Finding balance: Worry and Hope

I worry. I worry every single day, about every aspect of my life, and the lives of my family. I worry about normal stuff, and I worry about autism stuff.

I worry about the boys' aggression, towards each other and everyone else. I worry about being a good enough mother. I worry about loving them enough, about showing them that I love them, when they're seemingly uninterested in anything to do with me, or anyone, for that matter. I worry about how much TV they watch, and how many hours of sleep they get.

I worry about our finances. Was it really the right choice to quit my job, the one with a steady paycheck, and stay home to take care of my family? I especially worry since the boys' dad was let go for taking time off to deal with family stuff.

I worry about my sons' futures, I worry what tomorrow will bring. I worry about how the world will accept my children, in all their unique glory, because they're not broken, they're just wired differently.

I've been using both Mac and PC my whole life, I know those operating systems like I know my own heartbeat. The boys are closer to Linux – which I've only heard about. I'm excellent at navigating new technologies, though, so maybe it's unfair to compare my boys to an operating system, because they're much more complicated to me than that.

I worry that no one else is ever going to be bothered to learn with us, though. I remember growing up and hearing the derogatory things my family said about many of its own members, the “R-word” was commonplace, especially in relation to my uncle. If my grandparents said those things about their own son, what chance do my boys have at being loved and accepted?

I grew up with family dinners on Sunday, we gathered – most of my great-grandmother's 13 children and their families – nearly every weekend, and certainly every holiday. My great-grandmother was the glue that held us together, and when she passed away we drifted. I miss those times, though, that closeness that we shared.

And I'm afraid my kids aren't ever going to get to know that. I worry that their cousins, their aunts and uncles, are not going to accept them for who they are, that they'll be pushed to the backs of peoples' minds because they're different.

I worry that my family, of all people, will judge them harshly, as they've already shown they can. I mourn for the childhood that my boys won't have, but I'm hopeful, at the same time. My childhood was tumultuous, it was difficult, but I do still have many happy memories.

My favorite memories, the ones that I believe are actually my memories and not stories I've heard, revolve around time with my cousins and the rest of our family. Playing dolls together, going to the park, watching movies and having sleepovers – those are the happy pieces of my childhood, the pieces I carry with me. I don't feel my boys will ever have that – partially because my family has drifted apart, but also because they're different – not less, just different – and I don't know that my family can accept that in a positive, healthy manner.

I won't subject my children to the things my uncle, who has had an intellectual disability his whole life, was taught was acceptable behavior by people who were supposed to love him unconditionally.

I don't recall ever using derogatory terms when it came to my uncle, or any other special needs person in my life. That's not to say that I didn't, because kids can be cruel. But I feel as if I've been more accepting of different than some members of my family have been, and that's something I can say going as far back as I can remember.

I was always an accepting, loving child. I was full of love for everyone, I was entirely too trusting, too willing to sacrifice myself for those around me. I hope, as much as I worry, that my boys got a little piece of that from me.

I worry, and I hope. I have faith that things will be just fine – I've made it this far, with this many obstacles in my way, I know I can do this, and I know I can help my sons navigate those same choppy waters. And I know this because I know how much I love them, and I know (now) how much my mom has loved me my whole life. If she can do this, with everything she has faced, I can, too.

I have hope, despite how bleak things seem now, with autism taking over nearly every aspect of our lives, because in the end, all that matters is that I love my boys, and that I give it my all. I've been doing that my whole life, for people who didn't necessarily reciprocate or even deserve it – if I can do that for people who have negatively impacted my life, still have love and hope for them, then I can certainly do this for my children.

I have hope that one day they're going to make friends who will love them for who they are, while at the same time I worry that they'll encounter bullies because of their differences.

I have hope that they'll grow up and be able to do whatever it is they want to do – because I did, kind of. Having children was never in the cards, but it was okay because I'd already done many of the things I wanted to do, and I knew I could still do more, even with a baby (or two, as we would find out at my first ultrasound).

I have hope that one day, my boys will find someone who loves them for them, who accepts exactly who they are and doesn't want to change them. I have hope that my boys are the future of a family that has been broken, beaten down by its own demons – they're a fresh start, a whole new generation that can live more freely than I could as a child, even though the evils of the world are still in play.

I have hope that as much of a burden as this autism stuff is, that it's also a blessing, because my boys are the most forgiving, unconditionally loving people I've ever had the honor of meeting. I can yell at them, smack their tushies and put them in timeout, and they're still going to get a giant grin and give me a hug when I come back from my own timeout. My boys are lovers, even with their aggressive behaviors – which are probably more about their inability to communicate and their frustrations with each other than anything else.

I have hope that one day, I'll hear them call me mommy, I'll hear them say “I love you.” I hope that their father and I can do better than our parents, not that they did a horrible job, but more that we can learn from their mistakes and move forward.

So while I do worry, nearly constantly, I also hope. Life is all about balance – and while I have horrible physical balance due to a chiari malformation (herniating cerebellum), I'm hopeful that we can find that balance, given time and patience to do so.

What a difference a year can make

Not only is it the end of the year, it's also the twins' 4th birthday, Christmas and the beginning of a new life for us.

We're currently looking for a new home, and will be moving (by March at the latest). I'm hoping that a fresh start and a better set-up for the twins will help their progress.

But even without that, my boys have been steadily learning over the last four months. We have a handicap parking placard, because they couldn't be trusted before to stay by the car and not run into traffic, especially if I was by myself with them. Now, Gamble puts his hand on the door for the gas when I get Gage out of the car, and I'm a little more comfortable taking my hand off of him to get Gage out of the car.

They're also both starting to follow simple commands, and they're getting better at comprehending what we're saying to them (Go sit in your seat, don't touch the TV, etc)

[Edit: I started this post around the beginning of the month and got sidetracked, so here it is, after Christmas, and I'm coming back to finish it. Happy holidays!]

Gage is starting to follow where I'm pointing, even if I'm not standing directly over it pointing - I've gotten him to follow my finger across the room, with the word for the item (typically his cup, he's very motivated when there's a drink involved) and if there aren't too many distractions, I can get him to go get it and bring it back. Sometimes he gets distracted on the bringing it back part, because he's sucking ferociously trying to drain those last few sips...but if there's no tv, he'll go get it, and then he'll bring it back. That's huge!

