When I was a kid, I hated ham. I also hated cheese. I was at my Grandma’s one day and my Papa (in our world, that word is pronounced “pawpaw.”) was eating a ham and cheese sandwich and I just sat there and watched him. He was sitting at the kitchen table by the window with that sandwich in his hand, taking nice, slow bites. He had this look on his face like it was the best thing he’d ever eaten.  He looked up and saw me watching and said, “Grandma, make that baby a sandwich.” So, she did. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated both cheese and ham and that I was watching him so intently because I couldn’t understand why he liked it.

My Papa finished his sandwich and went into the living room to read the paper. Though I was doubtful, I decided to sit down and take a bite of that ham and cheese sandwich.  My suspicions were right… I still hated ham and I still hated cheese. I looked up at my grandma and said, “I don’t want this.” She said, “You already took a bite out of it so you’re going to eat it.” She wasn’t a mean woman or a mean grandma, but she lived through the depression and wasn’t about to throw out a perfectly good ham and cheese sandwich to please a 9 year old. I was a shy, quiet 9 year old, even with my grandparents, but, I wasn’t about to choke down a big old nasty slice of cheese and an even bigger, nastier slice of ham. So, I bided my time.

Grandma finished whatever it was she was doing and left me to my sandwich and joined Papa in the living room. Now, let me try to set this scene a bit more. My grandparents had two tables in their kitchen. There was the big table down by the sink and then a second, smaller table up near the front of the kitchen, facing the street. That’s where they kept the refrigerator and stove along with a cabinet they used as a pantry. I was sitting at the table by the sink… right next to the trash can. If I had been smart, I would have buried that ham and cheese sandwich in the trashcan.

But, I decided that was too risky.

Grandma might look in that trashcan and find that sandwich. So, what did I do? I took the ham and cheese off bread and threw them across the kitchen, where it was flung over top of the pantry cabinet and slid behind it. Then, I ate my bread and joined my grandparents in the living room. I thought I was pretty clever.

About a month later, I was back at my grandma’s and she told me she found that sandwich. That’s all she said about it. She didn’t scold me. She just said it matter of factly; “I found that ham and cheese sandwich.” Then she just gave me a look. That look was enough. She didn’t have to scold me. I felt terrible.

The reason I am telling this story now? I made Christopher a cheese quesadilla tonight for dinner. He only ate one little triangle of it. Now, this is the young man that comes downstairs almost every night of the week begging for more food at bedtime and he is also the young man that I have to fight with each night to get him to eat dinner. So, I said, “You have to eat at least two triangles tonight or no snack.” Jim, who has already heard my ham and cheese sandwich story, just came into the kitchen to tell me, “Mommy, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. I just caught Christopher hiding his quesadilla behind the couch cushion.”

My, how the tables have turned.

When my grandfather died I was only 24 years old. It was the first family member I had ever lost. It was devastating and I grieved more than I thought possible. I believe he reached out to me in my dreams to comfort me. I have had this discussion with my younger sister, Amy, and she has said the same thing. We have shared stories with each other about incredibly loving and heartwarming dreams we have had of Papa. It gave me some peace in my time of grieving for him.

Since my sister died, I had hoped I would have those types of dreams about her as well. In the dreams I had of Papa, it felt as though he was telling me that he was alright; that I was going to be alright and that he will always be there for me.  For the first few weeks after losing my sister, I would go to sleep each night just waiting for those dreams to come. When they never did, I finally stopped wishing for them.

She has only been gone a little over a year now. I still miss her terribly and think about her often. But, the overwhelming feeling of grief seems to have passed. Again, I still miss her but it isn’t quite the same.  It isn’t quite as gut wrenching anymore. Time marches on, I guess and, while things will never be the same without her, I think I have finally gotten used to the idea that she is no longer with us.

