The Ugly Truth (or E is for Endurance)

I've been meaning to take a picture since I started this new healthy lifestyle. I want to record this weight loss and health journey in pictures and words. Somehow I kept forgetting. I don't know if my forgetfulness was a self protective ruse I was pulling on myself, or just my regular perimenoapausal forgetfulness, but I started this new plan on August 12th, and now it is two months later and until today I had STILL not taken a picture. I've lost 25 pounds since August 12th. I'm pretty proud of that. You know what the first thing I thought when I viewed these pictures was? "wow, and I was 25 pounds fatter than THIS!" Uggh. It's the ugly truth. I have 16 more pounds to go to break into "onederland". I used to have 41! This is a good thing! That doesn't mean I don't hate these pictures. I really do. But without the before, how will I be able to enjoy the after! Okay, here's the ugly truth. This first picture was taken July 4th, 2010. This was about a month before I started my new eating plan, so is probably the best picture I have of where I started on this thing, within about 5 pounds or so.

I almost deleted this picture, because I hate it so much. I hate that I let myself get that fat. I hate that I didn't even really notice how fat I was getting. I mean, I KNEW I was fat, but when I looked in the mirror I didn't SEE it... truthfully, I think I kind of stopped looking in the mirror at some point. I'd look, I'd brush my hair, and my teeth, but I wouldn't SEE. It is amazing how much your own mind can protect yourself from pain without you even having a conscious say in it! And yes, this picture does cause me pain. This person in the picture isn't a confident person, and isn't a happy person. This person thinks everyone is staring at her, thinking how fat and ugly she is. I'm glad I'm not this person anymore.

The pictures below were taken today. 25 pounds thinner. I'm still way overweight. I am still 215 pounds and 5 foot 4, but I like this girl better. This girl makes more good choices than bad choices. This girl looks in the mirror and can say "I'm moving in the right direction". This girl can feel proud that she's on a healthy journey. This girl is somebody I can live with. I feel very vulnerable posting these photos. Normally I'm trying to hide that stomach, hide those fat arms, and well....just hide. I've made myself a promise though. No more hiding. I have nothing to be ashamed about. I made bad choices and combined with my body type and my metabolism and my health issues, this is what resulted. It didn't happen overnight. It won't come off overnight. As long as I'm heading in the right direction, I'm content. I look forward to the pictures a couple of months from now, and the pictures a couple of months from then, and so on. I'm looking forward to the differences I'll see. It's such hard work, but thinking of it that way, it's almost exciting! I just have to keep up my endurance. The word says "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with
endurance the race God has set before us." This is the race I'm running, in my faith, in my health, in my life. God has set me a race and I just need to keep running it. Blessings, Tanya

D is for Depressed.

I read once that Depression is anger turned inwards. This definition has started to make more sense to me, the older I get. When anger at your situation can not be let out constructively, you turn it inwards, where it grows and festers and molders. Depression and I have a long and intimate relationship. The first time I remember being seriously depressed was in grade six. Back then I was depressed because I lived in fear of a local red headed bully named Jolene. I remember ducking from car to car on the walk home trying to avoid that flash of brilliant red hair. She was so good at appearing out of nowhere, and always grabbed my scarf and tried to choke me with it. I was depressed because it seemed my 3 years older brother beat me up almost every day. I was depressed because my single mom had been forced to take a second job as a janitor at night and I never felt I had time with her anymore. I was depressed because I stole from a desk at school in a desperate bid for attention and ended up getting the strap for it. This was a huge humiliation to a girl whose only real positive attention at school was from the teachers. It did get the desired attention from my mom however, and soon I was accompanying her on her rounds as a night janitor.  I've never stolen anything since, not so much as a pen.  Some things are just not worth it.

I've had many episodes of depression since then, some lasting days or weeks, some lasting months. However, I've always been a kind of Pollyanna at heart and inevitably I tend to pull up my socks, put on my big girl panties and move on with life. I try to look on the bright side, and I try to make the best of what is thrown my way, despite the melancholy nature I was born with.

It isn't until my husband left me after being together 15 years in May of 2007 that it became too much. It wasn't so much that he left me. It wasn't even that it seems he'd had nothing but contempt for me for some time and hadn't said anything. It wasn't that his tawdry computer affair with a married mom of four disgusted me beyond imagining. It wasn't that I found out about the affair when I was on vacation in Canada and my kids were half a country away in California with my in laws, left without me for the first time in their lives. What did me in was that he threatened to take my kids away. He said I was a horrible mom and that he was going to prove it in court and take my kids away and I'd only see them every other weekend. He got himself an ugly barracuda of a female lawyer (roundly despised by me, my lawyer, and every other person I met in the process) and started what my lawyer called a "shotgun prosecution", meaning they will shoot as many bullets as they can and hope a few hit.

It was the first time in my life I'd ever been to court (despite my short criminal career in grade six) and I had no idea that the judge sees this kind of thing every day. All I could think of was "can he do it? can he actually take my kids from me? Will the judge believe all these lies".  My kids, since the moment they were born, became like the sun in my universe. They were the reason I woke up in the morning, the reason I walked about all day, and the reason I kept going when all else failed. All my energy went into them, and all my love was lavished on them. As my husband became more and more cold and hateful, the more and more it became me and the kids. He was not involved much at all in taking care of the kids prior to the divorce, and I was the one who did everything for them. They were my right arm and my left leg. The idea of losing them was incomprehensible. It was like thinking of them dying.  I had been living in fear for a long time. Fear of my husband's disapproval mostly. It is very hard to explain unless you've been emotionally abused, but my husband had a LOOK. I spent a good deal of my time trying to avoid that look. It was a look that withered the soul.  A look so filled with loathing and contempt you couldn't help but feel stupid, ugly, and four inches tall when it was leveled at you.  I would walk constantly on eggshells trying to please him to avoid that look. The LOOK aside, I was now experiencing a level of fear that I had never known. A fear of my whole world being pulled out from under me like a rug. A fear of my reason for living being taken away.

I didn't feel depressed at this time. I was unhappy, oh Lord knows, I was unhappy. I Loved my husband, though God knows why because he didn't deserve my love. I'm just the type of person that once I love I can't just stop loving. My heart isn't given half way. I was unhappy he was leaving me. I was unhappy he wouldn't consider counseling, not even for the sake of the children. I was miserable at the thought of having to put my children through the trauma of divorce. My son,  already a special needs child, is extremely emotionally sensitive, and I knew this would be super stressful on him. So I was unhappy, but I didn't think of myself as depressed. When I'm depressed I feel it is hard to get up in the morning, but  I was full of action. I was doing what I needed to do to try to keep my kids. I was going around to teachers and doctors and friends and family and collecting affidavits of the truth to fight the lies ( I had 24 affidavits to his 4 when I was done ). I was a woman of action and prayer. Never have I cried out to God like I cried during those long months of the custody battle and divorce hearings. I was literally on my knees every Sunday in church, weeping and pleading with the Lord for his help and his mercy.  After years and years of struggling with depression, it wasn't depression that finally drove me to the doctor for help.

