tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71045008710802495842024-02-21T07:18:18.248-08:00Our story so far....ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-64518194638264754792015-01-21T12:35:00.003-08:002015-01-21T15:02:31.992-08:00The Friendship Medal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I hate Field Day at the kids' school because it's long, boring, outdoors (read: hot or cold, depending where you live, and I've had BOTH), and most of all, I have to endure witnessing my children's inability to win first place, second place or even third place. Who cares? They do! We are not a family of athletes and that's OK but for a child who is competitive, and I have three of those, Field Day is a nightmare. I blame my husband's genes because I couldn't care less about competing, yet, guess who has to suffer through <i>THREE</i> days a year of torture, agony and pain? Yeah, that would be me. After it's all over, the kids are crushed and I want to quit my day job. <br />
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I must say Rebecca was the easiest one to handle and Victor, well, he is Victor so he gets over anything really fast. Now, Frankie, he is a totally different story. Historically, his developmental delays don't make it easy for him to participate in sports. He has low muscle tone and balance issues and although he works hard at overcoming them, frustration gets the best of him most of the time. Yet, we don't give up and every year we work at it. Unfortunately, his school ties field day with a "Medal Ceremony" that other schools don't have - you would think this is the Junior Olympics! It's such a big event and the kids are so into winning that no matter what they say about the medals not mattering, they do matter and they matter a lot. I get the whole purpose of inspiring future gold medalists but com'on, really? this is elementary school and not all kids are athletes! Field Day for Frankie starts out all fun and games but then the torture begins as the ceremony time approaches. In their defense, they do give the kids with special needs an honorary medal for trying their best and that made Frankie happy enough the first year. The second year he was mad and he called it a<i> "pity medal" </i>because he said that he had not earned it.<i> </i> This year I told him I would sign him out before the medal ceremony and he said no and I was terrified - what would he think of his<b> "pity medal" </b>this year? To add insult to injury, there was NO medal! I am not sure if the budget came short but instead of a medal, the kids were awarded a ribbon this year. Hey, it was a lovely ribbon but not a medal - Frankie was beyond insulted, upset, hurt, crushed and all of the above. I knew he had tried his best; he participated with all his heart and was faster and better at every single competition than he had ever been before. Needless to say I gave him the whole speech of having achieved a personal best, that this was a competition against himself and not others and blah, blah, blah - at the end of the day, he didn't get a medal and that's all that mattered to him. He cried and cried and I braised for an entire week of self-pity fest.<br />
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As we walked out of school, a boy from his class came up to us with his mom. The boy had gotten a silver medal and he took it off his neck and hung it around Frankie's neck as he asked him to please accept it, calling it a <i>"friendship medal."</i> I froze. If you know Frankie, you know it's a 50-50 with him - you really never know what he will do in an unexpected situation like this one. I was ready to apologize to the child's mom and make a run for it in case Frankie gave the medal back with some nasty remark. I couldn't believe it when he hugged the kid back and thanked him for his gesture. Wait, what? He squeezed the medal against his chest and called the classmate a "true friend" - His face was glowing and so was the other child's. I enjoyed the moment. One kind gesture from a child made a difference in another child's life. I was grateful for the child who gave his friend a friendship token but I was most grateful that MY child was able to accept it and appreciate it.<br />
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Later, as we walked to the car, I noticed that Frankie was silently crying. I asked him, why the tears this time? He answered, "mom, have you ever heard of 'tears of joy'?" Indeed, I have, Frankie, indeed, I have.<br />
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<br />ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-92046357436863627072013-05-05T22:01:00.002-07:002013-05-06T08:47:07.314-07:00Keep calm and parent on......<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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When you are the parent of a child with special needs, guilt is a feeling you carry around as your daily cross. You never feel you are doing enough. Sometimes you feel you are doing too much. You feel guilty of spending too much time dealing with your child's special needs and perhaps not enough with his/her siblings. Other times you feel like you are NOT spending enough time and resources for your special kid. You worry about using meds or not using meds; you feel guilty for his condition and you feel guilty for his future. You feel that whatever you do or don't do now will be the one thing that will change his adult life for the better or for the worse. Yes, there is a lot of worrying going on in the mind of a parent, of any parent, really, but when it comes to our kind, the ones with special kids, well, the wrinkles in the middle of your forehead get deeper and deeper no matter what miracle product you use.<br />