The boys did regress a bit at the beginning of the month, it was a stressful time for everyone. It doesn't help that they're out of school for 3 weeks. I need to remember to arrange speech therapy, at least, for those weeks, and the summer. OT if I can get it. I have a huge list of  all the things that I need to schedule and my head is kind of swimming most of the time. Add in the stress of the holidays, and it's been an explosive end to an otherwise decent year.

Another difference going into 2015 is that I finally found the right medications for my particular situations. I don't think medication is a cure for everything that ails you, but for me, it's what works, it's the only thing I've found that works. 

I think I can say with 90% certainty that 2015 has just got to be a better year for us all. I know we'll be starting fresh, looking for a new place to live, a new job for me. I'm definitely looking forward to the start of school, because the boys need those few hours of structured social time, they get antsy at home with just each other for company. Just like all siblings, not because they're autistic. 

I often wonder how much of their behavior is autism and how much is typical 4-year-old little boy. Yes, there's the spinning and incessant jumping, there's high-pitched vocal stims, the aversion to dry, crunchy foods, the lack of interest in most of their peers, but a slight curiosity for adults and older kids (much like me when I was younger - I always wanted to know what the grownups were doing and didn't much care for people my own age, now that I'm a little older that has changed).

But they're also fascinated by musical instruments, electronic devices and the science-fiction filled Johnny Test is their latest favorite show to watch. They're thinkers, dreamers, introverts like their parents. A year ago, I probably wouldn't have been in a place to recognize that for what it was. A year ago, I wasn't doing much beyond surviving, because my brain was on overdrive, with constant streams of chatter running through it. I was exhausted just carrying my head around, let alone chasing after, cleaning up after, teaching, playing with, cuddling, tucking in, bathing two 3 year old boys with an abundance of energy. Not to mention a full-time job that falls into the 8th most stressful job for 2014 - newspaper reporter (with a skeleton crew and a plethora of responsibilities that just kept getting bigger).

Quitting my job took a huge amount of stress and made into a smaller amount of stress. It made a world of difference, noticeably in the twins' behavior. Quitting my job coincided with the start of school for them, as well, so it could be that...but I'd like to believe it's mostly me ;)

At any rate, they're making progress, and however slow and small it may seem, it's all huge for them, and most of it has come since August, so it's amazing what a difference 4 months can make, really.

The Big 4...

Four years ago (last night) I was getting ready to go to bed with the full knowledge that in the morning, my whole world would change. 

I was hugely pregnant with the twins, and I was still 3 weeks from my due date. The OB felt that it was too risky, with the boys in their yin-yang positions (Gamble on his back, facing up), to wait for me to go into labor.

I actually asked if we could wait until Monday - I wasn't really in a hurry to have my first-ever surgery, and welcome these aliens to the real world...I was just getting used to having them in there, well, at least I'd be able to see and touch my feet again, and sleep (little did I know...) and maybe my back wouldn't hurt so badly...oh and the trips to the bathroom! Man I hated that part, and I chugged water like a steam engine. I guess Friday is good.

We went in, waited and waited and waited (why did I need to be there so early?!). Finally, after hours without food or drink, they prepped me for surgery. I don't remember much from my drug-induced haze, but I remember the feel of them tugging the boys out, the boys peeing on the doctors (yes, both of them! oddly, they've never really been big on peeing on people, just things...) and how it felt when they sewed me back together. 

My mom wanted to make sure I was able to at least see the boys, and I got to hold Gage long enough for a photo. I don't really remember much after that, I know I slept - and they woke me up to try to feed the boys (we tried breastfeeding to start - lasted about 2 weeks). 

Now, 4 years later, it's impossible to imagine a life without them, because they're constantly here ;) 

They aren't in the same place, educationally, socially or emotionally, as other kids their age, but that's ok. They're making progress, they're mostly happy and they're healthy!

Happy birthday to my boys - who may frustrate me, make me want to scream and rip my hair out, but who also show me the most unconditional love I've ever seen. They're forgiving (or they forget, whatever) and love to cuddle. They're problem solvers - if they can't reach something, they'll put something there to stand on so that they can, if they really want it, that is. I don't know what our future holds, but I sure hope it keeps getting better with time.

The holidays are upon us...and I don't really care

Another holiday season is upon us. It's the busiest, craziest time of the year and I don't particularly enjoy it. Thanksgiving is next week, followed closely by Pricklypants and my 5th anniversary, the twins' 4th birthday, Christmas and New Year's - those are all busy, happy celebrations...those are all celebrations the twins couldn't care less about.

They do enjoy food, but not many of their foods will be found at the Thanksgiving feasts we'll be attending - they'll eat some ham, some turkey, mashed potatoes and stuffing...if there's macaroni n cheese, they might eat some of that. Meanwhile, I'll be stuffing my face with all the foods - because I love food, as does most of my family.

They've never been interested in seeing ALL the people; they don't tear open their presents; they don't even like icing on their cake. I can't put a Christmas tree up for safety reasons, any decorations have to stay out of the terrors' reach.

It's hard to get excited about Christmas, for me, because I don't get to get excited with my kids. I don't need to worry about how to break it to them that Santa's not real, because they haven't got a clue who the fat guy in the red suit is. Just like they didn't have a clue when they were 2, or last year, when they turned 3.

I don't intend to tell my kids about Santa, the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy - I don't see the magic, it's not practical to fill their heads with beliefs that won't pan out because eventually, we're going to have to go through the battle of changing those beliefs, the heartache, the meltdowns...so no, I'm not going to tell them that a magical man invades our home each year to leave behind presents. I'm not going to tell them that a magical bunny delivers eggs and candy and goodies to little ones each year.

This sounds like I'm a Scrooge, like I hate the holidays, which isn't true. I just don't have the same reasons to get excited as most people. I still love the music, the cheer, the decorations - I love all of that, and I'll keep a board on Pinterest just to see all the pretty ideas, even if I'll never actually do any of them myself. I'll start a Christmas Pandora station to get my cheesy music fix. I'll eat the baked yummies and make more peanut brittle and send virtual Christmas cheer to my friends all around the world who do get excited about the holidays.

Of course, I'll try to share the joy and all the rest of the stuff that comes with the Christmas season with my boys, but frankly, I just don't think they'll care any more this year than they did last year, despite the steps forward that they've taken (which I'll be talking about in an upcoming post - probably following parent-teacher conferences on Tuesday).