It was sleep.

I fell into bed each night exhausted beyond belief. I'd usually fall asleep within minutes, or even seconds. The problem was, I'd wake up a few hours later, usually at 2 or 3 am. My brain would start spinning and I couldn't go back to sleep. The exhaustion was like nothing I'd ever felt before. It wasn't just physical - it was mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion as well. I was constantly shaking, my stomach was constantly roiling like a pot of witches brew, and I felt as if the eyes I was looking out were not even my own. The disconnect from my own mind was huge.

I'd been going to my doctor for years. He knew me. I told him what was happening and I told him I needed a sleeping pill. I told him if I didn't sleep I was going to die. I believed it, and at that point it may very well have been closer to the truth than even I knew.  He told me he wasn't going to give me a sleeping pill. He told me he was going to give me an anti-depressant. I argued with him (we have a long history of arguing actually. I like having a doctor I can argue with). I'm not depressed, I tell him, I'm tired. He proceeds to explain that my nerves are completely shot. He said that there's a box we all live in and that I'm not even in that box anymore. He says the stress of what I'm going through has caused every nerve in my body to be like a split end on my hair. I'm feeling twice the sensation on every nerve ending, it's never ending, and it's blown the box wide open, ripping it at the seams. He says it's not about depression, it's about repairing that box so I can live inside it again and not be flying around in pieces all around it. 

Well, I'm paranoid as can be at this point. My soon to be ex husband has been subpoenaing everything in my life, from my diaries, to my scrapbook pages, to my personal letters, to my date books. He's been trying to get ANYTHING to back up his claims. All of a sudden that cute scrapbook page I made of Sammy when he emptied a bottle of baby powder all over his room when he was two isn't cute anymore. It's an example of what a negligent mother I am! I'm constantly looking over my shoulder. Heaven forbid I forget to brush his teeth one day, or that I let him out of the house without socks on. Every little thing is now a big thing. I tell my doctor, no way. I can't be on anti depressants. He'll just use it against me in court. Say I'm unstable. That I can't care for the kids because of it. The doctor explains to me that no court in the world would hold anti depressants against me. He said if everybody on anti depressants glowed green, Atlanta could be seen clearly glowing from outer space. He gave me 30 days of a free sample. So I didn't have to go through insurance. Did I mention I love my doctor? I took the offering and went home.

It was about August or September of 2007 by this point. I was living in the same house as my soon to be ex. He had cut me off from all funds. I had to tell him what we needed and he'd buy it if he felt like it. This, after 13 years of running the household, the budget, the lives of the whole family, I was reduced to begging for food for the kids, or clothes for the kids. He did all he could to humiliate me, to take away any security I had, and to try his best to steal all purpose from my life. Though we never fought in front of the kids, the tension in the house was so thick it was like wading through molasses just to walk or breathe.  My sensitive boy started biting me at random. He'd never been a biter. Never bitten a child or me. (except once when nursing and my reaction caused him to stop that immediately!). I'd have my arm around him and we'd be looking in the fridge for lunch and all of a sudden he would chomp down on my arm. HARD! We are cuddling on the couch and all of a sudden a sharp pain radiates through my breast as he takes a fair sized bite out of the side. It was horrible. My daughter, thank God, was young enough that as long as she had mommy she was okay. She was 4 going on 5 when he left. She was sad, but mostly because everybody else was. This weird divorced life is really all she remembers and all she knows. In a way it's a blessing for her. Sammy remembers a lot about when we were a regular family, and for him it is harder.

At any rate, the pills did help me crawl back inside the box.  I made it to court, and I believe admirably represented myself. I only had to be chastised once by the judge as I angrily cut off the barracuda lawyer. I tell you, this woman could sorely try the patience of Mother Theresa herself. She was the perfect compliment for my cold hearted and merciless husband, who, by the way, was the only person who actually liked her. I prevailed in court, and got primary physical custody of my children. Joint legal custody. Final decisions if we disagree are mine. So good. But this isn't about my divorce, this is about depression.

I've been on anti-depressants of one kind or the other ever since then. The whole experience of the divorce I feel changed something physically and fundamentally inside me.  My Anger burns hotter these days. Quicker. I've got a new kind of depression that seems to suck the Joy out of my days. It's harder to crawl out of, and it's harder to stay out of.  Even though I've got a wonderful husband, two added wonderful kids, and a pretty good life. I've been on a spiritual journey lately, seeking God for the answers. He is the only one who has them. I know, and I've blogged about this before, that forgiveness is key. I feel forgiveness of myself is a crucial step. When you are slammed so thoroughly and dragged so unrelentingly through the mud, even the lies start sounding like the truth. Every little thing I've ever done that was less than perfect as a mother starts to look bigger and more evil. I'm harder on myself for the little things. Worse, I know my ex is still looking, still making notes. Everything I do, I do in light of what HE might think, what he might say, if we go back to court. So yes, he still has some control over my actions and that, excuse my language, pisses me off to no end. It makes me mad that someday my kids will have a choice of who they live with. My ex husband's house has very few rules, he has more money so they do more "fun" stuff. Our house has rules, chores, and no money. Our fun stuff consists of going to the Library for a new book, and occasionally a movie at the dollar theater. I can't compete with six flags and vacations to California. I just can't. The only thing I have to compete with is my love and my determination to teach them what they need to know to be successful and happy in this world. Do I fear them saying "I want to go live with DADDY!" when they turn 13 or 14 and I've said "no" yet again. Yes, I do. I fear it horribly. I can't raise them with no rules and no discipline and turn out spoiled little brats because I want them to love me though! I just can't. I'd be failing them, and failing my God. So I do what I must, and I trust God. Never again though, can I be the mother who just enjoyed her children without thought. Now I must think through everything very carefully. It has taken some of the joy and some of the spontaneity out of motherhood. That in itself, is quite depressing. Life changes though, and we adjust. We adapt. That's what human beings do right? 

So yes, I do what I need to do, I take my anti-depressants, and I pray for the best. I try really hard to enjoy the little moments, to take pleasure in the smallest things. I try to realize that my peri-menopause is wreaking havoc with my emotions and that I'm riding out a long and crazy storm that I'm going to have to learn to fine tune for years to come. I know that GRATITUDE is key. I need to be thankful for the small things. I am. I'm grateful that my baby Abby sets her alarm for 6:30 in the morning to have a little private time with mommy before the day starts. Those few moments of her cuddling in my arms in the dark living room are moments I treasure up in my heart. More importantly, I think she treasures them in her heart. I am grateful for the moments when my Sammy smiles and laughs as he gets some joke I've shared and we meet eyes and I know how much he loves me. I'm grateful for his long, totally wasted on a boy, thick eyelashes. I call them black diamond ski slopes for the Whos down in Whoville. He finds that very funny. I am grateful for my Jackson, who will grin at me with that megawatt smile and strike a goofy pose and make all my troubles melt away for just that minute. I marvel at the things he builds with his building toys. I am grateful for Elizabeth, who loves me so much. I tell her not to cuddle me while I'm trying to eat supper so she'll slide down and give my foot a hug before bouncing away. "I figured you don't eat with your feet" she'll cheerfully say. When I'm crying, she is always the one who can make me laugh. I'm grateful for my husband making up goofy songs about things. I'm grateful he keeps singing them even when I'm in a mood and just glare at him. I'm grateful that he never holds a grudge. I'm grateful I have a God who loves me and that Jesus died for me on a cross 2000 years ago. Forgiveness and gratitude. I keep working on them both. I know they are key. Forgiveness, gratitude, and let's not forget my "happy pill".

