Time for a haircut

I love going to get my haircut. Maybe that's why I opted for a shorter do, it means I have to go back a little more frequently than once a year. My favorite part is the hair wash. Head resting back, warm water trickling down my scalp, soft yet firm hands massaging my head. Five minutes of absolutely blissful silence. How can you not love a good haircut?

My older son hated haircuts. I used to cut his hair. Not because I can or was good at it, there was no other way. This is where I mention that he's speech impaired due to autism. But that doesn't really define him. Anyways, starting at 3 he'd howl, melt down and move like a crazy flag caught in a wind storm. No amount of candy or favorite video could entice him to change his mind. And not something you really want to approach with a pair of sharp scissors. So I waited until he fell asleep. Of course when that finally happened, I'm a little blurry-eyed too. We'd wake up in the morning to find little tuffs of hair poking out where I missed or one side completely undone because he was laying on that side and woke up when I tried moving his head. Then we moved and had access to a really cool pool and finally I had some leverage. At 6 years old it was still a struggle but his movements were less jerky and meltdowns were shorter knowing once we finished we could go swimming. And all done while he was awake, Yeah! At 8 years we peeked in a barber shop, he heard the razors and promptly turned around. I started plugging in a razor so he could get used to the noise and vibrations. Finally at age 9 I started to use a razor and the ensuing meltdowns were due to my really bad hack jobs. The good news was he could tolerate the noise so I told my husband it was his turn. The first time he took our son to the hair salon, he cried and moved around but he eventually let them cut his hair. The second time he didn't cry but did reach out and kind of 'copped' a feel on the lady cutting his hair. I want to believe he reached out to get her attention because he hasn't done that again. Though out of embarrassment my husband left a larger tip that time. He was still unhappy though. He missed his hair. By 11 years, I noticed when he came back it wasn't the basic buzz cut, it was a bit more stylish. Longer on the top, short on the sides. He likes to add gel, making it spiky and then goes around pretending he's a porcupine. His laugh is pretty infectious when you give a little 'ouch' from the pokey hair.

Today he is another year older and haircuts are no longer a problem. I'm a mixture of happiness and sadness as I reflect back on the little baby steps and achievements we've made through the years. His growth and maturity have snuck up on me and I realize that though we give him gifts on his birthday, he's the one that has always managed to give me exactly what I needed, be it the patience to accept his timetable or the problem solving skills I never thought I needed to acquire. He made me think outside the box because I couldn't compare him to any development chart or set certain expectations based on age. I came to appreciate the small things that I would have taken for granted otherwise. I can't wait to learn what he'll be giving me next. Happy Birthday!

Love, mom

Summer, where art thou?

As a parent it's easy to feel overwhelmed sometimes. Things come at you from all directions, leaving me angry or sad or frustrated. My two older kids were late bloomers and continue to have their unique issues and now I'm turning my attention to my youngest. Does he or doesn't he, sometimes he babbles like a baby then he'll surprise me with a three to four word sentence. Sometimes he'll hold himself back from social situations then other times he'll be in the middle of things. He doesn't cover his ears or cower under a table when there is a loud noise like his older brother but he will complain that something is too loud. If I didn't already have a son on the spectrum I'm sure I would have brushed aside these feelings that something is wrong. Or maybe I am so hypersensitive I'm turning a few quirky moments into something much bigger. I've even considered that my three year old is really a mischievous genius just messing with my head. Even the weather is conspiring against me. It's cold, now it's hot, now it's wet, well it's always wet here. On the few days it has been nice though I tend to forget those bad days, why waste the energy and the day being sad or angry or frustrated. Better yet, why waste the energy on things I can't control. And that's what I have to remind myself of; put aside my various concerns even for a moment to enjoy the sunshine provided by my children everyday.

Love it when a plan comes together!

I love those random situations, where you find something that you didn't even know you were looking for and once you do find it, wonder how you could live without it. It all started with a friend, JH, inviting me to a pampered chef party. I wasn't sure I could make it but decided an hour before that I would go. JH was also bringing another friend and in the five minute drive to the party found out: 1. E is a teacher on a break but wants to get back into it. Ring a ding ding ding! 2. She's looking for a challenge, maybe an older student with special needs. Double ding a ling a ling!! 3. She believes in a multiple discipline approach rather than focusing on only one subject. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven or maybe an angel had been sent to answer a unasked for prayer.


I like to think I lived a charmed life. I tell myself that all the time and most times I actually believe it. I think what it is is I recognize a good thing when it falls into my lap because most good things in my life happen when I don't plan it out. I had been trying to figure out the summer, you know, what to do with three kids, big age spread and developmental spread. I wanted something fun yet educational and that wasn't going to break the bank. Due to health reasons my daughter not only missed the fall of third grade but now learning has become slightly harder. My older (autistic) son will be going into middle school at a first/second grade level and there is not as much hand holding there. My three year old just seems to thrive on chaos.


Suffice it to say I am going into the summer much more relieved knowing I won't be doing it alone and trying out this experiment of cooperative teaching is exciting. She's coming up with lesson plans and field trips tied to IEP goals while I'll be playing the supporting role of driver and watching all the little ones and hopefully will become a little wiser myself.

One small moment, one giant ride for Trevor

It started with a phone call. My hardworking man (HWM) had taken the kids to a neighboring park about 6 blocks away on a surprisingly warm day after a drizzly morning. Our 10 year old son, Trevor, indicated he wanted to go home but his sister and younger brother wanted no part of that. Taryn, at 7 years old, was waiting for a neighbor boy to show up. That will probably be several posts and a nervous breakdown later. Anyways, HWM decided if Trevor wanted to ride his bike home by himself he could and surprisingly Trevor did, thus the quick phone call to me. In that one moment and the two minutes of tense waiting for Trevor to come home it hit me, our son was growing up. From child to soon to be teenager, we had been preparing him a little at a time for his independence. The hard part of parenting is there is no set rule book on when to expect anything because all kids develop at their own pace. I should know, having to always readjust my expectations; Trevor is on the autism spectrum with limited speech. I think about all the baby steps we took in bringing us to this point. Trevor scooting on his big wheel before he could even reach the pedals. His first 12-inch bike with training wheels and making those tentative starts and stops on the driveway. And then graduating to a 16-inch bike with training wheels. He rode that bike so much the training wheels literally were bent straight up to the sky but he refused to let HWM remove them. HWM finally did one night while Trevor slept. An upset Trevor tried to reattach them and it took a few days for him to ride again. Now he rides so well on a 20 inch bike, I struggle to keep ahead of him. And safety has always been a top priority. Learning to cross the street and being aware of surroundings and wearing his helmet. And Trevor has always been attached to home and family and never wanted to wander by himself for which I am very thankful for. I also get a little too comfortable in that knowledge and it takes a situation like this to remind me that not only is Trevor growing up, I have to let him grow up. Like every parent we learn to let go of the rope a little at a time but when your child pulls the rope you can actually feel it slide a little out of your hands. It burns a little and you have to catch your balance but it's worth it to see the smile on his face when he walks through the door.