Illness & Rare Moments of Clarity

When Cordy’s teacher called me on Friday to tell me that Cordy was complaining of a sore throat, I wasn’t convinced. Cordy had been practically vibrating around the living room that morning, excited about going sledding with her class. I figured she had simply burned out on excitement and was claiming a sore throat to be given the chance to rest after expending so much energy.

The teacher wasn’t convinced, either, as Cordy went from complaining about a sore throat to happily eating a snack. Cordy had no fever, so her teacher wasn’t inclined to send her home, and I agreed. Cordy had a great day and came home happy.

Saturday I was gone for most of the day visiting a friend, and when I left everything seemed fine. When I came home that night, I was given the report that Cordy had fallen asleep at the table in a restaurant for lunch, and then refused to eat anything for dinner that night. When I peeked in on her, she was curled up in bed with her PJs on and an adult-sized fleece jacket over it all.

It wasn’t until early Sunday morning that my fears were confirmed, when I heard a low moaning sound coming from her room. When I went in she was tossing back and forth in her bed, saying she hurt all over. She was hot to the touch, too. No doubt, she was sick.

Cordy has the strongest immune system I know. She’s only been sick a handful of times, often avoiding the common colds and stomach viruses that go around. While I’d like to claim credit for good parenting and teaching her about proper hygiene, I know that isn’t likely the reason – after all, she’s a 6 year old with a sensory fear of water. So when she’s sick, I get concerned.

She spent most of Sunday either on the couch or in her bed. All food was refused, but she did drink a little bit of juice for us. Medicine helped the fever for a little while, but it always came back quickly. I could only sit by her side and hold her hand, telling her to rest and that she would feel better soon.

The worst part was her realization that she was sick, and that sickness can lead to death. “Mommy, am I going to die from being sick? I don’t want to die, I want to live,” she cried to me at one point. I held her tight and assured her that she would be fine and that everyone gets sick sometimes.

But something else happens when Cordy gets sick – she also becomes amazingly clear-headed. Instead of the random thoughts that come out in a rapid-fire string of consciousness, she can hold long conversations and remain focused on the topic at hand. She doesn’t get easily upset over little things, and she doesn’t have the same low threshold for sensory overload. She’s quieter, more still, more deep in thought and more aware of everything around her.

I can’t describe it well, but it’s as if the fever somehow blocks her autism and lets the child that is tangled up in it shine through. And while I’m always concerned about her when she’s sick, I also took the time to marvel at how different she is during these moments.

By Monday morning she was still weak, but starting to feel better. And by Monday evening, the Cordy we know and love was asking to eat dinner.

I’d never wish for Cordy to be sick, but I’ll admit that when she is sick I do take advantage of those rare quiet moments with her, comforting her, holding her hand, stroking her hair, and remind myself how grateful I am for all that she is, whether sick or healthy.



Giving In

When it comes to school lunches, we prefer to pack for our daughters. I’ve seen Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, I know how nutritionally deficient most school lunches are. French fries and ketchup count as vegetables – don’t even get me started on ketchup packets where tomatoes aren’t the first ingredient. Everything is breaded and fried and/or processed and prepackaged. The school menu looks like one processed food item after another, filled with artificial ingredients, fat and sodium.

Packing lunch has never been hard for Cordy. She’s a creature of habit who generally avoids new foods. And so every day she is thrilled to eat her PB&J, goldfish crackers and Annie’s fruit snacks. She even turns her nose up at chocolate milk because it’s different. (And we’re not about to try to push her on that, either.) She comes home each day with an empty lunchbox and usually a little peanut butter still on her mouth.

Mira is another story. At the beginning of the school year, she was thrilled to have a packed lunch like Cordy. She carried her lunch bag with pride, pointing out her name written in Sharpie on the top. But then she arrived at school and saw what the other kids were eating. And she saw the chocolate milk. She begged for chocolate milk – after all, chocolate ice cream was great, so chocolate milk must be awesome, right?

Even though she didn’t pay for a lunch, her teachers started giving her small cups of the chocolate milk because they always had extras. We frowned on it, but didn’t outright forbid it, and quickly learned that her teachers – like so many others – aren’t immune to her charms. So she started drinking chocolate milk with lunch.

But then I noticed she’d come home from preschool and some of her lunch was still in the bag. Sometimes she’d walk in the door and immediately tell me she wanted to eat her goldfish crackers, so I figured she was simply saving them for an afternoon snack. Occasionally I’d see notes from the teacher that she ate some of the school lunch, too, and they didn’t mind because they always have extras. Okaaaaaay then.