I've come to learn that real, lasting depression is a disease. It's not a sin. It's not something you can just turn off or turn away from. You don't need a good reason to have it. Your brain decides for you. It takes medication, it takes therapy, it takes understanding family and friends. It takes Jesus. It takes your all just to keep on keeping on. You will have your good months and you will have your bad months. I'm just now to the point where I can stand back and look and really try to figure it out.  I find it imperative to do so, because I can see that my son tends towards depression. I keep a very close eye on him. He is blessed, because he has a mom who is very aware of him. I will not let things get to a point of crisis with him. I am on the job. I am watching. All the time.

Life is a blessing People. Even being a person with depression I can see that. I will fight the monster of depression lurking inside me every day because life is so beautiful in so many countless ways, and living to the fullest is something I will never give up on.  I have so much to live for. I have four beautiful children with limitless futures. I have a husband who loves me no matter what. I have a God who loves me even more than that. I have a roof over my head, I have food in my belly. I live in a country where I can speak freely about whatever it is that is on my mind - where I can worship my God without fear of state persecution or jail or death. Even on the verge of bankruptcy, I have more than most of the people in this whole wide world do. Life is beautiful, even if depression causes me to sometimes see the beauty through a fog.

I waited a long time to get medication for my depressive tendencies. If you are waiting because you feel shame or fear, don't. Just go get help. It isn't anything to be ashamed of. It is part of who you are, and there is help out there. Sometimes you don't even realize you are depressed. When I started to attend therapy as part of the divorce proceedings the therapist asked me "why are you so terrified of your husband?" I didn't know I was terrified. I'd lived in that state of being for so long, it didn't even register as fear. It was just life. she told me I was depressed and that is why I was so tired all the time, and why it was so hard to focus, to clean house, to get organized. I just thought that was life too. Sometimes you've been coping with a way of being for so long you don't even realize you live there. If you suspect you live there, go talk to your doctor. Try some medicine and see if it doesn't help a bit, or a lot. You'll just be one more glowing green dot that you can see from space, but you might be a happier dot.

D is also for Decision. Make the decision to put yourself first for a moment. D also stands for Destiny. It is hard to fulfill your destiny when you are wading through the pits of depression. I wish I would have received help years and years ago. I'd probably be much farther along on this road to self discovery and fulfilling my potential if I would not have spent so many years in the dark. If you are feeling your way blindly along in the darkness of depression, as I was for so many years, please come towards the light. You are so worth it.

Blessings, Tanya

B is for baking, and big brown eyes, and C is for Cupcakes and Compassion.

Thursday and Friday this week were very tiring for me. My three youngest children and I spent from 9-3 on Thursday planning, shopping for supplies, and baking 165 cupcakes in three different flavors. The kids go to a wonderful little Christian School in Lilburn, GA and every year they get two days off school while their teachers are at a conference. During these two days they are required to do a service project taking at least 4 hours from each day. They decided to bake cupcakes, decorate them, and deliver them to the police station, the fire station and an assisted living home. I was expecting to have two exhausting days (I did this last year with two kids and it was exhuasting - I knew adding in the third child would make it even more so this year) and for it to be over, and our obligations met. Little did I know that my children and I would birth a year long project and that a fire would be lit in their little hearts (and mine) to serve in a very real way. Thursday morning started with a lot of baking. Below is Jackson cracking eggs into a Pyrex measuring cup (I figured it would be easier to pull shells out of that than directly out of the batter, but there was only one tiny fragment of shell in the whole batch!).

 Here are the first two batches just out of the oven. Unfortunately, I have only one 12 cup muffin tin and two six cup ones, so I can only make 24 cupcakes at a time. I feel a strong need to get three more 12 cup muffin tins as soon as I can fit it in the budget. Mass producing cupcakes 24 at a time is REALLY time consuming.  We had piano lessons at 4:30 and we baked right up until we had to leave at 3:45. We got home after lessons, had supper, and the kids had to go to bed. I spent the rest of the night baking the last batch of cupcakes and putting the plain vanilla or chocolate frosting on them. I got to bed at 12:50.

Friday morning everybody was up bright and early to start decorating.  We started before 8. I don't think anybody ate breakfast, now that I think about it. Everyone was too excited. Below, Jackson and Abby are making candy corn hair on our "peeking monsters" cupcakes.

 This is a precise process that takes great concentration.

 Sammy carefully repairing a cupcake where some hair got too enthusiastically pushed on.

 Abby's impression of our "little monster" cupcakes.

 Jackson's much more subdued impression. Abby overseeing him to make sure he gets it right.

 Abby piping "bloodshot lines" on our eyeball cupcakes. she said she "tried to make it a little messy so it looked actually bloodshot". she says "mom does this look bloodshot?". I said "I don't know, look at my eyes and tell me if it looks the same." Sammy is working so fast, he's a blur :)

 Jackson trying his hand at piping the bloodshot eyes. He's my second youngest, but smallest child, and his tiny hands just did not have the strength to pipe that red icing. He got through about half a cupcake with determination but then his hands were just aching. Sammy did two eyeballs and had the same problem. Abby is the only one who had enough hand strength to really crank out the eyes. She was a trooper. She squeezed out those thin red lines until we had an army of tired eyes staring back at us.

 one of four finished trays of cupcakes. We have from left to right, the peeking monster, the little furry monster, the running skeleton, the vampire, and the bat. Second row we have the eyeball, the ghoul, and right below the eyeball, the mummy. there are also many small green faced witches with candy corn noses, and some small halloween sprinkle cupcakes as well. I thought we managed a good variety for such a very small cottage industry!

Finally all the trays were done at around 10:45 am and I already felt like I had put in a full day. I don't know how full time teachers do it. I got a second wind as I contemplated delivering the cupcakes though, because giving them away is my favorite part! Jackson and Sammy cleaned out the back of the van and put down the seat to make a large flat area in the back to transport all the cupcakes. Jackson neglected to get OUT of the back of the van before pulling down the seat so we had a brief delay as I comforted him over the loss of his now forever crippled right leg. However, it must have been a blessed day, because he miraculously regained the use of his leg in a mere three minutes, and we were off to deliver!  Those that have never ridden with me don't know what a precarious and terrifying trip this must have been for the poor cupcakes. I tend to be, let's just say, slightly leadfooted, and I also tend to brake as fast as I accelerate.  It was very hard to drive slowly and moderately enough to keep 165 cupcakes happy, as well as the drivers behind me.  Abby and Jackson kept a worried eye on the cupcakes as I drove to our destination. "mommy, a vampire is on it's icing!" "mommy, a mummy fell over!" "mommy, they are all squishing together on one side of the tray!" 

