Paisley's Last Day in Dallas!!!!

Well, it's finally here!  Today is Paisley's last day at her "special school" (Behavioral Innovations)!!  BI is a treatment center/school that provides ABA therapy 8 hrs a day for children with Autism, Asperger's, PDD, or any other similar behavioral or developmental disorders.  It has been an amazing opportunity, and the people and therapists have always treated Paisley with love, kindness, and respect.  This is a major plus for us since she can't really communicate what happens to her during the day.  We've never once worried that she was being mistreated, picked on or bullied, or harmed in any way while there.  We've always been sure that she is completely safe at BI.  So, in one aspect, leaving the place and setting Pais out in the "real world" is very frightening as her parents, but also a huge positive step.    

Paisley began therapy at BI when she was 2.  She is now 6.  The most common question people ask Michael and I both is, "Has it been worth it?"  This question is a bit insulting to us (as if we've just been wasting our time the last four years trying to provide the best life we can for P), but we know that people are just curious when they ask and don't really understand all the intricate processes we go through on a daily basis.   Although a very difficult question to answer, I will attempt it anyway.  So, here goes:

The future is hard to quantify, and so is success.  We hope we have given Paisley the best start to a bright future that we can through early intervention.  What has she accomplished??  Gosh...so many things!  Things that seems so mundane to us "neurotypicals."  Things like saying "hi", acknowledging when someone walks in the room, playing with toys instead of lining up water bottles, imaginary play, laughing, transitioning from one activity to the next without a meltdown, feeling less anxious about every aspect of life.  Other things include: hugging people other than her mom and dad, playing appropriately with her sister, learning to share, eating with utensils, tolerating the presence of animals, drinking more than apple juice, walking into a store without a meltdown, tolerating different environments, making verbal sounds, watching more than "Miss Spider" on TV, coloring pages, being potty trained, tolerating her hair and teeth being brushed, eating a larger variety of food, tolerating unfamiliar textures, and the list goes on and on and on. These things are all stuff that children over time naturally learn.  However, none of it has come naturally for Paisley.  She has worked EXTREMELY hard to accomplish all these things and more.  Not because she's not intellectually capable (there's nothing wrong with her IQ), but because her brain is wired differently than ours.  You see, Autism traps children in a different world.  Their own world.  A world that is so different and so lonely and so frustrating because no one can understand even their most basic needs.  ABA therapy has helped us unlock that world and Paisley is slowly climbing her way out thanks to all the love and support of those that have championed for her.  She's still very limited in verbal capacity, but the difference between the past and now is that she definitely communicates her needs.  Verbal dialect is very difficult for her, but she is talking more and finding more words daily.  In fact, just last night we were trying to cross a busy traffic intersection, and she sees all the cars and shouted "Look out, look out!"   So, when people ask if it's been worth all the financial, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual challenges, I just look at them dumbfounded.  Because of course it has!!  Is it a quantifiable worth?  No.  Would I do it again?  Absolutely.  When I signed up to be a parent, I made a commitment to do whatever it takes to help my children succeed in life.  That doesn't change because it's tough.  When you're a parent, you don't get to whine about it.  You just do what you gotta do and praise God for the opportunity to get to do it.    

It's also worth mentioning our 3 year old's part in this whole process.  Claire is Paisley's biggest cheerleader.  She has been dragged to therapy after therapy, countless doctors' waiting rooms, spent crazy amounts of time in the car going back and forth, and has seen all the ups and downs of Autism.  She rejoices with us over every little milestone, and has helped Pais with various things more times than I can count.  Although she's the younger sister, she's constantly worried about Paisley's safety and is very protective of her.  And...not once has she ever complained about it.  She wasn't even born when we started this journey, so she doesn't know much different, but she could still be really resentful and mean to Pais from all the extra attention Pais gets if she wanted.  But, she doesn't.  You know...she's just awesome.  We couldn't ask for a better sister for Paisley, nor a kinder, sweeter daughter.  This is a big day for Paisley, but it's a big day for Claire, too.  She's been a great sport about it all!    

So, to sum it all up, it's been a very loooonnng journey.  Good times, bad times, but worth every second.  It would take all day to tell you everything I've learned these last 4 years.  I won't bore you with all that.  However, I will tell you my favorite moment of all that has come from all the hard work.  The moment when Paisley came up to me completely spontaneously, gave me a hug and a kiss, and said " I love you" as clear as water.  That second, in and of itself, has made the last 4 years "worth it". 

