Paradigm Shift

I cannot contain my excitement.  My son....yes, MY son said "mama".  

Me, at that moment.

No, he didn't call me mama directly.  I said mama to him and he repeated it back to me.  This day shall go down in history as the day that gave me the most hope I've ever been able to contain within myself.  I was in tears.  

I have been more often than not, the pessimist.  I have always figured that being an optimist comes with a lot of disappointment.  You think any outcome will be positive and you end up being wrong most of the time.  Pessimism is easier.  You think any outcome will be negative and usually you are right.  The perk being that when it IS positive, you are pleasantly surprised.

Unless it's Miller in the glass.  That shit is piss water.

I never thought my little Kahler would ever speak given that the statistics for classic autism being verbal is 50/50.  The most he has said in his five years has been the "go" in ready, set, go and in the last few days he started copying his brother saying "Oh, no!".  But this.  This was BIG.

To be completely honest, I think the last thing I would have heard Kahler say was the "gah, gah" babble at six months old, if it were not for his brother.  The only things Kahler has ever said has been things that Colfax has said first.  The only time Kahler has ever given me a kiss (shoving his forehead into my face) was when I asked it of his brother and his brother was not in the mood.  Kahler took it upon himself to realize that Mama wanted a kiss and dammit she was going to get one!

I have never seen myself as a successful mother.  Sure, most people say how good of a mother I am and I shrug it off as just something other people say when they don't know what to say when confronted with the daily challenges a mother faces in my situation.  Not me.  A good mom to me was my mother.  Home with us kids.  Had a clean house, and I mean CLEAN.  A place for everything and everything in it's place.  Doing laundry, dishes, helping with homework, cooking dinners, etc.  She was always there when we got home from school to when we went to bed.  I, on the other hand, have a difficult time being like that.  First and foremost, I don't cook.  I've never been good at it and usually when faced with something that I have no talent for, I give it up.  I try to keep a clean house, but usually fail except when I get a wild hair up my ass and am in the mood for some elbow grease.  DC does the laundry and when it's done, it sits in bins for days until I have the energy to fold it and then it sits in the bins, folded, until we run out of clothes.  I don't remember the last time I used the boys' dressers.  I am usually so fatigued that I cannot get down on the floor and play with my boys.  Most days are spent inside the house watching movies, listening to music and giving lots of love in the form of kisses, hugs, and the occasional nap together.

Dinner's ready.

So, not the typical successful mother.  But one hour ago, that changed for me.  My son SPOKE.  And of all the things he could have said in response, he chose my name. I have waited his whole life to hear that.  It made me realize that if my son loves me, is happy, and has even the littlest bit of progress, in his eyes, I am a success.  And that is all the reassurance I will ever need.

Latenightmommytime

Wait for it.....  

Ahhhh.  Half past midnight.

This is my favorite time.  Don't get me wrong.  I love spending time with all my boys (DC included) but there is something to be said for latenightmommytime.  And yes, it is one word.  18 letters, unlike the four letter ones I find myself saying during the day.

If only this was my swear jar.

This is the time where I get to sit in bed, laptop on my lap, TV on to MY shows, Nintendo 3DS to my left and ice cream and soda to my right.  I can't be as loud as I want but that only matters if I need to scream (which might I add I have a total of four pillows to choose from).

Yes, I like to watch Roseanne in syndication.  I like to watch Absolutely Fabulous and revel in women that can drink that much without repercussions.  I can oogle at Gordon Ramsay, Hugh Laurie and Craig Ferguson.  Aw crap, strike that, Ferguson isn't on on the weekends.  Maybe I'll watch an episode of Doctor Who and wonder what it would be like to do it with a Time Lord.  Matt Smith.  Meoooooow.  Ahem.  By "do it" I mean time travel.  Bigger on the inside ya know.

Yes.  It happens to me.

However, sometimes this latenightmommytime can just be classified as insomnia.  Or maybe the "Must Get As Much Me Time In As Possible".  Kind of like those people who stay awake for endless hours because they'll be damned it they pay for cable and go to sleep while the good stuff is on.  I like to think the glow of the laptop screen will eventually have anti-aging effects the likes that L'Oreal has never seen.

Better than Botox.

Woo hoo!  Kitchen Nightmares marathon!  The night is better already.  Especially with no feelings of guilt the next morning. ;)

Question for everyone:  How often do you get "the look"?  I got several of them within a span of about an hour today.  Took both my sons to my friend T's house for her daughter's birthday.  Now, keep in mind, my son is the only one there with a disability.  We walk in and not only are there too many people there for my comfort level but because my son is highly sensitive, I now have to prepare myself for the meltdown of the century along with dealing with my own anxiety.  I'm trying to keep both eyeballs going in two different directions so I can make sure that both boys aren't destroying things and are happy.  While I am trying to maintain a conversation with an old high school friend, I realize that I am the only one looking after the boys in all this chaos.  So, I call downstairs to DC and ask him to please not disappear again.  He had been coaxed into "going downstairs to get a soda" or as we women know it "go shoot some pool in the man cave while the womenfolk walk around barefoot with the ankle-biters".  Little did I know, later on he told me that it was sketchy down there and he was glad I called him upstairs.  Sorry, I tend to go off on tangents....  ANYWAY.....