Over the past few weeks, though, Mira has come home with most of her lunch still tucked safely in her lunch bag. It’s frustrating to have to throw away an entire PB&J sandwich, and Aaron (who makes the lunches in the morning because I’m at work) was getting increasingly angry with her. He decided to try a different approach, thinking that maybe Mira wants more variety in her lunch. He began asking her each morning what she wanted for lunch, and then packing her requests. We hoped this would solve the problem.

However, earlier this week she brought home a salami and cheese sandwich, untouched, along with her other lunch items. Despite asking for it that morning, she decided not to eat it and ate the school food again instead. Throwing another wasted sandwich in the trash, Aaron declared that he was done making lunches for her. I agreed.

I’m a little surprised at how easily I agreed to let her eat the school lunch. But I can’t stand to see the food that we pay so much money for wasted every day. It still makes me cringe to think of some of the foods she’s eating. The little comfort I have is that, unlike Cordy, Mira appears to have no food sensitivities to artificial ingredients, so at least the junk food doesn’t affect her behavior.

She’s a stubborn three year old and she’s found how to get her way on this issue. (Please don’t think she gets her way with everything, though. Her pout and fluttering eyelashes have only limited power on Aaron and I.) She manipulated her teachers into letting her eat the school food even though she had a perfectly good and delicious lunch in her bag each day. And she pushed us to the point where we have given up and stopped packing her lunch.

She won. Or at least she won one battle. She’s already upset that she can’t take her Thomas the Tank Engine lunch bag to school anymore, and I’m not giving in on that. There’s no point in taking an empty lunch bag to school.

Sigh. I can already tell Mira is going to be a challenge as she gets older. I only hope I can convince her to use her master powers of manipulation for good, not evil.

 T.R.O.U.B.L.E.


Resolutions Are For Quitters

Well, look at that. It’s 2011. And I totally missed out on the whole end-of-the-year wrap up and making resolutions for the new year. Good thing I didn’t resolve to be more timely with my posts, or I’d already be a failure.

Actually, I think it’s for the best if I don’t make any resolutions this year. After all, most resolutions end up forgotten or quietly swept under the rug before the after-Valentine’s Day chocolates clearance at Target, so why would I set myself up to be reminded that my life is too complicated and busy for lines drawn in the sand and declarations etched in stone?

That doesn’t mean I have no plans for this new year, though. Oh no, I’ve got a lot riding on this year, and I expect great things before Santa returns in 2011.

Last year I took the progress I had made towards a healthier me in 2009 forward to lose another 12 pounds and completely run my first 5K. This year is going to see that snowball keep a-rollin’ down that hill. I’d like to lose another 20 pounds and run more 5Ks, but honestly as long as the scale is at least a little lower by the end of the year and I’ve participated in at least 1 or 2 runs, I’ll still be happy.

In 2010 I changed jobs when it was clear my unit was soon to be eliminated, and I like my current position. I never imagined myself here, but now that I’m living it, I’m content to stay. This year I hope the company will agree with my desire to stay and upgrade me from a contractor to a permanent employee, with all of the benefits that go with that. *cough*healthinsurance*cough* We’re hoping 2011 will also be the year Aaron finds more permanent employment as well.

I completely failed at my resolution for work-life balance last year. It wasn’t going too bad until a work crisis erupted in early fall and I found myself working massive overtime (along with everyone else) to keep up with the crush of work. It was heartbreaking to go days without seeing my children for more than 30 minutes each day. And when I did see them, it was often over the top of my laptop screen. I should have put down the computer more, stopped checking work e-mail from home, and enjoyed more play time.

As I look around me and see others with their new babies, I’m reminded just how fast the time goes. I’ll admit I don’t want my children to grow up so quickly. I don’t know how Mira transformed from a toddler into a funny, potty-trained, opinionated preschooler. I can’t keep thinking that they’ll wait until I have time for them, because when that time comes I’m going to find they’ve continued to grow up – without my permission – and I didn’t notice. My girls are here with me now, at this moment in time, and I need to appreciate them for who they are in this moment.

2008 remains one of the worst years of my life. 2009 was somewhat of an improvement, and 2010 was better than 2009. If that upward trend can continue, then 2011 is looking mighty promising for me. Hopefully it’ll be promising for all of us.

So yeah, a lot of hopes and plans for 2011, but no firm resolutions. Less stuff. More love. Less stress and worry. More family experiences. Less me. More us. Learn more. Do more. Be healthier. Be more interesting. Be happier.

Live whole.



Christmas Gift Hall of Shame

On Christmas night, after everyone was gone, the wrapping paper bagged up, and the kids put to bed, I (of course) went to Twitter to see how everyone else spent the day. I found myself quickly reading through a hilarious list of worst gifts of the year. Some were embarrassing, some were funny, some were just plain odd.

And then I realized I had nothing to contribute.

