Alright so it might not be a complete update because really, who has time for that? Most likely I can't remember everything at the moment, but I can try.
Ivy has started Kindergarten. She started Sept 5th, 2008. It was Friday. She got accepted into the full day program, and though I was really worried about her.. she's done well. I worry about things that I realize most of parents probably don't worry about. I worry that she might forget to wipe herself and have wet underwear. She hates her clothes getting wet, would she be able to tell someone whats wrong coherently? I packed a full change of clothes. I'll bet not all the other parents had to do that. I worry that she'll have a hard time in her classes and she'll have to sit in the isolation booth I saw in the school. Now I'm not even sure thats what they use it for, but I'm guessing. I wish I knew for sure because its been on my mind since I saw it at open house. I worry that she'll try to make a friend and be turned down. Though I guess thats happened to most of us at once point. I wouldn't be a very good parent if I didn't wish my kids didn't have to go through everything painful that I did. So she has an hour of OT a week and an hour of Speech therapy a week. So far she's been doing great in both. In fact, she's been doing great in the classroom. No red lights. No yellow lights. She's stayed in the green the whole time. And I've gotta wonder, would she still be doing just as great in their motivational behavior program had she not pretty much secured a diagnosis? Would be they harder on her or expect more from her? I guess I'll never know. And if I had to pick, I'd pick that they're more leniant. The world needs more compassion.
Sierra is in 5th grade this year. For some reason that just seems like its all grown up. 5th sounds older then 4th. Older in ways that seem incomprehensible to me. She is 10 going on 16. Skipping years the way her life skipped from 4 to 8 in my eyes. Years gone that I can't ever get back. No matter. She is here with me now like I knew she would be. Her period came and went, irregular. Years before her peers. Some of which don't even know what a period is or why. Its those parents I strived NOT to be. I wanted my daughter informed, the way I wasn't informed. I was left to find out what things were from dirty books that I'd steal from the local thrift store. I suppose my grandmother felt that my father taught me enough. She wears eyeliner now, my daughter. She puts on all the makeup, she runs in the door from school to reapply.. and recently after a sleepover she was so uncomfortable the next day because she didn't have her makeup. The first thing she did when she got home was run to the bathroom to apply. The lines are dark and harsh. Contrasting her face. Forcing me to look at her as a woman. My little girl. My baby. My peanut. Even though she wears makeup, shaves her legs now, and has her period.. I dread that I will soon have to tell her that a "real" bra is almost a necessity. She loves her little sports bras. And most of all she loves that holding onto that type of bra is symbolic to her of holding onto her childhood. Few things remain, if I could but let her keep ahold of that one. I hope she remembers her childhood fondly. I hope I'm not too frequently the subject in a negative light when she inevitably sees the shrink. I love my daughter. She's doing well in school. She is popular with both girls and boys. She loves dance. She misses gymnastics. So I put her in tumbling. I worry that her father will try to change his mind. The same way he asked her if she wanted to go to school in his town with his girlfriend, at his house I'm sure. She said no. I was shocked. Stunned even. Its not often she stands up for how she trully feels. She is getting older... and every day its scary.
Piper is classic two years old. Or more honestly, what has been worse for our family.. the THREES. She screams, cries, kicks, spits, yells at me. But her smile when she's happy breaks my heart. It melts her father, who says she looks just like me. I love her and she is so special. I know she will probably grow up and feel somewhat in the shadows, and I don't want that. I want her to know that she is special in her own right. She is so very loved and wanted, and an important part of our family. Ivy is Ivy. Ivy is autistic. That doesn't mean that Piper isn't special. My therapist make the mistake of saying that I talk about Ivy a lot but she never hears about Piper. That made me pretty defensive for sure. Because I love all my kids and they are all special in their own way. Piper is a snuggle bug. She sleeps in her Dora bed half the night. (Ivy sleeps in a big girl bed in her room) and the other half of the night she is snuggled up with me. She is becoming quite the comedian, and the other two year olds in the neighborhood seem so behind in comparison to her. She's smart, and so loveable.
Odin.. what can I say? He's my boy. I never thought I'd like boys. Duncan left a sour taste in my mouth. Not only because of him, but because I feared my own inability to parent. I dind't want to face those fears. But I did. And the reward is a huge love for my son. I'm proud to say son and not feel like I want to cry. Right now he's 7 months old and crawling everywhere. He's standing up on furniture and crusing slowly. Sometimes he still falls on his face. He's eating big people food, and still nursing. Most of the time he's a good natured loving baby. He loves people in general and is usually smiling. He's wearing 12 month clothes. I love him so much. His hair is so soft and his kisses are so good in that baby sorta way. <3 you Oddie.
Chris and I are doing well. We are how we've been only better. Marraige is something you have to work on. Stranly I wish someone would have told me that before. Well no.. because I'm glad I didnt stay to work it out with him.. however, it seems silly to just sorta realize that its something you need to work on. It doesn't just come naturally. I mean, maybe it does to other people that aren't weird but to me... not much comes easily.
I'm waiting for the dr's office to call me back. They refered me to tessting for Asperger's Syndrome. There will be a bunch of paperwork to fill out and then I'll have the appointment. I'm not sure if I'm excited or scared. Confirmation or denial seems like a huge deal. Everything I put my being on hinges on this appointment. Ah well.. I'll keep you updated.
I suppose I should go to bed. Oh, and I am obligated to tell you I wrote this under the influence. LOL Yes I know it seems a bit disconnected. (ok a lot disconnected) I do realize I write better this way. No, it doesnt make sense all the time, but hey it was easier for me to write. And thats all that matters. Though if this is a blog then I guess it does matter if you can read it coherantly. ... or then again, maybe you could just read a different blog than mine. Yes thats it.
Alright peeps, I'm out. Peace.
PS. Remind me to tell you about the neighbors next time.
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