Velcro schmelcro

Yesterday morning, after watching him dig for his favorite socks and struggle to get his shoes on independently (because asking for help is such hard work...) Waylon came up to me with these puppy dog eyes that said, "Can you tie my shoes?" 

Only problem was, his lips couldn't say it. 

I asked, "What do you want, Waylon?" And I could see the pages of the dictionary in his mind flipping furiously through the few phrases he knows to try and find the right one.

He muttered, "It's broken."

Nope. I repeated, "What do you want?"

He said, "It's not yours."

Not quite. "What do you want, Waylon?"

So then he tried, "It's your turn."

Nope. 

And we're deadlocked in a staredown where his eyes are telling me, "You know what I want, Mom."

And my eyes responded, "Yes I know that I know what you want Waylon, but you have to learn how to say the words..."

And finally, the pages of the dictionary stopped flipping and I heard his cute little voice say,

"Tie my shoe."

YES!

So today, at the beginning of this week of Thanksgiving, I am thankful that we bought shoes with laces last Spring instead of Velcro. Or else I would have missed out on these beautiful words.

Learning new things

I've always said, that throughout all of the struggles that raising a child with autism brings, we have learned so much from him about life.

Patience...

Humility...

True joy...

How to disarm fire alarms...

It's true. He pulled not one, but two. Back to back. You know, Mom is running frantically trying to call the school secretary to figure out how to turn it off, and that's kind of cute. So why not go ahead and pull the other? 

So I think I can say that I am a professional at disarming them now.

Unfortunately, he was pretty proud of himself. So you can bet there will be more fire alarms in my future.

It's November, repeat after me. I am thankful... I am thankful... I am thankful...

A Halloween Miracle

Twas' the night before Halloween,
And all through the house....
I had no frickin' clue what Waylon would wear for Trick-or-treating.

(Gotcha there, didn't I?)

I think I mentioned last year, that Halloween may be Waylon's least favorite holiday ever. Really, it's a rather bizarre holiday, if you think about it.
Try explaining this to a kid who can't talk:
Here, put on an itchy, uncomfortable, costume. We are going to go to people's houses, but you can't go in. Just ring the doorbell and stand out in the cold. It will be fun, really. Forget everything we've been trying to teach you about asking for things nicely, and use new words- "Trick or treat". Then, when someone puts a bowl full of hundreds of pieces of delicious candy in your face, only take one. We'll walk forever and you'll be exhausted. But it will be a blast, I promise.
Right.

And because Waylon's wardrobe choices are limited to jeans, swimming trunks, and grey, red, or orange shirts, and I can't really ask him "What would you like to be for Halloween this year?" I planned ahead and thought he could wear a grey shirt with a NASCAR driver on it, and carry a plastic steering wheel. Perfect costume for the boy who loves cars and hates costumes, right?
Well getting ready to go trick or treating was something like this...

To $%#! with your stupid steering wheel, I'd rather throw rocks.

So when Trav and I got suited up in our costumes (Trav was real excited, can't you tell?),

Get it???

Waylon wouldn't leave my oven alone. He just loved it.
So just when I thought Waylon was going to have to go trick or treating as a bun-in-the-oven (minus the bun of course), I had a brilliant plan.
Travis ran downstairs, grabbed Caden's old robot costume made out of a cardboard box, and low and behold, the boy put it on and wore that thing all night long.

It was seriously a Halloween miracle.
And the cutest thing ever.

Harvesting Green Beans

It was a crazy week of school meetings, football games, class field trips to the pumpkin patch, prepping for a big fundraiser at the kids' school Saturday, fundraiser clean up on Sunday, and oh yeah I work full time, I'm pregnant, and I spent most of the week with poison ivy on my face.
Not trying to complain, just making excuses for why I didn't have time to download my audio book this week. Nothing to listen to during my hour-long commute meant I actually had time to reflect on the day and let my mind wander. (Which makes for good blog content.)
So bear with me here... And prep yourself for what is likely the strangest analogy you've ever heard.

I love home grown green beans. (I said bear with me here.)
So I love home grown green beans, and when I was a kid, we spent our summer mornings bent over the rows in our garden, sifting through the plants and picking the long ones. Then we spent our summer evenings in lawn chairs at the ball fields, watching my brothers play ball while we snapped beans into Pence's IGA sacks so Mom could can them the next day.
Most of the time, I didn't mind it. It was just what we did. We were the family who snapped green beans at the ball fields. But sometimes, when I saw all of my friends running around having fun and I was just snapping beans, I got jealous. It wasn't fair.
Even though I had those fleeting thoughts of despise for all things green bean, I sure loved having those home grown green beans all winter long. And those other kids running around at the ball games had no clue how delicious homegrown green beans are, because their mommas were just buying the 79 cent cans of rubbery beans at Pence's IGA. They didn't get to enjoy year-round home grown green beans, and since all they ever tasted were the rubbery canned ones, they never knew what they were missing.

So here's where the hours of commuting with a wandering mind turned into a really bad analogy.