I got some very dirty looks and a couple of honks from drivers as they passed me by, and it was all I could do not to scream out the window  "Hey you losers! I'm trying to SERVE and GIVE here, give me a break!" Thankfully, I am not a road rage type girl, and I simply smiled and sent up a Jesus on the cross prayer. That's what I call "forgive them Lord, for they know not what they do!" I'm sure I was annoying, but I had to get a lot of cupcakes intact to their destination!

Finally, we reached our first destination, the Lawrenceville Fire Department. All 3 kids were beaming as we carried in a tray of our cute spooky masterpieces. Right as we got out of the car a firetruck pulled into the station so we stood there and watched and they honked and waved at us on their way in.  We were immediately greeted by happy fireman who took us to their kitchen and deposited our first delivery safely on the table. A couple of firemen then consented to get their picture with the kids, and they pulled a firetruck out and let each of the kids sit in it before taking the group photo. One of the fireman indicated his fear that all the cupcakes would be gone before he got a chance to eat one.

Here are the kids right as we were about to leave for delivery. holding a try, and sampling the wares. After all, we can't give away products we haven't tasted!

 Fire woman Abby to the rescue!

 Fireman Jackson on the scene!

 Fireman Sammy, happy to serve!

 Company 15, Gwinnett fire services! They thanked us and we thanked them for all they do and I asked the kids "doesn't giving feel GREAT!" and they all were jumping up and down saying "YES!".

 

Delivery one accomplished, we set off down the street just two turns and less than five minutes away. The Lawrenceville Police Headquarters. It had moved from where we delivered last year, and when we saw the new building Sammy wisely insisted we give them TWO trays instead of one. It was a very big building and LOTS of people must work there. I agreed, and so Sammy and I carried in the trays while Jackson and Abby opened and held doors. The police station is always locked down tight, but there happened to be a police man in the records room when we entered, along with the records lady. They were very excited and touched by the kids offering. The police officer looked with amazement at the cupcakes and said "you kids made these??" and "wow! That's so nice! you must have worked so hard!" The kids, of course, were just beaming. They said they would take them down and put them in the break room and they'd probably be gone in an hour. That seemed to please the kids to no end. 

The kids with the nice records lady and the officer who was so touched by their gift. 

 The school the kids attend is in Lilburn, so we decided to go give to someone in Lilburn too. So I made a few calls and we decided on the Sunrise Assisted Living Center in Lilburn. Sammy was excited to see it was the same place his class had performed at the previous year. He already felt a connection to the place, so that was pretty neat. Miss Crystal at the front desk greeted us and took us to the Bistro where residents can help themselves to treats. She said a lot of the residents had a sweet tooth and that they would love these. The kids waved and smiled at the residents as they walked by and we were invited to the Halloween party they are having and told that if we call there are always events there we could come share with the residents. It was nice to find that out!

Miss Crystal and the kids

 The kids offerings in the bistro, waiting to be eaten!

 Outside sunrise with some Halloween themed lollipops that Miss Crystal gave them. Isn't it interesting that a lot of times when you give, people automatically want to give you something back? I find this to be especially true when children give. It seems whenever I take the children to do service projects the recipients seem almost frantic to give them something in return.  I don't know if it is because they want to reward the children for their kind hearts or what, but I've found it interesting to note.

 The kids didn't just give of their time and talents for this service project. They spent about 11 hours total on the project, but also wanted to help out mom and dad for the expenses of buying all the supplies to make and deliver the cupcakes. Our kids have recently started getting an allowance. It is actually bingo tokens. Each child has a color, and they get two tokens a day if they have done all their chores. The tokens are worth a quarter. This means that if they work hard all month and do all their chores, they will earn tokens worth 2.50 a week. (I normally don't pay for weekends, I feel as if some things are done just to help the family out) At first, Sammy was trying to give me 4/5th of his hard earned allowance. He has saved earnestly since we started this and had about 20.00 worth of tokens. He was trying to give me 16.00 worth. I couldn't bear to let them part with so much after they had worked so hard to earn it and I knew it would take another two months to earn that back. So I gave them a limit of 5.00 worth of tokens. Sammy came back with 5.25. He is a smart cookie. He knew I wouldn't get on him for being only .25 cents more generous than I said. Well, this started a giving war. Each child wanted to out give the other.  Jackson added two more tokens onto that. Abby added one more onto that.  When Sammy started running back to his room for his token jar I put a stop to the token war once and for all! They contributed 17 dollars between them. This offset some of the considerable cost of supplies and made mommies heart grow big. There was no hesitation, and no holding back with these kids. They wanted to help. They wanted to give. If there is one thing I don't mind my kids competing against each other on, it is who can give and serve the most!

The real magic started on the way home though. We were talking about how tired we were, but how good it felt to make all those people happy.  I was really only thinking aloud when I said "that was fun, but next year it would be nice to do something different."  Sammy immediately agreed. He said "It is nice to thank the police men and make people happy, but nobody NEEDS cupcakes."  He had just spoken my thoughts. "yes," I said "it would be nice if next year instead of thanking someone we could try to meet some real needs". Sammy started asking who were people who really needed help. I told him about homeless people, I told him about soup kitchens, I told him about woman's shelters. I told him about crisis pregnancy centers. He wanted to know what a lot of these were, and I told him in the gentlest way I knew how, but he asked question after question. "Mommy, husbands hit their wives? why did they marry them if they don't love them? How can they think they love them and hit them? Do they hit their children? Do they stay safe at the shelters? do the shelters take the children too or do they have to stay with the bad husband?" He was also concerned with the pregnancy centers. He wanted to know that the babies would be okay. It dawned on him yesterday that there were evils in the world he knew nothing of.  I could see in his big brown eyes his concern as he tried to process this new information and fit it into the world he knew. I was sad because I felt like he lost just a bit of innocence, but I was glad to see that he cared. The boy without empathy continues to grow in love. Praise God! I see Compassion in his eyes.


Soon, he and I had formulated a plan. We were thinking how to best be able to serve one of these places next service day. I mentioned that to make a big difference maybe we should start now. That we should pick a place to serve next service project day and start now to plan for it so we could make a big impact. Sammy mentioned maybe asking at the school if everybody could bring one item for a baby so we could make diaper bags full of supplies for a pregnancy center or shelter.  He said 75 families each bringing one item could make a big difference. I said we'd have to ask the principal if she'd allow that, but it was a great idea. We came up with each child giving one or two of their tokens each week towards the cause. Over a year this would add up to 72 dollars if each child gave two tokens a week. The other kids loved the idea when we set it to them. I pledged to the kids that if they gave from their allowance, I too would give something from my weekly spending money of 20 dollars towards the cause. We pledged that we'd look for great sales throughout the year, that we'd ask all our friends and their moms for any outgrown but still good condition diaper bags. I could see a fire light in the kids' eyes, and I felt something sparking in my heart. A year in advance I was looking forward to the next service project with a light and happy heart , not dreading it like I normally do! (I never dread serving, it was wondering "what should we do" - waiting until the last minute to think about it, never knowing, always going "well, we could make cookies for someone". Yeah, the fat girl falls back on baking every time. It's something I know well.) It felt GREAT to have a plan, to feel like we could really make a difference. Not that I'm dissing cupcakes. Cupcakes are great, and we should never stop thanking those who risk their lives to keep us safe. Not ever.