Paisley's first day at BI (age 2)

Paisley's last day at BI (age 6)

Tori Spelling Jeans

A few months ago, I was browsing the Amazon website and came across a sale on the NYDJ brand of jeans.  I've actually heard a lot about this brand...how it's supposed to be slenderizing, comfortable, blah blah blah (you know, the stuff everyone says about every product).  When I've looked the jeans up online before, they were always like $95-$150 a pair.  (You can forget me EVER paying that much for any pair of jeans!!)  So, you can imagine my surprise when I found a pair on Amazon advertised for $25.  Immediately, the bargain shopper I am, clicked the link.  Whoa...okay....no wonder they were $25.  Turns out, the only jean for that price was a python print skinny jean in dark grey/black.  And so.  I pondered.  And.  I pondered.  I finally decided to purchase them...simply because I wanted to try out the brand and figured if I didn't like them, I'd just send them back.

I waited 2 whole days for them...(that's right...I'm a PRIME member...).  My mom was at my house when they arrived, and being the "Nosey Nellie" that she is, asked what I got.  So, I told her that I ordered some python print jeans, and she looked utterly shocked.

Fast forward a few days later, and I'm getting ready for work and annoyed that I can't seem to find anything to wear.  I see those pants eyeing me, and I decide to put them on.  I had done quite a bit of research about size when I purchased them because I've never worn skinny jeans in my life.  I'm not that hip in my attire...my goal in style is ultimate comfort.  (My absolute favorite thing to wear is jeans and an old T-shirt).  I put them on, and the company (NYDJ) was completely truthful. They were exactly true to size and fit perfectly.  The jeans themselves were a bit snug down the hip and leg...appropriate for skinny jeans...I just don't like my clothes clingy.  But you know?  These jeans were super comfortable!!  And soft!  It really was amazing.  So, I find a matching shirt, and out the door I go!

When I got to work, my co-worker immediately commented on them.  We chatted about the oddity of skinny jeans and how ironically you'd think those suckers make you look like a blimp, but others comment on the slenderizing effects.  (Yes, we have VERY intellectually stimulating conversations at the office).  I will admit that I was extremely self-conscious in them all day, mostly due to my own insecurity.  But overall, I decided that I found a deal in those python print jeans.

Perhaps the most gratifying thing of all about my python jeans is the fact that when I put them on, I start thinking I look like Tori Spelling.  It's the magic of the pants.  I fantasize about wearing my (should be) expensive brand name jeans, sashaying down a sidewalk with an oversized bag, oversized sunglasses, and an attitude bigger than life.  It's like I really am the ultra hip supermodel mom not having a care in the world!  HA!!  These jeans came with QUITE an imagination!!  Honestly, there's just no way to be ordinary while wearing them.  So when I'm feeling all daring and adventurous, I take these jeans out for a spin and I am NEVER disappointed.  I love my python print NYDJ skinny jeans!! :)          

Paisley Doodle turns 6!!!

Well, today my oldest daughter turns 6 years old.  It's hard to believe it's been that long since I held her in my arms for the first time and thought to myself "How am I ever going to figure out how to take care of her?"  Haha!!  Little did I know that I'd be in for the ride of my life!

Our 6 years with Paisley have been a LONG road.  To me, the autism we've dealt with has been one of the biggest mysteries of the brain I have ever encountered.  I can honestly say that although some of it has been negative and a difficult challenge, the vast majority of this journey has been positive.  The biggest negative is that Paisley is still unable to communicate her wants and needs for the most part.  I can pretty well anticipate some things, but the part that hurts me to the core is when she is hurt.  When someone hurts her feelings, I don't know.  When her throat hurts, I don't know.  When her tummy aches, her head hurts, her teeth are coming in, anything physically or emotionally painful, I can only guess what is wrong with her.  This is HANDS DOWN the most difficult part of autism.  I can deal with pretty much anything else, but I feel like crying daily over this challenge.  My sincerest hope and prayer is that Paisley WILL be able to communicate these things one day.  I have hope.

