My Thoughts About Easter

I have some profound thoughts about Easter.  (Just preparing you.  In case you miss the fact that they are, in fact, profound.)

In my experience, many churches focus on the wrong thing Easter Sunday.  I went to a church once that was HUGE.  They had this major production for Easter Sunday - singing, acting, backdrops, costumes, the works.  The production itself was amazing.  But, in my opinion, it totally missed the mark.  The entire production focused on the death of Jesus.  The DEATH of Jesus.  The crucifixion was a very dramatic scene, with scenes from "The Passion of the Christ" playing in the background.  It was incredibly moving.  And I thought to myself, "Man, if this is how they do the crucifixion, I can't WAIT to see the resurrection!"  Boy, was I in for a let down.  The tomb was empty, and Peter sang this slow, sad song about how could he have doubted Christ, and look at the sacrifice he made..........and the end.  No trumpets.  No dancing in the isles.  No celebration.  Just a sad song of regret at doubting the love of Christ for us. 

Anybody can die.  ( <---- PROFOUND THOUGHT) 

The miracle of Easter is, to me, two parts.  The sacrifice of Jesus laying down his life for all of our sins.  But, MORE IMPORTANTLY, the resurrection.  That Jesus Christ overcame death so that you and I could be truly forgiven of all of our sins and live forever in Heaven.  The miracle of Easter is not only the death of Christ, but the resurrection.  You can't have one without the other.  We buried Christ on Friday, but on Sunday, He rose again.  HE ROSE AGAIN!!  How can you NOT celebrate that?

This Easter, I celebrate the resurrection of Christ.  I celebrate that he overcame death.  I am humbled that he took my place and died a physical death so that I can live with him eternally in Heaven.  But come tomorrow, I'm going to be rejoicing that he is ALIVE. 

"Where oh death is now thy sting?  HALLELUJAH The lamb is ALIVE!!!!!!!!"

Home

If you know me, then you know that when we moved here to Washington, I was miserable.  I started on this long road into depression, and everything in my life took a nose dive.  I changed as a person, our marriage took a hit, and in the midst of this crazy storm called life, I found my way home.

Chip and I are looking for a house.  We have decided to buy a house in this area, and stay for the forseeable future.  We want to plant roots here.  Despite my first reaction to this area, it took me a while to realize that it wasn't the area I didn't like.  Because, let's face it, we're 46 miles from Mt. Rainier, and we are surrounded by moutains that you can see on a clear day.  Looking at Mt. Rainier nearly every day reminds me that you have to go through the valley to appreciate the mountain top.  It is also a humble reminder that if I have faith as big as a mustard seed, that I could MOVE that mountain.  There were a lot of days that I didn't have faith, and even more that felt like the valley would never lead me to that mountain top.  But we're here, I think. I want to make the best choices for my family, and we've made some great friends, we've joined a fabulous church, and we are ready to make the next big step in our lives. 

Now, that said, this is also going to be an interesting journey, seeing as Chip and I are total opposites.  We can't even decide on bedding for our room!  If I like it, then it's a pretty safe bet that he will hate it.  One of the bedding sets that we had, he picked out.  It was beautiful.  And you know what he said?  He went into the store, picked out the set he hated the most, and bought it because he knew I would like it if he hated it!  So, we've started this process, and for the most part, we're on the same page about a lot of things.  The kitchen will make or break a house for us.  Look, I've lived in a lot of crappy army houses.  I'm going to be happy with just about anything.  But the ONE thing I want the most in a house is a nice kitchen.  I'm not picky.  I just want something that we're going to be happy in for a long time.

I'm super excited about finding the house we're going to be in for a really, really long time.  Who knows?  Maybe it'll even have a nice view of that mountain top.  :)

Pictures? Maybe.

I may or may not attempt to upload photos to my blog.  However, if you have me as a friend on FB (and I think all of you that "follow" me do), then you have already seen the pictures.  I was just going to blog about them in more detail. 

About two weeks ago, a friend of ours from church (Scott) asked if Chip and I wanted to go on a weekend trip.  Scott works for Alaska Air, and had some companion passes to use.  He and his wife, Rachel, and another couple (Justin and Jodi) were going to go away for the weekend.  Since we haven't had a night away from the kids since Emma was a baby (almost 6 years, people), we decided to go.  We found sitters for the kids, and Saturday morning we left for Juneau, Alaska.