Two days ago, however, I was driving in the car by myself after dropping the boys off at camp when Tom Petty’s “Don’t Do Me Like That” came on the radio. I felt Chris rush around me like a tidal wave and I just started crying. I cried so hard I had to pull over and park. The funny thing is that Chris wasn’t even a big fan of Tom Petty. My sister, Amy, and I are the big Tom Petty fans. But, we had a surprise party for Chris’s 50^th birthday just four months before she died. The day of the party, Amy and I had to hide out so Chris didn’t know we were in town. So, we spent most of the day at the Italian American club, just hanging out and decorating. An hour or so before the party, we drove to the store together to get some last minute items and decided to sit in the parking lot and listen to music for a bit. What were we listening to? My Tom Petty’s Greatest Hits CD.

We decided we would listen to one song then head back inside. Then that song ended and another one began and we looked at each other and said, “Ok, one more song.” That happened for about five songs. We were having a blast just rocking out to Tom Petty in that parking lot, singing and laughing, the speakers of my Camry cranked as loud as they could go.

I’ve listened to Tom Petty many, many times since then and, while I have remembered that moment with Amy, it has never had that kind of effect on me.  But, I believe Chris was watching me because, last night, I finally had the dream I’d been waiting for.

In my dream, she called me on the phone. I knew the moment I heard her voice that it couldn’t be her; that she was no longer here. Jim was standing next to me and I told him, “It’s Chris! But, it can’t be Chris!” Jim just looked at me and whispered, “Just listen to her.” She was laughing and talking to me about nothing, just like we had when she was alive. But after only a couple moments she said to me, “I have to go now but I’m ok.” I tried to get her to keep talking but she just said again, “No, I have to go now but I’m ok.” I believe with all my heart that she was finally reaching out to me because, the one thing I was most worried about after she passed was, “Was she ready to let go and is she alright?” I’m sure a lot of people feel that way after losing a loved one but, she fought so incredibly hard and had so much faith that she was going to beat her cancer that I’ve always worried about that. Was she finally ready to let go or was she lost somewhere, wondering what happened to her? I feel like I finally have my answer.

In a wonderful fantasy world I live in, we get our boys in bed by 7:30 every night. In truth, it’s usually closer to 9:00 PM. They are fed and bathed by the time Daddy gets home from work but, Jim is the type of Daddy that wants to spend some time with them… and the boys love that time, too.

When Jim gets home, which is usually after dinner, the boys sit in the living room with him and have their bedtime snack of apples and milk (I still don’t understand how they mix those two… ew… but I digress…) Then, they head upstairs to brush teeth and have bed time stories. Most nights, however, silliness ensues the minute they get upstairs and, before I know it, all three of them are wrestling on my bed and screaming and giggling.

A couple weeks ago, the silliness started while the boys still happened to be downstairs just as it was getting dark and the living room curtains were still open. Jacob noticed the fireflies in the front yard. He was ecstatic! “Daddy, Mommy! What are THOSE?” So, we took both boys outside and we all caught lightening bugs for about thirty minutes.

Last night, Jacob asked if we could do that again but we were all so tired that we told him we’d do it again tomorrow. He was disappointed but didn’t put up a fuss about it. But, tonight, Jim got home from work a bit later than normal. They had their snack and then headed upstairs. As Jacob was lying in bed reading stories with Jim, he suddenly remembered the promise we made to him last night. “Daddy, we forgot to catch lightening bugs tonight!”  Daddy looked over at me and said, “A promise is a promise.”  Christopher heard that from his room and came running into Jacob’s room. “Are we going back outside, Mama?”  Who could say no to that??

We all went back downstairs, put shoes and socks on the boys and spent another half hour running around the front yard, catching lightening bugs.  They got into bed much later than planned and, I know this means it will be harder to get them out of bed for camp in the morning. But, they had the best time and we did a lot of laughing together.  We can always be late to camp. They won’t always want to go catch lightening bugs with us.

I know I make a lot of mistakes with my boys, as most parents do. None of us are perfect.  But, there is one rule of parenting that I stick to emphatically; I never make a promise to my boys I can’t keep. I thank the Lord that I married a man that feels the same way.

