Buggies

The past few days here have been GORGEOUS! Warm weather, nice breeze, and a bearable "moderate" pollen count. Beckoned by the outdoors, we have spent that last few days outside and unplugged.

Since Cole and Jack are only just now beginning to understand the gift of a sibling, there are many mysteries they have still yet to uncover together. With spring in full bloom, bugs have become the most recent fascination for the goons. I love watching them figure out how to pick them up, hearing them giggle as they are tickled by the creepy crawlies, and taking pictures of the fun.



Yes. I know he is naked. Modesty does not factor into the goons' vocabulary.


Gloves. Both boys would prefer to keep their hands clean; a quality they inherited from their father. I believe the dirtier the better - hence why I had pin worms for most of my childhood.



Lady bug landing pad.





Difference between my goons....

Cole places the caterpillar in his pocket for later. Later, he sits on the caterpillar and erupts into tears.



Jack just "smushes" his caterpillar "real good" when he is done, but (of course) not with his hands.

Learning Emotions

One of the challenges Cole faces is recognizing and interpreting body language and emotions. I found this difficult to understand in the beginning as Cole MOST CERTAINLY emotes although sometimes not at the appropriate level for a given situation. This continues to be a challenge for me to discover if the emotional learning curve is due to his age and sex or Aspergers.

Right now we are working through a number of interventions that help give Cole the specific definition and facial nuances that go with different emotions; frustration means the following and is usually accompanied by furrowed brows and a down turned mouth, etc.. It is SO hard for me to break this down for him as I have a hard time thinking this way when it comes to emotions. Emoting comes as naturally to me as breathing, and I don't consider my existence important if I don't try to tune into the emotions and needs of those around me. It is extremely weird to turn feelings into a science lesson.

Recently, I was a little down in the mouth and Cole turned to me to say, "Mom, are you sad right now?". (These type of questions pop up a lot with Cole...because he just isn't sure...sometimes I have to give him a number on a scale to let him know where I am with certain emotional states).

"Yes Cole. Mommy is a little bit sad," I replied half-heartedly because I know how difficult and uncomfortable it can be for him to work through other peoples' emotions.

"May I be excused from the table?" he asked.

"Yes, sweetie." I answered. As he left the table, I started to tear up as I expected to get little empathy and understanding from him, but it still is difficult for me to accept. Cole loves me,and loves to cuddle, and hear that he is loved, but is worried to the point of avoidance when dealing with others emotions appropriately. I sat at the table feeling very alone and bereft.

Cole came back downstairs with two pieces of paper in his hand. He put them both in front of me. "Mommy, I made you a card to feel better. This one says "I love Mommy", and this one is a picture of my Daddy because I know you miss him. I miss him and it makes me sad", he very matter of factly explained.

I started sobbing. He gave me a hug and started patting my back to tell me it would be okay. He started to cry a little, so I pushed him back and looked into his big cow eyes...and we shared a "forever" type of moment.

It was so important for me to know that we have be doing a good job, since the beginning, teaching Cole to interpret his and others emotion; validating that I am not a horrible mother. My little boy loves with all his heart. He understands more than I sometimes give him credit for. He approaches emotional situations in a more adult-like and logical fashion than I am capable of...and sometimes I am the student.

Time to Clean House

I am procrastinating. I have elevated it to an art form. Clearly it is time to clean the house. Just discovered Jack in a bathroom chasing floating dust particles with a piece of wet toilet tissue exclaiming, "Mommy, there are yuckies in the air!"

In addition to chasing 'yuckies' around the sun streaming windows, Jack is in the midst of full fledged potty training. He just had an accident and decided to take care of the matter himself. So, he stripped, threw his clothes in the washing machine, and headed to the bathroom to get a towel. The towel is now on the floor covering up the offending spot...with my Jack on top.

I guess I will stop making Lego buildings and get the vacuum cleaner out to actually use it this time. Last time I had it out, it sat so long it became part of the house decor...actually thought about giving it some ears and making it a part of the Easter decorating that was last minute.

An Intricately Woven Tapestry

I have realized many things about myself over the past 9 months; some are new revelations and others were always there lurking behind denial. All in all, this is the year that I grew up. Two kids, a husband, and a career could not force me into adulthood...but this year could...and did.

I hate to announce that I am officially back into the world of blogging because in all honesty my self inflicted sabbatical came about as a result of my need to be utterly honest, and I found that the only place I could do this was in a private journal. Journaling has provided me with a way to organize some of my more chaotic thoughts and to perform a ritualistic form of my own self-therapy. Less profound than James Joyce but with the same stream of consciousness type of writing, I have worshiped my journal.

The other evening after discussing with a dear friend the wonders and hidden evils of social networking in the world of Facebook, I set back to read through all the journal entries that I have penned over the years. Since they go back to the fifth grade, it took some time. [I know. Where is the connection between Facebook and my journal. Be patient. I am getting there.] I came to the conclusion that although less public, less scrutinized, and less likely to be used as a basis of comparison in all aspects of my life, my journal lacked connectivity. Albeit a lovely momentary band aid for some of my more throbbing emotions, I was not taking the time to connect and perhaps learn the greater meaning from some of the emotional journeys I was undertaking with my pen in hand. In other words, I felt the need to head back to a more public place (although since my absence, I am hoping less so) to force me to organize my thoughts and give more life to my experiences.


MY OWN PAST PERSONAL EXPERIENCE SHOWS THAT FOR ME AND I AM IN NO WAY SUGGESTING OR IMPLYING FOR EVERYONE, the equation is as follows:

Public Platforms + Personal Platitudes = Disaster
Private Platform + Personal Ponderings & Probings = Self Discovery

(Okay! So, although somewhat convoluted...therein lies the Facebook connection.)

With this equation in mind, today my lovely Turkish rug arrived in the mail from Dubai. Trey's exquisite taste was evident in every detail. The richness and vibrancy of the color, the soft cushy plushness, the ancient tribal patterns, the delicate braided fringe, all whispered to me to abandon myself upon it's weft and waft to sob my heart clean.

I cried because my husband was the last person to touch it. I cried for myself and my losses. I cried for my family that was and what is to be. I cried for my sons. I cried because everything seemed to be woven together into one huge ball of pain living in the pit of my stomach.

Since my parents pending divorce, my son's diagnosis, and my husband's departure I have yet to have a good cry.

It felt wonderful.

And, I wanted to record it here in a more public place.

Just for today.

I am not going to worry about how I may feel about it tomorrow.