That's right.  I said Alaska.  Would you believe that there were plenty of seats on the flight to Juneau in the middle of February? 

Our flight to Juneau was only about 2 hours.  I do NOT fly well.  I have many issues with flying.  First would be my issues with control.  I have serious problems handing over my fate to complete strangers.  Second up would be my fear of heights.  And last, but certainly not least, is my motion sickness.  I don't really get physically ill, I just get very nauseated.  I HAVE to sleep, or lay with my eyes closed to focus my thoughts elsewhere.  Any turbulance and I have to redirect my thoughts.  My entire body tenses up.  I hate it.  But, it was such a short flight, and I made it to the flip side without incident.  (Well, except for when I almost crushed Chip's had when it looked like we were landing in heavy fog and about to drop a wing in the water right by the airport.) 

Once we arrived, though, I was fine.  More than fine, I was excited!  We rented a car, so we headed to the rental car area.  You'll also be surprised to know that the Juneau airport really isn't that big.  So you just walk down a flight of stairs and you're in the baggage claim area/rental car area.  We were supposed to get a van, but apparently it got wrecked, so we got  a free upgrade to a 7 passenger ford explorer.  What it lacked in storage room, it made up for with it's 4 wheel drive.  (Seriously, between the 6 adults, we all managed to only take about 5 carry on bags.  And we had to STUFF those strategically in the back of the explorer.  That was one of the vehicles on the list that I considered before we bought our van, and now I'm extremely glad we didn't go that route.  I have no idea how we'd ever go grocery shopping.)

The drive to the hotel was short.  When we got there, it was snowing pretty heavily, and it was super windy.  So the snow wasn't actually coming down - it was coming sideways.  It wasn't really as cold as I thought I'd be, but it was windy.  Our hotel was super cute.  It's like a B&B, but run by Best Western.  It's the smallest "hotel" in their chain.  But it's a house with these huge rooms with awesome bathrooms.

Yes, that's my husband about to pelt me with a snowball.  Lucky for him, I moved.  Isn't it cute?

Somehow we ended up with the "honeymoon" suite.  So that's why there's an extra sitting area.  But all of the other bedrooms, while they don't have a seperate bathroom like this one has, they do have huge bathtubs.  Ours was really deep and pretty wide, but the other rooms have really wide tubs, where you can sit side-by-side.  Either way, they all have jets and it was pretty awesome.  Here's some more pics from the hotel at breakfast the next morning.....

Love the hotel!  I would highly recommend it, you know, if you ever go to Juneau. 

Because of the winds, the power was knocked out when we got to the hotel.  So, we left in search of lunch.  Chip and I were stationed in Alaska, and still have friends in North Pole/Fairbanks, so I contacted Michelle to see if she'd ever been here or knew anyone who had and could recommend somwhere to eat.  Her friend suggested we try a place called the Hanger.  It's in this little strip mall right on the water in downtown Juneau, so we figured we'd give it a try.  The food is fantastic.  I had shrimp and Chip had halibut and it was so good.  If you're ever in Juneau, you should go here.  On the way out, however, we had to walk by this little pizzaria.  Oh. My. GOSH.  Best pizza EVER.  I mean, we wanted to go there just because it smelled so good.  We ended up going there for dinner that night.  We were supposed to go to the ski mountain for a fireworks and light show, but the snow and wind ruined that.  They postponed it until another night.  Boo.

Sunday morning we woke up and decided to take a trip to Mendenhall Glacier.  I admittedly know nothing about this glacier, other than it's near Juneau.  I'm sure you can go to google and look up all the fascinating facts.  We got there early, before the visitor center opened, took some pictures, and then ventured out onto the frozen lake in front of the glacier.  It was really cool.  Some of the glacier had broken off and had frozen in the middle of the lake when the lake froze.  We hiked out to a few spots for pictures, but didn't make it all the way to the glacier.  We got about a football field away from it, when we noticed some changes.  The snow up until that point had been about a knee high on me, and we couldn't even really see the ice under it unless we dug for it.  But once we got past a certain point, the snow was only about ankle height, and not only could we see the ice under it, but it was also very slippery.  I don't know if that means anything, but it kind of freaked me out a little bit, so we turned around and headed back.  But the glacier ice was beautiful....and definately worth the hike out there....