I got my first cell phone about the year 2002. I wouldn’t even have had one then if I hadn’t been dating Jim. He decided to get one and wanted me to have one, too. Otherwise, I really don’t know how long I would have gone without one. In fact, I had my cheap little flip phone until just last summer, when my friend (and the best babysitter on the entire planet!), Jasey, decided to drag me into the 21^st century.  She actually drove me to the mall, took me to the Apple Store and told me what kind of iPhone I should have.

Don’t get me wrong. Now that I have it, I love it. It is really nice to be in the car (when Jim is driving and I’m the passenger) with my family and decide, “Hey, let’s find the nearest Bounce U to take the boys” and be able to pull out that iPhone and call up Siri and ask her where the nearest one is.  Or, to be in Ohio and get driving directions to a new place in Cleveland we decide we’d like to see. It is a fantastic device that really does make life easier.  It’s also nice to be out and about and be able to check emails and texts if I need to or to get on Facebook and check in with friends when I have a down moment somewhere.

BUT… those down moments for me are NEVER in the car. When I am in the car, my phone is in my purse, where I can’t even see it. When I hear that “ding!” that says I just got a new text, I don’t see it until I reach my destination. My current ringtone is The Beatles, “I’m Happy Just to Dance with you.” When I hear that song playing away, it plays away into voicemail if I am driving. I don’t even consider pulling it out to answer it.

So, when I am driving through town to take my kids to camp and I see a car swerving to the left into my lane when there is another car directly to my right, and I have nowhere to go, it infuriates me when I then see that, the reason that person is almost smacking into me and my kids is because he is too self- important to put his phone down while going 50 miles per hour down Georgia Avenue.  What is even crazier is that, the next three cars that drove by me were ALL LOOKING AT THEIR PHONES! So, I started looking around me (while at stop lights, not while driving 50 miles per hour down Georgia Avenue) and I was amazed at how many people are really foolish enough to be doing this!

Sorry, I guess I am on my soap box a bit here but, it makes me absolutely insane to think that those people are not only taking their own lives in their hands by looking at their phones while driving, they are also taking my life and the lives of my children in their hands… not to mention everyone else around them.

When I met Jasey four years ago, she was only 16 years old. She was driving my kids to camp for me one day and I called her. I wasn’t thinking, or, I thought enough time had gone by that maybe she had arrived at camp. She didn’t pick up. She did call me back about 10 minutes later and said they had just arrived. She actually said to me, “Sorry that I didn’t pick up when you called but I never answer my phone when I’m driving.” A sixteen year old is wise enough to know this. Why aren’t 40something year old adults? Put your phone down folks. You can call them back or check that text later.

It all started innocently. When Jacob was only 9 months old, he was playing with one of those donut stackers… you know, the colored rings that you stack on a peg starting from larger ring to smaller ring? Ours was a wooden peg with plastic rings. While trying to stack them, Jacob dropped one on our hardwood floor. It made a knocking sound and then spun around in a circle for a moment. He laughed like it was the best thing he had ever seen. He crawled over to the ring, picked it up and dropped it again; the beginning of a new game.  Little did we know at the time where that would lead us.

He went from spinning that little ring to spinning every circular object he could find, the shinier and louder, the better. It took us another nine months to learn what that meant. Our son is autistic. What we thought was an innocent game was something that was taking him further into himself and away from us. But we are fortunate. We found out early.

Here we are, almost four years later and Jacob has changed so much. The change didn’t come about easily. But we have been blessed to work with fabulous teams of people and, as this is Jacob’s last day of pre-school and we will be working with a new team next year, I feel this is the time to recognize all those that have helped him so far.

Our first team was with Infants and Toddlers through Montgomery County.  They worked tirelessly with Jacob for a year and a half, preparing him for the pre-school program. Jacob didn’t really speak until he was almost three years old but the ladies that got him started on that path were Miss Melissa (or, Miss Amissa, as Jacob called her once he began trying to say her name) and Miss Christy. Jacob called Miss Christy “open” because, she would come to our home to work with him and she always had a bag of toys with her to use. Before Jacob could play with them, he had to sign the word open. Then she would open her bag and give him a toy. Once he started speaking we told him to call her Miss Christy. But, every time she came to work with him, he would run to the door and look up at her with his big blue eyes and say, “open!”   Christy and I have since become very good friends and she has been to our house many times. It was a while before we could convince Jacob to call her Miss Christy instead of open. And, he always still looked for that bag of toys.

