(not so) picture perfect

On a beautiful Sunday in October, I posted this picture on Facebook:

 

It was taken on the day we took our annual field trip to our favorite pumpkin patch. I love pumpkin patch day!  When we arrive, we always grab a wagon, rush past the barn filled to the brim with pumpkins-for-purchase, pause to feed the goats, and then wind the wagon through the trees until we arrive at the field of pumpkins. The hunt begins.  Brett wants the biggest one he can lift (our requirement); Lydia searches for one that is round and smooth and perfect for carving; Reggie dashes around, shifting and spotting pumpkins until he finds one that speaks to him.  It is never "pumpkin" orange and rarely round.  After everyone has picked out their pumpkins, we maneuver our more cumbersome wagon back to the barn. We find our way through a maze of hay bales to the old silo, which has been converted into a mini-cinema of-sorts.  The seats are hay bales and the movie is always the same: The Legend of Spookley the Square Pumpkin. Then we take our pumpkins to the pumpkin meter and pay.  The last thing we do is I have the kids pose on a wagon full of pumpkins, hoping for an adorable Facebook-worthy snapshot of fall family fun. I aim, point, and click about a dozen times, willing that in at least one, everyone will be looking and smiling...with mixed results.

I always try to take the kids on the first Friday in October. They have the day off from school for teacher's workshops, and there is hardly anyone at the pumpkin patch. But this year, because I had surgery, I was not up for the outing until later in October.  Still recovering, I needed Bryan's help to lift the pumpkins and pull the wagon, so we went on a beautiful, warm, sunny Sunday.  Along with every other family in the metro.

Everywhere I looked, I saw other families experiencing those same special moments I hope to have at the pumpkin patch every year. Kids finding that special pumpkin and turning to smile for doting parents with iphones in hand. Families posing together on hay bales or wagons and parents working their magic to get that perfect fall family fun snapshot. It will undoubtedly become their "cover photo" on Facebook for the next month. But, possibly even more treasured, on the mantle or in a memory book, to say, "Remember when we..." for years to come.

We did not get that photo.  

I want to be careful here, because I always want to respect the dignity of my children and protect them on such a public forum.  But, I also want to be authentic. More authentic than I am on Facebook, where I just post cute pictures that show the dazzle in life.  This blog is my telling of our story, complete with mishap and mess.  

When you look at the snapshot above, you see a toothless little girl smiling with her daddy at the pumpkin patch on a beautiful fall day.  When I look at this snapshot, I see pain. I see what's (who's) missing from the snapshot. When I look at this photo, I remember another heart-wrenching day of parenting a child with special needs. The struggle is literally taking place behind the tall grass in this picture.  I stepped away from the struggle for a couple minutes to capture the special moments of my other children...and to regroup.

 

Parenting my child with special needs feels like I'm swimming in an ocean.  The salty water around me is not what I hoped for, but it is still beautiful.  The tide is my experience of grief and loss for the hopes and dreams I have for my child.  It comes in waves of sadness or anger or bargaining or denial or acceptance.  It subsides, but always returns.  The moments of peaceful serenity are cherished (and posted on Facebook).  The storms damage anything in it's path, especially hope, and are chaotic and lonely.  But my love for my child challenges me to find beauty not only in the sunsets but also in the storms. To release my hopes and dreams and expectations, and exchange them for a journey less traveled but uniquely treasured.

delicious autumn

There's something about fall that inspires me to bake, bake, bake.  I bet it's all the apples and pumpkins (we got from MeeMaw), or maybe it's the warm oven and smell of cinnamon and nutmeg.

Here is just a taste of what's been cookin' in our kitchen - the ones that got a snapshot before devoured. Yum!

 

“Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns.”

-George Eliot 

it's not a birthday until...

We have a joke in our house. 

"It's not Reggie's birthday until somebody throws up."  It started with his 1st birthday when he ate too much cake.  Then the next year...he choked on his hotdog...

But this last time, it wasn't Reggie's birthday - and it wasn't Reggie. 

It was mine.

My stomach started hurting the night before my birthday and I thought I had just eaten too much.  But the night went on and I was feeling worse instead of better. Barely sleeping at all, the next morning when Bryan was up and getting ready for work, he implored me to go to the ER.  I felt ridiculous going to the ER just for a stomach ache.  But an ultrasound revealed a major gallstone attach. After a few hours, I was discharged with a phone number for the surgery center in hand. I was heavily medicated and Bryan was in charge of the driving.   The motion of the vehicle tipped me over the edge... and now our "joke" is - it's not a birthday until someone throws up.

I have since gotten rid of my gallbladder.  It was just a pain anyway.

I'm very thankful to my mom for helping out so much in the days following the surgery.  She ended up having two patients. Me...and the kid with strep throat.

Nope, this saga called life cannot be made up. 

sad good-bye

We have had our guinea pigs, Milo (left) and Chase (right), for two years already.  We adopted them from a rescue shelter as a "bonded pair". They have been a fun pet for the kids, especially Lydia, who has read every book about guinea pigs in the library and picked out a guinea pig lunch bag for school this year.  From a mom's perspective, guinea pigs are a good pet for the following reasons: (1)their mess is usually contained to a small area, (2)they can be left for a weekend without any care, (3)they are relatively inexpensive to feed, and (4)they are a bit less fragile than a hamster and more cuddly than a fish (but not much).  Lydia has "trained" Milo to climb from the floor up into her lap, which is cute.

Which brings us to Chase.  We noticed Chase had lost some weight and for a couple weeks, his fur under his chin was always wet, so I took him to the vet.  He needed extensive dental work, which would require surgery under anesthesia, much discomfort, a big bill, and no there was guarantee that the problem would be fixed for good.  I needed time to think, and talk with Bryan, and mostly, anticipating our decision, wanted our kids to have a chance to say good-bye.  So, I brought him home with a package of powdered food-to be mixed with water into a paste-and a syringe for feedings. That night, Bryan and I made the decision and devised a plan for how to be attentive to our kid's needs.  As parents, we know that when we agree to our kids having a pet, the time will come when we have to hold their hand through the loss. Loss is sad, but it is also a part of life.

The next day, I had already picked up some craft supplies when we told the kids our decision.  The kids decorated a box for his remains.  We gave them the choice if they wanted to say good-bye to Chase at home or at the clinic (a conversation I had already had with the clinic).  All three wanted to go, so the kids and I took him in after school the next day.  The staff at the clinic was amazing, but the experience was still very hard. Two of the kids cried bawled, and it felt like the vet was never going to return with the little box we had decorated. They gave each kid a clay imprint of Chase's paws, then we took his remains home where Bryan was ready to bury him-next to Rocky. 

Chase may have been a rodent, but he was special and important. He was Milo's best friends - really, when they were separated, they would look for each other and squeak for each other.  Sometimes they would fight, but mostly they would cuddle.  One time, I let Lydia take them outside, and Chase escaped from her grip.  Bryan had to take the lattice off the deck and crawl under to pull him out.  He tolerated more interaction with unpredictable kids than Milo does, and was the subject of many entries in Lydia's school writing journal. Chase is missed, but won't be forgotten.