Now, on the positive end, I feel as though life with Paisley has definitely made me more akin to the environment.  So much stimulation in this world!!  I am very aware of sounds, sights, and touches.  I am also very tuned in to all of Paisley's nonverbal cues.  I am constantly "on guard" to see how I can make her life easier, and I am guilty of often anticipating and fulfilling her needs just to try and make her life a bit easier.  I have a sharpened sense of awareness with my children that I feel has been honed as a result of autism.  I also  think it's a blessing that Paisley is not into the dramatics.  What is, is.  I am comforted in the fact that she will probably always be very practical-minded and oblivious to the mean social games that young girls tend to use against each other.  As a result, she truly has the sweetest spirit of any kid I know.  She is kind, open to meeting new friends, and smiles--a LOT.  She has no social barriers at this point, so she'll just go right up to a person and hug them, pat their hand and smile, etc.  People love that raw sincerity about her.  She has the gift of oblivion.  It's absolutely beautiful and remarkable.

In Paisley's six years of existence, she has taught me more about life than I've learned on my own or through others in the 28 years preceding her.  I've learned what true patience looks like. I've learned to not be judgmental.  I've learned communication often doesn't come as "naturally" or "inherently" as I was taught in all those psychology classes.  Even the most sophisticated of humans still have to practice communication regularly for it to go smoothly.  I've learned that sometimes simple things in life truly are gifts.  I've learned to be blind to imperfections when needed, and that sometimes a bunch of little imperfections actually make perfection.  I've learned that just because something isn't how you picture it in your mind doesn't mean it's bad or wrong.  I've learned acceptance, realistic expectations, and beauty in differences.  I've learned how to stretch out of my comfort zone, and I've learned to be thick-skinned...especially in Walmart with people's nasty looks, comments, and judgments. ;)  I've learned that Paisley is just Paisley, and that when people who are close to her talk about her, they talk about Paisley, not about autism.  In doing so, I've learned that autism is a characteristic, not an identification.  All in all, I've learned that I have this amazing gift that I am responsible for taking care of and nurturing...and I cannot for the life of me figure out how or why God gave her to me because He knows I can't even keep a freakin' plant alive.  I'm the kid who killed a cactus!!  So, when people look at our life and find out about Paisley's autism and express their sympathy, I just wanna tell them how crazy they are for thinking that because we got the better deal in life!  We have Paisley!!  And she's awesome!  And inspiring!  And she undoubtedly makes me a better person. Daily.  Happy Birthday, Paisley-doodle!!  

           

Zumba-ness

I have a friend named Rachel--a friend since grade 4.
That's being friends for about 20 years, maybe even more.
She recently made me go to a Zumba class
And sure enough, in there, I was the only fat ass.

Her mom was the Zumba teacher
And I really should've just watched from a bleacher
But, my friend from childhood I had to support
So I shook and danced and drank water by the quart.

They had a big long mirror posted to the wall
So you could beautifully capture every embarrassing fall.
My fatty rolls and breasts were flailing about
And all I could think of is "I need to get the hell out!!"

I'm pretty sure Zumba is not for me.
I think it's only for people who have bra cups the size of B.

So...all for my friend, I lost my dignity and pride
while dancing to skanky music and turning to the wrong side.
But, I'd do it all again for my awesome and fun pal
Because that's what friends do--they support their best gal!  

Missing Mimi

So, today is March 3rd.  It's been on my mind a lot lately that around this time last year, I lost my maternal grandmother (we called her "Mimi").  She was the first grandparent of mine that died, and I honestly just didn't know how to deal with it.  Little did I know in the coming months that I'd lose my paternal grandmother, too.  You see, I was fortunate enough to have great grandparents still living well into my late teens/early twenties, so it seemed very odd to me that my Mimi would go to be with the Lord this soon.  Logically, I knew that many of my friends were doing well to have both parents living, and that having all of my grandparents was a VERY uncommon treat.  Mimi had several health problems off and on, but to my knowledge had either conquered or maintained them all.  It was an unbelievable shock that she regressed so quickly to the point of death.

When I think of my one of my last memories of my Mimi, I think about one time that we visited her in the hospital.  She looked worn and tired.  I had dropped Pais off at her ABA school in Dallas and Claire and I headed to the hospital.  We stayed there for a little while, but only got to see her a few minutes.  She was beside herself with Claire.  She asked about my work, how Paisley was doing...wanting specifics of what she had accomplished to date, and how we were doing as a family.  At some point the doctor walked in and gave a disappointing prognosis, but she didn't seem to be too disappointed.  She was WAY too busy showing off Claire and was so proud of how the doctor was doting on her.  She was completely taken with the situation, and her face just beamed with pride.  The next time we went to visit at the hospital was not so lucky.  It was not long after this time that she passed away in her home.  I am so thankful she had those moments with Claire and I am thankful that she got to meet my sweet nephew before she died.  I wasn't there, but I know she just ate that moment up!!