That's the glacier behind us in the distance.

A chunk of glacier....

That's as close as we got.

Another chunk of glacier ice.  I love that color blue!

So after we got done, we went back to downtown Juneau, and across the bridge to get pictures of the city (that's the first picture you see).  We just had a really good time, even if we didn't get to do a whole lot of stuff.  Juneau is pretty much shut down in the winter, as they get most of their business during the summer months.  I mean, who wants to go to Alaska for vaction in the middle of February?!  (Besides us.) 

The one thing that surprised me the most about this trip is how much it affected me.  We've talked about where we want to settle down when Chip retires, and occasionally Alaska comes up.  I mean, let's face it, it really IS beautiful up there.  Cold, yes.  But the summers are amazing and I love the snow.  I can't explain why, but it just felt like I was going home.  I don't know if that's because Alaska is the first place Chip and I lived together, or where we had our first baby, but it just felt like home.  I feel torn because I want so badly to be near family again, but I also feel like THIS is my family.  And maybe it's ok to make a path and a life of our own, and not necessarily down south.  We always said we wanted to go back to South Carolina.  That's always been the plan.  But even Chip is now looking at houses and snow mobiles and all this crazy stuff.  I mean, we're even trying to contact his branch manager to see about getting stationed back there.  It's crazy!  Or, maybe it's not.  Maybe that's where we belong.  I'm all about signs.  And I guess, if the doors open up, then we'll know.  If they don't, then we'll follow whatever path opens up for us.  I just know that I felt like I was home.  And that's big for me.

 

Christmas Memories

I love Christmas.  I love everything about Christmas, from the decorations, to the music, to the spirit itself.  Everything seems better at Christmas.  We all have our favorite Christmas memories, so here are a few of mine.

My first church Christmas pageant.  I'm not sure how old I was,  and I don't remember much about that day.  I was chosen to be Mary, and my cousin, Kevin, was Joseph.  For most of the program, he and I got to sit in a homemade stable, complete with doll-baby Jesus in a homemade manger, and lots and lots of REAL hay.  It was awesome.  Nobody suspected anything.  Until our duet.  Kevin and I sang "Away in a Manger."  I'd been kind of itchy for most of the program and didn't think anything of it.  But the look on my aunt's face told me something wasn't right.  I'd apparently broken out in hives.  We found out that day that I'm allergic to hay.

I still believe in the spirit of Santa Claus.  The spirit of giving to others.  But I'll never forget the night I figured out Santa himself wasn't real.  My bedroom that I shared with my sister was right off the living room.  I heard noises late that night, and quietly got out of bed, hoping that I'd catch a glimpse of Santa himself.  Instead, I saw my aunt and uncle putting presents under the tree.  I just figured they were putting some more out before the next morning, and got back in bed.  The next day, however, I put 2 and 2 together.  The presents they had laid out after we went to bed said "From Santa" on them.  I don't remember a conversation about this revelation, but I don't remember being terribly disappointed either.  It's like, I knew something the other kids didn't.  I figured out the mystery!

My fondest memory of Christmas is family.  I come from a huge family.  My grandmother was one of 6 children, and she had 7 children with my grandfather.  Most of her family lived nearby, and most of her kids did as well.  We'd all gather at great-aunt's and uncle's houses, and at my grandmother's house as well.  Now my uncle's family also had gatherings as well, so we were always at somebody's house.  There was lots of food and laughter, presents and LOVE.  The coolest thing ever was the bag my uncle's mother made for all the grandkids.  She got everyone a huge red santa bag, and decorated them with our names on them.  When we went to open presents at their house, we just put all of our presents in our santa bag.  It was so cool.  One of my other favorite memories was going to my great-aunt Kathleen's house.  I remember the food was in the kitchen, the men were in the den watching a game of some sort, and the women were in the dining room chatting.  There were so many kids, we just ran around and I remember torturing my cousin Jeff in his room.  It was always so much fun.