We had a really good Christmas this year. We saw a lot of family, had a great meal, gave some fun gifts to everyone, and received some really nice gifts in return.

Quick tangent: Cordy even handled the day better than she ever has. When the room got too loud, I noticed her slowly pushing herself deeper into the sofa cushions, as if she was trying to disappear entirely. A few family members drew attention to her, and she closed her eyes to block it all out as I reminded them that this was her way of coping with the sensory overload, and it was best to not engage her at that time.

Soon she had had enough and quietly slipped upstairs to her room. When I went up to check on her, she told me that she went to her room because she needed some quiet time. Wow…I’ll gladly accept that response to being overloaded rather than her previous response of having a massive meltdown. And after a little while, she came downstairs again, ready to join in and play with her toys some more.

OK, back to the story: Both Cordy and Mira had several fun toys and books to choose from, and Aaron and I received gift cards to several of our favorite places. There was no gift Hall of Shame, no WTF gift of 2010. I found myself a little sad about that fact.

In the past, we could always count on my Great Aunt Dot to provide some weird, off-the-wall gift that she purchased on the 90% off rack at Macy’s for Christmas. Sometimes it was a tin of stale, outdated cashews, or a bunny that said “Happy Easter” when you pressed it’s ear. Sometimes it was a bag of toilet paper with one roll missing from the pack or some gaudy piece of costume jewelry with the price tag still clearly attached, red lines showing the markdowns. Sometimes it was a map of Millersburg, Ohio with no explanation.

As a kid I hated opening all the weird stuff from her. I didn’t even like her all that much – she was mean and liked to tease me. Later I learned to laugh it off and remember it’s the thought that counts, and as an adult I understood that the teasing and the gruff exterior were how she dealt with a lifetime of disappointment. She died just over two years ago, and since then Christmas gifts have never been the same at our house.

So this year I once again pulled out one of her last gifts for Cordy and played it for everyone just before we sat down to eat. (Thankfully, Cordy isn’t scared of it anymore.)

Aunt Dot’s Gift from Christina M on Vimeo.

A family friend who joined us this year looked at it and said, “Shouldn’t you take the price tag off that?”

“Of course not,” we replied, “That’s just how Aunt Dot gave it!”

We may no longer have her with us, but when we see that deer (moose?) in a bathrobe singing “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” while it rocks in the chair, it’s like Aunt Dot is still celebrating with us in spirit.



A Fair and Balanced Christmas

I thought I had most of the Christmas shopping done long before today. But then when I paused for a moment to do a quick recap of the gifts I have for my two cherubs to unwrap on Christmas morning, I realized I had made a grave error.

Mira has over twice as many gifts as Cordy.

It’s not like I intentionally tried to stiff my older child. Mira is just far easier to shop for, thanks to being very outspoken about what she likes. I know that if I find anything involving Thomas the Train, polar bears, or the color pink, she will squeal with joy and proclaim it the Best Gift Ever.

(Until she opens the next item that fits one or more of those categories, where she will yet again declare it the Best Gift Ever. She never leaves a gift giver disappointed by her reaction.)

Cordy, on the other hand, is a little more difficult. She wants a blue bunny. And maybe a superhero sticker book. Her requests are very specific, and not always items that can be obtained. Guess wrong when presenting her with a gift and you’ll be met with the silence of indifference as she sets it aside and never glances at it again.

So it was an honest oversight that I picked up significantly more gifts for Mira than Cordy. Which means I get to join the crowds today to find at least one more gift for Cordy.

Sure, I could hold back a few items for Mira, but if I did that it would be holding back all of the toys/games, because the polar bear clothing can’t wait until her birthday in May, when it will no longer be winter and she’ll likely be near the end of this clothing size. And even though I know she’ll love the clothing, I can’t make her open only clothing from Santa.

Thankfully, both of my girls don’t have expensive tastes, so I’ll only need to find a good book or an interesting small toy to make up the difference. Sometimes the least expensive item is often Cordy’s favorite. But they’re both old enough now to notice if one has significantly more presents than the other, so I have to at least make sure the gift load is balanced.

My mom was lucky – she never had to deal with the issue of gift equalization. I was an only child, making Christmas an easy task for her – if Santa brought me only one gift, I had no one else to compare it with. But possibly because I grew up as an only child, it’s also not a topic in the front of my mind when buying gifts for my children.

(For the record – I’m not saying I wish I had only one child. They just don’t cover this in the hospital when you give birth to your second child.)

I suppose this will be good training for the years to come, because while they will only notice the number of packages at the moment, I’m sure in the future I’ll have to dodge the “You spent more on her than me!” teenager whine.

And that will be the day I give them equal gift cards and let them pick out what they want.

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