If I had one regret about Mimi passing on, I soooo wished that she could've gotten to see Paisley, too.  You see, she was proud of Pais.  She truly believed in her and cherished her for who she was, and for an elderly person, never once appeared bothered by the odd mannerisms (aka the autism) that Paisley displayed.  She was eager to learn everything she could about autism, and never once treated her any different than a normal kid.  That means more to me than words can express.  I wish I would've just taken Pais out of school and took both girls to see her.  Mimi would've LOVED that.  However, I was so afraid that Paisley would cause a scene or have an "episode" and I didn't want to have to mess with it.  So, because of my own embarrassment, I chose not to....even though Mimi was one of the few people who didn't have a care in the world about how others saw Paisley.  I forfeited her that joy because I was selfish, and for that I am extremely remorseful.

The thing I miss the most about my Mimi is her bragging on me.  That's weird, isn't it???  I still occasionally look for her comments on FB because she was one of my biggest cheerleaders, and never missed an opportunity to lift me up.  No matter what, she was always proud of me.  Everybody on this planet needs someone who is proud of them.  She was proud of my academics, proud of my career, proud of my spiritual walk, and proud of my children.  With both of my grandmothers being gone, I will never feel that sense of someone (other than my parents) offering that much support for the rest of my life.  It leaves a huge empty hole in my being.  I was certain that Mimi always had my back on anything and everything.  She even drove all the way to Little Rock, AR, to stay with me in the hospital for a few days when I had my car accident.  I still have my great granny (my Mimi's mother) who is still living, and I know that she is proud as well, but I don't get to see her often.  When she is gone, I am not sure how I will cope.  Some of you reading this may think I am silly for putting such great stock into this aspect of missing someone, but confidence has never been my strong point.  I guess I used Mimi's pride in me as sort of compensation for the lack of confidence in myself.  At times, I find myself sewing away on clothing, or doing crafts with the kiddos (I got all of her crafty stuff she left behind), or looking through photos just to feel close to her again, or at least to feel like I might be making her proud still in doing these things.

I am thankful for Mimi's legacy-- her creativity, her "bad-ass" attitude, her unfailing and unwavering support of my children and me, her craving for education and knowledge, her constant encouragement to "just be yourself because that's good enough for me", her physical presence at every important event I've ever had, and her ability to paint her fingernails in such a way that it looked professional--every dang time!!  Talent!  I miss her.  Dearly.          

Objects in Mirror

Lately, I've seriously been contemplating what on earth the deal is with mirrors.  I'm certainly not the first to have this particular deep thought topic.  In fact, a few months ago, my co-worker and I were having a heart-to-heart on the evils of the looking-glass.  Meatloaf even has a song about it (that should tell you how old I am....)

You see, here's my issue.  When I look in the mirror, I still see myself for the most part as a hip college kid in my senior year of study.  I don't know what happens, but for some reason, from the time my eyes see myself in the mirror to the time my brain gets the signal that it's actually me in the mirror, the whole picture becomes distorted.  It's like I live in a fantasy world of what I really look like.  The only thing that snaps me out of this little safe world is a photograph of myself.  Seriously.  I wouldn't even know about this whole shady side of mirrors if there wasn't such a thing as cameras.  Thank God for cameras for this reason (among others).  If truth be known, I've thrown away about 6 outfits after seeing myself in a picture with the outfit on.  I get so mad at my mirror for not being candid in these things!!!!

I look in the mirror EVERY day.  Do I spend a lot of time there?  Heck no.  However, when I see a picture of myself, my immediate response is WTH??????  Then I start thinking, "well, maybe it's just a bad angle," or "is that really me?  I don't look like that!"  But, my friend, I really do.  How does the old saying go?  "The camera doesn't lie!"  (I think that's a real saying, isn't it?)  I know there's probably a tiny element of denial on my side of the fence that can account for some of the difference, but the majority is still unexplainable.  

Is there a solution?  I don't know, but I wish I did.  I'm tired of having trust issues with my mirror--it's exasperating.