I think having a kid with special needs is kind of like harvesting green beans.
I told you it was bad.
I love Waylon. Man, I love him. And as his mom, I spend every moment hovered over him, worried about him, planning for him, telling people about him, trying to get services for him, worrying about how to pay for the services for him. The aches in my back and sunburn on my shoulders while harvesting green beans as a kid have nothing on the amount of stress I have endured while trying to "harvest" Waylon.
The time I spent snapping beans in lawn chairs at the ball field have nothing on the amount of time I've spent trying to contain Waylon at the ball field, at church, at family things, at restaurants. And we don't even take him to the grocery store, to places with lots of people, or anywhere after dark (finding him would be next to impossible).
And most of the time, I don't mind it. We are the family who have a kid with special needs. It's just what we do. But when I see my friends at the ball field, or potlucks, or fairs, or even just running errands with their cute little well-behaved kids, I get jealous. It isn't fair.

Here's where the analogy gets ripe.
Even though I sometimes have those fleeting thoughts of despise for all things autism, I love Waylon more than you could ever know.
And those other moms running around with their perfect little families have no clue how rewarding parenting can be. Their kids look fine. They play sports and have friends. They don't make funny noises or throw dirt or crap on the floor. And they're a heck of a lot cheaper to raise. They're kind of like the 79 cent cans of green beans at Pence's IGA... fine, if you've never had the homegrown.

But my son, is being harvested. I get to watch as he learns and grows. I get to appreciate each new development and reap the rewards of our hard work. I have gained the ability to see the finest details in life and feel the most subtle hints of his love. Things that most other moms take for granted, I get to enjoy and savor year-round.
He, like green beans turning from a pack of seeds to a jar of deliciousness on the kitchen table in December, is a miracle. He is a very special gift.

If having a child with special needs is "My row to hoe", I am planning on a bountiful harvest.
Thanks for bearing with me.
Happy Harvest!

 “Life is what you make it. Always has been, always will be.” - Eleanor Roosevelt

Yep.

Walked into Waylon's room this afternoon to find him enjoying his two favorite things:

1) Being naked

And

2) Hanging upside down.

Yep.

This is my life.

Snippets



 

Yes, I am aware I have been blowing you off. The little ticker down there keeps rolling with every blog hit, and I have been standing you all up. I'm sorry.
It's just that life, well, it's been flying by.

I probably could have blogged a hundred times about all of the adventures we've been on this month. But all you're going to get is snippets. Sorry.
 


 

Late Summer bike rides are the best, unless you are my husband who has to haul two children (who should both be old enough to ride their own bikes) in the kiddie wagon. Then again, when part of me wishes W could ride a bike on his own, part of me realizes if he could he would be pedaling across the state line before we knew he was gone. 





 

Best family outing in a long time. During the 7th inning stretch Caden said, "We have been here 7 whole innings and Waylon hasn't had a single meltdown." In the Katzer family, that's nothing short of a miracle. Obviously, his patience had grown thin by the end of the game family pic. But who cares, right? It was a good day.



 

Caden and Rose Mary were thrilled to be headed back to school...

 

 

Waylon was not.

 

 

Day #2- much better.



 

 

Saw an autism article in a magazine at the Doctor's office last week... not really what I wanted to start off my day with. Again, with the depressing headlines and the incessant head counts. These people are going to give me stomach ulcers.


 

But then I had to stop the van in the driveway on my way home to greet the mob of fans running towards me and screaming my name... and I forgot all about that stupid article.

 


 

Waylon, who loves french fries but hates kid's meal toys, fell in love with a pair of shades from his Sonic kid's meal last week. Somedays, when all you want is your kid to be just a little bit normal, him liking a kids meal toy will make you feel like you've won the lottery. For just a few dollars, he looked like a million bucks, and I felt like a million bucks. What a cool kid.

And then yesterday we took a trip to the doctor's office to meet the Gummy Bear. We pulled the kids out of school early for a "treat" and they were ticked because it was kickball day in PE and they had to miss it. Go figure. (The first of many things their baby brother/sister is going to ruin for them.) And then the sonographer had a hard time catching certain pictures because she said, "We sure have a busy little baby!"
Oh, dear....



Breaking point

Have you ever had the thought, "Parenting is just so hard... I don't know if I can do this anymore... God has given me more than I can handle..."?

Well, then, friends, I implore you to get in your cars and drive to my house right now.

$20 says you run away screaming, saying prayers of thanksgiving your whole drive home, promising God to never say those things again about your children. 

But, seriously, if you're coming, I could really use some help cleaning up crap here. And some industrial strength carpet cleaner, if you have any. We're almost out. 

I don't care if my throat is raw and I'm still running a fever tomorrow or not, I am going back to work. I need a day off.

Is this ok to publish online? 

Please don't call SRS, I swear I was out of the bathroom for 3 seconds.

The kid is a monkey... He climbs walls and throws poop.

 

................................................................

Update: Rose just walked in and said, "What happened?" I said, a little annoyed, "What do you think happened?"

So she said in an innocent little voice- "Did you poop on the floor???"

Ok. I'll smile a little. Just this once.