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There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
Somebody’s inside the “tent” that his behavioral consultant made for him:
Can you see him?
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
Somebody’s inside the “tent” that his behavioral consultant made for him:
Can you see him?
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
We’re in the trenches, people. We eat, sleep and breathe what our kids need at home. Advocate for them at school and in extracurricular activities. Read and pursue resources. Maybe even dream about them. I know I do. With two girls diagnosed with a slew of different special needs and their sisters who’s lives have acquired some secondary ones of their own, it’s truly a 24/7 life in the trenches.
Which is why escape is a welcome pastime. Personally, I love movies, mostly because I’m a closet geek and enjoy biographies and World War II films. I didn’t realize until tonight, when I picked a film to watch, that there’s probably a reason I resonate with this genre. Can you spot it in this photo?
Don’t you just feel like this a lot of the time?
Yeah, me too.
We may have been drafted into the wars we face raising, advocating, and helping our kids, but we can come through them strong. Even if we feel as exhausted as the guy on this movie cover looks
.
Keep up the fight!
We’re in the trenches, people. We eat, sleep and breathe what our kids need at home. Advocate for them at school and in extracurricular activities. Read and pursue resources. Maybe even dream about them. I know I do. With two girls diagnosed with a slew of different special needs and their sisters who’s lives have acquired some secondary ones of their own, it’s truly a 24/7 life in the trenches.
Which is why escape is a welcome pastime. Personally, I love movies, mostly because I’m a closet geek and enjoy biographies and World War II films. I didn’t realize until tonight, when I picked a film to watch, that there’s probably a reason I resonate with this genre. Can you spot it in this photo?
Don’t you just feel like this a lot of the time?
Yeah, me too.
We may have been drafted into the wars we face raising, advocating, and helping our kids, but we can come through them strong. Even if we feel as exhausted as the guy on this movie cover looks
.
Keep up the fight!
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

What I saw: A box needing to be flattened and stuffed in the recycling bin.
What He saw: A new robot friend… Zorg.
Which just goes to show: Sometimes 5-year-olds and sharpie markers can make for a very happy combination!
(Well… at least with a little parental supervision thrown in.)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

What I saw: A box needing to be flattened and stuffed in the recycling bin.
What He saw: A new robot friend… Zorg.
Which just goes to show: Sometimes 5-year-olds and sharpie markers can make for a very happy combination!
(Well… at least with a little parental supervision thrown in.)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
I woke this morning at 5:00am to the old dog scratching to be let out. I complied, then laid down on the couch. Sadly, I couldn’t fall back to sleep; my mind awash with all the things I could, or should, be doing.
Not twenty minutes passed when one of The Boys stirred, then called my name, “Mommy?” The choice was made. As I climbed the stairs I was thinking it was good I didn’t go to the gym or he might’ve woken Daddy (who worked late and likes to sleep in on his day off). Or worse, he might’ve come downstairs unattended and gotten into trouble. (We’ve had a few near misses like that.) I could have gotten this post done in those 20 minutes, or written a paragraph or two for work, or treated myself to a 7-minute shower instead of the usual lucky-if-I-get-2-uninterrupted-minutes shower.
But I didn’t. I contemplated my choices.
I am frankly STILL perplexed, after nearly 7 years of special needs parenting (or maybe it’s twin parenting that’s thrown me), about how to “take care of myself” the way people with grown, typically-developing kids keep advising me to do. I don’t eat, sleep or exercise as well as I used to–if at all–before kids. Before twins. Before special needs. Most of my friends–by the time their youngest hits 7–are recapturing bits and pieces of their lives as individuals, and as couples. I accept that it’s going to take me and mine a bit longer to reach that milestone. However, I still feel the pull to get back to some of those pre-kid things I/we used to love to do–kayaking, SCUBA diving, beach volleyball, going to the movies–versus spending most of my time taking care of my kids who, because they have special needs, require a tad more care-taking.
At this point, it feels almost biological… the pull to get back to ME, just a little bit. I’m thinking I might want a career again (paid appreciation), and some “free” time, AND more fun time–versus care taking/educating time–with my kids. Yep, I want it all… to have my cake and eat it too! But, the truth is, I CAN’T do it all, so me-time gets violently shoved off the calendar where it was optimistically penciled in.
Surely–and not a bit begrudgingly–I’m meant to take care of my children first and foremost. I’m OK with that! I brought them into this world and it would be irresponsible to jump ship–even for a moment without appropriate coverage (ahhh, there’s the catch… to have help)–before they can fly solo. I’m talking about basic needs: feed, clothe, shelter, educate (yes, education is a basic need without which there can be no independence). I work, not to pay for gymnastics, karate, dance, art or music lessons, but to help pay for heat, electricity, the car and the house. I take care of my kids and I manage two IEP-driven educations and another complicated by 504 accommodations & mods. Heck, we all know the education piece by itself is a full-time job. Hubby works late into the night so afternoon homework and evening child care responsibilities are mine alone. School days are devoted to work and weekends are family time (when we’re not working on this old house, which NEEDS significant attention).
