I’ve been waiting on myself to begin. I knew it was time to get back to this and I knew it was time for a shift. I shut down the old blog, bought a new name, and created a new site. A new chapter. But how to begin, Becca, how to start. The pressure. Y’all are like,...
My mom died on April 1, just a little over two weeks ago. I don’t know which cliché to use – does it feel like yesterday or years? Both, I guess. My mom was a young 74 and did all the healthy things – the exercising, the kale, the vitamins, the check-ups. I look like...
Well, it had to come. Some of you readers have been with me for a while now. You’ve read these random blogs and followed along on Facebook as Jax came home from China, was diagnosed with all the things, and proceeded to grow up into a teenage boy. He’s gone from...
So we’re homeschooling over here. It’s going really well, I’d say. We have great people, Jax’s anxiety is at an all-time low, he’s happy, he’s inquisitive, and importantly, he’s learning things that are relevant to his 14 year-old-life and skills he’ll use for his...
I have sucked as a parent lately. Truth. 'Tis the season for holiday lights and wrapping paper and for mom to be a stressed out asshole. That should be a Christmas carol. “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the waaayyyyy. My mom’s annoyed at everyone, please bring...
Dear Jax,It's Gotcha Day, little dude. We adopted you eleven years ago today. I love this day, but this year's celebration is bittersweet. Your grandmother died on Friday night. Your dad's mom, Grandma Mary. This year's Gotcha Day will be a little less inflatable...
Johnny made it to his Army base on Monday. Other moms are messaging me tips to survive boot camp, linking me to Facebook groups, introducing me to people who can show me the ropes. It's lovely, but I’m in a different sort of situation. “Hi Martha with your...
A day or two ago, Jax had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Jax has never met this man before, but I have, and I like him a lot. He regurgitates mountains of stuff from memory, has a Harvard degree, and is smart, smart, smart. All good stuff when you’re a mom...
Johnny, I've been down at the Capitol this past week fighting for a bill that would expedite the adoption of older kids. I'm pretty invested in it because you and I went through this. We had nine months to make your adoption happen, and had I not already had a giant...
And I quote: "And after fourteen years of foster care, Johnny was getting all As and Bs in school, happily helping around the house, had checking and savings accounts, and looking for his first job - all within just a few months of being adopted into a family. "...
I've spent the last few days outlining an open letter to the person who hurt Jax. A real doozy of a piece, cleverly called "Dear Person Who Hurt My Child." I was going to write and publish it this morning, throw it all out there and let the internet lovelies react to...
The adult who hurt my son will not be charged. I'm a lawyer. I get it. There are no witnesses, no physical evidence, and Jax ...well, Jax isn't the best witness. At 13, Jax still believes that Noelle the Naughty Elf stole my car keys and tried to take my...
I am a Helicopter Mom. No shame here, no self-deprecating humor, there is really no other option for this child tornado of mine. Maybe helicopter isn't the right word, I think I'm more like the car with the flashing lights that travels behind the Wide Load truck on...
I was coming out of an Ace Hardware the other day - feeling super handy, I might add - and on the way to my car, I saw a woman standing by a table raising money. It was a legit 100-gazillion degrees in Phoenix and I was entirely prepared to do the polite smile...
I was sick this week. Throwing up throughout the night, curled up in fetal position at the base of the toilet, not sure how clean the bath mat is, I do not even care, I will never eat blue cheese in a salad again, SICK. Being sick as an adult is lousy. Being sick as a...
Dear Johnny, I know this isn't where you thought you would be at age 17. Still in the foster system, a day pass on your birthday, preparing to be shuffled around again, and then again and again. I know. As a child, you must have thought ahead to 17 and pictured your...
Last week, a family asked about adopting my foster son, Johnny. A family. Adoption. This was a big deal for a sixteen year old foster kid who moved in with me last month because he had nowhere else to go and had every intention of aging out of the system as an orphan....
