I suspect, do you.

We all have faith in all kinds of stuff... Faith is simply believing in something strongly enough to put it to use in our daily life.  We have faith that the sun is going to come up tomorrow; when we lay down at night and close our eyes, we have faith that we're going to wake up in the morning.  We have faith that, when we walk down the sidewalk, all the cars are going to stay in their lanes on the road and not hop the curb and mow us down like unruly blades of grass.

As a counterexample, just try to imagine what your day would be like without faith in any of these things...  Imagine that, once the sun drops below the horizon, it might or might not rise ever again.  Imagine, as you tuck yourself into your bed, that you might stop breathing and die at any point after you fall asleep.  Imagine walking along the roadside and expecting every car to veer off course and crush you.

You'd be scared to death of living at all... And so would I, without faith.  Faith is being sure of what we hope for (that the cars will stay in their rightful lanes, that our lungs will keep inhaling and exhaling even as we're dreaming of our Language Arts teacher waxing our feet, that the sun will come up tomorrow... bet your bottom dollar that tomorroooooow, there'll be suuuuunnnn...) and certain of what we cannot yet see (the unbroken brake lines in our car, the integrity of the police and the judges in their courtrooms, the future of our children).  We all have faith in something, and that's an undeniable fact of life.

The question, then, that divides Christians and non-Christians is not "Do you have faith?"  It's the question "What do you put your faith in?"  And that, in the interest of keeping this post short, is a topic for another day :-)

For some of us, every day is April 2nd... (or, in other words, "Happy Autism Awareness Day to you too!")

"Mom... Is this how you feel every day?!?"

My daughter says this to me as we're sitting at my younger son's Cub Scout pack meeting, listening to the shouts and shrieks of 25 sugared-up grade schoolers as they echo off of the vaulted ceilings and brick walls of the elementary school cafeteria and ricochet through our ears and around the inside of our skulls.  She's trying to gather her thoughts and start on the first post for her brand new blog (apparently she feels the need to share her side of any stories I might tell about her on mine ^_^), and the incoherent noise is pretty much shattering any chance at organized thought for anyone over the age of 9.  (The 9-year-olds, however, are coherent enough to be making hyena noises in the bathroom down the hall... because somehow one of them was able to crawl under the stall door or something equally hyena-worthy...)

Perhaps this seems like a bizarre question for a daughter to ask her mother... Allow me to explain.

I seem to be what today's educators and psychologists would call a "high-functioning autistic".  I say "seem to be" because it wasn't until the late 1980s/early 1990s that educators began recognizing that some kids with autism (or, alternatively, Asperger's Syndrome) could still function in "normal" society and so could be taught in the regular classroom with everyone else.  By that time, I was beginning high school and had already been classified by the teachers and counselors as "mildly disturbed", "creative but troubled", "anti-social", and (my personal favorite) "bright but has trouble making and keeping friends."  Never mind the fact that as a small child, I met 8 of the 12 criteria for autism as listed in the DSM-IV (3 from section 1, 3 from section 2, and 2 from section 3), and all but 2 of the 8 criteria for Asperger's Syndrome.  Never mind the fact that both unexpected loud noises and the normal hubbub of the classroom drove me to tears and always had.  Never mind the fact that changes in the daily routine or in what I thought should be the daily routine would invariably lead to me screaming, yelling, and cussing at whatever adult thought they were in charge at the time.   Never mind the fact that people always seemed to think I was guilty and/or lying about something because I could never hold anyone's eye contact for more than a few moments.  No, because I was already over the age of 3 and perfectly capable of talking, I could, by definition, not possibly be autistic.

Now, logically, it doesn't make sense that high-functioning autism would have magically begun in or around the year 1985 (so that all of its subjects would be young enough to be properly diagnosed in the late '80s or early '90s).  In fact, the growing prevalence of autism in the general population right now and the growing body of research into the neuroscience of autism tells me that autism has been around for generations, maybe even forever.  So, what this tells me is that there are probably thousands of almost-normal people out there who, like me, have always struggled with autism and have spent their entire lives free-falling through this diagnostic generation gap.

I began researching autism and Asperger's about 9 years ago, when my daughter became friends with a classmate with Asperger's.  As I started focusing on special ed and elementary ed in college, I found myself fascinated with the dynamics of autism; the more I worked with kids on the autism spectrum, the more fascinated I became.  Finally, here were kids who made sense to me... why couldn't the other teachers understand them?  Unlike most kids, the autistic students actually reacted normally to noise, schedule changes, people touching them, and all those other irritations of life... well, at least it seemed normal to me, anyway :-)  I could relate to them in their meltdowns because I used to freak out in the exact same way; the things that bugged them bugged me as well, and when we could fix those issues, we all did better.