The wee hours of the morn–when, like this morning, I should be sleeping but I’m contemplating my choices instead–is the only time I could possibly escape for some me-time. And, I would be sacrificing much-needed sleep and this occasional good-for-my-soul, sunrise-tinted contemplation (important)… to go to the gym instead (also important). Perhaps my choice this morning reflects a greater need for peace of mind over strength of body, for now.
So, when and how do I fit me-time in? And PLEEEASE don’t tell me to”make ME the number one priority.” My kids are my number one priority–that’s not going to change as their lives and well-being depend on it. And, yes, I know I am important or I wouldn’t be wasting my precious time bemoaning how little me-time I get. I want to know how YOU do it? HOW do you FIT me-time into your crazy busy life?
More from Maggie at walkonthehappyside.wordpress.com.
I woke this morning at 5:00am to the old dog scratching to be let out. I complied, then laid down on the couch. Sadly, I couldn’t fall back to sleep; my mind awash with all the things I could, or should, be doing.
Not twenty minutes passed when one of The Boys stirred, then called my name, “Mommy?” The choice was made. As I climbed the stairs I was thinking it was good I didn’t go to the gym or he might’ve woken Daddy (who worked late and likes to sleep in on his day off). Or worse, he might’ve come downstairs unattended and gotten into trouble. (We’ve had a few near misses like that.) I could have gotten this post done in those 20 minutes, or written a paragraph or two for work, or treated myself to a 7-minute shower instead of the usual lucky-if-I-get-2-uninterrupted-minutes shower.
But I didn’t. I contemplated my choices.
I am frankly STILL perplexed, after nearly 7 years of special needs parenting (or maybe it’s twin parenting that’s thrown me), about how to “take care of myself” the way people with grown, typically-developing kids keep advising me to do. I don’t eat, sleep or exercise as well as I used to–if at all–before kids. Before twins. Before special needs. Most of my friends–by the time their youngest hits 7–are recapturing bits and pieces of their lives as individuals, and as couples. I accept that it’s going to take me and mine a bit longer to reach that milestone. However, I still feel the pull to get back to some of those pre-kid things I/we used to love to do–kayaking, SCUBA diving, beach volleyball, going to the movies–versus spending most of my time taking care of my kids who, because they have special needs, require a tad more care-taking.
At this point, it feels almost biological… the pull to get back to ME, just a little bit. I’m thinking I might want a career again (paid appreciation), and some “free” time, AND more fun time–versus care taking/educating time–with my kids. Yep, I want it all… to have my cake and eat it too! But, the truth is, I CAN’T do it all, so me-time gets violently shoved off the calendar where it was optimistically penciled in.
Surely–and not a bit begrudgingly–I’m meant to take care of my children first and foremost. I’m OK with that! I brought them into this world and it would be irresponsible to jump ship–even for a moment without appropriate coverage (ahhh, there’s the catch… to have help)–before they can fly solo. I’m talking about basic needs: feed, clothe, shelter, educate (yes, education is a basic need without which there can be no independence). I work, not to pay for gymnastics, karate, dance, art or music lessons, but to help pay for heat, electricity, the car and the house. I take care of my kids and I manage two IEP-driven educations and another complicated by 504 accommodations & mods. Heck, we all know the education piece by itself is a full-time job. Hubby works late into the night so afternoon homework and evening child care responsibilities are mine alone. School days are devoted to work and weekends are family time (when we’re not working on this old house, which NEEDS significant attention).
The wee hours of the morn–when, like this morning, I should be sleeping but I’m contemplating my choices instead–is the only time I could possibly escape for some me-time. And, I would be sacrificing much-needed sleep and this occasional good-for-my-soul, sunrise-tinted contemplation (important)… to go to the gym instead (also important). Perhaps my choice this morning reflects a greater need for peace of mind over strength of body, for now.
So, when and how do I fit me-time in? And PLEEEASE don’t tell me to”make ME the number one priority.” My kids are my number one priority–that’s not going to change as their lives and well-being depend on it. And, yes, I know I am important or I wouldn’t be wasting my precious time bemoaning how little me-time I get. I want to know how YOU do it? HOW do you FIT me-time into your crazy busy life?
More from Maggie at walkonthehappyside.wordpress.com.
When Jack was first diagnosed, I was horrified. Depressed. Had major anxiety attacks. Cried for hours.
Somewhere around Jack’s second year, I felt myself changing. I no longer longed for the green field across the fence–I was OK with the patchy grass holding one perfectly beautiful flower in my own yard.