Sometimes though, we need something more. Something to inspire us at a deeper place. Something to light the fire of purpose in our hearts. Yesterday in the car, Sammy and I discovered that something. I feel like we are at the start of an adventure. I daresay it will bring my kids and I closer, working towards a common goal, and will increase their empathy and understanding of those in need. Maybe it will help them to appreciate the home they live in and the family they have just a little bit more. It will be exciting to see our savings grow, to see our supply closet increase, and next service day to assemble and deliver all the things we've collected to bless the moms and babies.

And it all started with a cupcake.

GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!

For those of you who have started with me on this blog about a month ago you know that it's original intention, aside from talking about my life in general, was to share and be accountable in a way for my health and wellness journey. Well, I am happy to announce that I have met my first goal!!!

I wanted to lose 10% of my body weight, and yesterday I was down 24 pounds from my high of 240. It wasn't until this morning that I realized it was 10 percent and I'd met my first big goal! Research shows that the health benefits of even this much weight loss are great, reducing my risk for heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and increasing my chances for a longer and healthier life!

I met another big goal yesterday too! It is very demoralizing to weigh more than your husband, especially when he is 5 inches taller than you and no string bean himself. Well, I'm now officially 4 pounds less than my husband! It isn't much less, but it's less, and that gives me a huge psychological boost.

Another happy event happened yesterday in my weight loss world. My Wednesday night bible study group (composed of mostly women who want to lose some weight but need some motivation) has finally been motivated. Last night we formed an accountability group. We each set some personal health goals (not necessarily to do with weight, but with heading in a healthy direction) for the next week, and we are going to keep each other accountable by checking in each week. It's just another tool in my arsenal of health and wellness tools, which I find I am accumulating almost as fast as I used to accumulate pounds!

I can't tell you their goals, because what happens in study, stays in study. It's a cardinal rule so we can feel free sharing. However, my goals and life are an open book. I made three goals. One was to get to bed by midnight each night. Getting enough sleep has been scientifically proven to help in weight loss. It has to do with our nightly hormones. There are two hormones we produce called ghrelin and leptin. Ghrelin is the hormone that tells you when to eat, and when you are deprived of sleep you produce MORE ghrelin. Leptin is the hormone that tells you when to stop eating, and when you are deprived of sleep you produce LESS leptin. Also, when you are sleep-deprived your metabolism is slower. So, you do the simple math. More ghrelin + Less leptin + slower metabolism + being sleepy so more likely to make poor choices or grab quick or sugary snacks for a boost = possible big time weight gain. I've never been a big sleeper. I usually sleep about 4 or 5 hours a night. I'm also usually tired. It just seems I have so much to do and I work so late, and then I feel I need to relax so I'll watch a bit of tv, and read a bit of book and read my email and by the time I go to bed it is sometimes 2 or 2:30. I wake up at 6:30 if I wake with the alarm, but many days I'll wake up at five to go pee and my morning person body will say "well, close enough, get up!". So I decided that more sleep was going to be a crucial goal for me. I don't know if I will ever be able to sleep the recommended 7.5 hours a night every night, but I'm going to start by making that one limit for myself. Midnight to bed for me.

My second goal was to increase my liquid intake. I was drinking 3-32 ounce powerade zeros each day plus the milk in my shakes (one or two cups a day). This was over 100 ounces of no or low calorie high nutrient liquid. I had to pee a lot, but I felt good and I was hydrated. Since I've increased my protein intake and decreased my carb intake I need even more water to help process that protein. I've slowly decreased my fluid intake over the course of this eating plan, and my goal was to get back up to at least 3 - 32 oz bottles a day.

My third goal was to track every morsel of food I put in my mouth. I was a Nazi about this when I first started the eating plan. I entered everything into my program on my phone (sparkpeople.com for the droid, love it!) before I ate a bite. Lately I've been slacking a bit. My goal for this week is to track it all, every bite. My tummy is growling and complaining right now so I'm going to go start meeting my goals by tracking my breakfast. Have a great day my friends.

Blessings, Tanya

A is for Apology and Accolades.

Well, yet another A post. I promise I won't be on this letter for a lifetime. Maybe I'll go through the whole alphabet. what do you think? I am sure there are important things to write about almost any letter. I like the methodical nature of that task.. I'm heavily considering it. Please give feedback.

However, for now... more A. My husband gently and lovingly told me this morning that if people who didn't KNOW him read my blog yesterday, they might think he was a condescending jerk. Having not said anything he hadn't admitted readily himself I was not prepared for his gentle censure, but now that I've had an hour or two to think about it I see where he might be right. Therefore, number one, I'm sorry Honey! I love you with all my heart and I would never want anybody to think anything bad about you, especially if it wasn't true!

A is also for Accolades, and since I may have given the wrong impression of my more difficult than average to live with husband, I am about to give you my top 20 list of why it is worth every minute. This one's for you baby.