The Christmas I moved to South Carolina.  It was crazy.  Right before I moved, my church had a Christmas party where we went caroling around the neighborhood.  It was so much fun, but it was sooooo cold!  It was the last night I got to spend with the entire youth group before I moved.  I'm so glad I still keep in touch with most of them.  Those are lifetime friendships that I cherish.

The Christmas that my aunt and uncle got my grandmother's ring fixed.  My grandmother had given me a beautiful pearl and diamond ring right before she died in August of 1998.  I only wore it on special occasions.  Usually that meant to a choir performance, or to a speech meet.  I was a member of the speech and debate team in high school.  At one speech meet, I noticed the pearl was gone.  I was heartbroken.  I had no idea how to go about getting a new pearl, or how much one would cost.  I took it home, and my aunt offered to keep it in her jewelry box for me.  I handed it over, and didn't think about it again until it got closer to Christmas.  My grandfather had called and asked about the ring. I guess he didn't realize grandma had given it to me.  And I started to panic, because the pearl was missing.  How would I ever explain that to him.  My aunt told me not to worry about it, that it would be fine.  But I wasn't convinced.  I remember my anxiety because he was coming for Christmas.  When he got there, he asked to see the ring, and when we went to get it out of my aunt's jewelry box, it was missing!  I about had a heart attack.  The pearl missing was one thing, but now the whole thing was gone!!  At that moment, I just wanted to cry.  On Christmas morning, we all gathered around the tree.  No present really mattered to me.  I would have given an arm and a leg to have my ring back.  My uncle called my name and handed me a little present and I took it and sat down.  I started opening it, and it was a ring box.  My heart skipped a beat.  NO. WAY.  Sure enough, the ring was inside - pearl and all.

Our first Christmas together.  It does not even feel like the first Christmas we spent together was 10 years ago!  We had very little money.  And the one thing I wanted the most that Christmas was a toaster.  I begged for a toaster.  We got each other a few things, wrapped them, and then put them under the tree.  Now, if you know me, you know I am not a patient person, and I hate surprises.  HATE them.  So while Chip was at work, I peeked at my wrapped gifts. One of them was, of course, a toaster.  So a few days later, we were watching tv, and a husband gave his wife an appliance for a birthday present.  And I started a tirade.  "Well that's just dumb.  You should never, ever, EVER give your wife an appliance as a gift, even if she asks for it.  It's just RUDE."  (insert evil grin)  I've never seen him squirm so much!  It wasn't until after Christmas that I told him I knew about the gift, hahaha!  Don't worry - he got me back.  A few years later, he got me a Dooney & Bourke purse for Christmas.  And knowing how I like to peek, he hid it at my friends house.  And I begged, and begged and BEGGED for my present.  So he said one day that he'd go get it, if for no other reason than to shut me up.  He left and came back with a big box.  I was SO excited.  I tore the paper off, and opened the box and...........it was clothes.  Not just any clothes, but my kids clothes that I'd left at my friends house.  That were still dirty.  Yeah, you probably think that's funny.  It's been a few years, and I'm not there yet.  It's still a painful memory.  Laugh it up.

Oh this list could go on and on.  I love that I am making new memories with my kids.  I can't wait to hear their stories one day!  What's your favorite Christmas memory?

Ghost Stories

I knew this was going to happen.  I don't know if it's writer's block, but I have started two blogs this week and haven't been able to finish.  Some days there are so many thoughts swirling around my head that I don't know where to begin.  It's a smogasbord  of random thoughts.  I really need a friend, someone to vent to or just tell all these random thoughts.  But alas, I guess starting and not finishing blogs will have to do for now.  

So this blog is going to be a little on the heavy side.  I find it easier to open up when I'm writing.  It's a good thing I type fast because I have a lot of thoughts for this blog.  Lately I have really been missing some people in my life.  

