I'm a planner.

I'm a planner.
Our calendar (which is busting at the seams, it seems) is checked every morning with the necessity of fresh underwear, and I live by a mini-itinerary each day (or else I would forget where to go). I have known since about age eight how many kids I was going to have, where I was going to live, and what kind of car I was going to drive. (Remember M.A.S.H.?)

That's what's really annoying about autism.
It wasn't in my plan.
Similar to the crap in his pants as we were walking out the door this morning.
As I bend over the toilet bowl rinsing out underwear, I mutter a little prayer "Lord help me to accept the things I cannot change..." No sense in fretting, right?
Occasionally people say, "He's five and he's not potty trained?" Yeah, I know. That wasn't part of my plan.

Here's what else is really annoying about autism: It makes it hard to plan.
Who is the mom who calls hotels to see how high their deadbolts are off the ground? Me. Who is the mom who knows the location of and can covertly maneuver past every claw machine in the tri-county area? Me. And who is the Mom who has learned wills and trusts to make sure her kids will be taken care of forever? Me.
You see, from deciding what we're having for supper to deciding how much to put in the 401k, it makes it really hard to plan.

Nobody gets the cookie-cutter life they imagined. I'm ok with that. And my kid isn't going through chemo treatments right now, which I am so unbelievably thankful for. I count my blessings and thank God for each of them daily. And I firmly, and probably selfishly, believe that He has blessed me more than most.

Turns out, I am not in charge of my plan.