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Thank God for special moments like the one I had today. I feel like this is the best mother's day gift I can ever get, although sometimes I really do want to get a MacBook Air. Really, I do. But I will take the words I heard from my Frankie any time over an awesome laptop like the MacAir. He told me he liked me and then he told me he liked the way I was raising him. Yeah, my seven year old told me that. Autism has a way to impress me sometimes to the point of being speechless. If you know me, you know it takes a lot to leave me without words and yet, there are moments when I don't know what to answer to a child that is so wise beyond his age and yet melts down over simple, everyday tasks. Does he even know what he is telling me? I always doubt it and I question him only to find out that he does know what he is saying and that he really does mean it. My parenting style is simple, I want my children, all of them, to be happy. I want them to choose the happy road and not the sad one. I want them to have hope. I want them to get up when they fall and keep on going, no matter how many times. For my little one, this is three times as hard because he falls a lot. He has to have an extra dose of strength because his path is harder and he needs to keep up no matter what. Today, he has to hold my hand to walk his path and sometimes I feel like I am dragging him. I often slow down to match his pace but one day I know he will not need me to pull him or drag him. He might not even need my hand at all. I know that day will get here and I know I will be proud to have talked the talk AND walked the walk no matter how inadequate or guilty I might have felt along the way. <br />
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Yes, I AM raising my kids the best way I can but they are teaching me, every day to be patient, to see the world through their eyes and not mine. Frankie allows me to understand that living with a condition like Autism doesn't have to be so hard. There are these moments of brightness and warmth that I would never have experienced if he wasn't around. I know my other two kids like me too. I am not sure if they like the way they are being raised the same way that Frankie does but the fact that at least one of them is telling me I don't stink as a mom, gives me confidence that no matter what I do or I don't do, the fate of my kids is beyond my control and so is their love. <br />
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To close this up, to all of you great parents out there who sometimes feel like you are not good enough, remember the latest meme and say to yourselves, <i>Keep Calm and parent on....</i><br />
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<br />ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-4750263166395216612012-09-11T20:37:00.004-07:002013-01-02T18:39:04.163-08:00If you have nothing good to say....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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You know the good old saying, "if you have nothing good to say....say nothing at all." And that I have done. I have been silent. Silent on this blog and silent on this life. Yes, I talk, but I don't say anything. I don't say what's really inside my head and inside my soul. I don't say much because I can't. I figured if I have no words of hope, then I shouldn't say anything at all. Hey, you all know that thoughts become words and words become actions, so I figured if I don't talk, I am not sabotaging my life with negative thoughts verbalized in words and becoming my reality. My reality is my truth. It might not be all that great right now, but it's mine and I choose not to have a dark one. I walk in the light and no matter how many clouds are on the sky, I will find the one ray of light left and I will follow it. I am choosing happiness over sadness; hope over despair and I am choosing it for myself, for my children and for all the ones who I love. I might not have much to say these days but I still believe that every day God gives me the opportunity to start over again. Every day, every time - it's always a new beginning.<br />