First is my grandmother.  I swear, I never believed in ghosts until after she died.  I know with all of my being that she is near me.  I have had two experiences that confirm that for me.  The first happened right after Brenna was born.  She had only been gone a few years then, and I missed everyone in my family, since I was up in Alaska by myself with Chip.  It was a rough first month, and I can remember truly missing my grandmother.  I had hoped she'd get to see my children, play with them as she had with me, and teach them all the silly songs she'd taught us as kids.  I missed her so much the first few months after I had Brenna, and I guess I can't really explain why.  One night, I awoke to something.  I'm not sure if it was a sound, or a feeling, but I awoke, startled.  Chip was asleep, Brenna was (finally) asleep, but I had woken up for some reason.  Not finding anything out of the ordinary, I laid back down.  And then it hit me - the scent of my grandmother's perfume.  I hadn't smelled it in years, but it was so distinctive.  It was so strong, that I got up to try and find the source.  No luck.  I didn't have anything of hers that had a scent on it, just a picture or two.  I remember thinking, "Do you see her, grandma?  Isn't she beautiful?"  And then I passed right out, and slept soundly.  

The second incident happened here.  When we first got all of our stuff, I took out a framed picture I have of my grandmother and I in her clown makeup.  She used to work with the kids at the Catholic school, and one of the things she liked to do with them is dress up like a clown.  She had a wig, and all the makeup.  When I was home for Christmas in 2004 when Chip was deployed, my aunt had two pictures framed in one frame; one of my grandmother in full clown getup and one with me in the same thing.  When I unwrapped the frame when we got here, the glass was cracked down the middle.  It was not going to be an easy fix, since the frame was specially made; it was going to have to go to a frame shop and thus was going to have to wait.  I put it up in our closet, waiting for some extra money to fix it.  That was over a year ago.  Last month, I was cleaning out my closet for no particular reason other than it was driving me nuts having so much junk in there.  I picked up the frame, a little heartbroken that it still wasn't fixed.  But when I picked it up and looked at it, the glass was fine!  I asked my husband about it and he swears he didn't have it fixed (and with the amount of dust on it, I believe him."  It's now hanging in my living room.  

My grandmother was more than just a grandmother to me.  I lived with her and my grandfather for several years before she started getting sick.  I always wish I'd been there to say goodbye, but I know that she was gone before her body finally died.  I don't know if this is real or not, but I believe that when someone dies, their spirit looks down on you and knows the things you do and the things you say, if that makes any sense.  So even though I didn't get to say it to her, I know she knows I love her and I know she can see me now and all of my kids.  I just wish they'd gotten to know her.  To sit at her feet and hear her play the piano and sing.  Or to sit and hear her play the church organ.  I wish she could read them Cinderella like she did with me.  I look at all of my cousins and the 20+ great-grandchildren she would have so enjoyed doting on and playing with.  I know she can see us all, but it's not the same.  I just miss her.  Some days more than others. But I love seeing her smiling in her clown makeup every day!

The other person I really miss is my good friend Archie.  Most of you know, in high school I was a peer counselor, and worked closely with Archie for the whole 4 years of high school.  He became a surrogate grandfather to me, and I know I was special to him as well.  When he died last year, it was the first time I'd lost someone that close to me since my grandmother died.  I was heartbroken.  He could have met my kids, but we just never made it home.  I was lucky that I was able to visit with him a few months before he died.  And about a month before he got sick, I kept thinking, "I need to call him."  And I never got around to it.  I can't tell you how many times I've kicked myself for that.  I guess the thing with Archie is, he believed in me.  Not because he had to, but because he could see the me that I always wanted to be and encouraged me to find that person in me.  He always told me how proud he was of me.  I miss hearing that.  I really hope that everyone has at least one person in their life that tells them they're proud of them.  It's important to hear that.  I didn't really realize that until he was gone.  No matter what I did - and I made some pretty bad decisions that affected him and one of his ministries - he still would tell me that he was proud of me and he loved me.  When I didn't think I could face the world after some big mistakes, he stood by me, and didn't judge me, he just loved me.  Archie was an incredible man.  Even now, when I have a decision to make, I think, what would Archie say about this?  Sort of like, WWJD....but on a less official scale.  The first anniversary of his death came and went, but I honestly think about him daily.  

Another ghost story for you, before I sign off.  When I was working with Archie in high school, my aunt and uncle that I lived with had an old VW Rabbit convertible, like an '80 or '81.  When we had it, it was white.  When they decided to sell it, Archie was chomping at the bit to buy it from my aunt.  After he bought it, he painted it candy apple red and it look amazing.  (It always made me wonder why WE never painted it.)  A few weeks ago, I was coming home from somewhere, and it's winter in Washington, so it's been raining for what seems like forever.  But on this day, on the way home, I saw a patch of blue sky.  I turned to look into the sun (Hello, vitamin D!) and as I did, a little read VW Rabbit - Candy apple RED! - zoomed past me.  I smiled.   Hi, Archie.  