So, I started writing my feelings…part here, part at my own blog. I advocated for my son. I tried to educate Moms who were being Too Pushy on the proper way to advocate (that begins with being well educated and not screaming…professionalism always counts!). I felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Last week, I received an email forwarded to me, by a member of my family. Family member A received the email from Family member B. In the email, B tells A that “Heather will want to make sure everyone feels bad for her because her life is so hard.”
My heart sank.
Like a rock.
To my family, I have never once complained. To my best girlfriends, yes. To God, yes. To my husband, yes. But never to the family…because I feel very strongly that we were given Jack for a reason, and I am blessed by him–even when I can’t sleep for days on end.
So I am very conflicted: to confront, or not to confront.
I am very non-confrontational to begin with. So there’s that. But, in this case, my feelings are broken. This person, who claims to love me very much, just threw a huge wall up between us.
Not to mention that what was said is wrong and mean.
So, friends…what to do? Have you had this happen in your world? How do you deal? Ignore the elephant in the room? Avoid that person at all costs from now on? How do you deal when your feelings get hurt–and I know, if you’re like me, most days I cry if someone says anything remotely nice to me, so something mean REALLY hurts.
I’ll be here waiting!
When Jack was first diagnosed, I was horrified. Depressed. Had major anxiety attacks. Cried for hours.
Somewhere around Jack’s second year, I felt myself changing. I no longer longed for the green field across the fence–I was OK with the patchy grass holding one perfectly beautiful flower in my own yard.
So, I started writing my feelings…part here, part at my own blog. I advocated for my son. I tried to educate Moms who were being Too Pushy on the proper way to advocate (that begins with being well educated and not screaming…professionalism always counts!). I felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Last week, I received an email forwarded to me, by a member of my family. Family member A received the email from Family member B. In the email, B tells A that “Heather will want to make sure everyone feels bad for her because her life is so hard.”
My heart sank.
Like a rock.
To my family, I have never once complained. To my best girlfriends, yes. To God, yes. To my husband, yes. But never to the family…because I feel very strongly that we were given Jack for a reason, and I am blessed by him–even when I can’t sleep for days on end.
So I am very conflicted: to confront, or not to confront.
I am very non-confrontational to begin with. So there’s that. But, in this case, my feelings are broken. This person, who claims to love me very much, just threw a huge wall up between us.
Not to mention that what was said is wrong and mean.
So, friends…what to do? Have you had this happen in your world? How do you deal? Ignore the elephant in the room? Avoid that person at all costs from now on? How do you deal when your feelings get hurt–and I know, if you’re like me, most days I cry if someone says anything remotely nice to me, so something mean REALLY hurts.
I’ll be here waiting!
Eight years ago today my world changed more than I even knew at the time with the birth of our daughter. I could never have known, then, exactly how much this little bundle of flesh would change my world. Everyone said she would turn our world upside-down, but even they didn’t know she would turn us inside out, too. I thought I knew so much about how the world worked. Something about earning a Ph.D. makes you think you can take on anything and master it. Parenting, however, has little to do with book smarts. Parenting special needs style takes it all to yet another level.
Four years later I was feeling more than a little “outsmarted.” Our twins had arrived six weeks early after seven weeks of bed rest. The child was exhibiting unruly behavior in every setting which made bringing two tiny infants home after three weeks in the NICU particularly unnerving. Even knowing more about my daughter’s language delay, we were still in a fog of misunderstanding. We assumed that all of the upheaval was because of my unexpected lengthy hospital stay both before and after the twins’ birth. Indeed, the child was so angry at me for “disappearing” that she didn’t even look at me the first day that I came home. It took over a year to regain her trust. Still there was more for us to learn, and six months later the learning curve accelerated when we finally asked for a formal diagnosis.
All of those letters, primary diagnosis, possible co-morbid conditions, what does it all mean? This form to fill out, those contacts to call, these questions to ask, those books to read. This meeting to have, those services to request. It was back to school special parenting style.
I still feel like I’m learning every day. Yesterday I filled out a survey for a local autism advocacy group and realized that I know NOTHING about what happens after high school. Granted we’re only in second grade, but it seems like yesterday we were in Kindergarten, so I imagine the rest of it will go pretty fast, too. Even more, though, the child teaches me every day – about her needs, about how she sees the world, about how much we have in common, how to deeply feel each experience, and how to celebrate every achievement.
If the last eight years is any indication, we have a lot to look forward to – more amazing discoveries around every corner, and more great adventures yet to come.
Happy Birthday to my world changer.