1. My husband comes home straight after work each night, and it's because that's where he wants to be.
2. My husband won't let an issue fester. If he's got a problem he will bring it up. Though that can be really annoying, it is much better than saying nothing for 14 years and then leaving me for another women - for example.. not that I'm thinking of anybody in particular. LOL.
3. My husband brings me flowers, just because, and sometimes he'll bring one for Abby and Elizabeth too.
4. My husband supports my weight loss and health efforts and will continue to mention it if he thinks he sees me emotionally eating or something non conducive to my goals, even though I usually bite his head off when he does. (I mean, come on, if you are emotionally eating, you aren't in a very good mood to begin with right?)
5. My husband will bring me home medicine when I'm sick, make me take a nap when I'm tired, and generally takes care of me.
6. My husband puts up with my perimenopausal mood swings as a fact of life, not holding it against me in any way.(You have no idea how big this one is!)
7. My husband is willing to go to counseling, talk forever, try to change his habits or modify his behaviour in order to make our family more harmonious, our kids happier, and our marriage better.
8. My husband is a great gift giver. He comes up with the nicest, most thoughtful gifts. Compared to my ex who would shop on Christmas Eve and buy me a cookbook that HE would like, this is sheer bliss.
9. My husband is affectionate. He is always willing to stop and give me a hug or a kiss.
10. My husband is actually very very funny, although not quite as funny as HE thinks he is. LOL. He keeps me laughing.
11. Though he may be quick to anger, he's even quicker to forgive and forget. He rarely holds the past against me.
12. My husband is a terrific dad. The kids might not always think so, because he isn't in it to be their friend, he's in it to be a father. That means he is about what he wants them to learn; independance, hard work, obedience, responsibility, and sacrifice. This is opposed to what they want to learn; fun, play, clean up after me,give me, help me, do for me, slacking 101, and socializing 202. It is hard to be a real father and mother. You have to make tough choices that your kids hate on a pretty much daily basis. He has said "I don't care if they don't like me, because I believe one day they will thank me".  I believe he is probably right.
13. Though the situation hasn't arisen yet, I have 100 percent confidence that if anybody ever put me down, said anything mean, or belittled me in any way in front of him that my husband would right then and there put the offender in his or her place.  I'm not alone in this life anymore. I have a husband who will go to bat for me.
14. My husband is proud of my skills. Even though he rarely reads, he is proud of my Blog, and says I write really well. He is proud of my craftiness and my scrapbooking skills and accomplishments. Again, I guess I appreciate this more coming out of a marriage where my skills were belittled at best and dismissed out of hand at worst. He appreciates that the things I am good at have some worth, even though they aren't the things he is good at. This means the world to me.
15. My husband says he doesn't know how he could do "this" without me. I know for a fact that he has done it without me, and could again, but what I think he really means is this: that I've made his, and Elizabeth and Jackson's life better than it could have been with him alone. That I've enriched the family and brought worth and value into it.  That I've brought knowledge that is important, love that is irreplaceable, and balance and structure to the household that brings them all some much needed peace of mind. Yep, that was all in his eyes when he said it. I read eyes really well :) . Also, he loves that the underwear fairy visits his drawer each week with a clean batch of folded undies. He loves that fairy, and she moved in when I did. I think I read that somewhere in his eyes too. Well, here's a newsflash that really shouldn't be news to you honey, I couldn't begin to do this without you either!
16. My husband appreciates my efforts, even if they don't turn out perfect. As I believe I've mentioned, I find him a little OCD. There are about 1000 things that he will say "drive me crazy!", and many of them are very small things. He hates the way I fold shirts for instance. I try to remember to fold them with an extra fold and the logo facing up, but I fold.. excuse my expression... a BUTTLOAD of laundry on a regular basis, and I've done it the same way since I started doing laundry at age 14. It is very hard to teach an aging dog new tricks (I refuse to say old...). So most of the time I just fold the way I always have and though he hates it, he doesn't say anything because "hey, my clothes are getting folded and I don't have to do it".  That's what I mean when I say he appreciates my efforts. Even though they are often not to his exacting OCD standards, he still appreciates that I do them at all.
17. My husband is a good kisser. And I'm the only one who gets to know it. oh yah.
18. My husband is strong and capable. He can kill a bug, he can fix a car, he can build stuff and he can fix most anything. He knows lots about everything, so there are very few questions about stuff that I don't know that I need to know, that he can not answer.
19. My husband is like having a built in gps. He's lived in Lawrenceville forever and a day, and he drives trucks for a living all around Georgia, so when I texted him yesterday and said "Where's the nearest post office. I'm on the way to pick up the kids", he quickly texted me back two options and told me how to get there using roads he knew I know. That's an invaluable quality to have in a man when you (in Josh's immortal words) "can't back out of the driveway without the GPS". Yep, it's true. I'm a directional ninny, and he's my GPS in shining armor.
20. Last but not least. I love my husband because he came to me at a time when I thought I might never find love again and he looked past my weight and anything else about my appearance and he saw what I had to give. He taught me how to be strong, how to hold my head high, how to assert myself and to find belief again in the words of 1Cor 13 : 4-8

LOVE

Love is patient,

 love is kind.

It does not envy,

it does not boast,

it is not proud.

It is not rude,

it is not self-seeking,

it is not easily angered,

it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects,

always trusts,

always hopes,

always perseveres.

Love never fails.

Joshua, for your love that never fails, I will be always grateful, and for those who might have had a bad impression of Josh because I tend to gripe about his shortcomings more than praise his good points (hey, I'm only human.. the shortcomings annoy you more so tend to be more on your mind!) I hope this blog will reverse your thoughts and show what a truly one of a kind, amazing husband this lucky woman has. Blessings! Tanya

hmmm... reluctantly admitting yet another A disorder (or don't let the sun go down on me)

It's a disorder that dates back to Cain, as he beat his brother Abel to death at the dawn of humanity. It's ANGER, and I've just had to admit to myself that it's a disorder I've acquired over the last year.... or at least it's the last year that I've realized I've got anger that can get out of control faster than a hummingbird can flap its little wings.

I've always thought I was not a very angry person. I didn't understand people who seemed angry all the time, and I've always had somewhat of a modified Pollyanna kind of attitude towards life. Since I married my new husband Josh though, I've realized that nobody on earth has the power to make me as mad, as fast, as he does. It is really quite bizarre. I lived for 14 years with an emotionally abusive spouse and I think I screamed out loud maybe twice. Now I live with a man who really loves me and I'm so angry I can't even control myself. I will find myself screaming at him so loud I hurt my throat for two days! It's gotten to where I'm disturbed about how mad he can make me. I don't remember ever getting that angry in the past, and I've had lots of reason too.

There are lots of things I can blame it on. Peri-menopause is messing with my hormones big time, no mistaking that. I have a history of depression. Life is really a lot more stressful with a family of six than it was with a family of three. Four kids will drive anybody crazy. I'm overly busy and under rested. I haven't been in the word of God enough. However, the real thing at the bottom of this I think, is that I have a bullheaded, cocky (sorry, he would say that it's confident, but I feel it spills over into cocky) husband who wants everything his way all the time and happens to be more than a tad OCD in my humble opinion. I love this man more than I've loved any man in my entire life, but his family and friends will tell you that he is simply, and excuse my language in advance, a pain in the ass a lot of the time.  (Before you read on know that any negative thing I might mention about my husband, is most probably matched by two negative things in my nature. This is really not supposed to be about his shortcomings, but MINE, in the inability to control my own anger)

It is something about THIS relationship that is sparking the anger. I'm not any more angry at the kids (at least not 99 percent of the time). It is Josh I get angry at. There seems to be a fundamental problem with our communication. I can't figure out how to remedy it. I say something and he hears something completely different. He says something and I hear something completely different. For people whose souls (I hate to use that term.. I want to gag whenever I hear soul mate.... I really think our only soul mate ought to be Jesus) are very similar - our core values are almost identical - we have a real heck of a time trying to understand each other.  He spends a lot of time talking to me loudly and slowly like I'm mentally handicapped, and I spend a lot of time saying "huh?" and "what do you mean?" and "what does that have to do with what we were talking about?" and simply "you're just weird honey".

Now many women complain that their husband never talks to them. I don't have that problem. My husband will talk at length to anybody at anytime about anything. Including me. Frankly, he rarely shuts up. It's the fact that very little is getting communicated to me during this talking that builds frustration. I just feel like we talk and talk and it doesn't lead to any better understanding between us.  It seems that the same issues come up again and again and never get resolved.  We will be fine for a few weeks or a month and then I will blow up over something that I've blown up about before and we'll fight the same fight we fought before, and I'm left emotionally drained, guilty (did we scream in front of the kids?), and wondering what I am doing wrong.