My boys are "that kid"

Wednesday, as I was dropping the twins off at school, I overheard a little boy say "I know which kid is screaming." His dad asked how he knew, and the boy replied "He's always the one who is screaming..." and I knew he was talking about my Gamble. My sweet, kind, goofy Gamble.

My kid is "that kid" - and as I stood there, trying to listen and not make it obvious that they were talking about my kid, I wanted to speak up, to explain that Gamble has autism, and transitions are hard for him to process. But I didn't, because like every other parent (except for me, apparently), he was in a hurry and I didn't want to slow him down explaining about "that kid."

Gage is to the point where he takes himself into his classroom and goes straight to the mini-trampoline. No crying, no screaming, no fuss. Gamble's not there, he makes his entrance heard, as he stomps over to the teacher's computer to watch the screensaver and calm down, screaming all the way.

Unlike most parents, I do not stop my boys to give them a hug and kiss and tell them to have a good day - I've noticed that makes the transition much harder than letting them take themselves into the classroom with no interruption.

It's easier to do with Gage, because his classroom is first, but I have to stop Gamble to make sure Gage gets into his room, and then take Gamble's coat off - and then Gamble sees the doors to the playground, wants to go there, and gets upset when I re-direct him to his classroom. I think this has a lot to do with Gage having a better transition into the classroom. I don't know how to make Gamble's transition smoother, though his teacher and aide are good at getting him calmed down once he's in the room, besides, him running in screaming lets them know he's there. I often don't even enter their classroom, just put their belongings in their cubby and go about my business - this is what the teachers have asked me to do. It's easier to transition Gamble and Gage into the classroom if we don't also have to transition them into letting me leave...








The transition at pick-up time is a little easier, but the boys get so distracted when I have to get them from the playground or their classroom - they're not done playing! It used to be a problem to take Gage into Gamble's classroom to get Gamble, but now Gage just goes off and plays with the pretend sink, trying to turn on water that isn't coming. Gamble wants to check out all of the art along the way out, and Gage must stop at the fish tank to look. The hallways of the school are so busy, between the other kids and parents, the artwork...and then sometimes we have to stop and let others pass because the hallways are so narrow.

Pick-up today was nice - both teachers told me the boys did well today, and that they're beginning to sit at circle time on their own, as well as having better transitions between activities. Gage's teacher put a mini-trampoline in the classroom to help give Gage breaks when he needs them, but said the rest of the class, of course, is excited to have it there, as well. Parent-teacher conferences are coming up next week, and I've been prepping some questions, but there's already a good amount of communication (verbal and written) so I'm hoping the 30 minutes we've got will be enough time to go over some of the things I have concerns with - like why occupational therapy isn't in their IEP and what we can do about that.

....Back to "that kid."

I've been thinking about this more and more, as we've been told that Gage is having too many incidents at school, sending kids home with scratches...and then I saw a post from another mom-page on Facebook, about how her kid came home with claw marks, crying, and how that mom was furious, sending pictures and a letter to the school - and I thought "Am I always going to be the parent on the other end of that? Are my kids going to be perceived as bullies, even though they're not being malicious?"

Parents: I get that your babies are precious gems, I get that you want to protect them - but you don't always know the whole story, and the educational system can't tell you the whole story.

They can't tell you that Gage is trying to communicate with the other children, trying to do "dots and squeezies" to help calm them so they can stop hurting his ears with their crying. They can't tell you that Gamble screams to help calm himself after transitioning from home to the car to the school and finally to his classroom. Both of the boys scream as they run into our house - Gamble opening the screen door and Gage opening the front door - teamwork, even if it's not intentional.

I'm pretty sure the school can't tell you anything to make it okay, because it's not...but the school also can't tell you that we have behavioral therapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy to try to make these things better. We're working on it, one day at a time. My thought, though, is yes, I am very sorry that my son hurt your kid - you have no idea how much I wish that we could figure it all out. He's not hurting your child because he's mean or a bully, he's hurting your child because he doesn't understand him, the situation, the action or how to communicate what he's feeling...and we're trying, every day, to help him understand all of these things.

Communication is critical

The silence here is deafening,
all the things we've never said.
I close my eyes and try to breathe,
but it's pounding in my head.

Communication in a relationship is critical. My relationship with Pricklypants (the twins' father) doesn't always have a great connection in the communication department.

Communication with the twins, that's even more difficult. Living in a house full of people who have trouble communicating their needs, their frustrations, their wants...it's a challenge, and some days, I just don't feel up to it. Some days, if we're being completely honest here (and isn't that the point?), I do the bare minimum, and I feel guilty about it every. single. time.

But when that's all the energy I have, well, that's all the energy I have. Trying to get that across to Pricklypants is like ramming my head into a brick wall - which is usually what I end up feeling like doing. But the thing is, he feels the same way about talking to me. It must be both of us then, right? We're both dysfunctional in the communication department?

Kind of crazy, since I have a bachelor's degree in writing, minor in communications. I wrote as a newspaper reporter for two and a half years. It must just be that I can't talk to him, maybe because he never hears me. Maybe because what I hear from him, isn't what he's really trying to say.

And the thing is, parenting takes communication. It takes two parties being able to come together to make a better life for the two little beings they created. Pricklypants and I are so far apart on what to do when it comes to the twins, and it gets frustrating. He just doesn't get that these little boys are different than he was, they're different than I was, and there's a better way to do it than our parents did it - no one is calling them failures, Pricklypants and I both vaguely resemble functional, independent adults (myself more than him, obviously) - but we know something's up, and there are ways that have been proven to work for other families that I'd like to try for ours, for the sake of our kids. Every step forward isn't just a fight with the twins, it's a fight with their dad.

It's exhausting. Growing up, reading teen romance novels, I got this idea of what love and marriage would be. This is not it, but let's be realistic, that kind of romance is fiction, it might be based on something tangible, Pricklypants and I are not married, we've procreated, we've been together for nearly 5 years, lived together for 4 and a half years...But let's not forget that Pricklypants and I only dated 3 months before I got pregnant. He hadn't even graduated high school. We didn't build a relationship, we dove headfirst into it without taking a breath; we're not ready to make another lifetime commitment - we've already got the kids.

We don't have a perfect relationship, and most days we probably wouldn't say that we have a good relationship, but it works for now. We're live-in-the-moment kind of people, anyway. But if we expect that this is going to continue to work, we're going to have to work a little harder - communication, passion, parenting. It's been a circulating conversation for years now, we need to find some common interests, some time without the kids. That's the hard part, really.