Eight years ago today my world changed more than I even knew at the time with the birth of our daughter. I could never have known, then, exactly how much this little bundle of flesh would change my world. Everyone said she would turn our world upside-down, but even they didn’t know she would turn us inside out, too. I thought I knew so much about how the world worked. Something about earning a Ph.D. makes you think you can take on anything and master it. Parenting, however, has little to do with book smarts. Parenting special needs style takes it all to yet another level.
Four years later I was feeling more than a little “outsmarted.” Our twins had arrived six weeks early after seven weeks of bed rest. The child was exhibiting unruly behavior in every setting which made bringing two tiny infants home after three weeks in the NICU particularly unnerving. Even knowing more about my daughter’s language delay, we were still in a fog of misunderstanding. We assumed that all of the upheaval was because of my unexpected lengthy hospital stay both before and after the twins’ birth. Indeed, the child was so angry at me for “disappearing” that she didn’t even look at me the first day that I came home. It took over a year to regain her trust. Still there was more for us to learn, and six months later the learning curve accelerated when we finally asked for a formal diagnosis.
All of those letters, primary diagnosis, possible co-morbid conditions, what does it all mean? This form to fill out, those contacts to call, these questions to ask, those books to read. This meeting to have, those services to request. It was back to school special parenting style.
I still feel like I’m learning every day. Yesterday I filled out a survey for a local autism advocacy group and realized that I know NOTHING about what happens after high school. Granted we’re only in second grade, but it seems like yesterday we were in Kindergarten, so I imagine the rest of it will go pretty fast, too. Even more, though, the child teaches me every day – about her needs, about how she sees the world, about how much we have in common, how to deeply feel each experience, and how to celebrate every achievement.
If the last eight years is any indication, we have a lot to look forward to – more amazing discoveries around every corner, and more great adventures yet to come.
Happy Birthday to my world changer.
Poor Woody, he’s been relegated to the toy bin:

At least he has the dogs for company.
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
Poor Woody, he’s been relegated to the toy bin:

At least he has the dogs for company.
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

Both kiddos have been having fun lately — creating unique little worlds with MySims Kingdom.
Do you have a budding graphic artist at home? I’d love to see what worlds they’ve been creating! (Or any creativity you’ve had going on at your house this past week…)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

Both kiddos have been having fun lately — creating unique little worlds with MySims Kingdom.
Do you have a budding graphic artist at home? I’d love to see what worlds they’ve been creating! (Or any creativity you’ve had going on at your house this past week…)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
So, we are finally settling in and making life work.
Part of that means we had to get all Jack’s records and get them transferred to new physician’s here. That was a ton of fun. (rollllllls eyes)
However, the most interesting thing happened.
We took Jack to his new GI on Friday and she…
listened.
asked questions.
didn’t suggest we shove food down his throat.
validated our feelings.
Did you catch that? She validated what we have been doing/thinking/feeling for FIVE years! She told us we were right to fight with the other GI.
Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t doctors understand that we actually know what’s going on with our children! We aren’t fly by night parents. We are the ones deep in the trenches, pulling for the underdog!
What can we do team?
(I’ve missed you! We are still unpacking and trying to remember where we’ve put stuff, but we are here, and here is a great place to be.)
So, we are finally settling in and making life work.
Part of that means we had to get all Jack’s records and get them transferred to new physician’s here. That was a ton of fun. (rollllllls eyes)
However, the most interesting thing happened.
We took Jack to his new GI on Friday and she…
listened.
asked questions.
didn’t suggest we shove food down his throat.
validated our feelings.
Did you catch that? She validated what we have been doing/thinking/feeling for FIVE years! She told us we were right to fight with the other GI.
Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t doctors understand that we actually know what’s going on with our children! We aren’t fly by night parents. We are the ones deep in the trenches, pulling for the underdog!
What can we do team?
(I’ve missed you! We are still unpacking and trying to remember where we’ve put stuff, but we are here, and here is a great place to be.)
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…
Somebody’s inside the “tent” that his behavioral consultant made for him:
Can you see him?
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
Somebody’s inside the “tent” that his behavioral consultant made for him:
Can you see him?
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
We’re in the trenches, people. We eat, sleep and breathe what our kids need at home. Advocate for them at school and in extracurricular activities. Read and pursue resources. Maybe even dream about them. I know I do. With two girls diagnosed with a slew of different special needs and their sisters who’s lives have acquired some secondary ones of their own, it’s truly a 24/7 life in the trenches.
Which is why escape is a welcome pastime. Personally, I love movies, mostly because I’m a closet geek and enjoy biographies and World War II films. I didn’t realize until tonight, when I picked a film to watch, that there’s probably a reason I resonate with this genre. Can you spot it in this photo?
Don’t you just feel like this a lot of the time?
Yeah, me too.
We may have been drafted into the wars we face raising, advocating, and helping our kids, but we can come through them strong. Even if we feel as exhausted as the guy on this movie cover looks
.