Something has got to change. We're not in trouble. I mean it isn't like we're thinking of divorce or any such thing. We love each other deeply and we are committed for life. It is that exact reason that drives me to seek a solution to this recurring issue and my ever building anger.  I'm going to be making us an appointment this week with a counselor.  Hopefully she can teach us how to better hear each other. My wonderful husband is willing to go or do whatever it takes. He doesn't enjoy these arguments any more than I do (although he gets over them a lot quicker than I do, one of his very positive traits. he does NOT hold a grudge).

The last fight was last week. It was over a discipline issue with our youngest son. I had to go apologize to the children that they had to hear me yell and I promised I was going to do whatever it took not to yell in front of them anymore. I plan to keep that promise. If we need to go out to the car and yell in there, so be it. Better though, if we could both learn not to yell. What good is yelling?

When I went to apologize to my son Sammy he saw that I was upset and had been crying. Tears came to his eyes (for those of you who read my last post, yes, Empathy is starting to come..) and he said how he hates it when I am sad. Then he quoted me the bible. He said, ever so gently and lovingly, "Mommy, you know in the bible it says 'do not let the sun go down on your anger.'"  he choked it out past tears. This, of course, made my tears flow ever more freely. Any of my kids quoting the word or singing worship songs almost immediately sets me to crying on a good day. This was a bad day. I thanked him for sharing the wisdom of the word of God with me as I murmured my love and promises to do better into the soft folds of his little neck. Then the head of my seven year old Jackson appeared upside down like a little blond headed bat from the top bunk and grinned at me. "I forgive you mommy. I love you", and Sammy added "we all make mistakes". Who can go to bed angry with that kind of love in your life? I said a quick prayer right there. "Lord, don't let the sun go down on me. Clean my heart of bitterness and anger," and he did. For now.

Now it's up to me. And Josh. And the counselor. And almighty God. (look at all that bad grammar in a row!!). I'm never going to stop working on my issues, our issues, whatever. I want to be old on my front porch with this man, rocking away with some grandbabies on my knee. I want us to look at each other and smile. I want people in restaurants to smile and go "look at that cute old couple holding hands. they look like newlyweds."  Yes, I'm willing to work hard for that. I've had to work hard for everything good in my life, why should this be any different?

So it's time to publish my post and go pick up the phone and make an appt. While I'm at it I'll make one for myself privately, for Jackson, who I'm pretty sure has oppositional defiant disorder (at least it doesn't start with A!), and for Sammy (who has to live with Josh and Jackson, need I say more) and for Elizabeth (who just wants somebody to talk to who isn't her Mom or Dad). I'm starting to think I ought to make a family appointment just to air our grievances in a safe place and to give Abby (the baby, and our most well adjusted normal child) a chance to see the counselor too. I wouldn't want her to feel left out. Boy, do we sound messed up. I'm chancing a guess though, that as families go, we aren't all that odd. Everyone has baggage, just not all families have a full luggage set like ours does.

Wish us luck, but more importantly, pray for the counselor! lol! The Cockrell's are about to descend on her!

On disorders that start with A, and a journey into SammyLand.

I've just today realized that in my house we seem to have disorders or diseases that start with A.  I have severe ASTHMA. My husband had to have open heart surgery to replace his huge AORTIC ANEURISM (two A's!). My youngest son has ADD. My oldest son has ASPERGER'S syndrome. several of the household suffer with seasonal ALLERGIES. I myself suffer from an ANAPHALACTIC ALLERGY to nuts. My oldest daughter has ATTITUDE. Oh wait, that isn't a disorder, that's just being 13. Never the less it seems "A" disorders are very prevalent in our house. I do hope this trend doesn't continue up the alphabet and just stays put in the A's. I would hate for us to start having things like boils and botulism. At any rate,  I want to talk today about one of these A's.

My oldest son Samuel has Asperger's Syndrome. Many don't know what that is. It's kind of complicated, but I'll try to make it simple. Hans Asperger published the first definition of Asperger Syndrome in 1944. He identified a pattern of behavior and abilities that he called "autistic psychopathy". The pattern included "a lack of empathy, little ability to form friendships, one-sided conversations, intense absorption in a special interest, and clumsy movements." Asperger called children with AS "little professors" because of their ability to talk about their favorite subject in great detail.

When I first read this definition I was struck dumb. All of a sudden it made sense that I had a three year old that related everything (and I mean everything!) to Star Wars. He became obsessed with everything Star Wars and one day in church right up at the alter while the pastor was trying to give the children's message he expounded on the topic of the Gospel according to star wars. 'It seems to me', he said "that Luke Skywalker is kind of like Jesus and that Darth Vadar is kind of like Satan, or at least works for him. The force is like God and Satan because there is the dark side and the light side." It seemed to me that the windows of the sanctuary were about to blow out with the laughter that came from the congregation. The pastor just sat there, kind of dumbstruck. Remember, this child was three at the time. I was in the audience trying to decide if I should slink down the pew in embarrassment or beam with pride that my three year old was so insightful! The pastor eventually got back on track. I never have.

My son is now 9. He's in grade three. He's extremely bright, as are most kids with Asperger's Syndrome. He does well in school, and loves to learn. About sixteen seconds after he learns something he is in the backseat of the van telling it to Abby, his seven year old sister, because the only thing he likes better than learning is telling other people what he has learned. Yes, "little professor" applies perfectly to him. 

Some of the other symptoms took more time to figure out. Like his lack of Empathy. I thought he had empathy. He had me fooled. I got sick when he was just a toddler and I was throwing up in the toilet, and next thing I know here is Sammy patting my back and saying "shhhh, shhhh Mommy". Wow, how sweet is that? When I was sick in bed with a stomach virus last year (that he was just getting over), he brought me blankets and cold clothes. He took care of me like nobody could, without me even asking! So how is it his sister can fall off her scooter and be bleeding and crying and he can scooter right past her without even seeming to notice? Things that make me go hmmm. I realized at some point that Sammy is a very good mimic. He takes care of me when I'm sick in the exact way I take care of him when he's sick. In his mind, that's how you do it. Like mom does. When he was sad I would hold him and pat him and say "shhhh Sammy, shhh! It's okay". He loves me more than anyone. Joshua calls me "his home base", and in many ways that is true. So he uses me as a model of how to feel.   I'm still trying to figure out how much of his "thoughtful" behaviour is learned and how much is true feelings. We went to the fair not long ago and Jackson, his little brother, fell down. Sammy came running up to me and he had true worry in his eyes as he said "mom, come quick, Jackson is hurt!" I went and comforted Jackson (just a little scrape on his knee), but the whole time I was thinking "that was real Empathy!" and I was rejoicing.