It wasn't until the past couple of years, as the research on autism spectrum disorders finally grew up into adulthood, that I realized that autism isn't just a childhood problem.  In other words, guess what?  Autistic kids don't magically turn "normal" when they hit 18 and graduate from high school; autistic kids grow up into... wait for it... autistic adults.  Adults who still struggle with sensory overload, making and keeping friends, expressing themselves through speech... and all of the other things in this list and this article.  And if there is such a thing as an autistic adult... then maybe I'm not such a freak after all :-)

So, what is it like to be autistic?

First of all, because my brain doesn't filter out background noise from important information very well, every day is a brand new boiling cacophony of chaos to struggle through.  The combination of the fans blowing, the clock ticking, the computer humming, the neighbors' salsa music salsa-ing, and the cars driving by outside drives me up the wall.  All the time.  The only way to drown it out so I can think is to play music that's louder than the combination so that the main sound I hear is music I can take meaning from instead of white noise that makes no sense.  It's not so much the volume that get to me as it is the sheer number of different sounds to try and sort through.  If you're trying to talk to me, make sure I can hear you over the noise and if possible, look at me so I can read your lips; this helps me to focus on what you're saying instead of losing your words in all the auditory clutter.

Eye contact is actually physically painful.  If I don't look you in the eye when you're talking, it's not because I'm not interested or because I'm easily distracted or that I think you're repulsive to look at... it's because if I stare into your eyes for too long I start to feel like you could reach out and attack me at any moment, and I panic.  This is why I love my sunglasses and wish I could get away with wearing them inside and out, all year round... when I'm wearing my shades, no one notices that I'm not looking at them :-)

When I talk, be patient with me.  Regardless of what may come out of my mouth, I'm really not a complete idiot (I'm of the opinion that "not a complete idiot" is a pretty good loose translation of the Latin term summa cum laude... o.O )  The thoughts are in there somewhere and make total sense to me... I just may need several runs at translating them into words that everyone else will understand.  Sometimes, I practice and rehearse what I mean to say in my head so that it will come out right the first time... only to have random words of it disappear on me just as I'm about to speak them.  So if in mid-sentence sometimes, I start gesturing wildly or describing something blatantly obvious ("door" seems to be a word that disappears on me frequently, for some reason...), or even start trying to say it in Spanish (which has been known to happen more than once), be patient.  Pretend we're playing Charades and try to help me find my missing word... unless I ask you to stop because your guesses are so colossally way far off that they're distracting me from everything else in my head (For example, if I'm thinking "that thing that goes like this **raises hands to form a rectangular archway over head** and then you walk through it...", then "elephant" is probably NOT the word I'm looking for, no matter how loudly you say it... ^_^)  Let me restart as many times as I need to to spit out my sentence... by the third or fourth attempt, you'll probably have a pretty good idea of what it is I'm trying to say anyway, even if I get frustrated and give up.  And please don't laugh at me... I'm doing the best that I can.

If you must change something about plans we've made or the way things usually go, give me some advance warning first.  Even if it's an email the night before or a phone call on the way home from school, any advance warning will give me time to process and rearrange my mind to fit the new circumstances.  I'm not real big on surprises... Give me hints or clues and I'll happily play along, but just don't spring things on me out of the blue.  Oh, and when I'm in the middle of driving somewhere and I'm taking a route that I know well and am comfortable with, please, please, PLEASE do NOT constantly tell me about all of the more efficient and/or better ways to get there... If you want to drive, then you can drive, but if you want me to drive, then let me drive the way I know best, OK?  :-)

I generally don't like to be touched.  Unless I know you pretty well and trust you, and only if I know it's coming... like if I can see you coming from across the cafeteria and you're calling me "MOOOOOOOMMMM" at the top of your lungs as you run across the room to grab a hold of me.  That might be OK... as long as you're one of my kids, one of their longtime friends, or one of my students, and not some 43-year-old guy who calls me "Mom" because he can't remember my name o.O  So, basically, if I look like I need a hug, ask me if I'm OK with a hug first, OK?  Because I really do like (and need) hugs and holding hands and a gentle touch on the shoulder and whatnot, just like everybody else... I just need to be prepared and know to expect it first.