Keep up the fight!
We’re in the trenches, people. We eat, sleep and breathe what our kids need at home. Advocate for them at school and in extracurricular activities. Read and pursue resources. Maybe even dream about them. I know I do. With two girls diagnosed with a slew of different special needs and their sisters who’s lives have acquired some secondary ones of their own, it’s truly a 24/7 life in the trenches.
Which is why escape is a welcome pastime. Personally, I love movies, mostly because I’m a closet geek and enjoy biographies and World War II films. I didn’t realize until tonight, when I picked a film to watch, that there’s probably a reason I resonate with this genre. Can you spot it in this photo?
Don’t you just feel like this a lot of the time?
Yeah, me too.
We may have been drafted into the wars we face raising, advocating, and helping our kids, but we can come through them strong. Even if we feel as exhausted as the guy on this movie cover looks
.
Keep up the fight!
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

What I saw: A box needing to be flattened and stuffed in the recycling bin.
What He saw: A new robot friend… Zorg.
Which just goes to show: Sometimes 5-year-olds and sharpie markers can make for a very happy combination!
(Well… at least with a little parental supervision thrown in.)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

What I saw: A box needing to be flattened and stuffed in the recycling bin.
What He saw: A new robot friend… Zorg.
Which just goes to show: Sometimes 5-year-olds and sharpie markers can make for a very happy combination!
(Well… at least with a little parental supervision thrown in.)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
I woke this morning at 5:00am to the old dog scratching to be let out. I complied, then laid down on the couch. Sadly, I couldn’t fall back to sleep; my mind awash with all the things I could, or should, be doing.
Not twenty minutes passed when one of The Boys stirred, then called my name, “Mommy?” The choice was made. As I climbed the stairs I was thinking it was good I didn’t go to the gym or he might’ve woken Daddy (who worked late and likes to sleep in on his day off). Or worse, he might’ve come downstairs unattended and gotten into trouble. (We’ve had a few near misses like that.) I could have gotten this post done in those 20 minutes, or written a paragraph or two for work, or treated myself to a 7-minute shower instead of the usual lucky-if-I-get-2-uninterrupted-minutes shower.
But I didn’t. I contemplated my choices.
I am frankly STILL perplexed, after nearly 7 years of special needs parenting (or maybe it’s twin parenting that’s thrown me), about how to “take care of myself” the way people with grown, typically-developing kids keep advising me to do. I don’t eat, sleep or exercise as well as I used to–if at all–before kids. Before twins. Before special needs. Most of my friends–by the time their youngest hits 7–are recapturing bits and pieces of their lives as individuals, and as couples. I accept that it’s going to take me and mine a bit longer to reach that milestone. However, I still feel the pull to get back to some of those pre-kid things I/we used to love to do–kayaking, SCUBA diving, beach volleyball, going to the movies–versus spending most of my time taking care of my kids who, because they have special needs, require a tad more care-taking.
At this point, it feels almost biological… the pull to get back to ME, just a little bit. I’m thinking I might want a career again (paid appreciation), and some “free” time, AND more fun time–versus care taking/educating time–with my kids. Yep, I want it all… to have my cake and eat it too! But, the truth is, I CAN’T do it all, so me-time gets violently shoved off the calendar where it was optimistically penciled in.
Surely–and not a bit begrudgingly–I’m meant to take care of my children first and foremost. I’m OK with that! I brought them into this world and it would be irresponsible to jump ship–even for a moment without appropriate coverage (ahhh, there’s the catch… to have help)–before they can fly solo. I’m talking about basic needs: feed, clothe, shelter, educate (yes, education is a basic need without which there can be no independence). I work, not to pay for gymnastics, karate, dance, art or music lessons, but to help pay for heat, electricity, the car and the house. I take care of my kids and I manage two IEP-driven educations and another complicated by 504 accommodations & mods. Heck, we all know the education piece by itself is a full-time job. Hubby works late into the night so afternoon homework and evening child care responsibilities are mine alone. School days are devoted to work and weekends are family time (when we’re not working on this old house, which NEEDS significant attention).
The wee hours of the morn–when, like this morning, I should be sleeping but I’m contemplating my choices instead–is the only time I could possibly escape for some me-time. And, I would be sacrificing much-needed sleep and this occasional good-for-my-soul, sunrise-tinted contemplation (important)… to go to the gym instead (also important). Perhaps my choice this morning reflects a greater need for peace of mind over strength of body, for now.
So, when and how do I fit me-time in? And PLEEEASE don’t tell me to”make ME the number one priority.” My kids are my number one priority–that’s not going to change as their lives and well-being depend on it. And, yes, I know I am important or I wouldn’t be wasting my precious time bemoaning how little me-time I get. I want to know how YOU do it? HOW do you FIT me-time into your crazy busy life?