I'm hoping we'll be able to start doing that. Pricklypants is possibly moving to full-time, so he'll be off two nights a week, and I'm hoping to utilize some respite on those two evenings so that we can do something as a couple. We need to work on us, if we're going to work as a team in this parenting thing...Now to get Pricklypants on board.

The good days

The good days seem fewer and farther between than I imagine they should be; but they are there. They're the rays of sunshine on your face after a particularly bad downpour. They're definitely much needed, a reminder that all the work, all the stress and the tears and the fear that we experience as autism parents, it's worth it. Every single second of it, though sometimes it feels like torture for us and for our children.

No one around here has been feeling the greatest. I ended up at the emergency room over the weekend because I was dehydrated and it had turned into splitting pain in my head. They gave me some anti-nausea meds and 2 litres of fluids and sent me on my way. The twins and Pricklypants didn't have it that bad, but they were all still not feeling the greatest. I kept Gage home from school to give him an extra day to get back to his usual overactive self, apparently that's how the school likes him.

So when today was one of those good days, it was a pleasant surprise. A much-needed bit of warmth to ward off the doldrums of a couple of chilly, sickly fall days.

First off, the twins slept all night, until 7 a.m. I didn't sleep well, but I wasn't upset about it, even though I knew a nap was unlikely, with keeping Gage home, because it meant that they slept well, and were hopefully feeling better.

We got up, the boys ate breakfast, then I threw together Gamble's lunch, got him ready and off to school.

Came home and had some cuddles with Gage, worked on ABC's and played a couple of games on the iPad. I left him to watch a cartoon while I did some things (mostly Facebook, let's be real - there was some laundry, but not much else). Then it was lunch time, so we shared some ravioli and a PB&J. Got cleaned up, more cuddles - it was a dreary, gray rainy day here, what better than cuddles and cartoons for a sick day? (It was supposed to be the twins' make-up field trip day...I'm not looking forward to when we actually get to take that field trip.)

And then, of all things unexpected, Gage got on the couch with me, and took a nap. I may have caught a catnap before I got up and went to get his brother from school.

Get to the school and Gamble's Mr. Bigman with his glasses on for 45 minutes, no fuss!

So he wears his glasses out to the car, to the grocery, through the grocery while he pushes the little cart (with lots of assistance, but it was his first try!) - he did so awesome, I was one proud mama!

He finally took his glasses off on the ride from the store to home, but when we pulled into our driveway I put them back on, massaged his hands and got him out of the car...he lasted another 15 minutes at home, but took them off while I was cooking dinner, and has refused to let me put them back on (maybe because when I tried after dinner, Gage walked up to him, gave him a head tilt like 'wtf?' and walked away...). But he still did great today!

It's been low-key, but those small successes, and the one-on-one time with Gage all day and Gamble at the grocery, made this a great day. In autism life, it's the little things.

#WorldMentalHealthDay

Today is #WorldMentalHealthDay, so let's talk about it. The things no one likes to talk about...the things we tend to hide, because we don't think other people understand. And some of them may not, but one in four people are affected by mental illness, and the rate is much higher in my house, and in my family, in general.

(Source: https://healthnhappyness.wordpress.com/tag/mentalhealth/

)

I had social anxiety from a young age, probably stemming from a traumatic childhood. I was awkward, I didn't fit in, but I didn't stand out. It seemed that in school, my lack of social skills was always linked with my intelligence, but never in the way I needed. I was accused of acting as if I felt I were better than my classmates, by an administrator who should have known better; the reality was, I didn't understand why, if I knew the answer and someone else didn't, I shouldn't give the answer. And so, it was my fault. My attitude was the problem. In my mind, my attitude was fine.

Things got better when they got stable, I noticed, but that didn't stop me from experiencing depression in my teens, and still to this day.

But when, for the first time in my life, my mom settled down with the man to whom she is still married, and I got to stay at a school from middle school until graduation, my 'attitude' changed, well, at school, anyway.

I was often told I was "too smart for my own good" and I never felt like I fit in anywhere...which explains the many "phases" I went through (goth, prep, nerd - well, let's be honest, I was always a nerd!).

I certainly didn't "find myself" in high school. I got along with everyone because I was no longer the "new girl" - I became one of them, kind of. I know people still thought I was odd, but I found a group of equally odd characters, between academic team, drama club and all the other extracurricular activities I threw myself into. But then there was a bump, a really big bump, in my road and I derailed. Junior year was a rough one for me. I bounced back senior year, and really found myself in college, though.

That's not to say I've not battled my demons, as has everyone...more just to say, hey, I've had them, too. I still have them, only now, I can put them in those little monkey harnesses and take them for a walk (only kidding, we don't have monkey harnesses...oh, and my kids aren't demons, most days).

Being a mom is hard. I feel like I'm screwing it up, every day. I mean, they're still alive, so I must be doing something right (always look on the up side!)

But sometimes depression takes over my life; all I have the energy to do is sit on the couch with them and watch movies; go through the motions. They get home cooked meals, not every night, but who is counting? They have clean clothes, they get bathed, they're loved. Even in my worst moments, they're loved.

So yes, I suffer from depression, and I'm using that expression because it is suffering. It's not a fun world, when you feel constantly at fault for no reason perceivable to others, when you're just sad-to-the-bone for the most minute of reasons (ugh, I have to go to the grocery? put real pants on?! and then I have to cook dinner?)...

Depression makes me tired; I don't want to use it as an excuse, but there it is. I'm tired. But it's not just depression, it's my lifestyle - I'm a caregiver to twins on the spectrum, I live with an adult who is probably on the spectrum, I'm an adult who is probably on the spectrum...It's my weight, it's my medical conditions (fibromyalgia, chiari malformation)...I have a diagnosis of anxiety and depression, as well.

And you know what? It's okay. That's all I wanted to say...is that it's okay to not be okay, but it's also okay to ask for help, to talk to someone, to let it out.

Eff it...I guess I'll choose happy

One of my friends, Punk Rock Papa, posted today about choosing happy.

Mortality is a bitch, but it's my anti-depressant and it works wonders. Death will take you regardless of whether you are cheery or down...I would rather be remembered for my happiness than for losing the battle with my demons. Is it easy to stay cheery in the face of mounting tribulations? No, but if you don't attack everything with happiness and tenacity to overcome it you really are not doing anything but waiting to die. I like to say today might suck but there's always tomorrow and it's just a day away, but it might not be. - Punk Rock Papa

And maybe I'm self-centered, but I felt like it was written for me. Yeah, I'm the queen of the fucking universe, get over it.

