Halloween Tip

Many kids with Food Allergies feel left out at the holidays, especially Halloween. One thing you can do is provide non-food treats for your Trick or Treaters. You can even put out a Teal Pumpkin to let families know that you have non-food treats, and register your house online with the Teal Pumpkin Project: https://www.foodallergy.org/education-awareness/teal-pumpkin-project.

Pro Tip:

If you have kids, have them go through their rooms and purge all the important trinkets that come home from school, birthday parties and holidays. We keep a bin in the closet that is lovingly labeled “Halloween Treasures” and put all the items they don’t want into this bin. We do this several times a year.

At Halloween we have one bowl for candy and one with toys. We take all the items from the bin and put them into the toy bowl. The trick-or-treaters typically prefer the toys, it repurposes them and keeps them from going straight to the Landfill, and prevents you from having to buy more important trinkets. Joseph says he is surprised each year by how much stuff is always in the bin. Someone (rhymes with “Eye-lee”) always goes through and rescues a few items that she “needs” to keep. But overall everyone wins.

An Amazing Thing

Tonight my son did an amazing thing.

He was part of a choir concert. One child among many up on stage.

Just another kid in the crowd.

That may not seem like much of an accomplishment; unless you know how far he’s come.

Eight years ago my son started full-day therapy for autism. He couldn’t say more than a handful of words. He would hit and kick and destroy things on a fairly regular basis when his emotions overwhelmed him. He couldn’t or wouldn’t follow directions, especially if it was something he didn’t want to do. He couldn’t wait for much of anything without lots of toys and snacks and juice involved. He couldn’t be around large groups of people, like at a game or concert. And when anyone around him would start singing he would say, “No singing!” No one was allowed to sing around Hayden.

Tonight he stood on stage with 50 other kids and sang. He stood still during the concert. He sat still for the half hour before the concert started and for another 45 minutes after his group sang, listening to the other three groups.

Can you even find him in this photo? (No, he’s not the one on the end dancing, although that kid’s adorable and I wish I wore my love for music on my sleeve like that.) He’s almost right in the center. Just standing there. Singing.

He was nervous about this concert. He didn’t want to make any mistakes. His nervousness made me nervous. I didn’t know what to expect. I daydreamed of having to run up on stage and escort him off while he was screaming and yelling. In my mind there was a 30% chance I would actually have to do that tonight.

And yet that life, of screaming and running and fear and heartache, for both him and for me, is moving further and further away from our existence. I hope one day that that life will be a memory. It almost is now. But today I had a flashback to it, and I felt relieved and proud and overjoyed for where we are, yet sad for where we were back then. Sad that I even felt I had to worry today. Sad that I had to worry back then.

Joseph and I have seen many big wows lately, so tonight wasn’t necessarily a surprise. And yet, as he stood up there, just one of the kids, and I thought about my Hayden from eight years ago, I was moved to tears as I watched him sing.

Tonight he did the opposite of everything I listed above from the Hayden of eight years ago. He used his words and kept his emotions in check. He followed directions even though he was sometimes bored or nervous. He waited, and stood amongst and in front of hundreds of people. He listened to and sang with and amongst others to un-preferred songs. For almost an hour.

I told him tonight how proud I am of him. I told him that I loved him before and would love him tomorrow no matter what he does or doesn’t do. But I also told him that I am so very proud of how hard he has worked to get to where he is.

He wants so desperately and tries so hard to be just like every other kid on that stage— to have the same opportunities and the same experiences as everyone else. And tonight, in front of his friends and teachers and community...he nailed it.

Autism is treatable.

Progress is possible.

Hayden is Hope.

#FUA

(Note that this event took place two days ago and this post was made to Facebook the same day. Technology prevented me from posting it to the blog until today. Sorry for the time discrepancy!)

Turning Points

I realized the other day that this sign represents the intersection between my old life and my new life. Where I used to live and where I live now.

A crossroads of who I used to be, and who I am today.

Two different lives, two different paths. Divided by this one sign.

“And then you will find that you only see the turning-point when you are past it.” 

 —Stephen McKenna