Everything Is Illuminated

It was muggy out. Gnats covered the long curvy strands of grass and I watched as Preston stretched out on his belly amongst it all. He kicked his legs as I studied him, stewing quietly in my most uncomfortable of screaming thoughts. Always inside my head, never quite reaching the surface.

What I’m seeing is a little boy amongst the green grass and the damp dirt. He’s not worrying about ticks and snakes. He is happy. He sees this for what it is - a beautiful treat, a moment with his family. Also, something more that can’t be put into words by me because I’m not Preston. But, it relaxes him. It makes him so easily happy.

I’m unhappy, I’m nervous. I’m always worrying. I’m never in the moment. The looming always buzzing sound of impending disaster is constantly playing in my head.

He’s too loud, people are going to stare. He’s going to get hurt, always so afraid he’ll get hurt. Why am I so uncomfortable? What’s wrong with me? I haven’t even looked at Adelaide or the puppy in 5 minutes because I’m stuck in this thought.

This is how I lived all day, everyday until one day it all started clicking for me. ‘This’ wasn’t working - change was necessary.

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened but I do know that motherhood got so much easier when I jettisoned everything I thought I knew about life and started over.

I realized that the secret to life is love and the secret to love is acceptance. Acceptance of ourselves, our significant others, our enemies, our babies, change, tragedy, God, family, and the unknown.

Today seems like a good day to talk about acceptance. You see, April 2nd is Autism Awareness Day. When I was first introduced to the concept of a national holiday celebrating autism, I thought - “how sweet” - and it is.

A holiday celebrating the new diagnosis my child just received? It felt alright. I was lost at sea and would have thrown myself onto any buoy I could find.

I’ve had some time to think on it though. I love that we’re all aware and celebrating autism today, but how about acceptance of autism and all disabilities? Let’s educate our newest generation and OURSELVES. I myself have swallowed enough pride to feed an army and I am learning every single day. I suspect I will be my whole life.

The reality is, I’ve had conversations with some of my most cherished friends where they’ve made offensive statements about Preston. Statements where they were completely unaware that they’d been upsetting in the first place. Statements I would have absolutely made 7 years ago before I knew anything about this subject. I used to not say anything, but now I do, because how else can any of us learn without educating one another and discussing?

I refuse to be jaded. How can I be? My brilliant, happy child sees the world in zesty oranges, ocean blues, and bright sunny yellows. Everything is illuminated, everything is magnificent. He’s the happiest person I’ve ever known, and his brilliant differences are worth celebrating.

Talk to your children about neurodivergence. They might have a child one day or a grandchild that falls in this category. Talk to your children about acceptance, for themselves and others. It might be the most important conversation they ever have.

I’ll miss you

If you were to take a peek at the double stroller parked in our garage right now, you might come to the conclusion that this family is both crazy and messy.

You’d be right - on our best day we’d fall under the category of totally bonkers and messy doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface.

At this stage in parenthood, I’ve been thoroughly conditioned to the forever evolving chaos of our everyday life. So much so, that I don’t truly appreciate the complexity of it all until I spend some time away from the kids.

I did that a week and a half ago - and, it was nice. But, I felt myself become so relaxed by the lack of complication that I felt lazier than I’ve allowed myself to be in years. Naps by the pool had me feeling lethargic and anxious rather than re-energized. I’d wake up thinking, “Did Adelaide take her vitamins?” “Did I forget to add this to their schedule?” “I wonder if Preston has had any accidents today?”

The realization had me spinning.

From Monday on, Adelaide and Preston’s schedule will be full from 8:45 in the morning until 3:30 in the afternoon. There are certain parts of the weekly agenda that will still require my specific involvement, like family therapy in ABA, but for the most part it seems like the curtain is being lowered on my short career as full time mom.

When I look at that worn out double stroller sitting in our garage, I see something more.

Beyond the giant holes in the fabric of the seats & the wheels that have been forced to labor beyond their limit - there are memories. The four of us together in the orange glow of the early morning sun, walking the streets of our neighborhood. Two blonde bedheads eating cheerios out of plastic baggies, dropping one “O” every few feet as a trail for the birds. Smiles and pit stops at the fairy garden to see if there is anything new. Mom, do you believe in fairies?