I had a moment recently. My son, Jax, and I had been in the car running errands for a few hours. I was singing along to the Beatles channel when Jax said, "Mom, I'm hungry." Well, yeah, breakfast was a hurried cup of yogurt three hours ago so that's reasonable....
A teenage boy is coming to live with me. Today. In eight hours, I will be an official foster parent. It's been only a few months, but I have notes upon notes about my short experience so far with this child welfare system of ours. I can't wrap my head around how we...
Last week, I was in my favorite place in the world with my 15-person family. Every few years, we head to a ranch in the mountains of Colorado. We've been going here since I was a little girl, and there is truly no place I would rather be. I told my clients I was out,...
I volunteered to go to an education meeting last week with a foster kid. This kid was in high school and not too interested in me at first. I didn't blame him, I'd never met him before and this was a child who lives in a constantly-changing world with...
It was late-September of 2008 when we brought my son home from China, just two months before December and our sparkly, over-the-top, American-style Christmas season. My little boy had no idea what Christmas was. He had no idea who Santa was. Hell,...
This time of year, man. It’s stressful and chaotic and my annual intention of providing a Pinterest-perfect Christmas lasts about a day and a half until I decide that F-bombs will definitely help me assemble the gingerbread house. Ahhh, December. This year, the...
Jax’s eighth Gotcha Day is coming up. “Gotcha Day” is the anniversary of Jax’s adoption from China. It’s the day Jax became our son, and like good adoptive parents, we celebrate. Jax gets a few presents, we decorate, we eat pizza and cake, we participate in general...
I was at a Ross the other day. I love Ross. There is one by my son's school, and on the days I don't feel like laptopping at Starbucks, I walk around in their exceptional summer air conditioning while having riveting conversations with myself about my need for their...
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Autistic kids can be repetitive, loud, they can make crazy noises or hum for hours on end. There can be never-ending questions (OMG the questions), flapping, balking, beeping and “mom mom mom mom mom…” We’re being honest here, right? It can be ANNOYING.
Recently, I have read a few stories of people getting past some of these behaviors, and going out of their way for autistic kids and their parents. I love these stories. I love them because, duh, my son is autistic, but also because they are a reminder of how seemingly small gestures of compassion often mean the world to the recipient. Really, they mean the world.
Dear Daddy in Seat 16c and To The Woman and Child Who Sat at Table 9 are worth reading. Small gestures by good people.
But …. sometimes these kids are aggressive and impulsive. And there are rarely feel good stories about this. It’s hard to ask people to bring some kindness to the table when your kid just threw the table across the room. My kid is sometimes a table thrower.
And yet….I have a story.
*********
Hi New Neighbor.
You had me at hello. You actually had me before hello. When I learned that the person who bought the house next to ours had two adopted kids, my stomach did a flip-flop. Kids? Adopted? You live in our world, I thought. I did a bit of a jig. Like Riverdance.
Fast forward a few months. You didn’t move in right away, and I, uhh, forgot about you. (I met your painters, however, and they were lovely.) I figured you’d move in, and I would deliver some baked goods in a cute basket. Like Brie Van De Kamp from Desperate Housewives. Because it would be a really, really cute basket, you would know I was a great neighbor, and we would totally exchange house keys. We would bond about adopting kids, and I would tell you that my son is charming and goofy and amazing. And that he is autistic. I’m a girl who likes a plan, and this was a good plan. I stored it away until you moved in.
Life went on. Halloween showed up, and as big occasions tend to go, my firefighter child was solidly planted on the side of over-excited. We were alternating between calming my son, getting dinner ready and setting up the front porch. The door bell rang! Trick-or-Treater number one! And we realized, too late, that the front door was wide open.
My son ran out the door, and was no longer a firefighter, but a fire-breathing dragon. With arms out and head forward, my son ran out the door at full speed and breathed fire (yelled loudly) into the face of the toddler who was standing with his family on our porch. We heard the toddler cry before we even caught up.