Ok...I can admit that it wasn't 100% for me, I'm not that deluded. But at any rate, it's a good reminder.

So, today, I'm blaring music, cleaning my house, and trying to be happy, because Punk Rock Papa said so.

Yes, my children have autism, and it affects every minute of every day of our lives. They can't talk to me, they can't tell me what they want, or what's bothering them. They can't let me know how their day at school went, or whether they enjoyed the penguin-shaped sandwiches in their lunch box. They're very dependent, at a time when most kids are learning independence and taking it to their own level. That makes parenting much more difficult. But we're making progress, and isn't that something to celebrate?

My boys make me smile every single day. They also make me pull my hair out, cry and scream, but they still manage, through all of that, to make me smile.

We have a roof over our heads, food to eat, our bills are paid - yeah, we're short on money, we can't afford much, and I can't go get my $5 coffees anymore, but since I quit my job, stress levels are down, my kids are happier and making more progress, and I don't feel like I have to make every single person happy with my decisions, just myself and my family.

Punk Rock Papa is right - one day, we're all going to die, and it's not going to matter whether we were elated or miserable with our lives, so why not choose happy? Why not go out knowing you did all you did to make life better for yourself, and for those around you, with just the simple choice to be happier.

I've suffered from anxiety and depression nearly my whole life. I had a rough childhood, but I'm not that scared little girl any more. I've intermittently chosen happy over the years, but recently, I haven't been making that choice, I've been letting everyone else determine my mood - that's a blog post for another time, though.

Today, and tomorrow, and for as long as I can manage it, I'm going to choose happy. I can't promise to be rainbows and butterflies every day for the rest of forever, but I can promise to make an effort. We do all have our demons, some more than others, but we can't let them bury us, even if we're all going to die some day, anyway.

So, thanks, Punk Rock Papa, for being straight with the world about getting the fuck over it.

A matter of perspective: Age appropriate

We took the twins to a cousin's house for the first time, and in my opinion they did fantastic. Their father didn't think so, he was thoroughly frustrated with their behavior, but also, I think he was embarrassed.

He felt the twins were in unusual form, touching and getting into everything more than they do anywhere else. "They're never that bad anywhere else," he said.

I asked him to keep in mind they were in a brand new place, and he doesn't usually get to witness that first-time wonder that they have, at least he hasn't in quite a while, because we've started avoiding new places.

They just wanted to learn more about their environment, and there was a lot of stimuli they weren't used to being around. Just because they don't get acquainted with their surroundings in the same way as us, doesn't mean they were bad.

There was a dog, a very large, friendly dog - we don't go anywhere with large dogs, we barely go anywhere with small dogs. There were two cats. There were several adults trying to hold a conversation, the television was on, and there was also a boy, a very talkative, in-your-face kind of boy.

I think that boy made a lot of difference in the twins' dad's perspective on how they did, because it puts into perspective just how different our boys are from others their age.

Their cousin is about 7 months older than them, and they're all about the same size. However, seeing them side-by-side, it was obvious that my boys weren't nearly as developmentally age appropriate as their typically-developing cousin. He was interested in them, and tried to help keep them "out of trouble" by doing the same things I was doing - putting a hand on their chest and gently moving them away from the TV. He tried to engage them, only to be fully ignored by both of my boys.

They did their normal stuff, jumping and climbing and watching the television. Rio was put in just for them, as a way to help keep them a little calmer. They didn't want to sit still, but honestly, when do they ever do that?! We took their cups, because a drink usually helps calm them, too. I didn't feel like the iPad was a good choice, with the 4-year-old being reportedly aggressive, so we left that at home. (Compared to some of the things I read about what other ASD parents have to do just to leave the house, my boys are pretty darn easy!)

They, of course, wanted to touch the TV, and there was no taking their minds off of that, because it was a large TV and it was accessible to them. Our house and my mom's house (the two places they spend the most time outside of school) are set up to accommodate their obsessive need to touch/lick/knock over the television (seen those memes of clunker TVs? We have a decoy in our entertainment center for them).

Developmentally the twins are still at about 18-24 months, despite the fact that they'll be 4 in December. They still want to put everything they encounter in their mouths; they still want to touch and lick everything, and have no concept of consequences or boundaries.

Gage was fixated on his cousin's bicycle for a good portion of the evening - spinning the wheels and pedals, trying to lick and bite the handle bars - I can't say that I blame him, it was something pretty new to him, a bicycle. It was shiny and Cars-themed, just his style. And so he kept going back, over and over. No matter how many times I would ask him to stop, remove him, try to distract him and get his attention onto something else.

We were there for an hour - twice as long as I anticipated we would last! I was pretty much up and down the whole time, chasing the twins out of things they couldn't have and reminding them "The couch is not a trampoline." It's exhausting, keeping up with the boys outside of their normal environment, but getting people to our house to socialize is nigh on impossible.

Gamble did very well at returning to the carpet when asked, though; he did pretty well in general, actually. Neither of the boys were interested in the big, fluffy beautiful golden retriever, Memphis. Gamble didn't like the dog's breath in his face, or the tickle of his whiskers, so when I tried to put his hand on him, he shuddered, looked at me like I was nuts, and walked away...apparently we won't be getting a service dog any time soon.

But we made it an hour! That's pretty awesome for my boys, being in a new place for an entire hour without breaking anything or having a meltdown. But you could tell they were tired from the experience, and Gage was starting to get to the point where if I'd had to tell him no and sit him away from that bicycle one more time it was probably going to be a full-blown fighting, screaming meltdown - so I decided it was time to go.

Early warnings: Autism

It's hard to put a finger on just what it was about my twins that alerted me to the fact that something wasn't quite right by the time they were 6 months old. My mom-gut was telling me something was different about them, and I wasn't the only one who noticed it - one of my sisters kept them overnight, just once, and said something to my mom when they were about 7 or 8 months old.

They could watch a full-length movie and not notice another thing in the world by the time they were 6 months old. If we turned the television off, screaming ensued that was uncontrollable, and quite frankly, I didn't have much patience for it, so I would turn the damned thing back on.