The only, and I mean THE ONLY THING holding this incredibly tired stroller together is black electrical tape. I purchased it at Lowe’s a few months back after scaring a store associate into showing me where the “strongest tape you’ve got” is. You see - I’m not buying another stroller, there isn’t one to buy that works for our two kids. This is the last one and we’re gonna rock it til the wheels fall off.

On one hand, I sort of want it to last forever. Let’s go on walks with mom and dad for the rest of our lives, guys! Sounds lovely, right?

On the other hand, I’ve already moved way past it. Combined Adelaide and Preston are already a solid 25 pounds over the weight capacity & when we come to a hill on one of our dreamy sunlit walks, I tend to hand the reigns over to Jason.

Are my kids just heavy or are we approaching the end of an era? I’m not sure yet.

Last week we went to a kindergarten get together at our neighborhood pool. Adelaide was in her element and I felt comfortable letting her flitter around with her future classmates.

Throughout the party, I was caught somewhere between watching and chasing Preston around the small splash pad area. Every minute or two he’d stop in his tracks and shut his eyes, carefully feeling the flow of the water shooting out of a canon. Holding his little hands directly against the spray, the water went every which way making him stim with excitement. There is nothing more pure in this world to me than a happy Preston. And where there is water, Preston is at his absolute happiest.

Close to us there were were two boys shooting water guns back and forth, they must have been 8-9 years old. They were laughing and yelling at one another when I saw one indicate to my son and say, “This kid creeps me out”. I felt the verbal bullet go straight through me and exit. I looked to Preston who was playing blissfully unaware to what had been said, so I did nothing.

Moments later one of the boys looked to the other and said, “let’s shoot at him.” I watched in slow motion as the boys both aimed their water guns at my sweet son and pegged him with water.

It took a second for words to form but they did.

“Hi, HELLO. That’s my son. You’re going to stop doing that right now.”

The boy closest to me whipped around, he hadn’t even noticed me standing there watching my child.

He didn’t frown or speak. He only smirked as I kept talking.

I indicated to Preston. “He is autistic. Please stop doing that.”

They stopped and luckily Preston ran away.

I always wonder what to do in these situations. They tend to happen from time to time, each instance toughening my skin and cracking my heart simultaneously. People say that God only brings what you can handle and that everything happens for a reason.

I felt nothing was gained in that shattering moment - so, what can be learned from it?

I searched my heart and realized something both amazing and nerve-racking.

No matter the circumstances - for better or for worse, motherhood is truly forever.

My watch will never fully end. My children will grow, become adults, have great days, vote, have terrible days, create new families, stay away or move into the house next door. Fingers crossed. All that aside, I will always be their mother. I will advocate for them and love them until I’m in the ground. In that, I have found the comfort I need to accept this newest phase.

Adelaide started kindergarten this morning. I’ve shocked myself over the last week with how shook up I’ve been over the whole thing.

Upon drop off this morning, she discovered that one of her dearest friends sat directly behind her. She concluded that she could just turn around and hug her if she got upset. What more could I want for her? She had the perfect day and loves her teacher.

The only thing I really wanted Adelaide to know before she walked into that classroom this morning was how I felt about her and this chapter ending in our life. I needed it likely more than she did. But all the same, I’m glad I told her.

Yesterday afternoon I gave her a manicure and a pedicure on the tile floor of our master bathroom. After I finished, I read this to her.

For the first year of your life, I left you only to feel the hot water of the shower. You smelled so good and smiled so easily, I didn’t want to ever let you go. I’d always wanted a daughter, and the only thing you ever have to do to fulfill that dream is exist - you already do that so much better than anyone else I know, so keep it up.

I remember when I carried you around on my tummy in your little kangaroo pouch. You faced me for a long time until one day you decided that you wanted to see the world. So you did just that and you haven’t stopped wanting it since then.

I’m sorry I yelled at you when you put on my really red lipstick. You look better in it than I do.

I’m sorry you had to grow up so fast.

I’m sorry we did family therapy with Preston more often than playdates.

I’m not sorry that you’re my best friend.

Just know that when the other people disappear and it’s the three of us at home - you, your brother, and I - you’re my constant entertainer. And, I get why you try so hard to get me to look at you sometimes - mom has always had one eye on Preston. You were born into a unique situation where you’re forced to compete for attention at times.

Adelaide, You always think mommy isn’t watching, but I am here to tell you that - I AM and, you are the bees knees. A real life superstar. Your mom considers herself the luckiest human alive to have had a front row seat to all that is you these last 5 years.