When Jacob turned three, he moved into the Montgomery County PEP program. I was so sad to leave the Infants and Toddlers team. I was terrified no one would work as well with Jacob or care as much about him. I was so wrong.

Over the last 3 years, there have been many loving, caring people working with Jacob. Miss Amanda, his first PEP teacher, helped Jacob find his voice. Miss Lizzie, his most recent teacher, helped him use it in ways we never dreamed possible. Other big players in this team were Miss Joy, his speech pathologist, and Miss Kateri, his Occupational Therapist, both helped guide him in social skills and social language. Miss Kate and Miss Marla, our Parent Educators, were there to guide us through any questions and concerns. I have felt more support from this team than I ever thought possible.

We are moving on to a new school next year. I am terrified, I will not lie. I have met the new teachers. They seem very nice.  But, they have some very, very big shoes to fill. So, ladies, thank you for all the support and love you have shown our Jacob. You are simply amazing women!

Last week, my husband and I drove our boys to Ravenna, Ohio to spend one last weekend in his mother’s house, the home where he grew up. This is the first chance I’ve gotten any real time on the computer but this is what I wrote while I was there…

I am sitting on my mother-in-law’s back porch swing for the last time. We have spent the day packing up a moving truck with items to take back to Maryland and we leave in the morning. The sky is clear and stars are very bright tonight and I can hear the train whistle blowing. Though I didn’t grow up in this house, I have heard enough stories that it makes me sad this is our last stay here. I wish my boys were just a bit older so they could have more memories of family gatherings here.

I’ve watched my husband’s face today and the myriad of emotions that have crossed there. I know this is difficult for him as I am sure it is for all of his siblings. I moved too many times as a kid to have any great attachment or memories to one house. So, while I can’t really relate, I can sympathize. But, I think it helped that we spent the day with his sister and niece yesterday, going through all the rooms and the shop. They did a lot of laughing together. It was a weekend full of love.

At one point, Jim was downstairs in the basement with our boys and I could hear him talking to them about him and his brothers spending time down there and all the silly things they did together. I listened to Jim and Regina talk about some corning ware they found and how it reminded them both of Friday night pizza. Again, it was a weekend full of love; love all those siblings have for each other.

Jim told me that his father said to him once, “I had always hoped you boys would take over the business and all live in the same neighborhood, watching all of your kids grow up together.”  I know there is a part of Jim that wishes that could have happened, too.  But, while they all moved on to other careers and many have moved out of state, it hasn’t kept them from being very close. I’m sure this would have made their father very happy.

In the living room of his childhood home, there are two pictures hanging on the wall. I never really noticed them before this weekend but, both pictures are of a path leading away to some unknown in the distance.  Earlier, as Jim and I were sitting in the living room with our boys, playing before bed, I pointed those pictures out to him. I told him, “Yes, your dad had a dream at one time that you would all live close together here in this little town. But, as I look at these pictures, I think they are kind of symbolic in that, I believe he came to realize that you are all living better lives than he ever imagined and that you couldn’t have done that here in Ravenna. I’m sure he is proud of all of you and the lives you lead and all you have all accomplished.”

No, our boys won’t really have many memories of Nonny’s house. But, we have already started making memories of family gatherings at Aunt Regina’s for them. We have celebrated many birthdays in the past couple of years and have another big celebration planned for this summer.  It doesn’t matter that they aren’t at 420 South Sycamore Street. Really, that’s just a house. It matters that they are with the wonderful family that grew up there.

Right or wrong, my boys get to watch a TV program every night before bed. I am not sure how that started but, once it did, it stuck. When their program is over, they get bed time stories as well. It isn’t all TV and then straight to bed. We do try to be good parents in that sense.