Social situations-- especially if I'm not expecting them-- scare the living bejeebers out of me.  This doesn't mean that I want to be a hermit and never ever see or talk to anyone-- heck, I'm an elementary school teacher and a mom, so that's not exactly an option :-)  But it does mean that I have a LOT of preparation to do before I can be social and it takes a LOT out of me to be social.  In all honesty, I have got to say that the most useful classes I ever took in any school anywhere were the drama classes I took in high school; it was in Mr. Putnam's drama classes that I learned how to create a character, put on that character, block out anything but that character, and stay in character until the curtain closes and I can finally be myself again.  When I have to go out and be social-- whether it's in front of a classroom, on a school bus field trip, at a high school dance, whatever-- I have to take time beforehand to get over the inevitable pre-curtain panic attack and put on my competent-confident-teacher/competent-confident-parent persona.  Only then can I go out and do what I have to do each day... and for the record, I don't mind doing it.  The hours are great, the people are fascinating, and every once in a while I even have fun too :-D

After a social event, when the curtain falls and the audience (i.e. the rest of the real world) goes home and I am all alone by myself, I lay the persona aside... and usually proceed to have a nervous breakdown.  I shake, I pace, I want to scream but can't because my husband and kids and the rest of the neighborhood are usually trying to sleep and would really not appreciate being awakened by a screaming banshee :-/  So I listen to my music really loud in the headphones or I blog or I sometimes just sit and wait for the synapses inside my head to stop firing like firecrackers so I can sleep like everyone else.  This can take hours.  And I feel like my skin is trying to crawl off from the inside out and there's nothing I can do to keep it together except to sit very very still... and it can take hours.

So, stupid question time... Why bother?  Why do I teach, chaperone, let my kids bring their friends home after school each day if it drives me absolutely nuts?  Why don't I mind doing this crazy stuff?  Because the kids and the teens I get to work with are waaaay more than worth it, and who knows... maybe, just maybe, if I can set aside my own little chaos for a while and focus on them, then they will see that they are worth the world to me, and to the God who made me-- and maybe some of them too-- this way.

I don't believe that I was made this way by mistake, or even by accident.  I'm convinced that a huge number of our modern psychological and learning "disorders" are actually not disorders at all, but are instead a reflection of our increasingly intolerant educational system.  We carve out a narrow niche that we demand all students conform to in order to succeed, and then we pinpoint the kids who don't fit perfectly into that niche and give them a label of "_____ disorder" so that we can blame factors out of our control for our failure to educate every child.  We have our autistic disorders, our attention-deficit disorders, our oppositional-defiant disorders, our anxiety disorders, and so on... and in labeling these students as "disorderly," we give ourselves as teachers and as adults a pass on educating them, convincing ourselves that if these kids don't learn, it's not our fault ("we don't have the training to manage these kids") or their fault ("they can't help it, they have a disorder"), but just the way it goes sometimes.

But what if all of these "disorders" are actually just beautiful variations in the way God makes individuals?  What if the disorder is in our unwillingness to see outside our own little boxes, and not in the way these kids' minds work at all?  Ask any parent of an autistic child, or a child with ADHD, or an anxiety disorder, and they will tell you that their child is brilliant and special and full of potential... if only other people would choose to see them that way.

So, basically, I'm choosing each day to live like I was made this way on purpose, like my autism is a gift from God.  He would not have given me my autism unless He knew I was strong enough to handle it, and unless He knew of a way for me to use it to love others.  So... this is why I go out in public when it drives me out of my mind, why I volunteer for all the crazy chaperone duties that make my friends think I'm out of my mind, why I open my home to all of my kids' crazy friends and their mile-a-minute ramblings that prove they may be out of their minds... It's because each and every one of them is totally worth the insanity :-D

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"Mom... Is this how you feel every day?!?"

As you might guess, the answer to her question is yes... This is what I feel every day.  The noise, the chaos, the inability to focus or concentrate, the panic that it creates... all of those are a part of being autistic.  But I know that this is the way I was made, that I'm not a freak of nature after all... and that there is a reason I am the way I am.

I also know from her reaction that my daughter is not autistic, and that because she is a "neurotypical," she will probably have a simpler life than I did.  She doesn't view herself as a freak or a mistake, and for this I will always be grateful.  But if things like this make her aware of what people like her childhood friend and I go through each day, then perhaps she will have more compassion and a better understanding, and will be able to share that with others.

April 2nd is my daughter's birthday; it's also World Autism Awareness Day, when people all over the world are supposed to wear blue to show their awareness and support of people with autism and for autism research.  I'm sure that's all fine and dandy... I've worn blue to support my students with autism and Asperger's in the past, and probably will this year as well just for the heck of it.  But I think that, as far as raising autism awareness goes, I can be more effective by living my life out loud and being honest and open about who I am and why I think I was made this way with anyone who will care to listen.  Because for me, every day, every hour, every minute is about autism awareness.

For some of us, every day is April 2nd.