You don’t know it yet, or maybe you do - but, you truly don't need me like you used to. With that being said, I hope you always want your mom around.

When you walk into that class tomorrow, I know things will change and that’s okay. I just want you to know that the “you” sitting here this very moment, I’ll miss her so very much. To the “you” that you will soon become, I can’t wait to get to know her. I love you, Adelaide. - Mom

These photographs were taken last week. For the most part, we were lazy homebodies and I realized the changes that lay on the horizon. I love capturing these two at home doing what most would call “absolutely nothing” - it’s these moments I will cherish and revisit until I’m old.

Epiphany

I ran out of deodorant the other day. Without any hesitation, I began siphoning off Jason’s Old Spice like a bandit thief in the night. I realize this isn’t the best look but I’ve promised you honesty here, and you can bet your boots I’m going to deliver on that.

Right now on the tippy top of my to-do list underlined in red you could find it written, clear as day - BUY MORE DEODORANT. I fully intend to purchase more! Only problem is, it’s been hotter than hades outside and I’m forgetful. Like it or not, this is typical Christie behavior and Jason always notices. He says nothing, but he knows that I know that he knows and all that jazz.

As of 5 p.m. yesterday, I decided that I was growing tired of smelling like a boy so I fired up a deodorant search on Amazon - no time like the present to try out something new, right?!?

Now, I’ve been clueless about a whole lot for most of my adult life but I did not realize the rabbit hole I was jumping into when I typed “best women’s deodorant” into that empty box.

It was 9pm and long after I put the kids down when I realized that I’d been looking at this stuff on and off for FOUR HOURS and apparently there is a lot more going on with this than I could have ever imagined.

I’m just gonna put it out there, deodorant is controversial, y’all! Yeah, I said it.

Just check out the reviews section on Amazon for whatever it is that you use.

I mean, I still don’t have the slightest clue of what deodorant to order?!?

In one corner of the antiperspirant boxing ring there is the all-natural type that will likely have me smelling like a sloppy wet dog in this summer heat. It lacks all the ingredients that are bad, so at least my arm pits would be crazy healthy?

In the other, there is the big brand type. Sure, it smells like a massage under a Hawaiian waterfall but at what cost to human health? According to science, these are filled to the brim with all the things that are cancerous, terrible, and likely to cause dementia.

This is a tough decision but it probably shouldn’t be, right?

I never quite understood the mammoth weight of choices. At least, not until I had kids.

Ever since Adelaide entered this world on April 29, 2016 and then Preston followed on May 18, 2017 - well, it’s only natural that the stakes have seemed so much higher. Information is ever-changing and options are endless.

Do I go with the UppaBaby or the Bumbleride?

Formula or breastfeeding?

Fancy fruit snacks from Whole Foods or the kind you find for two bucks at Kroger?

When it comes to potty training, is the brazelton approach best? Or, is it two-day method?

What about homeschooling, how do you feel about your child’s education?

And, do you vaccinate your kids?

Vaccines…I have so much to convey. I’ll begin by saying that Preston and Adelaide are up to date on their vaccinations. I’ve hesitated to speak on this subject for so long because I truly didn’t know what to say & the last thing I want is to cause destruction. Alas, my heart has grown heavy and these words might help somebody’s someone.

I took my shaggy haired baby, Preston, into his pediatrician’s office on June 22, 2018 for his shots and it went just fine.

Days trickled by, months morphed into a pair of hard years. One day it dawned on me that Preston met all of his milestones during his first year of life, some early. When was it that we started seeing symptoms of autism spectrum disorder in our son?

When did he change & did it even matter?

I won’t pretend to have every minute of Preston’s life photographed and recorded. I loved The Truman Show, could watch it over and over again, but that’s just not us. However, as a photographer and lover of film, I do have enough footage of Preston to remind me of some things and establish a timeline of the important milestones in his life.

I’ve pressed play on video after video.

Preston crawling early. Preston smiling at us. Preston speaking. DADA, DADA. Preston digging. Preston walking & running. Preston laughing.

All of it before mid year 2018. After that, we slowly started seeing changes.

His stomach started hurting a lot at night before bed. He quit making eye contact with us & looking up when someone would walk in the room. He became fixated and repetitive. It was like someone slowly started dimming the lights on his sweet soul.