It used to be one PBS kids show then bed; Jacob’s choice. Last summer, Christopher (aka, Beanie) finally wised up and said, “Hey, why does Jacob always get to pick?” So, it’s been two shows a night ever since. Okay, we are now at an hour of TV every night. Again, not feeling too guilty since it’s Peg Plus Cat (which is a math show) or Super Why (which is a spelling show). But, still, an hour each night makes me feel a bit tight in the gut, but, not as tense as dealing with the after math of saying, “OK, no TV tonight!” Sorry, no thank you. My life with an autistic child is complicated enough.

Tonight, however, Jacob decided he didn’t want Christopher to get the last pick. “I want to watch one of my shows,” he cried. “What do you mean, ‘your shows’” I asked him? They both love all of those PBS programs. “Beanie can’t have last pick!” he cried.  And so the fun begins. But, we’ve already caved on the hour of TV before bed. There has to be a line drawn somewhere.

We had planned to start bed time at 7:45 this evening. It is now 8:54pm. As I write this, Beanie has fallen asleep on his bedroom floor waiting for Daddy to come in and read to him. Daddy, in the meantime, has just recently gotten Jacob to calm down enough to brush his teeth, go potty, take his allergy meds and read a bedtime story.

As I sit downstairs typing this, I can’t help but think of a quote from one of my favorite movies; “I’m tryin’ real hard to be the shepherd.” Some days, it’s so difficult.

Since I’m with them every day, I know how wonderful my little boys are. Sure, they are a handful, no doubt about that. They love hard and they fight hard but they really do bring me joy every day. What I tend to forget is how much joy they can bring to others.

Now that the weather is getting warmer, we spend a lot of time outside. And, since I’ve started another fitness challenge for myself, I have convinced the boys to walk with me every day. Usually we’ve only gone up the street a short way and then back home. Yesterday, I convinced them we could make it all the way to the park, which is a little over a mile from our house. They were up for it. I make it fun for them by letting them run ahead of me; sort of like red light, green light. They get a few feet away and I yell, “Stop!” and they stop until I catch up to them. They love it.

Once we got to the park, however, they were pretty worn out. But we played on the swings and the merry-go-round for about an hour. When it was time to leave, both boys said they were tired and wanted a piggy back ride home. Dilemma; how was I going to do that?? Then, the light bulb went off over my head. Let’s take the bus back home! They have never ridden the metro bus so they were totally jazzed for it.

When we boarded, you’d have thought we just entered Disney Land, they were so excited. And, they were so incredibly polite! There were two seats open across the aisle from each other. Two older women occupied the other seats. Both of my boys walked up to each woman and politely asked, “May I sit in this seat?”  (I cannot lie, I had a brief moment here where I thought my boys had been abducted by aliens and replaced since I have to beg for this type of behavior at home. Guess it just goes to show I’m doing something right.)

That bus ride lasted less than ten minutes. But those boys were so excited and enjoyed that ride so much. When we reached our stop and started heading for the door to exit, Jacob and Christopher turned back towards everyone and waved and said goodbye. I am not exaggerating when I say every single person on that bus waved and said goodbye back. It was like a scene from The Sound of Music! I am so proud of my boys and it was so incredible to see just how much joy they bring to others.

I am just having a “I’m completely overwhelmed” kind of day and thought I’d vent.  I usually try to get to bed by 10pm. If someone had told me that 15 years ago I’d have told them they were crazy. I used to be quite the night owl. Not so much these days. I stayed up until midnight last night and I am whooped!!!!!

I had to work today so I had to get both boys up and dressed by 7am. Usually, I can let Christopher lounge so I only have me and Jacob to get ready. I got Jacob on the bus and ran Christopher to our sitter’s, came home and worked until Jacob’s bus pulled up in front of the house. As soon as he got off the bus, we jumped in the car and started for the sitter’s. I realized I had no money with which to pay her so we raced to the bank and then raced to her house to get him before I had to pay her for another hour!