Emma

**Disclaimer** 

I'm going to start this post with some events that happened a few years ago.  For close friends and family, you know this story already, but to the new guys, I had to back up to get to the heart of the post.  So bear with me if you've heard this before.

When Emma was almost 4, I took her to our primary care physician because I thought she may have had a speech delay.  I was having better conversations with Aubrie, who was almost 2 at the time, than I was with Emma.  Some of her words were very hard to understand, plus she had a small lisp with her S's, and sometimes she just spoke in gibberish.  Our PCM gave us a referral to a speech pathologist.  We went in for some testing with the speech pathologist, who asked me if I'd ever had Emma tested for autism.  I knew very little about autism at the time, so I told her no.  She told me she suspected that Emma may be what they call a high functioning autistic child.  If you don't know about autism, I'll try to explain it to the best of my knowledge.  It is a social disorder, that has some symptoms that are neurological.  It is a spectrum disorder, meaning it can range from incredibly severe to very mild.  The kids who are very mild are referred to as high functioning.  They may be socially awkward, and can have some learning disabilities, but they can be taught to live a normal, happy life on their own.  The more severe cases require round the clock care and supervision.  The speech pathologist referred us to a child psychiatrist. 

The first visit we had with him, which was just over an hour long, he definitively diagnosed her as autistic, but high functioning.  He immediately put in for her to be tested by the DOE in Hawaii, so that she could be in the special education preschool.  He also set up appointments with us to do a child study program.  In the child study program, they get together a group of children that are to be observed by a team of doctors.  They bring in a child psychiatrist, and a child psychologist, a speech pathologist, a pediatrician and a few others that I can't remember off the top of my head.  They basically see how the kids interact with each other, and how they respond to various taskings and interactions with the doctors.  It's a series of 3, one hour long sessions.  We made it to 2, but missed the 3rd one because Emma was sick.  In between the first session, we had our second appointment with the psychiatrist, I had mentioned to him some aggressive behavior I'd noticed in Emma.  I wasn't sure if the behavior was autism related, or just her being a normal 4 year old, who was truly the middle child, just expressing her frustration.  He told me that it was definitely the autism, and he wanted to medicate her.  I sort of freaked out when he took her to have an EEG done, so that he could prescribe the medication.  I went home and did some research on the medication.  It is used in the treatment of the manic phases of bipolar disorder, the treatment of schizophrenia, and to treat severe behavior problems in autistic children.  I went back to him and told him I was NOT giving her this medication.  He insisted, and I told him that I wasn't convinced she was even autistic, but even if she was, I was not putting my almost 4 year old on a drug like that unless absolutely necessary and we were NOT at that point yet.  He agreed to reviewing the matter later.  

The first round of school testing began, and they did several things.  I can't remember everything they did, but the speech pathologist from the school district pulled me aside after her testing and asked me what exactly we were testing Emma for.  I told her she'd been diagnosed autistic, and the doctor wanted her in preschool.  The speech pathologist looked at me like I had 4 heads!  She told me that she was very surprised that they were testing Emma for autism, because she showed no signs of it in her session.  In my gut, I knew this diagnosis was a quick one.  Autism is a spectrum disorder.......how in the WORLD do you come to that conclusion after ONE visit?  After all the testing in the school district was finished, the testers sat down with me and gave me their decision - they were not recommending Emma for special ed preschool.  And I was advised (off the record) to get a second opinion on her autism diagnosis.  

The second doctor we saw was another primary care physician.  He assured me that just from what he saw in his office that he wouldn't even recommend her for another consult.  From the way she was behaving and interacting with him in his office, he would say he was reasonably sure that she was not autistic, but that she did have some learning delays.  At this point we were getting ready to PCS to Washington, so I put everything on hold until we moved here.