When flipping through the images that document this change, it makes me sick. The pain, so raw. How could I not see what was happening right before my eyes?

Studies say there is no clear connection between the MMR vaccine and autism. Scientists say it’s likely just a coincidence of timing. Folks want a reason & they just grab hold of anything they can get their hands on. I don’t know about all that. That’s the one thing I am sure of - I do not know.

What would I do if I could turn back time? I truly cannot answer that.

I’ve always trusted science, doctors, really anybody in charge with a name tag that seems nice. These words I’m writing feel wrong, yet I find myself typing them out all the same. I’m not telling you to not vaccinate your child. I am telling you to do your research and then stand by your decision. I didn’t read any books or articles, I went in completely blind. And, that’s what bothers me the most - I questioned absolutely nothing.

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never accept this choice I did or didn’t make. Will I ever know?

I’m caught in a loop, the same days and feelings on repeat. The nights run together. My heart aches and aches.

I tuck him in at night and say I love you, I love you, I love you, Preston. I LOVE YOU.

He says nothing back.

He looks past me.

He sees straight through me.

The glow in the dark planets we hung from his bedroom ceiling, all 9 have his attention.

He giggles.

I turn the lights off so he can’t see anything but the solar system above his head.

I wrap my arms around him, laying my head on his chest as silent tears drip drop from my eyes all over the front of his striped pajamas.

I walk down the stairs, Jason waiting.

“What’s wrong?” He says while hugging me tight.

I don’t answer.

“He’s perfect, Christie.” Jason says to my silence.

BUT, I’M NOT. That’s what my heart is screaming.

That’s the problem. I go to sleep with those words on full blast in my head.

I wake in the morning ready to kick the day directly in the fanny.

KA-POW! TAKE THAT, DAY. You thought you could mess with Preston & Adelaide’s mom? THINK AGAIN.

The spiritual reset I power through each morning in order to function, it is a choice I do not have to think about. It’s the only option I allow myself because it’s what my two babies deserve.

Recently, I realized that my constant prayers to God for guidance & acceptance were answered long ago. Looking around at my life and the beautiful family I’ve been given, I’m lucky to have something so dear to pray about.

Let’s circle back to choices.

If I’ve learned anything through this process it’s that most people are doing the best they can.

The mom you meet at the playground, it doesn’t matter what type of stroller she has. Not at all, not one bit. Does she give her kids those fruit snacks that you just do not believe in? DOES NOT MATTER. Do her armpits smell terrible because she’s trying to use the really healthy type she found on Amazon? STILL doesn’t matter. But, maybe find a way to tell her really nicely. Bottom line - let’s give each other some grace.

Last year Taylor Swift released Folklore - it was an album I didn’t know I wanted or needed. On first listen, I found it to be a delightful nod to days gone by and Mazzy Star. Quarantine seemed endless & from the abyss a unique Taylor emerged offering the world an almost ethereal collection of songs that played out like short stories - true and not.

Do Taylor Swift songs offer life lessons? Track 13, Epiphany, sure did a number on me. I’m not going to compare my life to a soldier in war on the beaches in battle or a nurse fighting on the front lines of COVID - there is no comparison. The words of this song do remind me of the big picture, a reminder I need everyday.

The pictures in both galleries are (obviously) all of Preston from yesterday. He is my favorite face to photograph and when he’ll tolerate it, I can’t help myself.

One Good Lie

Last week I told my daughter that the tooth fairy was real.

She was sitting at the kitchen counter wiggling her crooked bottom tooth for possibly the hundredth time since she woke up and after a minute she went silent.

I looked up from buttering toast to find her concerned.

“Mama, is the tooth fairy real?”

I studied her wide coffee brown eyes, the hair metal band chaos on top of her head and laughed.

Just like so many parents before, I didn’t have it in me to be honest.

“Yes, of course she’s real! And, you know what else?” I said.

“What?” She grinned excitedly.

“I heard she leaves chocolate for the really cute little girls.”

Her eyes glittered. I tell her she’s really cute all the time.

In that instant, the tooth fairy existed - it was gospel to Adelaide. As certain as I was the moment I heard my husband laugh for the first time, I was that convinced - she needed the lie.

We’re both not ready for her to know the truth. I can’t even get used to the fact that she’s old enough to start shedding teeth.