Ohhhh and, of course, the parent to this toddler? You, our new neighbor. You were gracious. You let us apologize, you even brushed off the necessity of the apology (while holding your screaming toddler). You gave us a cute Halloween card introducing yourself to the ‘hood. After all hope vanished that my house would swallow me whole, I introduced us. My original plan was a #fail, but all was well. In the coming weeks, our kids played together a bit, and you and I chatted in the brief, random snippets that only moms who are also watching their kids can do.
And then –
My son and one of his favorite therapists took a walk on a Saturday. You were in your front yard on the phone. I am sure you waved. As they walked by, my son took the ball that was in his hand, and threw it at you. Impulsive and quick. And it hit you. One thing my son has down is how to throw a ball with some force.
I knew you were ok (ish), but I was mortified. Mortified and, honestly, just plain defeated. My son wrote you a note and we taped it to your door. He was truly and tearfully sorry. I was truly and tearfully sorry. And at that point, my plan of being Brie Van de Kamp disintegrated into a vision of polite waving, occasional conversations about the weather… and your understandable hesitancy to be anywhere near my son.
Later that day, we heard someone drop something off at our doorstep. It was not a lawsuit. It was a grocery bag full of fresh oranges and a letter.
My son nailed you with a ball, and in response, you picked us some oranges and wrote a note that I will keep forever. Not just because the note is touching (which it is), but because it will remind me about the importance, the impact, of small kindnesses.
Dear neighbor, this small gesture of yours, this “hey, I am not afraid of your kid” note, took me from despondent to grateful to hopeful. It was not a small gesture to me. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Becca
Phew, found you. 😉
Phew, found you. 😉
So lovely to see you in the blogosphere!
Ok. Now MY neighbor, Joyce, from up the block thinks that I have marital problems. Why? Because I was upstairs in bed reading your story and when I got to the note from the neighbor, I burst into silent tears. I mean a LOT of tears. Then my daughter told me that Joyce was at the door, so I had to try to get rid of the red cry-y face and make a happy “no way have I been crying” face. Now she thinks that we have been fighting.
Which we haven’t. Wow. I like your blog.
I am glad to know you. I look forward to reading more. I don’t usually tell too many people, but I write about my kid as awesomely autistic/facebook. I tone it down a lot more than in my “vent til I purge” blog. I am still a bit concerned about family members connecting the dots and finding my persona here.
Ok. Now MY neighbor, Joyce, from up the block thinks that I have marital problems. Why? Because I was upstairs in bed reading your story and when I got to the note from the neighbor, I burst into silent tears. I mean a LOT of tears. Then my daughter told me that Joyce was at the door, so I had to try to get rid of the red cry-y face and make a happy “no way have I been crying” face. Now she thinks that we have been fighting.
Which we haven’t. Wow. I like your blog.
Tell Joyce it was totally worth it because you just cracked me up in the middle of Trader Joe’s. You look like you have marital problems, and I look like a gal who thinks frozen quinoa is hilaaaaarious!
I am glad to know you. I look forward to reading more. I don’t usually tell too many people, but I write about my kid as awesomely autistic/facebook. I tone it down a lot more than in my “vent til I purge” blog. I am still a bit concerned about family members connecting the dots and finding my persona here.
Beautiful, you made me cry x
Beautiful, you made me cry x
Have you considered putting your kid in therapy so that he can learn to behave like a civilized human being? Going through life coasting upon the kindness of strangers (like three standard deviations from the mean of kindness given your pumpkin’s attempt to physically assault them) seems like odd way to go through life.
It’s awesome that you won the neighbor lottery, but something like 1 in 50 kids are on the spectrum. You’d think there’d be melting down, object throwing autistic kids in every other classroom, most scout troupe and one third of baseball teams… yet I rarely encounter acting down autistic child.
This suggests it is possible to teach your kid to behave in a civilized manner. You just can’t be bothered!