Since we live off post here, we were allowed to be seen off post.  I made an appointment at our pediatric clinic, and met with an RN whose specialty is child behavior.  I brought Emma in, and again, she could see no neurological or other reason why Emma would be considered autistic.  She said she would put in a recommendation to a child psychiatrist if I wished, but she felt that just from that one visit that she was too far along in so many areas (socially, neurologically, behaviorally) to be considered autistic.  When I came home that day, I sat down with Chip and we agreed that we would just wait until Emma started school.  If there really was an issue, that's the place it would rear it's head.

When she started kindergarten back in September, I waited.  I was waiting for a call from the teacher, SOMETHING to indicate we might have issues.  But no call came.  On Wednesday, we had our first parent/teacher conference.  She showed me all of Emma's work, showed me her progress, and asked if I had any questions.  So I asked, "Do you see anything that makes you think Emma could be autistic?"  Her response?  Well after she stopped laughing, she asked if I was serious, and I said yes.  I briefly explained what we had been told and she shook her head.  No way.  In her 23 years of teaching kindergarten, she had some experience in this area, and she was just shocked that Emma was ever considered autistic.  She told me she would call in the counselor during class one day, and ask her to observe Emma, but she would only do that if I really wanted it because she saw no indications at all that Emma was autistic.  

So then, what was it?  I think I can pinpoint a few things that brought everything on.  First, Chip deployed that year.  I did NOT handle that deployment well.  Which I'm sure my kids picked up on.  Second, I was pregnant with another baby.  When Camden was born, Emma became THE middle child.  She has two older siblings and two younger siblings.  Third, she was almost 4.  Not quite a big kid, but not a toddler anymore either.  I think just this combination is hard enough for an adult to deal with, so imagine having to do it as a child.  She DID have some learning delays.  Which is probably what caused a lot of her frustration.  Imagine being the middle child and not being able to communicate effectively.  Emma does have some quirks, she can be a little odd and very in your face.  But that is more personality than autism.  

I think back on when the first doctor wanted to medicate her.  I am so glad that I stuck to my guns and refused.  I'm not against medicating my children IF they need it.  But I just felt that she didn't need it.  More than that, I felt like the doctor was treating her based on what he'd done with every other child he'd worked with, and NOT treating her based on what was best for HER.  

So for now, I'm fairly confident that she is not autistic.  Her teacher is aware of this concern, so if anything comes up, she will inform me and I guess we'll go from there.  This has been such a long an frustrating journey.  Autism is hard to diagnose, but to be wrongly diagnosed I think is even worse.  I want what is best for her, and I guess as a parent you just always want clear answers and treatment, and that is not always the case.  

Rambling Fool

Since I haven't blogged in a week or so (more maybe?) this blog is likely to just be a jumble of babbling.  Sorry about that.  I have many, many thoughts swirling around my head, and I'm extremely tired.  Fair warning.

So let's talk about me being tired.  I can't sleep.  I just lay in bed with a million thoughts going around and around.  Plus I have this fantastic head cold.  Which leads to that little tickle you get in the middle of your throat, and then the coughing.  Oh the coughing!  It's not actually doing anything except perhaps scratching your throat because you don't have anything to cough up.  I toss and turn, thinking and coughing.  It's a vicious cycle.  And it keeps me up all night long.  I usually fall asleep right as my kids decided it's time to wake up.  That usually happens around 5ish.  I'm pretty sure my kids hate me.

We went to church last Sunday, and as we were about to head out the door to go home, one of the guys from our Sunday school class flagged me down and invited me to lunch with his family and two other families.  For those of you who are not Nazarene, you won't understand how we can't go a single Sunday without worship, food, and a good ol' Nazarene nap.  We had a great time getting to know a few of the families. One of the couples is from Ohio, and I sense a kinship with Jodi, that only midwest girls can share.  Hopefully she felt it, too.  Wow that sounded stalkerish.  I'm just so excited about this church.  Yesterday we had a potluck at church (see - FOOD) and again got to meet and chat with some other families.  I just feel like this is where we need to be.  

