Kelly: The First Decade

Tomorrow you will turn 10 years old. You entered the world at 11:16am on June 29, 1999. And I became a mom.

I remember what an easy baby you were. Who needs all these “What to Expect” books? It’s so easy. She sleeps, she cuddles, she eats, she burps, etc. What’s so difficult about being a parent (I would learn, a whole lot is difficult about being a parent sometimes).

10 years of watching you grow. You started out this very delicate, porcelain-like infant that grew into a toddler with fiery red hair and blue eyes. You then morphed into a preschooler with auburn hair and hazel eyes. Now your hair shines a million different colors in the sunlight and your eyes are a warm brown.

Last week you lay down on the pediatrician’s table and I realized that you are inches from having your feet hang over the edge. Wow, when did that happen? I remember you being so tiny that they’d lay you on the table and mark your length on the paper, in inches.

10 years of wondering if I’m making the right choices. 10 years of being the one who decided when to call the doctor, send a note to a teacher, or restrain the motherly urge to fix everything in your world. I thought I would know so much more by now.

For 10 years, you’ve been along for the ride on every major decision I’ve made. The horrible decisions that occurred before you were even 2 years old. Not what I had planned for my innocent little girls-how I wanted to protect you from all of that. You’ve never known what it’s like to live in a world with mom and dad under the same roof. Never known what it’s like to have dad living in the same house, city, or even state. It’s just never been part of your world. Weekly phone calls, birthday cards, and visits to Texas and Michigan are part of your world. You take it all in stride. Always excited for whatever is offered to you. I’ve never heard you complain.

10 years of moves. Wisconsin to Michigan at 7 weeks of age. Michigan to Indiana in a whirlwind at 23 months of age. Indiana to Tennessee at 5 years of age. From the suburbs to downtown and back again. You’ve trusted and been excited for each adventure. Your only complaint has been that you’d like a room of your own…still working on that one. You’ve been the new kid and have blended in with a variety of groups. You have a knack for picking some of the best friends around, and people have genuinely loved having you around.

In the past 10 years, you’ve gone from having only “2 lows to share” in our dinner time game of sharing 1 High and 1 Low of our day to having nothing but giggles and highs to share. You’re walking taller these days. It’s fun to watch. Fun to see you try new attitudes and personas on for size. I love who you are and who you are becoming.

In the past 10 years, I’ve watched you go from a brief stint as an only-child, to a toddler big sister, to a preschooler who just wanted her little sister to stop breaking her things, to a big sister who loves and protects her little sister. Tatum adores you.

You have every right to hold it against Tatum that she broke the heads off every single thin-necked Disney princess crayon when you were 4 years old, but you don’t (all the Jasmine and Ariel crayons with their thick, flowing hair survived, it was a bad day for Disney princesses with up-dos like Cinderella and Belle).

You are the reason that Tatum knows what it’s like to have a friend. For the last 8 ½ years, you have been her primary, and sometimes only, playmate. She knows what it’s like to play Littlest Petshops and dress up and have tea parties because you’ve had the patience to tough it out with a little sister who has autism.

It’s weird to think that I don’t have another 10 years with you as a child. I can’t wrap my mind around that. In another 10 years, you’ll be the age I was when I was married. When I think about what’s ahead, I’m not even sure how it works. I always pictured myself as a mom with little kids, not a mom with a tween or a teenager. It’s bizarre to think I’m closer to the driving and dating days than to the diapers days.

There are lots of moments I want to steal back of your 1st 10 years. Some of the times are a blur with me working fulltime, 2 little kids on my own, going back to school. But I’m glad for the memories I have. Steamers in the coffee shops while discussing great (or not so great) works of art that hung on the walls. Watching you smile and laugh for the first time. Watching those first steps. Hearing you speak 1 word then start to string multiple words together. First days of school. You being bitten by the reading bug and begin to devour books.

But it will arrive. It will go by much like the last 10 years have. There’s a line from the movie Finding Neverland where the author of Peter Pan says, “Little boys should never be forced to go to bed because they always wake up a day older.” I’m a little sad to see you climb into bed each night.

Happy 10th birthday, Kelly. As melancholy as I am about seeing my first decade as a parent come to an end, I’m so excited about what the next season holds for me as a parent and for you as an individual. Thanks for letting me fail as a parent with you and still giving me another chance. Thanks for being patient as I figured out which end of our world was right side up. Thanks for bouncing with the ups and downs of our world the past 10 years. Thanks for all of the kisses and hugs and cuddles.

Thanks for a great 10 years, Kelly Dakota.

Good Friday 2009

I just put Tatum, my 8 year old daughter to bed. I'm sad to see her drift off to sleep. This is quite a change from 6 months ago when I would drop into bed exhausted, only to spend most of the night pseudo-sleeping but mostly watching the video monitor (purchased from a local baby store) that was attached to the camera in Tatum's room (other parents of autistic children will identify with this).