More from Maggie at walkonthehappyside.wordpress.com.
I woke this morning at 5:00am to the old dog scratching to be let out. I complied, then laid down on the couch. Sadly, I couldn’t fall back to sleep; my mind awash with all the things I could, or should, be doing.
Not twenty minutes passed when one of The Boys stirred, then called my name, “Mommy?” The choice was made. As I climbed the stairs I was thinking it was good I didn’t go to the gym or he might’ve woken Daddy (who worked late and likes to sleep in on his day off). Or worse, he might’ve come downstairs unattended and gotten into trouble. (We’ve had a few near misses like that.) I could have gotten this post done in those 20 minutes, or written a paragraph or two for work, or treated myself to a 7-minute shower instead of the usual lucky-if-I-get-2-uninterrupted-minutes shower.
But I didn’t. I contemplated my choices.
I am frankly STILL perplexed, after nearly 7 years of special needs parenting (or maybe it’s twin parenting that’s thrown me), about how to “take care of myself” the way people with grown, typically-developing kids keep advising me to do. I don’t eat, sleep or exercise as well as I used to–if at all–before kids. Before twins. Before special needs. Most of my friends–by the time their youngest hits 7–are recapturing bits and pieces of their lives as individuals, and as couples. I accept that it’s going to take me and mine a bit longer to reach that milestone. However, I still feel the pull to get back to some of those pre-kid things I/we used to love to do–kayaking, SCUBA diving, beach volleyball, going to the movies–versus spending most of my time taking care of my kids who, because they have special needs, require a tad more care-taking.
At this point, it feels almost biological… the pull to get back to ME, just a little bit. I’m thinking I might want a career again (paid appreciation), and some “free” time, AND more fun time–versus care taking/educating time–with my kids. Yep, I want it all… to have my cake and eat it too! But, the truth is, I CAN’T do it all, so me-time gets violently shoved off the calendar where it was optimistically penciled in.
Surely–and not a bit begrudgingly–I’m meant to take care of my children first and foremost. I’m OK with that! I brought them into this world and it would be irresponsible to jump ship–even for a moment without appropriate coverage (ahhh, there’s the catch… to have help)–before they can fly solo. I’m talking about basic needs: feed, clothe, shelter, educate (yes, education is a basic need without which there can be no independence). I work, not to pay for gymnastics, karate, dance, art or music lessons, but to help pay for heat, electricity, the car and the house. I take care of my kids and I manage two IEP-driven educations and another complicated by 504 accommodations & mods. Heck, we all know the education piece by itself is a full-time job. Hubby works late into the night so afternoon homework and evening child care responsibilities are mine alone. School days are devoted to work and weekends are family time (when we’re not working on this old house, which NEEDS significant attention).
The wee hours of the morn–when, like this morning, I should be sleeping but I’m contemplating my choices instead–is the only time I could possibly escape for some me-time. And, I would be sacrificing much-needed sleep and this occasional good-for-my-soul, sunrise-tinted contemplation (important)… to go to the gym instead (also important). Perhaps my choice this morning reflects a greater need for peace of mind over strength of body, for now.
So, when and how do I fit me-time in? And PLEEEASE don’t tell me to”make ME the number one priority.” My kids are my number one priority–that’s not going to change as their lives and well-being depend on it. And, yes, I know I am important or I wouldn’t be wasting my precious time bemoaning how little me-time I get. I want to know how YOU do it? HOW do you FIT me-time into your crazy busy life?
More from Maggie at walkonthehappyside.wordpress.com.
When Jack was first diagnosed, I was horrified. Depressed. Had major anxiety attacks. Cried for hours.
Somewhere around Jack’s second year, I felt myself changing. I no longer longed for the green field across the fence–I was OK with the patchy grass holding one perfectly beautiful flower in my own yard.
So, I started writing my feelings…part here, part at my own blog. I advocated for my son. I tried to educate Moms who were being Too Pushy on the proper way to advocate (that begins with being well educated and not screaming…professionalism always counts!). I felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Last week, I received an email forwarded to me, by a member of my family. Family member A received the email from Family member B. In the email, B tells A that “Heather will want to make sure everyone feels bad for her because her life is so hard.”
My heart sank.
Like a rock.
To my family, I have never once complained. To my best girlfriends, yes. To God, yes. To my husband, yes. But never to the family…because I feel very strongly that we were given Jack for a reason, and I am blessed by him–even when I can’t sleep for days on end.
So I am very conflicted: to confront, or not to confront.
I am very non-confrontational to begin with. So there’s that. But, in this case, my feelings are broken. This person, who claims to love me very much, just threw a huge wall up between us.