Wow. Dee, you win the Asshat of the Year award. Did you even read the part about how the child was walking down the sidewalk with his favorite THERAPIST?
Not every kid fits into your perfect world. Mine sure wouldn’t. I am glad that there are people out there who get it.
Wow Dee you’re a BITCH and I won’t waste any more time than that on you!
Dee, you are heartless….. Why are you even reading this blog or responding to it?? Seriously!!!???
Becca, I would love to be your neighbor!! Bless you!!
Wow, Dee, incredibly unkind. Have YOU ever considered therapy? Maybe 1 in 50 kids are on the spectrum, but the spectrum is just that: a spectrum. I’ve worked with autistic kids for years, and they range from being very high functioning to kids that can’t talk at all. These kids are trapped in their heads and it’s incredibly frustrating for them and anyone that loves them. They can be impulsive and they lash out. Perhaps you could take a few minutes and imagine what that would be like. And at the very least, stick to the rule “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”.
Have you considered putting your kid in therapy so that he can learn to behave like a civilized human being? Going through life coasting upon the kindness of strangers (like three standard deviations from the mean of kindness given your pumpkin’s attempt to physically assault them) seems like odd way to go through life.
It’s awesome that you won the neighbor lottery, but something like 1 in 50 kids are on the spectrum. You’d think there’d be melting down, object throwing autistic kids in every other classroom, most scout troupe and one third of baseball teams… yet I rarely encounter acting down autistic child.
This suggests it is possible to teach your kid to behave in a civilized manner. You just can’t be bothered!
Wow. Dee, you win the Asshat of the Year award. Did you even read the part about how the child was walking down the sidewalk with his favorite THERAPIST?
Not every kid fits into your perfect world. Mine sure wouldn’t. I am glad that there are people out there who get it.
((hugs))
Dee, I wrote an argumentative comment, then deleted it. I believe it is better to educate than to argue. For what it’s worth, my son is in more therapy than, I imagine, most people think is possible. If you have questions, and can present them in a polite and kind (dare I say “civilized”) manner, I am happy to answer them. You know nothing about me. I bet you’d be surprised.
Wow Dee you’re a BITCH and I won’t waste any more time than that on you!
Dee, you are heartless….. Why are you even reading this blog or responding to it?? Seriously!!!???
Becca, I would love to be your neighbor!! Bless you!!
Wow, Dee, incredibly unkind. Have YOU ever considered therapy? Maybe 1 in 50 kids are on the spectrum, but the spectrum is just that: a spectrum. I’ve worked with autistic kids for years, and they range from being very high functioning to kids that can’t talk at all. These kids are trapped in their heads and it’s incredibly frustrating for them and anyone that loves them. They can be impulsive and they lash out. Perhaps you could take a few minutes and imagine what that would be like. And at the very least, stick to the rule “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”.
Loving your blog! Thanks for sharing your stories. Dee, wow! Guess she’s just looking for someone to pick on- pretty sure she picked the wrong mom! 😉
Loving your blog! Thanks for sharing your stories. Dee, wow! Guess she’s just looking for someone to pick on- pretty sure she picked the wrong mom! 😉
Thank you for this most lovely thought of the day.
Thank you for this most lovely thought of the day.
S since you have “the gene” have you gone to the lengths that others have?
S since you have “the gene” have you gone to the lengths that others have?
Yep, I did. I lost count at how many surgeries…seriously.
Check this:
https://chapterfiveoh.com/2013/05/18/hey-angelina-i-read-your-letter/
Wow. They are good neighbors. Only lucky ones get those. Again, nice piece of writing. 🙂
I think i will be on your blog for next few days. 🙂 Btw, didn’t find the like button to like this one.
Wow. They are good neighbors. Only lucky ones get those. Again, nice piece of writing. 🙂
I think i will be on your blog for next few days. 🙂 Btw, didn’t find the like button to like this one.