Three things

Today Waylon, Lucy and I went to Walmart and bought three things.

1. A life jacket, because he scared the bejeezus out of me yesterday (and spending money is my coping mechanism).

2. A king sized bag of skittles, because making it through Walmart is a king-sized accomplishment (and because I can't say no when his first purposeful word of the day is "candy?" when we pulled into the parking lot).

And 3. A box of baby wipes, because Lucy had a blowout and the Griswold's forgot to pack any. (Walmart gives that girl the runs... Me too sometimes).

Tonight I give thanks for the sunny day, Walmart receipts totaling less than $30, whoever invented seatbelts (there's nothing quite like the peace of knowing your child is strapped in a seat right behind you), and a day where forgetting wipes and Lucy having the runs is my biggest worry.

I'll take it.

Guardian Angel

 

A good little friend of mine turned 14 today. But unlike many other teenagers, he spent his birthday looking out for others. He gave instead of received.

Also unlike many other teenagers, he spent his birthday in Heaven.

Although I miss him and think of him every day, I am eternally grateful that my special boy has a guardian angel who knows every nook and cranny of Grandpa's farm. 

This afternoon at the farm our wanderer took wandering to a new extreme. We let our guard down for just a few minutes- he crossed a road, went to a pond, was missing for over 20 minutes... there are so many "what ifs" that keep playing through my head right now. 

I wish I could take these emotions and write something really moving with them. Something that will help you understand how scared I was today. Something that will help the world understand how serious wandering and autism is. But the thoughts in my head are spinning and I'm still trying to untie the knots in my stomach.

 

We are very very very lucky that we were able to bring our little boy home tonight.

Not all moms are so lucky.

 

Thanks for bringing him home to us today, Wes.

And happy birthday. 

 

Ever this day be at our side,
To light, to guard, to rule, to guide.

 

Well, should I?

I'm applying/pleading/begging for Waylon to get into an ABA therapy program. There are three (yes, you heard me, three) in Kansas that are in-network with our new insurance. One I'm pretty sure is not a possibility. One has a rather long waiting list (that we are on) and the last one has eight slots, of which one comes open every two to three years.
So when they said, "Tell us a little bit about Waylon" I felt like his personal spokesperson.
I mean really, who could turn this kid down?

"First of all, Waylon is adorable. I know you probably hear this a lot, but I am dead serious. He is all boy- he loves dirt, rocks, water, Lightning McQueen, and being ornery. He is seven years old, and I suppose he is technically "emerging non-verbal"- his speech is improving leaps and bounds, but he still only speaks one or two words at a time when prompted, or echolalia. Waylon mostly communicates by staring into your eyes and smiling great big. He is very independent- he would rather make his own snack than have to use words to ask for help. He is usually sensory seeking, and loves to be active- jumping, running, high-fives, and especially hugs and kisses- he is very affectionate. He is never mean, and never hits or bites, but he can get very excited and flappy."

But here's what I need to know: Should I include the picture of him naked in my dryer?

 

POW

Sorry I've been totally MIA lately.
If I am MIA, I guess you could say I'm also a POW.
I am a prisoner of this stupid war to get my kid some help.

We were thrilled, I mean we are thrilled, that we finally have insurance that will cover his therapy. Trust me, I am immensely thankful. But I got a little caught up in the celebration and now I am rather annoyed that I forgot that having insurance doesn't solve all my problems.

Can I step into a horrible, selfish bubble here for a second? How come a kid who is sick with any other illness can go to the doctor, pay a co-pay, get a treatment plan, a prescription, and a sticker?

Ok, I'll get back out of that horrible, selfish bubble. That is wrong.
I am so glad that he is healthy. I don't wish upon any child that they should have any illness. I just wish I could take him to the doctor and they would tell me what to do.

Is that so much to ask???
Getting your kid some help should not be so complicated.

This is 'merica, people. Ugh.

Insurance companies are stupid.

The mom has been trying very hard to get everything to come together in time for the son to start therapy by Summer break. But it's not as easy as she thought it would be to get it all figured out.
Sometimes the mom spends an entire morning on the phone with insurance companies (who are stupid) and therapy centers and is exhausted and teary-eyed and just thinks life just isn't fair.

What she wants to say is:
"To #*%! with you, stupid insurance lady!"
But what she knows is:
"Be on your guard; stand firm in the faith; be men {a momma} of courage; be strong. Do everything in love." (1 Cor. 16:13)
Ugh. Fine. Ok.
So she doesn't curse at the insurance lady.