I get why the concept of “the tooth fairy” was invented - a scary thing happens. You’re 4-7ish years old, bebopping through life when all of a sudden your TEETH start getting loose. THEN, they fall out of your mouth! WTH. Like, POOF - they’re gone. It’s absurd when you really think about it. But, the tooth fairy? The tooth fairy makes it all good. She brings you a couple bucks to soften the blow, everybody is happy. Case closed.

I started thinking about all the times in my life where I really could have used a “tooth fairy” lie.

Like the fall semester of my freshmen year in college when I made a D in English. I can still smell the scent of hot pockets permeating the air and visualize a trio of plastic shower caddies littering the tile floor of my shared dorm room. In the hallways I can hear the echoes of Natasha Beddingfield singing hopefully about staring at blank pages and how the rest is still unwritten. All that pomp & circumstance and I made a D in English.

I had this jack daniels hat that I wore sometimes that I bought at hot topic. I didn’t even like whiskey. Never have.

I was lost and by the time December rolled around I was the blondest I’d ever been in my life.

A few months later I plunged my tiny car into the back of a suv on the interstate in Knoxville. Traffic came to freezing & sudden halt, and I just wasn’t quick enough on my brakes.

That day I learned absolutely nothing except how to feel real sorry for myself and that I didn’t much like little cars.

Life is hard. Life is short. You need truth. But, sometimes you need a lie. I could have used the tooth fairy then.

We were on vacation recently at Disney world. I know, SHOCKER.

I was in the women’s restroom next to the Cheshire Cafe in Magic Kingdom washing my hands when a girl walked in and dumped her bag on the floor by the main entrance to the bathroom. She then sashayed to an open stall and closed the door. I’d guess she was maybe 11-12 years old.

I stood there for a minute, super confused.

“What the heck just happened?” I said out loud.

A moment later I heard a flush, she opened the door and glided over by me to wash her hands.

I studied her like an endangered zoo animal. Was she the last of her kind?

She then dried her hands, grabbed her bag and disappeared.

My first thought was - HELL, that was all very strange.

Then I thought - man, I wish I could not have a care in the world like that! To leave your bag out in the public restroom of a popular theme park and not worry? What a legend that girl was.

It’s 4:30 in the morning as I type this. Preston is laughing as loud as he can in the next room while I pray for him to go back to sleep. He just doesn’t sometimes, I can’t answer why because I don’t know.

With the exception of our recent family vacation, it’s been a tremendously hard two months. I haven’t been able to admit that to myself until now, but lately, I’ve faked more than a few smiles.

We’ve entered this new territory in ABA therapy with Preston. It’s called sanitizing, except there isn’t any Lysol or windex involved, just tears and uncertainty.

Sanitizing is the process of removing clutter and distracting items from a learning environment. Basically, we’ve taken all of Prestons preferred toys away at our home in hopes that it will improve his concentration during in home therapy. I feel certain that this must be the controversial part of ABA. I always knew we’d reach a point in this process where I’d need to stop and reassess the therapeutic strategy. I was warned many times but I didn’t know it’d feel this way?

I find myself staring at my sulky reflection in the mirror a little longer than normal saying,

“Is he going to hate me one day for doing this to him?”

“Where did all these wrinkles come from?”

“Am I a bad person?”

I could use a really good lie right now. A tooth fairy lie.

I could have also used a real good lie back when I made that D in freshmen English. I suppose it all turned out alright, but I still imagine that professor might give me a D- on every post I’ve made so far on this website. All I can do now is laugh when one of y’all approaches me and says “you’re a good writer, Christie.”

Those kind words I’ve heard a lot recently just might be the good lie I need right now.

I love y’all for reading, for all the undeserved encouragement.

You’ve given me a spring in my step that rivals the feeling I get after leaving the pleasant folks at the chick fil a drive thru, and that’s saying a lot. :)

I’ll leave you with an invitation.

If you’re ever lost or in need, find yourself a blank page and hash it all out with ink. It can be on the back of your Costco receipt from the other day or the notes section of your iPhone, but write what is on your heart.

Erase it, throw it in the garbage can after you finish or keep it for the rest of your life. There is no wrong way. But before you do, allow yourself to read your words and digest. Learn & grow - onward, friends!

Below is a photo of Adelaide’s tooth fairy doll I found on Amazon. Above are a few snaps I took of the kids today - Preston wasn’t feeling the camera, Adelaide was feeling it a little too much. :)