Once we got Christopher, we went to the grocery store. Both boys are getting so, so good about staying with me in the stores but… they are boys. First, they have to run to the deli and each get their own number. And, Jacob’s new obsession is to use as many public toilets as he can when we are out so we made the stop to the bathroom. Then, they run to the bakery to discuss which cookies we are going to buy… only to be disappointed (and start begging) when I have to tell them no. (The whole gluten free thing, remember? No bakery cookies here!)

When they finally accept that there are going to be no cookies, they run down to see the lobsters in the sea food section, which means, I have to stop looking at whatever I’m searching for and follow them back and forth across the store.

Finally, I get all the groceries and we are checking out. That’s a whole other story in itself!!

We left the store and I decided we hadn’t run around quite enough so we stopped to get haircuts. To be truthful, that was the easiest task of the day… the barbershop was empty so both boys got seated at the same time. I actually got to sit for about 15 minutes.

We came home and the boys decided they wanted to play on the slip and slide, which means Jacob slides while Christopher waits for the mud to start forming and then splashes around in that. Obviously, this activity is followed by bath time.

So, both boys are bathed, I’m cooking dinner while trying to play Don’t Spill the Beans but I thought I’d sneak off for a minute to blog. Hark, I hear a boy crying, “NO! NO! Christopher is taking the game apart!!” This is one of those days when I can’t wait until bed time.  And that is still two hours away!

This is probably going to irritate the dog lovers in my life but…

My neighbor has a golden retriever named Marie. She is a beautiful, friendly dog but her owners let her roam up and down our street unattended. My son is Autistic. Two summers ago, Marie came running up the street and knocked Jacob down. Did she mean to? No. But, Jacob has been terrified of all dogs ever since.  I have politely asked my neighbor to keep Marie on a leash or keep her in their yard on at least three occasions.

Last weekend, Jacob was playing in the front yard and Marie wandered up to our house again. Jacob went into complete panic mode, screaming and crying, trying to climb as high up into my arms as he could get. This, of course, got Marie excited and she started jumping around a bit. I managed to get Jacob into the house and calmed down. I came back outside and walked Marie back to her house and again reminded my neighbors that Jacob is afraid of her since she knocked him down and could they please keep her in their yard. I was very polite and friendly. There was no apology from the neighbor. Five minutes later, Marie was wandering around again but, I held my tongue.

Today, my boys were in the yard, having a picnic for dinner. The neighbor walked up the street with Marie, unleashed. Marie came into our yard while this neighbor stopped to speak with another neighbor. She saw Marie come into our yard and heard Jacob screaming hysterically but she continued her conversation without bothering to get her dog.  Believe it or not, I still tried to be polite. I reminded her that Jacob is terrified of her dog and could she please get her on a leash. She called for Marie but, half heartedly, then continued her conversation. In the meantime, Jacob is in complete meltdown mode, screaming and crying, “Please make that dog leave, please don’t let that dog hurt me!”

I finally lost my cool. How does a person stand there listening to a terrified child scream and cry about their dog and not do something about it? How? I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Come and get your dog, now!!!!”  Her response, “She’s friendly, chill out.”  I’m sorry, what? I continued to yell (not my proudest moment but mama bears claws were out) and told her I don’t care how friendly the dog is, get it on a leash, my son is terrified and don’t tell me to chill out when it comes to protecting my child!

So, for all you dog lovers out there, let me just explain something to you. When a person says, “I’m afraid of dogs and I don’t want yours near me.” Telling that person that your dog is friendly is not the correct response, unless, of course, you are simultaneously taking hold of your dog and getting it as far away from that person as possible.  If you are walking down the street with your dog and you see someone coming towards you, don’t assume they want your dog to sniff or even be anywhere near them. YOU move to the side with your dog and allow them to pass. If you are walking on the beach and your dog is not on a leash and he/she runs up to someone, do not act offended if that person screams at you to get your dog on a leash.  Just because you love dogs doesn’t mean everyone else does. You don’t know what may have caused a person to be afraid of dogs. Do not judge them for it. My son is Autistic. He doesn’t understand when you tell him, “My dog is friendly.” All he knows is his terror.  Please keep this in mind the next time you are out with your dogs.  There is no reason to be offended by this. Some people are just afraid.  They can’t help it.