She remembers her blog post about how incredibly blessed she is.
She sucks it up.
The sun shines through the window.
The baby smiles and coos.
And life goes on.



P.S. She is so in love with writing in third person. She thinks you should try it sometime.

Change

Once upon a time, a guy and a girl fell in love. They got married, and became a husband and wife. They had babies, and became a mom and dad. They had jobs and a minivan and a cute little house with a big oak tree in the backyard. And they dreamed of the day they'd finish their dream home in the country. They lived a ridiculously normal life.

Then one day, everything changed. A doctor told the mom and dad something was wrong with their son. He had autism. He said their son would need 40 hours per week of therapy if they ever hoped he could someday live on his own, or have a job, or a family. Therapy that would cost thousands of dollars a month. Therapy that their insurance company would not cover. He wished the mom and dad luck, and sent them out the door with a few brochures and two broken hearts.
Wanting the very best for her son, the mom quit her job, enrolled their son in therapy, and began to drive back and forth to the big city everyday. Their home construction loan turned into a therapy loan, and one day, while in the big city, the mom realized that she was going to have to figure out a way to repay it. So she enrolled herself in college. 

Eventually, the mom's college classes became more intense and demanding, so the dad, wanting the very best for his son, quit his job. He found a job in the big city, just down the road from his son's therapy center, and began to make the drive with his son every day. Other people said, "Why do you drive so far every day? You need to move to the big city." But they couldn't leave their family and friends that loved their son so much back home. And on days that they couldn't make the trip to the big city for their son's therapy, they had friends, and cousins, and aunts, and grandparents that made the trip for them.  They were very blessed.

When the mom finished college she searched for a job who's insurance would cover the expensive therapy. After months of searching, the mom found a job in the big city that she loved, but the insurance would not cover her son's therapy. Facing mounds of therapy bills, the mom and dad made the hard decision to stop taking their son to therapy in the big city. They enrolled him in school.

When their son started school, he started getting picked up by a special school bus. They did not have to drive to the big city anymore. So the dad, wanting the very best for his son, once again quit his job, so he could work closer to home and be there to send their son to school every morning.
Their son came to love school and his teachers. At school, he learned to write his name, and count, and recognize colors. He learned songs, and how to ask for chocolate milk. He amazed his mom and dad with all of the new things he was learning and doing. They were very blessed.

But the mom and dad knew that even though their son had shown how amazing and smart he was, the doctor was right. If he couldn't overcome his autistic behaviors, he may never live on his own, or have a job or a family. Even if he could write his name and ask for chocolate milk, he couldn't answer questions, or sit in a restaurant, or follow a simple direction without screaming.

He needed to be in therapy.

So the mom and dad searched, and hoped, and prayed, for a long time, for an answer. And as had happened so many times before, their prayers were answered.

The mom, who loved her job in the big city so much, got an unexpected job offer back home. Hoping and praying, and wanting the very best for her son, she called the insurance company and inquired about benefits. When the insurance company told them that they would cover their son's autism therapy, once again, they knew they were very blessed.

So today, because she wants the very best for her son, the mom will finish her last shift at the job she loves in the big city, and next week, she will start the new job with amazing benefits close to home. She is sad to say goodbye to her first dream job, and her coworkers, who became friends, who became family.

She knows that change is hard. But she knows that they know, this change will change her son's life. 

She is very blessed.

Gooooood Friday

Things that are happening in the Katzer house this Good Friday morning:

Walking to the bathroom to help Waylon, I reached down to pick up what I thought was a candy wrapper on the floor. The hallway was kind of dark. Hint: it was not a candy wrapper. I picked it up. I moaned for a while. Rose said, "Well that wasn't a very smart thing to do." I'd have to agree with her. While floor scrubbing, I hear her chasing Waylon through the house and yelling, "Waylon if you poop on our floor again you won't get kisses from me for a whole week!" I called Travis to yell at him, because that seemed like the only rational thing to do while washing poop off my fingers. He didn't answer (which ticked me off even more) so when the phone rang immediately back and I assumed it was him, I answered with a pretty grumpy "HELLO." The recorded voice on the line said, "Congratulations! You have won a Bahamas islands cruise!" And I thought "Sweet heavens as least something has gone right today." 

When I finished cleaning up the bathroom and the floor and Waylon, I came out to sit down and Rose had drawn me this picture of two people farting on each other. Lovely.

So today I'm counting my blessings. No matter how big or small they seem, my troubles are really trivial, thanks to the one who gave his life for me today. I saw a sign the other day that said, "Life is good. Eternal life is greater."

So true.

Hope you don't get poop on your fingers today.

And don't forget to count your blessings!