And the bouncing never stopped. They were late crawlers, slightly late walkers, but those boys could bounce their own seats from the time they were about 4 months old. Constantly bouncing. They loved to be on the move - car rides, stroller walks, battery-operated swings - if they were moving, they were happy (or asleep, same thing in my mind).

They didn't seek much affection. They didn't mind it, but it was never the problem when they were crying - they were hungry, wet, tired. They were fine with being alone. They do seek affection now, though.

They didn't start making eye contact, it just never came, at least not for more than a few fleeting seconds, and you could tell they were getting nervous about it while it was happening.

As they got older, they didn't stop chewing on inappropriate things, mostly toys, their clothes, shoes - I couldn't leave flip-flops in the living room with them, it seriously looked like we had a puppy, and we didn't. They still put everything in their mouths, even with chew tubes attached to their clothing.

They had sensory issues when it came to food as soon as they switched from baby foods - nothing crunchy, not animal crackers, cookies, french fries - if it required too much chewing, they weren't into it. If it required them to bite it, they weren't going to do it.

They loved fruits, they loved carrots and spaghetti and meat loaf. They still love those things, but we are adding more things along the way, thankfully. They ate french fries for the first time a few months ago; not that they'd never been offered, they were just always immediately discarded.

I'm certainly not complaining because my kids don't like potato chips or candy or much in the way of junk food, that part is fantastic and I will take it! But I feel like we're stuck in a rut, eating the same things over and over. I'm constantly experimenting, trying to find foods with similar textures that I can feed them...and I'd like to think I do a pretty good job of it, they're certainly close to where they should be for their age in height and weight, though they've always been big boys (7 pounds each when they were born, 3 weeks early).

They've never been very interested in other people, including each other. I kept my cousin's little girl, who is less than a year older than the twins, for New Year's Eve the year they turned 2 - she was able to get them to do a little bit of turn-taking, use their cars appropriately to go down the the ramp, and they generally had a decent time with her, but they weren't all that interested in her. Same with the children in Early Head Start, when we got them enrolled there for some socialization. They still don't want to play with their cousin, and while she is younger than them, she certainly notices their differences - and she's completely, unabashedly honest about them because, well, she's 3. That's a little rough for me.

They started crawling a little late (a month or two after most kids, not much of a delay there.)
They started walking at 14 and 16 months. No big deal. But they didn't seem to notice the things around them, they'd walk right into them. Even though he's been mobile for a while, Gamble still walks on his tip-toes (common in ASD kids) and Gage can spin for quite some time without getting dizzy. They both still love to spin, flap, bounce and jump. They're balls of energy, constantly on the move.

These things all kind of sound like normal child development, a big reason we didn't get a referral for a diagnosis until they were 2, it's just so hard to tell.

After they turned 2, they started getting aggressive towards each other and towards other people. Gage was a biter. It was usually noise that would set them off, but sometimes it seemed to be nothing at all. They're still aggressive with their triggers, such as transitioning into the classroom/home, taking their focus off of the television and onto getting their diapers changed, going from the kitchen after dinner. It feels like everything is a fight. But they're also lovers - they'll crawl right into a stranger's lap, or grab hold of a stranger's hand, without a moment's hesitation. I was the same way as a child, I never met a stranger, just new "friends" (I actually got into a "friend's" van when I was younger, luckily they actually did know my family and they returned me...).

They didn't answer to their names, though some thought maybe that was just because they were twins...but they just never paid attention to anyone when they were talking, at least they didn't show signs that they were. They're getting better at this, but it's still a work in progress.

So we got their hearing checked, because, well, they'll make you do that for developmental evaluations, anyway. Their hearing is perfect. They don't listen.

And still, some of this sounds just like every other kid in the world. But it's pervasive, it affects every minute of our lives. The boys will be 4 in a few months and for the most part, they've got no words. They don't follow simple instructions. They can't walk into a room without a small meltdown, the transition is tough for them and always has been - even if they're not coming/going, someone else doing so is distressing. Though, they are able to regulate themselves fairly quickly (not usually more than a 5-minute meltdown).

I'm lucky that I've gotten smiles since they were a couple of months old, I'm lucky that we have a house that's not just filled with meltdowns and vocal stims (humming, beat boxing-type sounds, monkey sounds, etc), but with laughter and tickles. I'm so very lucky that my boys are affectionate (when they want to be) and that while the going may be slow, they are capable of learning, they are capable of loving and they are capable of being kids.

We still watch TV a good majority of the time that we're home, but sometimes I can engage them in other activities - usually something to do with the iPad. We've tried sensory activities, we've tried games and drawing and imaginative play - they want nothing to do with it. It's very discouraging, especially for someone who loves learning, to not be able to engage your children. It's upsetting to not be able to get them to sit down with you with a physical book in your hands, though the iPad has really been a great thing for us.

I'll keep the hope that some day, I might get to hear my boys say a full sentence, but until then, all I need are hugs and tickles, and the sound of their giggles. Occasionally Gage will grab my face and look into my eyes, and those few seconds are precious to me, they give me hope.

ASD in the Darke - the birth of a support group

Even before my twins were officially diagnosed as being on the spectrum, I knew I wanted to start a support group in my county, simply because there wasn't anything here - no support, no services, barely any knowledge that this group of disorders existed.

The boys were doing Help Me Grow, at home early intervention services, from the time they were about 18 months old, but I'd known since they were six months old that something was off, and I deeply suspected autism. It was still a blow to learn that was indeed what was going on with my precious, beautiful boys.

Their diagnosis solidified my need to begin a support group. Living in a rural area, there aren't many services, though there have been a few attempts at support groups that have petered out over the years.

I mentioned this to a friend whose son had recently been diagnosed, as well. She talked to another friend, who is working on diagnosis for her son. They had already been talking about this, as well.

And so we began, researching how to start, what to do, finding a space. It took us a little while to get started, it was bad timing, trying to start right before the string of holidays at the end of the year, so we decided to start fresh in January.

We met a few times, just the three of us, to go over things. We held our first meeting in March, with no one else in attendance. We'd forgotten to advertise the meeting! I worked at a newspaper, for crying out loud. So I wrote something for our BCMH (Bureau of Children's Medical Handicaps) April newsletter about mothering twins on the spectrum, as well as a press release for the local news outlets for Autism Awareness Month. We got two new moms in April, so it was something, at least.

It feels like such slow work, but now that I'm not working full-time it's easier to do the publicity. We had a record number in attendance at August's meeting (9) and I'm looking forward to September's meeting, because we're having our first speakers, and I'm excited to learn how to use essential oils to help my kids.