Not to mention that what was said is wrong and mean.
So, friends…what to do? Have you had this happen in your world? How do you deal? Ignore the elephant in the room? Avoid that person at all costs from now on? How do you deal when your feelings get hurt–and I know, if you’re like me, most days I cry if someone says anything remotely nice to me, so something mean REALLY hurts.
I’ll be here waiting!
When Jack was first diagnosed, I was horrified. Depressed. Had major anxiety attacks. Cried for hours.
Somewhere around Jack’s second year, I felt myself changing. I no longer longed for the green field across the fence–I was OK with the patchy grass holding one perfectly beautiful flower in my own yard.
So, I started writing my feelings…part here, part at my own blog. I advocated for my son. I tried to educate Moms who were being Too Pushy on the proper way to advocate (that begins with being well educated and not screaming…professionalism always counts!). I felt like I was doing something worthwhile.
Last week, I received an email forwarded to me, by a member of my family. Family member A received the email from Family member B. In the email, B tells A that “Heather will want to make sure everyone feels bad for her because her life is so hard.”
My heart sank.
Like a rock.
To my family, I have never once complained. To my best girlfriends, yes. To God, yes. To my husband, yes. But never to the family…because I feel very strongly that we were given Jack for a reason, and I am blessed by him–even when I can’t sleep for days on end.
So I am very conflicted: to confront, or not to confront.
I am very non-confrontational to begin with. So there’s that. But, in this case, my feelings are broken. This person, who claims to love me very much, just threw a huge wall up between us.
Not to mention that what was said is wrong and mean.
So, friends…what to do? Have you had this happen in your world? How do you deal? Ignore the elephant in the room? Avoid that person at all costs from now on? How do you deal when your feelings get hurt–and I know, if you’re like me, most days I cry if someone says anything remotely nice to me, so something mean REALLY hurts.
I’ll be here waiting!
Eight years ago today my world changed more than I even knew at the time with the birth of our daughter. I could never have known, then, exactly how much this little bundle of flesh would change my world. Everyone said she would turn our world upside-down, but even they didn’t know she would turn us inside out, too. I thought I knew so much about how the world worked. Something about earning a Ph.D. makes you think you can take on anything and master it. Parenting, however, has little to do with book smarts. Parenting special needs style takes it all to yet another level.
Four years later I was feeling more than a little “outsmarted.” Our twins had arrived six weeks early after seven weeks of bed rest. The child was exhibiting unruly behavior in every setting which made bringing two tiny infants home after three weeks in the NICU particularly unnerving. Even knowing more about my daughter’s language delay, we were still in a fog of misunderstanding. We assumed that all of the upheaval was because of my unexpected lengthy hospital stay both before and after the twins’ birth. Indeed, the child was so angry at me for “disappearing” that she didn’t even look at me the first day that I came home. It took over a year to regain her trust. Still there was more for us to learn, and six months later the learning curve accelerated when we finally asked for a formal diagnosis.
All of those letters, primary diagnosis, possible co-morbid conditions, what does it all mean? This form to fill out, those contacts to call, these questions to ask, those books to read. This meeting to have, those services to request. It was back to school special parenting style.
I still feel like I’m learning every day. Yesterday I filled out a survey for a local autism advocacy group and realized that I know NOTHING about what happens after high school. Granted we’re only in second grade, but it seems like yesterday we were in Kindergarten, so I imagine the rest of it will go pretty fast, too. Even more, though, the child teaches me every day – about her needs, about how she sees the world, about how much we have in common, how to deeply feel each experience, and how to celebrate every achievement.
If the last eight years is any indication, we have a lot to look forward to – more amazing discoveries around every corner, and more great adventures yet to come.
Happy Birthday to my world changer.
Eight years ago today my world changed more than I even knew at the time with the birth of our daughter. I could never have known, then, exactly how much this little bundle of flesh would change my world. Everyone said she would turn our world upside-down, but even they didn’t know she would turn us inside out, too. I thought I knew so much about how the world worked. Something about earning a Ph.D. makes you think you can take on anything and master it. Parenting, however, has little to do with book smarts. Parenting special needs style takes it all to yet another level.
Four years later I was feeling more than a little “outsmarted.” Our twins had arrived six weeks early after seven weeks of bed rest. The child was exhibiting unruly behavior in every setting which made bringing two tiny infants home after three weeks in the NICU particularly unnerving. Even knowing more about my daughter’s language delay, we were still in a fog of misunderstanding. We assumed that all of the upheaval was because of my unexpected lengthy hospital stay both before and after the twins’ birth. Indeed, the child was so angry at me for “disappearing” that she didn’t even look at me the first day that I came home. It took over a year to regain her trust. Still there was more for us to learn, and six months later the learning curve accelerated when we finally asked for a formal diagnosis.
