parenting – user's Blog!

Since taking on my fifth job – yes, fifth – I’ve been a little MIA on my blog. I was a little busy, but also, didn’t really feel like I had much to write about either. We have been doing the daily grind: school, therapy, homework/housework, bed, repeat. Nothing “big” happening really, so no blog posts.

Colin has decided that he loves The Greatest Showman. Between that and Ice Age, we aren’t watching much else right now. Yes, I know, he has very diverse taste, right? He is so mesmerized by the songs, we rewind and listen over and over to our favorite songs. (Do you really rewind a digital movie? Or is that just what us old folks still say because we grew up on VHS?) Anyway, this gave me a series idea: blogging about autism using the soundtracks from The Greatest Showman. This past summer I wrote about my take on This is Me and autism, so now I’ll do a post for each of the other songs. First up: A Million Dreams.

A Million Dreams starts off with P.T. Barnum as a little boy, saying:

Through the dark, through the door
Through where no one’s been before
But it feels like home

Autism is like that. We often feel like we are in the dark, going through something that no one else has ever experienced. You just crossed over into the unknown. What will “autism” mean for your family? Will my child ever talk? Will this get better? Easier? It’s like going through a hypothetical door when you get that official diagnosis. You aren’t sure where it’s leading you, but it feels like home. And do you know why it feels like home? Because this is still your wonderful, perfect son or daughter. Everything has changed…yet it hasn’t changed at all.

The next stanza, the boy is saying that people might call him crazy, but that’s okay, because

We can live in a world that we design.

Also, totally relatable in the world of autism. Our lives look strange to “outsiders.” Unless you live it every day, you won’t understand it. Our parenting is often judged and our children often misunderstood. Sadly, you and your child will likely be called “crazy.” Or “weird.” Or “bad.” You quickly learn, though, that it doesn’t matter what the world thinks. You know what works for your family, and you live in a world that you design.

The chorus:

‘Cause every night I lie in bed
The brightest colors fill my head
A million dreams are keeping me awake
I think of what the world could be
A vision of the one I see
A million dreams is all it’s gonna take
A million dreams for the world we’re gonna make

This is where it really hits home for me. As an autism mom, I really do lie awake at night. Some nights, I’m worrying about something. Other nights, I’m reliving a particularly big milestone that was met that day. Others, I’m plotting and planning and scheming, trying to figure out how to make my son’s life the best it can be.

We have to be dreamers, but we must also be doers. Just like P.T. Barnum and his circus, it’s gonna take a million dreams to bring about the vision I have for the world. Not just a world of awareness, but one of acceptance. A world of understanding…one of inclusion…one of love. A million dreams,…and advocacy, education, outreach, storytelling, listening, and learning. Blood, sweat and tears…and lobbying, and sharing our stories.

If you’re a part of the autism community, you know what I mean. We have to work and fight and work some more. This world isn’t always accommodating or accepting of those who are different. It is our job to change that. Together, we can make a difference…because a million dreams is all it’s gonna take, for the world we’re gonna make.

You might get tired of reading this phrase over and over, but it’s true:

with autism, the small things are really, really big things.

I wrote about this in my book, and it’s still something I struggle with often…I feel like I have two only children most of the time. Finley wants to play make-believe. Colin just isn’t there yet. Colin wants to play with Finley, but it usually only happens when they are rough-housing, playing chase, etc. So I feel like I need to entertain both of them all the time. When they are on two different levels, that makes it hard, which stresses me out, which brings on the mom-guilt…you can see where this is going.

As they get older, they seem to be interacting more and more, which makes my heart so happy. We were playing outside a couple of weeks ago. They were rolling down the hill. The next thing I know, they’re doing what Finn calls, “the double roll.” They were holding tight to each other as they rolled down the hill as one mass of little boy. They were laughing and having fun together.

Together.

That’s a cool word to use as an autism mom, because I know many children with siblings on the spectrum never experience anything together. I am so grateful for the moments of togetherness that they get to share as brothers.

Then the chickens came over and bowed to Finn. That’s what they do when they want to be held. Finn was trying to put the chickens on Colin’s lap…Colin was pulling on Finn, wanting to “double roll” some more.

(A totally unrelated thought, but I never would have guessed that chickens would be such good pets. There. I admit it. I was wrong once. Just once, mind you. About the chickens. That’s the only time…)

Finley immediately turned into a little therapist, and he didn’t even know it.

He said, “Roll? You want to roll? Tell Bubba ‘roll’.” He is the most amazing big brother. (Also know that they fight like cats and dogs over control of the TV…which leads me to my next point today…)

We have had some screen time issues as of late. My child, who shall remain nameless (cough-cough-Finley-cough-cough) thinks he needs the phone, iPad, computer, TV, something with a screen, all the time. It’s a problem that I caused. Any time I needed to do something with Colin, I gave him his iPad. Then it became “Oh, I can have this all the time,” to which mommy and daddy are fighting against as we speak. Send up all the prayers and positive thoughts our way…we need them!

Anyway….

Today I just said, “no TV.” It’s been off, and no one is fighting over what show is playing. Colin doesn’t just sit and watch it, but he thinks it has to be on for the background noise I guess…but no background noise today.

I threatened to give away all of the toys…you know, since he doesn’t play with them and thinks they’re all boring. He decided to go into the attic and bring down his Imaginext toys. I look over and see this:

They’re playing together. Now granted, it’s more parallel play on Colin’s part (definition: playing beside other children), but he is watching Finley. He wants to be there with him, he wants to play. He is playing appropriately with toys, which is also so big.

If you don’t have a child on the spectrum, I hope that you never take for granted that your children play together. This might seem like an everyday thing for your family, but for ours, it’s a really really big thing.

Together. 💙💙