Inside, though I was firm on the outside, I also rejoiced the first time Sammy tried to be sneaky last year. My son doesn't lie. He just doesn't. Josh didn't believe that when we first got married. He said "all kids lie". I said "Sammy doesn't". He believes it now. I've never caught Sammy in a willful lie. He may lie from misunderstanding the question, or being frustratingly literal in his answers ("I didn't hit him! I SLAPPED him"). We now ask questions like "Sammy, did you hit, slap, punch, tap, harrass, annoy or otherwise offend Jackson?" He tells the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Last year he tried to sneak his Nintendo DS outside after Josh told him he couldn't take it outside. He was transparent about it. Josh saw through it in a new york minute. I was simultaneously very concerned (HE WAS SNEAKY!!!!) and rejoicing (HE WAS SNEAKY!!!). It's a hard line to walk as a mom. You are happy because it is "normal" behaviour, but you still need to teach them it's wrong. Only other Asperger's mom's or Autism mom's really understand this feeling of rejoicing over "bad" behaviour. It means they are making progress. It means one more step out of his little world and into ours.
He still sees HIS problems as huge. Any injustice done to him is horrible, but the same injustice done to a sibling isn't a big deal because he "didn't mean to". If his motive wasn't bad, he sees nothing to feel sorry about. It is a very hard concept to get him to understand.

The inability to make good friendships, and one sided conversations are also a specialty of his. He thinks that everybody should enjoy the play by play of his Nintendo game as much as he does. We've had to teach him what a bored person looks like. We've had to teach him to ask about somebody else and what they like. There is a little boy about his age that lives down the street. I guarantee you he's got Asperger's even though his parents have not had him diagnosed. He is just like Sammy. It is funny to us, and confusing, because this boy will come over to play and an hour later the boy will be in Sammy's room playing DS and Sammy will be in the living room watching TV. I'll say "where's your friend" and he'll say "oh, he's in my room". It doesn't occur to either one of them that when you play together you ought to be .....well....together. They are a perfect pair. I hope that boy never moves.

Sammy, strangely enough,is intensely social and loves to be with people and meet people. He can talk to almost anyone. Unfortunately, though adults tend to adore him for his intelligence, enthusiasm and advanced speech, his peers seem to know that there is something a little different about Sammy. Something not quite "right". He has some incredibly kind children in his class at his small Christian school and for that I'm very grateful. I've always believed and I still believe that public school would chew him up and spit him out in a month. I appreciate the chance his school gives him to grow and learn socially at a pace that he can better cope with. Sammy has had two total meltdowns since school started in August. His classmates don't judge him for it, and his teachers try hard to understand. They pray for him, and they all try to look for the positive in him instead of focusing on the issues. I couldn't ask for much more. He's come a very long way in a year. Josh has had a lot to do with that. My husband looked at Sammy from a step father's perspective, which is a little less involved and emotional than my ex husband and I tend to be. He said basically, "He's a great kid but in a few years if he keeps talking like that he's going to get the crap beaten out of him".  Well then. That was hard for me to hear. Over a year later when I ask my child if he'd like me to make him some oatmeal for breakfast says things like "that would be cool mom", "awesome" or "that would be perfect. I'd love that!" When we got married he was answering. "oatmeal? why yes, I adore oatmeal. That would be absolutely wonderful! Thank you SO much mommy!" Though I'm sure you can see why his mommy was charmed with the old way, the new way really will help him get beat up less as he gets older. For this I really appreciate my husband. I'm the momma bear who always jumps to Sammy's defense. Over the years I've had to learn to fight hard for him. To fight for diagnoses, to fight for treatment, to fight for equality, and to fight for his innocence and his childhood. It is hard sometimes to step back and stop fighting. Josh has taught Sammy to be much more resilient. That's a good thing, though it's been as hard on me as it has been on Sammy. Maybe harder.

The thing with Asperger's kids is that they have no filter for stuff coming into their heads. Most of us can disregard the unimportant stuff. They can not.  I read once in a wonderful book called The Case of the Dog at Midnight, which is written from the point of view of a teenager with Asperger's, something that explained to me perfectly one of the reasons Sammy is the way he is. It said (and I am grossly paraphrasing because I don't have that book anymore) that a regular person will look at a field and see a field with cows and flowers.  Sammy would look at that same field and he would see a field with 17 cows, seven of which are black and white. He would see that the field slopes down to the left. He would see that there were four different kinds of flowers and he would note where they all were. He would notice if there was any dew and he would notice the color of the sky. He would notice cow patties. You get the idea. His brain takes in EVERYTHING he sees. It makes him sensitive (for some it is sound, for Sammy it is smells) to certain things,  and it makes it so that sometimes he has to go somewhere and be alone, just to regroup. We always used to find it odd (pre-diagnosis) when we would take him to a party and he would laugh and play and then all of a sudden we'd notice he was gone. He'd be in the birthday child's room quietly playing with a toy. We now know this was a coping mechanism for him. He was always such a sweet and good natured boy that his way was just to slip away. Now that he is older he doesn't always physically get away (especially in a house with six people and 3 rooms). He goes to a place we affectionately call Sammy Land. It's in his head, and by his own admission, it's a very nice place. Sammy Land is not always an easy place to come back from, and it is the creation of Sammy Land that helped us realize that something was wrong. His preschool teacher would tell us that she had to touch him to get him to hear her when the class would switch activities. Many of the little girls in his class would take his hand, lead him where they were supposed to go, or fetch his snack for him (They were all little enablers). In this way he would be gone so often that he couldn't pick up the classroom routine, even halfway into the year. For some born with a less easy going nature the result of overstimulation can be tantrums, running in frantic circles, or any number of other disturbing things. For us, thank goodness, it is Sammy Land.

My ex has many of the same symptoms as Sammy does. There has been research that Asperger's is highly concentrated in areas where there is a high concentration of geeks marrying geeks (okay, the research didn't put it in those exact terms) like in Silicon Valley in California. My ex husband's mom and dad are both engineers. He is also an engineer. All very logical and linear thinkers. Linear marries linear and has a little double linear. He then goes on to have Sammy. Take Sammy and Sammy Land and times it by 10 and you have a severe autistic child who can never leave his own land. We are blessed.

I believe it is people like Sammy who will grow up thinking outside the box, making headway into places other people might not dare to go, or even be able to.  Many people think Einstein probably had Asperger's syndrome. Well, you could do worse than Einstein! Even if Sammy doesn't grow up and invent something wonderful (as his three siblings readily admit to believing he will), doesn't discover the cures for (his list) cancer, spina bifida and Asthma, or change the world in a profound way, I wouldn't change one single thing about him. He has profoundly changed MY world already, at the tender age of 9. He has widened my heart, opened my eyes, and given me insight and understanding into people. He has taught me greater Empathy, greater patience, and greater love. Second only to Jesus Christ has anybody ever so profoundly changed the substance of who I am. God made him a miracle, and meant him to be exactly who he is. I'm not trying to change Sammy to "fit in" with the world, I'm just working to help him cope with having to live in it. Couldn't we all use a little help with that? Here's the bottom Line:

He's my Sammy, and I love him so.

Blessings and good night. Tanya

p.s. for more information on Asperger's syndrome, a good site to visit is http://www.aspergersyndrome.org/  

“

We are convinced, then, that autistic people have their place in the organism of the social community. They fulfil their role well, perhaps better than anyone else could, and we are talking of people who as children had the greatest difficulties and caused untold worries to their care-givers.  - Hans Asperger.