All of those letters, primary diagnosis, possible co-morbid conditions, what does it all mean? This form to fill out, those contacts to call, these questions to ask, those books to read. This meeting to have, those services to request. It was back to school special parenting style.
I still feel like I’m learning every day. Yesterday I filled out a survey for a local autism advocacy group and realized that I know NOTHING about what happens after high school. Granted we’re only in second grade, but it seems like yesterday we were in Kindergarten, so I imagine the rest of it will go pretty fast, too. Even more, though, the child teaches me every day – about her needs, about how she sees the world, about how much we have in common, how to deeply feel each experience, and how to celebrate every achievement.
If the last eight years is any indication, we have a lot to look forward to – more amazing discoveries around every corner, and more great adventures yet to come.
Happy Birthday to my world changer.
Poor Woody, he’s been relegated to the toy bin:

At least he has the dogs for company.
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
Poor Woody, he’s been relegated to the toy bin:

At least he has the dogs for company.
Share what you managed to capture this week. Please spread the comment love around. Thank you.
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

Both kiddos have been having fun lately — creating unique little worlds with MySims Kingdom.
Do you have a budding graphic artist at home? I’d love to see what worlds they’ve been creating! (Or any creativity you’ve had going on at your house this past week…)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
![]()
“It took me four years to paint like Raphael, but a lifetime to paint like a child.”
~Pablo Picasso
Welcome to Magic Marker Monday! If you haven’t heard about Magic Marker Monday yet, click here and then hurry right back…

Both kiddos have been having fun lately — creating unique little worlds with MySims Kingdom.
Do you have a budding graphic artist at home? I’d love to see what worlds they’ve been creating! (Or any creativity you’ve had going on at your house this past week…)
![]()
What has your little artist been up to? Link up and share!
Want the Magic Marker Monday button code? Click Here!
So, we are finally settling in and making life work.
Part of that means we had to get all Jack’s records and get them transferred to new physician’s here. That was a ton of fun. (rollllllls eyes)
However, the most interesting thing happened.
We took Jack to his new GI on Friday and she…
listened.
asked questions.
didn’t suggest we shove food down his throat.
validated our feelings.
Did you catch that? She validated what we have been doing/thinking/feeling for FIVE years! She told us we were right to fight with the other GI.
Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t doctors understand that we actually know what’s going on with our children! We aren’t fly by night parents. We are the ones deep in the trenches, pulling for the underdog!
What can we do team?
(I’ve missed you! We are still unpacking and trying to remember where we’ve put stuff, but we are here, and here is a great place to be.)
So, we are finally settling in and making life work.
Part of that means we had to get all Jack’s records and get them transferred to new physician’s here. That was a ton of fun. (rollllllls eyes)
However, the most interesting thing happened.
We took Jack to his new GI on Friday and she…
listened.
asked questions.
didn’t suggest we shove food down his throat.
validated our feelings.
Did you catch that? She validated what we have been doing/thinking/feeling for FIVE years! She told us we were right to fight with the other GI.
Why does it have to be this way? Why can’t doctors understand that we actually know what’s going on with our children! We aren’t fly by night parents. We are the ones deep in the trenches, pulling for the underdog!
What can we do team?
(I’ve missed you! We are still unpacking and trying to remember where we’ve put stuff, but we are here, and here is a great place to be.)
There was a time when I feared my daughter would not even catch it when someone was being mean to her. Because of her receptive, expressive, and pragmatic language delays she is ripe for the type of bullying where the true bully convinces an intermediary to do their dirty work for them. She doesn’t catch the facial expressions and tone of voice that go with teasing. It would be pretty easy to imagine a scenario where she’s getting picked on and doesn’t even quite realize it, or at least doesn’t understand it enough to know how to handle it. The latter is recipe for disaster since when she doesn’t know how to handle things she pretty much explodes.
The pendulum, however, seems to be swinging in the other direction.
Now I fear that she will push everyone away by labeling them as mean. It seems like every little thing that happens her response is, “You’re so mean!” Siblings, parents, peers…the whole world has turned mean I guess…So maybe I don’t have to worry so much that she won’t recognize real true mean. Instead I wonder how long everyone will put up with being called mean when they really aren’t.
There are other scenarios where I’ve been concerned one way and then had to back pedal and consider the other side. First I was worried that she would be left out of bar tag (a popular playground game at our school), then I was worried that she was insisting on playing it too much. Is she sleeping too much or not enough? Obsessed with this then not interested at all…
All of these subtle social skills that seem to just fall into place for other children. So many ideas and concepts that I hadn’t even thought about before, and now have to figure out how to teach them to someone to whom they really just don’t make sense. First we’re explaining this side and then we’re explaining the other, and back and forth we go…