Evidence that someone "special" lives here...

The first clue might be the multitude of visual schedules lying or posted around the house (I think Mason was mortified to have friends over after I forgot to remove the "how to go pee" schedule above the toilet a few years back when the soccer team was here for a big dinner; needless to say he's hesitant to have friends over any more).

The second giveaway might be the EXIT signs hanging above some of our doorways.

If you look closer, you'll notice all the ways in which I could employ a personal handyman (probably on a monthly basis)...

• a neat hole (the perfect diameter of a door knob) in the drywall behind the entry door...due to a broken door stop and excessive & repeated slamming of the door + a pair of winter boots strategically placed to block additional slams (complete with a sticky note on the wall instructing do-gooders to leave the boots in their place!).
• door jambs that have been knocked loose and do not line up normally with the other trim pieces.
• black "ball" skids on multiple ceilings.
• pictures that hang crooked on the wall or just the nail hole "slightly enlarged" from the multiple swipings, thus no picture hangs there anymore.
• scrape marks on the ceiling around the dining room chandelier due to excessive spinning of the light fixture.
• a mysterious food particle "cemented" to the ceiling above the kitchen sink.
• light switches that do not stay in the "on" position from extreme OCD lights on/lights off behavior.
• a large wall clock which would be a fabulous and functional piece of decor, if only it had the hands to display the time!
• sharpie ink used to cover up dents, scratches, scrapes on a variety of furniture and decor.
• crumbling drywall from the spot where a towel holder hung three "fixes" ago
• missing backs to TV remotes and cordless phones (once the little tabs bust off after an unexpected "flight," the backs just don't stay on).
• digital clocks that are all programmed for different times.
• drawers that cannot be pushed in all the way, due to bent frames from being used as a stepping stool.
• sugar bowls without the matching tops (long ago busted)
• cracks, dings, or other exposed drywall in virtually every room of the house -- typically caused by launched items.
• onion peel and cracked pepper in my Kitchen-Aid mixing bowl (obviously deciding to build his skills)

If I get past the obvious...and get with gratitude, I also...

• hear contagious laughter.
• beam with pride when one of the other boys interacts with interest and compassion and carries that over into experiences with other people with special needs.
• find myself shaking my head in disbelief at some of the things he comes up with.
• laughing that he gets me to do some ridiculous behaviors to satisfy some of his obsessions.
• delighting in new found skills...even if they happen at nano-speed.
• latching on to positive moments that give me hope for the future...

"He's a conundrum!"

Those are the words the neuro-psychologist used to describe Weston a couple of weeks ago.  A conundrum -- a puzzle, an enigma, a mystery!

We had the pleasure of meeting her about 3 years ago; she was the one to finally give us the official Autism diagnosis.  And while some may think, "Oh, great, even the professionals don't get Weston" or "Boy, that's helpful," I see her using that phrase in a positive way, and I can tell by the way she looks at him that she is intrigued by the possibilities and interested in him and his future.

Yesterday we followed up with some more testing, and the doctor told me in regards to Weston, "I think there is just SO much in there that we don't even know about yet."  It is truly validating when a professional concurs with your thinking.  So often I question myself...am I expecting too much from him, from his teachers, from his future???  It's a relief to know that someone on the "outside" but "in the know" believes in him too!  It makes all the fighting and advocating worth it.

I am anxious to see how all the testing and questionnaires and interviews shake out and how that compares to his initial evaluation 3 years ago and how we might use the information to help direct his school programming and supports for the years to come.

So I'll take "conundrum"...It's right up there with the statements one of the first professionals made upon meeting Weston when he was 12 months old..."You'll likely never get a real diagnosis to explain what's going on.  But sometimes, not knowing is better than knowing.  There's no "ceiling" when you don't have a label for it."

A day in the life...a forgotten draft from February

A day in my life lately, may look like the following...

1:00 am - wake up to the pitter patter, or thumping, of small feet on the stairs (yes, I can hear this while asleep, despite the sound machine cranking in my room...guess I'm in "shallow" sleep, instead of deep sleep).  Step into the hallway to find Weston at the bottom of the stairs. I ask, "What's wrong, Weston?"  He explains, "Start over" and gives his arm a waving gesture as one might do when saying, "Come in."  In response, I say, "ok, ready, go," and sweep my arm in that motion.  Instantly he marches up the stairs and back into his room.

3:00 am - repeat of 1:00 am

6:00 am - wake to my bedside alarm, or to the kitchen timer, if I've moved to the couch because of the midnight antics...chanting "time to make the donuts"...a phrase stuck in my head since lovingly shared by one of Weston's teachers.  Wake up oldest 2 boys, make coffee, shake boy #2 again and prod to get out of bed, slip into workout gear.

6:20-6:55 am - guess when Weston may wake up, make lunches, organize Weston's materials for school, guess whether boy #1 will be in a decent  or foul mood and psycho-analyze/cheerlead until he leaves for school.  Remind boy #2 of several things of which maybe 50% will be completed.

7:00 am - wake boy #3, if Weston is still sleeping, approach with caution, open door and try to wake slowly and sweetly and coax to come downstairs.  Prepare for battle and wonder whatever happened to the phrase, "peaceful morning."

communication needs no words...

kind of hard to get the kiddo dressed and ready for school when his shoe is swimming in the toilet...his message was insanely clear!