DC takes Kahler out to the deck where he can play with the dog and be outside.  His brother soon follows.  Ahhh, 10 minutes of bliss.  I was able to have a conversation (more listening on my part) and not dart my eyes around the room.  Soon enough, Kahler comes walking back in and wants his bottle.  Now, before this gets out of hand....YES.  MY 5 YEAR OLD SON STILL DRINKS FROM A BOTTLE.  I have tried everything to get him to at least a sippy cup and he absolutely will have nothing to do with it.  So.....  I give Kahler his bottle and he walks into the middle of the room (where everyone is) and starts to drink while spinning.  This attracts much attention.  Although no one spoke up and said anything, I could see in many of their faces....."the look".  I could see looks that ranged from "Why doesn't he have a cup?" to "What is wrong with him?" to the inevitable "What is wrong with his MOTHER?"

I'm the type of mom that will speak up if my parenting skills are challenged.  Actually, I'm more likely to start a cage deathmatch with anyone who says anything about my kids, me OR my parenting skills.  I was glad that none of them spoke up, being that I consider T a good friend and didn't want to alienate her and her 3 year old daughter.

Oh, and did I mention that this party was during Kahler's usual nap time?  Yeah.  So we decided to leave before Kahler got too stimmy.  We got home and it was 1.5 hours past normal naptime.  Slowly tried to get both boys into their room without alerting them to the fact that it was indeed naptime.  Didn't work.  Colfax was alright with it since he was tired anyway.  Kahler had a COMPLETE MELTDOWN.  One I've never seen the likes of before.  I sat at the foot of his rocking recliner, rocking it for him and he kicked me several times.  Not because he was mad at me, but because he was overtired and did not want to lay down.  I then took him to his actual bed and laid him down far enough from his brother to have some space.  He continued to thrash.  I then gave up and took him to the living room to sit with me in the recliner.  Gave him his blankie, his bottle, his nubby and got him comfy.  Took another 20 minutes before he calmed down and finally fell asleep.  I then got up and carried him into his room and laid him down on the bed without waking him....  cause no matter what looks those mothers gave me?  I am one BAMF Mama.  (Oh, and if you don't know what that means, I suggest you look it up, cause you just might be one too).

Epic Beginnings

So, here I sit.  Another day done, house a mess and still haven't changed out of my pajamas.  Come to think of it, I never had coffee this morning.  That's a first, and now that I look back upon my day, definitely a last.  As you may have guessed, in my stupor I came across this thing called a "blog".  Frankly, I think they should rename it "black hole" but that's just me.  I figured if everyone else was doing it, why not give it a shot myself and fail miserably.

So, again, here I sit.  I guess the first order of business is to tell you about me and my family.  I am Mama 'Manda.  I am 30 years old, a stay at home mom/big nerd and a Fibromyalgia sufferer.  My husband (for all intensive purposes, being that we haven't gotten hitched yet) is Daddy Chad (DC for short).  He is also 30 years old, bacon bring home-er/big geek and my best friend from high school.  I have two sons from a previous endeavor (okay, I was married).  Kahler is 5 and has non-verbal autism.  Colfax is 3 and is NT with speech delays.

Breaking Dawn premiere.  Yes.  He came willingly.

In case you were wondering, this blog will contain a lot about autism but not so much concerning the conventional ways politically correct people deal with it, hence the term unconditional.  Also, in case it confuses you, Gwee is the sound my son makes most often.  Except when I hear it, it's more of a high-pitched shrill.

I guess you could say that when Kahler was born I was your typical mother doing normal day-to-day-routines. I cleaned, I did laundry, a place for everything and everything in it's place.  Kahler was a sweet baby.  Rarely cried, slept a lot and didn't breastfeed (thank god).  He hit milestones later than most babies but I just figured that was because he was a late bloomer.  It was at about 8 months when I started noticing things were amiss.  He didn't have good eye contact, he's flap his hands and arms and instead of having interest in learning to walk he was more interested in rocking himself sitting on the floor...

...and laughing hysterically.

I distinctly remember the first time someone questioned me about Kahler.  "Are your sure he's not Autistic?"  The person asking was my now ex-mother-in-law (which we will call Evil in a Box or EIAB for short).  Mind you, this is the woman who thought if I lifted my arms above my head while I was pregnant that I would strangle my child with the umbilical cord like a noose.  I believe her exact words were: "Don't come crying to me when you have a dead baby."  Charming, eh?  So naturally, I barked at her and said "Of course not, he's just different.  I went home that day with baby in tow now with a nagging word forever stuck in the back of my head.  Autism.

Things were not progressing like they should and I finally broke down to my now-ex-husband (gambling cheating a-hole, GCA for short) and told him I think we need to have him tested.  We took him to an amazing therapy center a couple towns over and began the process.  It all took a total of 3 months from first appointment to diagnosis.  From what I hear, that length of time is unheard of.  Diagnosis was what I had feared.  Classic Autism.  Usually classic means something you like to hear that reminds you of good days gone by, like classic rock for example.  This was not.  What a pisser.  My life was now interrupted by something I knew nothing about.

Needless to say, my strength outlasted my marriage and thank god it did.  My son deserves better anyway.  He deserves DC.  Anyone should be so lucky.  Kahler wouldn't have had a shot in hell without him.  Yes, I am his mother, but even a mother can't be everything to her child, and even less so if she has another one.  Case in point, my NT son Colfax.  He is hell on wheels with wings and 9 lives.  More if he is showing off.

See?  Told ya.

So, here I sit, now in bed, next to DC watching DVRed episodes of Top Gear.  Well, at least he is watching it.  Baby monitor is on and I can hear the melatonin start to take effect.....or maybe not. ;)