Tonight, while the twins and I were out walking, I got a phone call. The neighbor took over walking the twins so that I could take it. It was a dad, wanting to know more about the group, because he has a "special, awesome daughter", and he already uses essential oils, but he's been looking for a support group in our area for some time. It's parents like this that I want to reach out to, because I know what it's like to feel like you're utterly alone in this.

I explained our desire to take ASD in the Darke from a community autism support group to a non-profit organization, bringing in services to our area so that families don't have to drive hours to get the therapies and services they need, the care they deserve. That's not something that's going to happen immediately, obviously, but it's a long-term goal that we have agreed is needed in our area.

We also don't limit the group to just parents of ASD'ers, everyone is welcome, whether they're directly connected to the community or not, because how can we hope to spread awareness and gain acceptance if we, ourselves, cannot let everyone in?

So all this is to say that I'm so excited about the future of this effort, I'm thrilled to be making a difference already, in such a short time, and I can't wait to see where this goes, and how it helps my family, and other families in our area.

If you're from Darke County, or surrounding areas, we'd love to have you! We meet the fourth Wednesday of each month at the Greenville Public Library, 520 Sycamore St., Greenville, Ohio, from 6 to 8 p.m. in the third floor community room. If you need more information, visit facebook.com/asdindarke, email asdinthedarke@gmail.com or check out asdinthedarke.blogspot.com (We haven't actually started updating that blog yet, but we'll get there, I promise!).

Sunday Confessions: First loves

I'm a lover, by nature. I love most everyone, instantly, without questions. But today, it's time for a confession: I never even met my first love face to face.

My stepdad might tell you my first true love was a boy who rode my school bus, who was my best friend and who I did love, deeply. However, he loved boys, and obviously I'm not one of those. And I know now that the way I loved Frenchfry was not physical attraction, or romantic love. I love Frenchfry like an extension of myself. He is still my best friend, and even though he's moved on to bigger and better things like the city life and a gorgeous life partner, and we don't talk nearly often enough, I still love that boy.

But that's not what this is about. This is about my first "true love", the first boy I ever got flutter-in-my-tummy crazy about. The first boy for whom I would have done anything. Sean, and I can't even remember his last name right now (I'll dwell on this for days now), I do know his birthday is July 15, though.

My first true love, the person I felt most connected to in the world, even to this day, though we haven't talked in years. I've never found someone I could talk to as easily as him, who I was so open and honest with (until recently). But the thing that my first true love and I were, before anything else, was friends.

I was an awkward teenager; I had social anxiety, I was "too smart for my own good," and even though I had a lot of friends in school, I didn't socialize much outside of school. The Internet was my venue of choice for social interactions, because I've always communicated better via writing. Well, anyway, I started talking to a boy from California in a Yahoo! chat. He was funny, quirky, a little perverted, and so easy to talk to.

I've always been on the heavy side, I was definitely insecure as a teenager, and through most of my 20's, though now I realize I'm fabulous, "every inch of [me] is perfect, from the bottom to the top," as the song goes.

But, when I was 15, that was not the case, and Sean made me feel beautiful, without ever seeing me. We did eventually exchange photos, and I talked my mom into buying a webcam so that we could video chat (which, incidentally, would later get me grounded, ahem). Neither of us were strikingly good-looking, but that wasn't at all what mattered.

We had a two-year relationship via the Internet. It was intense, and when it ended, I was crushed. I had made all these plans, I was a year away from going to college in California, and it turns out, Sean was just a boy, and he had boy needs that I couldn't meet from however many thousands of miles away. I was naive, but I was a girl in love. That was my junior year, and it was a dark, dark year for me. I failed three classes (without ever losing my spot in the top 10 of my class), tried to commit suicide, forced my mother to pay for an apartment that she wasn't living in because I couldn't stand to be around, basically, anyone. I was definitely an emo-teen. I was locked in my own shell, as I so often was as a child.

I'm happy to say that I've since moved on from Internet relationships (obviously, my hard drive didn't knock me up). I can't say that what the boys' dad and I have is "true love," not in the fairytale sense. But I do love the asshole, most days, when I'm not thinking about smothering him with his pillow.

Does autism define our lives?

There have been several posts going around about whether or not autism defines those who are on the spectrum. I can say with certainty that it helps define each and every one of them, it helps define their caregivers and those who love them, as well. It's a part of who each and every one of us has to become to love that person, to be that person. It's intrinsically associated with the ASD'ers behaviors, their mannerisms, their outlook on life.

Does autism fully define who a person is? No. There are so many other pieces that go to that puzzle. But right now, right here, autism definitely sets the parameters for most of what goes on in our lives with the twins. It completely impacts every aspect of our day, between the sensory issues, the social issues, the learning issues. It affects our schedule, our budget, our moods, every single aspect of our lives is affected by autism.

And that's not a bad thing. It certainly isn't the end of the world. My twins aren't typical 3-year-old boys, but they're so very happy so much of the time. Yes, we have meltdowns and a lack of communication, but doesn't every 3-year-old? So what if they aren't interested in going to the park, or playing with toys - they're active, those boys don't stop moving.

Yes, I absolutely would change pieces of the puzzles that are my boys. I would give them a voice, in a heartbeat. I would give them the ability to communicate their needs, their wants, their hopes and desires and dislikes, faster than I could take a breath.

But they are who they are. It is what it is, and if I can't keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, then my whole world stops with me, and that just can't happen. I can still focus on what my boys need my help with changing, we can work on these things, but we're going to work on them at the boys' pace, not some guideline that was made for typically developing children. Keeping that in perspective is of utmost importance for me.

I was once told that I have a great personality for autism parenting, because I can go with the flow. It isn't easy for me, though. It's a coping mechanism that I've learned, it's a skill that's been acquired. If I can do that, so can my boys.

At our play date the other day, talking to another autism family, the grandma said "Wow, you have a lot on your plate," and really, it's not any more than any other special needs family. If all those other families can do it, then I can, too, I'm sure of it - at least that's what I keep telling myself.

To be honest, I never wanted kids. They just don't make sense to me. I don't get them, I'm not a patient person, I've never really been good at teaching others. But shit happens and you move on. I made my choices, and I don't regret any of them. What good is regret, anyway?