Last night I went to choir practice, and I'm pretty sure that this is one of the things I've been missing big time in my life.  There are probably a good many of you who do not know that I love to sing.  L-O-V-E to sing.  When I was in high school, I was in two performing choirs and I loved every minute of it.  I don't think I have the voice to be a soloist, but I can sing in a group with the best of them.  I haven't sang regularly for a purpose in a really, really long time.  I miss it.  When I was in Hawaii, I even looked for like a community adult choir, but never really found anything that looked appealing.  Sure, I sing in the shower, in the car, while I'm cleaning, or anywhere else I feel I can get away with it without looking like a fool.  But now I can do it with a purpose.  It amazed me how much I retained from high school choir.  We used to practice, sitting up straight, both feet on the floor.  I wasn't familiar with all of the music, but I was still able to catch on, and rather quickly.  This is totally my niche in life.  And the choir opened me with open arms.  Which is huge.  Most church choirs, this late into the year, are preparing for the Christmas program.  There's only a few short weeks until their program is supposed to go on, so it would probably be frowned upon to have new members start this early.  But these guys just said, the more the merrier!  Here's a book, here's the CD to learn it, Welcome!  It makes me feel even more like we were led here for a reason.  We were just going to visit!  I had no intentions of finding a church home.  I didn't even think we were looking for a church home.  But we found one.  

As exciting as that is, I have to admit that I'm a little apprehensive.  I haven't been a member of a church in a really long time.  Last time I was, I was a kid.  It feels different as an adult.  I can't explain why, it just does.  Maybe because, as a kid, we were pretty much told what to believe.  Now as an adult, after life and experiences, I have my own set of beliefs.  I was talking to a friend of mine about how I was afraid to go back because a lot of what I believe doesn't necessarily match up with the church's beliefs.  I mean, can you go to church and still be pro-choice?  Can you go if you believe in same-sex marriage?  It occurs to me I'm afraid of judgement.  I have seen the judgmental christians, and they are vicious and harsh.  I can't stand that.  (Is THAT a judgment?)  But I decided that I would go.  If I am judged, that's not on me.  I am not there to please other people, I'm there for the kind of relationship I want with God, and if I go with an open heart and mind, then I will learn whatever it is I need to learn.  

More random thoughts include......

Chip is leaving for Virginia in January.  It's only for 2 months.  And it's NOT a deployment.  But I'm still dreading it.  My kids lately have been driving me crazy.  There are days when I count down the hours until he gets home so I can have 5 minutes of peace.  I know I'll be fine, and the kids will be fine.  I just don't like it.  I know he has to do it, and when he does, it means so much for his career.  His first look for E7 is next March (2012).  But what he really wants to do, is go warrant.  For my non-military friends, he wants to be a warrant officer.  Warrant officers are the ranks between enlisted and officers.  E1-E9 are enlisted ranks, so he'd be above that, but since he doesn't have a degree, he'd be under the rank of officers.  It's a little more pay, a LOT more respect, and it will be great for us when he retires.  

Do you guys know that he retires from the army in just 7 years?  That seems crazy to me!  We're already trying to plan it!  We're looking at probably going to the Columbia, SC area.  Most of Chip's family is in the Carolinas, not to mention some of mine, and then it's only about a day's drive to Indiana, where most of my family is.  We also have close friends in NC, so it will be perfect.  We figured we'd try to get near Columbia, since all of the kids will still be in the house.  We'd still be able to go to the commissary and PX.  Plus it's about smack in the middle between his family in Charleston, and our families in Anderson/Fletcher.  We've been looking at houses, and are so happy that in what we think would be our price range that we have a lot of options.  I think I want an older house that's been mostly updated, with a large yard and lots of trees.  They have a lot of newer houses but the lots are smaller and the developments have few trees that look like they were planted when they built the houses.  I love big old trees, and the shade they provide.  Plus I love the look of the old brick houses.  I wouldn't mind doing a little work (painting and such) but I don't want anything that we'll have to completely overhaul.  Kitchens will be a deal breaker.  We've had some pretty crappy army housing kitchens, and while I know you can sometimes change the floor plan, it's just not something I think we'll want to undertake when we first get out.  Painting the kitchen, maybe even replacing cabinets or counter tops, or appliances, those might be doable.  But to completely gut any part of the house is not going to do it for me.  I guess that's one of the advantages of being in so many houses - we pretty much know what we want and what we don't.  

I guess that's enough for today.  If you've made it this far, give yourself a cookie.