It has been an especially Good Friday this year and not for just the religious reasons. I'm getting to know my daughter Tatum in whole new ways. It's an amazing journey filled with simple, everyday moments.

Tatum is autistic. She is highly intelligent. She is near constant motion. Like others on the spectrum, she came with very little need for sleep. I have had an interesting journey as an adult. Nothing has been as challenging as being Tatum's mother.

I made the decision to homeschool Tatum for the 2008-2009 school year. I saw the intense agitation and anxiety melt away, but every day life was still challenging and full of melt-downs.

In November I pursued biomedical treatment for Tatum through the local Autism Solution Center. Blood draws, allergy testing, colon cleansing, stool samples, and major dietary changes have become part of our journey. What I have learned is that there is a reason that Tatum has a hard time making it through any given day-her body is not working well. A lot of stuff is out of sync. But we have a plan now. I have hope that our life will not be tied to neurology visits, EEGs, and increasing amounts of medications.

January 1, 2009, we started the major dietary changes and supplements. I saw my daughter's food cravings disappear (she was the typcial GFCF kid looking for her next fix...shoving fistfuls of shredded cheese in her mouth faster than I could get the refrigerator door shut). She began to eat a wider variety of foods, including meat and veggies. She still misses pizza, but she has an amazingly sweet disposition about all of this change.

This past week, I have seen dramatic changes in her fine motor skills. I have also watched my daughter climb, run, and navigate a playground with no fear or anxiety (a major feat for a kiddo with sensory integration issues-in the above pic, she and Kelly are walking across a broken bridge-this previously would have led to such a high level of anxiety that our hike would have been over, but now it's hardly noticed by her). Her hair texture is changing. Her body is relaxing-she isn't walking around in fight or flight mode anymore.

Sitting at dinner last night with a good friend, I searched for the words to describe a recent outing to my older daughter's drama performance. My friend found the perfect word to describe it: "normal." This incredible experience was made so extraordinary by being completely ordinary...parents all around me were experiencing the same thing, but I was probably the only one celebrating it.

Tatum did not argue with leaving home to attend the performance. We talked in the car on the way to the performance. She did not have any difficulty sitting through the performance. She watched the play and laughed at appropriate times. When it was over, she clapped and ran off to find her sister. I collected both of them and climbed in our car and drove home. Once home, we re-engaged our day's activities without an issue. Normal. Just completely ordinary.

Throughout the whole drama performance, I never once was on high alert for things that might set Tatum off. I did not have to entertain her to try and keep her engaged. I did not have to find ways to work off all of her extra energy. I did not have to have a death grip on her hand in the parking lot to keep her safe. I was able to fully enjoy my daughter Kelly's play.

I am watching her tease and joke with me, her sister, and friends. I am seeing so many circles of communication between her and others that I'm amazed. She's seeking out hugs and touch. She likes to climb up in my lap (which is becoming more difficult as she is growing like a weed).

But it's deceptive. Having done the "normal" route with my easy going Kelly, Tatum's improvements almost sneak by me. Then I will realize how easy a transition was compared to the on the floor meltdowns. I'll observe Tatum upset that no one will play a game with her and remember the girl that only wanted to spend hours in her closet lining up her Little People or Magnetix pieces.

So our bedtime is simple. She has a bath. She puts on her pajamas. She brushes her teeth. She fills her cup of water. We read a story together. I tuck her in. Hugs and kisses. And then she drifts off to sleep. The video monitor has been put up on a shelf. I sleep.

Nothing unique about it. In Tatum's short life, we should have had nearly 3,000 of the same, ordinary bedtimes. We're up to 30, and I'm loving every minute of our normal life.

Zoology with Team Beautiful

Team Beautiful's science studies begin this year with the life sciences, more specifically zoology. I thought introducing the girls to the Animal Planet show Meerkat Manor would be a great way to take a closer look at one of the girls' favorite zoo animals.

The girls became engrossed in the Whisker Family's everyday life, and we quickly moved through seasons 1 and 2 (which involved roughly 15+/- pregnancies by the matriarch Flower). Season 3 has been a much darker season, fraught with death.

This has led to not only studying the Meerkat pups' behavior but also 2 little Team Beautiful pups' behavior. (I would announce "spoiler alert" but we are about a year behind, Season 4 is currently showing on cable). In the latest episode, Flower bravely fought a poisonous snake and was killed. These are both girls' responses to the death of the lead meerkat:

Kelly-(no real words, just weeping and other sad sounds).

Tatum- "Oh, I wonder who will be the dominant female now?"

For additional information, you may find Flower's obituary at http://animal.discovery.com/fansites/meerkat/flower/obituary.html.

For a great article re: people's responses to the death of the "Kalahari Desert Rose", see http://www.nytimes.com/2007/10/10/arts/television/10bell.html.

PS: If you see us out and about and Tatum is rubbing her chin on an object, have no fear. It is not another stimming behavior-she just thinks it's funny to "scent mark" things like a meerkat now (Thank goodness she's chosen the more milder form of meerkat scent marking).