Now I'm doing my best to raise them right, give them a happy home and a bright future and all of that sappy stuff. I, like most every other parent, just want what's best for those little monsters I played a part in creating. I want them to be happy, healthy and thriving.

We've got some work to do on thriving, but we're happy and healthy, and that's something.

Play date success

The twins had their first official play date this afternoon with a little boy who is also on the spectrum, D. I wasn't sure what to expect, as I'd never been to this house before. I was anxious, and when I get anxious, I sweat a little crazily. So I get to their house half an hour late, and I'm already a sweaty mess. Great.

D's parents and grandma were amazing. They were incredibly helpful, and never once hesitated to lend a hand. In fact, D's dad told me several times, "I've got this, go sit down..." It was refreshing! I hate when people ask if I need help...No, please, stand there and watch me as I struggle to decide which twin is in more imminent danger, thank you. Yes, grab that damn kid before he gets hurt!

I'm not ashamed to accept help, at all, but if you have to ask, when I'm obviously struggling, no, I don't really want your help. I loved that these parents just DID it. They helped me chase after my little twin whirlwinds, helped me keep them out of the kitty litter and the bedrooms they weren't welcome to enter.

D's dad had a blast tickling Gamble, he loved hearing that giggle, because it's infectious. D's parents enjoyed all the smiles and giggles and jumping. They got it, how important the boys' laughter and smiles are, because not all parents of ASD kids GET that type of interaction with their children. D's mom and I talked about how grateful we are that our kids are affectionate, not the type of ASD kids who don't want physical interaction. Gamble climbed up to sit with D's mom several times, and wanted D's grandma to pick him up, too. Gage isn't as affectionate with other people, but he came to mama for lovin' when he noticed his brother was getting attention from someone else.

I think it surprised D's parents that the twins express jealousy, but they most definitely do when it suits them. Don't get me wrong, there are times when they're completely indifferent to whether I'm giving one or the other attention, but they also get aggressive towards each other at times, when I'm only giving one attention. 

They commented on how well-behaved the boys were, how curious and vocal (vocal stims, not actual words). They asked questions because they were genuinely interested in learning about our experiences. We shared war stories. The kids had a great time, I assume, since there was minimal screaming and only one almost-incident.

I was so proud of my boys, not that I'm not always proud, but they were au-some today! They sat at the table to eat, even if they did make a mess. They listened when I asked them to do something, at least much better than they normally do. They made me feel like I'm not doing everything completely inadequately, and that's not something that I feel all the time. But my boys showed great progress today, and I realized that I was anxious for no reason at all.

R is an autism grandma, and she's beautifully involved with her D, so she GETS it. She joined our support group to get more involved in D's world. She's offered her back yard as a place to let the boys get out and stretch their legs and enjoy the mini-trampoline she has for D, but you know, when D's not there, because he gets a little possessive, his dad said.

Autism families have so many more things to consider when they're planning social interactions. It's a delicate dance, trying to figure out everyone's triggers, food preferences, communication style...balancing the emotions and the attitudes of the kids can be overwhelming. Keeping physical and emotional altercations to a minimum is hard work, especially with a group of kids who have a hard time communicating their frustrations.

At one point, Gamble toppled D's tower of blocks, so D shoved him. D's parents were busy chasing after Gage, so I sat down with Gamble and D, and I asked D if he thought shoving Gamble was a good choice. He explained that Gamble had knocked his tower down. I apologized, explained that Gamble didn't understand that would upset D, and talked to Gamble about it, as well. It was an interesting dynamic, a higher-functioning, verbal 5-year-old ASD child and my two lower-functioning, non-verbal 3 1/2 year-old ASD children, but they seemed to have a good time, even if they didn't do much actual "playing."

My twins don't play in the traditional sense of the word. They've got zero imaginative play. Their "playing" is carrying toys around, mouthing them, and hitting them against different surfaces to hear the sounds they make. Their "playing" is running a car along the wall to hear the noise. Gage "plays" by spinning objects. He gallops and jumps and turns himself upside down. They don't stack blocks, or line up their toys. They don't build things or put them in order. They never stop moving.


Did I mention how proud I was of the boys today? There was no biting, kicking, pinching or shoving from either of them today (at least not during the play date - Gage did bite Gamble's hand after we dropped daddy off at work earlier)! They did so great, being in a new space with new people and new toys and sounds and smells. Gage had a moment when he was told for the millionth time that no, he could not go into that room, but it was over before I really even had to intervene. They did excellent at regulating themselves today.

And then they fought their naps, hard. Which is why I drove daddy to work, today. Because a 40-minute nap is better than no nap at all, because when the twins get tired, they get vicious...kind of like their mama.

At any rate, I can't wait to have another play date with D. Hopefully we can get another child or two from the support group to join us next time! 

Welcome to Chock Full of Au-some

Welcome! So glad to see you've made it; this is all part of a fresh start for me. I recently quit my job to take care of my two full-time 3-year-old twins, who happen to be on the autism spectrum, as well as myself. This will be the place where I chronicle our adventures, the funny little things my boys (all three of them - I count their daddy) do.

First, I have no problem cursing, so if you see an F-bomb, don't be surprised.

Second, I'm not politically correct most of the time, despite my background in journalism.

Third, I'm a self-diagnosed Aspie. I have sensory issues, memory issues, sometimes things don't "click" like they should for me when it comes to social stuff, and my filter goes missing when I most need it...I need lists like I need air, but with twins on the spectrum and a stressful full-time job, I found myself lacking any time to do anything, and I've become scattered.

Fourth, despite having a bachelor's degree in writing, I am no grammar nazi, and sometimes my fingers don't quite cooperate with my brain, so excuse me if I make some mistakes, I'm only human, after all.

I hope you come back for more...heck, I hope I remember to come back and write some more! Tomorrow (I guess, technically, today) is my last day at my full-time job. Then I'll be trying my hand at freelance work, and if I can't manage to make that work, I'll be searching for something part-time, so that I don't have to work evenings or weekends, and can spend more time with my beautiful boys.

One more note: I don't drink because I have a Chiari Malformation that makes it terribly painful (at least, I think that's why it's painful) to consume alcohol, plus, I just plain don't care for the taste. But I know there are many wine-lovin' mamas out there, and I love the memes, and occasionally I'll change them in my head to suit me (substitute wine with McDonald's Coke?) - but that doesn't mean I won't still post some "Ugh, I wish it was wine-o-clock" stuff, because trust me, I wish it was!