Play Ball!

Dylan got to play T-Ball on a special needs team sponsored by the Kiwanis Club. Dylan has a great, fast hit and wants to chase the ball more than run to base. His sister got to participate too. It's great for both of my kids to play with other kids who have physical disabilities and struggles, but still play sports.

A Day Off!

Dylan had a day off school, but his sister did not. So, we had a one-on-one day. I kept asking him what he wanted to do: park, bike ride, gym? He didn't like any of his choices and just kept saying, "I want to stay home." Well, I wanted to get him to play and interact with me, so I watched what he was doing on the computer. He has been fascinated with the Honda car web site. His favorite new car is the Honda Fit. He wants me to trade in my minivan for a red one. So, finally, I said, do you want to go drive the Honda Fit. Suddenly, Dylan's eyes lit up and he was back "with" me. He ran to get his shoes and yelled "Let's GO!" He kept telling me to hurry and get in the car. When I got close to the Cheverolet dealership, he made sure I knew not to turn until Honda. Luckily, at the Honda dealership, they were popping fresh popcorn while Dylan waited (he got the popcorn gene from his Grandpa Staples). And then, he got his wish... a ride with mommy in a red, shiny Honda Fit. A boy's dream day! At least I got his attention!

Inspiring Letter...

I didn't write this, but I love it and it sums up my feelings:

""My son doesn't have autism, autism has my son.

He is a typical five year old boy full of beauty and intelligence
that is being smothered by a disease state that pulls him from his
potential. A disease state rendered by a path littered with
mistakes. Unintentional ones made by me, uneducated ones made by
doctors, possible intential ones made by those whose job it is to
protect us.

When he was first diagnosed, I thought it was the worst thing that
ever happened to me or him. Monthes of guilt-ridden sleepless nights
with a mind racing about what to do to save him. When considering
what a scary job being a parent could be, I used to say I didn't want
to be a statistic. I don't want to be the one whose child dies
rolling off the changing table. I didn't want to be the one whose
child gets electrocuted because I didn't put the stupid outlet plugs
in. Now I find myself in a battle that seems to be the statistic of
our time.

Where I am at now is that I see what a gift he is. All the guilt and
fear and run run running to get him better, what a waste of energy.
I now see that he was sent to me to teach me. Teach me that none of
us are perfect and we all have challenges to overcome. Teach me that
the greatest gift we can give our children is to love them and accept
them for who they are. He has taught me that it is ok to not be
perfect, to make mistakes. I work on forgiving myself everyday for
the ways I may have contributed to this disease and for not being
always perfect in caring for him. He has saved me in that I am
learning to love myself in my imperfection.

Will I still run run run to get him better? Hell yes. But the
intensity, the fear charged grasping, has abated. In its place is
focus, determination, and tolerence. One of his healers told me "He
is a seed. You maximize his air, water, food, sun, but ultimately,
he will grow as God intended."

Now I say, I want to be a statistic. My son will be a statistic of
recovery.

I send love and blessings out to everyone who loves and fights for
these children. All the best to you and yours."