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Now that I think about it, I do have a LOT to say but I am not saying it because it's a mix of good and bad. It's overwhelming to have been afraid, very, very afraid and have taken a leap of faith anyway. Packing up and coming back home might have seemed like the no-brainier answer to anybody but yet it was the scariest thing I have ever done. I knew we needed to be back with our family but I also knew it was going to hurt. I have managed to be strong on my own because I couldn't be weak, because I didn't have my loving parents near to comfort me. I knew I was going to cry. I knew I would be tempted to let down my guard before my family and take that shoulder that was being offered to cry on. I knew that when my sister-in-law would tell me I wasn't alone, I was going to believe it and I would probably cry. I didn't want to do it but I knew I was going to. I have broken down and it has felt terrible but it has also felt good. As I write these lines, I am crying too but I am feeling the relief of sharing how blessed I am to have been given a real chance to be accepted and welcomed - understood and loved. Yes, my son has difficult days - he does, and now my family is witness to his struggle. Not for a week in the summer and a few days in Christmas but everyday. Every little meltdown; every big dissapointment; every therapy; every homework, every battle. It's hard to see them learning to understand Autism and it pains me that they have to go through it with us because it's hard. At the same time, I see how they also enjoy our little victories of everyday and appreciate the bright, amazing individual he is. It's great to have someone to cry and laugh with at the same time and although I knew they were always in our corner, the hugs, the smiles and the tears are more real when they are not 3K miles away. <br />
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Moving from Seattle has been difficult because we had to start all over again - this time with a special needs child. Locating the right school setting is still a work in progress and we struggle everyday with inclusion and services. Building a new support team is exhausting because Frankie has constant changing needs and strengths and we are still searching for the right approach. Throw in an unhappy teenager and a middle child that is still trying to find his way into this equation and it's a recipe for disaster. But it's not, not really - it's more like a huge blessing wrapped up in bright foil paper. This second tour of Miami has been an eye-opening experience of what's really important and what it's not. Forget the heat, the traffic, the rudeness, the fast pace of an overpopulated city - keep the focus on our patient family members, caring and understanding old friends and the treasure of new-found friends walking with us through this uncharted territory. It's all good. <br />
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We are now where we need to be. It's all part of a painful but perfect plan to grow strong in the midst of our weakness. It's painful to talk about it but it's liberating. If you are one of my Seattle friends, I do miss you and I am sorry for being silent. I will forever be grateful to have met each one of you because you touched my life in a very special way. If you are one of my Miami friends, I might not say much and I am not ready to party yet, but I will be - and that's a promise, not a threat. If you are one of my family members, I have no words to tell you how blessed I feel to have you in my life - you are a kick-butt family that sticks together and makes it happen no matter what. Thanks for loading and unloading, thanks for driving and for flying (Erin, that's for you too!), thanks for allowing us the space we need when we need it and for being in our face when it's time. Thanks for the glass of wine and for the cup of coffee and thanks for the dumb jokes and the teasing - yes, one day we will eat organic food. Right.<br />
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Turns out I do have a lot to say and it's not all that bad after all. Perhaps I will start saying more from here on because there is always something worth sharing and we can all use a little pick me up story here and there! ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-39534079475713198592012-04-18T21:31:00.000-07:002013-01-02T18:39:37.837-08:00Raining cats and dogs<div style="text-align: center;">
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It rains in Seattle. It rains a lot! It's not a heavy rain but it does rain quiet often...now, lately, it's been raining harder than usual. I am not sure if it's a spring thing or if the weather is just changing due to the hole in the ozone layer... the reality is the rain in this city is getting harder and harder. One rainy morning, while driving the kids to school, I couldn't help but to use the good o<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">ld</span> saying known to us all:<b> "Oh, God, it's raining cats and dogs!" </b>From the back of the van Frankie's voice questioned me right away - "Mom, is it <i>REALLY </i>raining cats and dogs?" Of course not....<br />
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Once again I had to explain to my son that I was using a "figure of speech" - an expression that is not literal but just used to describe something that is happening. I didn't question it when I first heard someone use it and I went on repeating it like a parrot, having no clue of its real meaning. I had to promise Frankie I would Google the story behind the expression as soon as we got back home. And I did. There are like three different stories, none confirmed and NONE makes any sense. It figures...<br />
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Because of this kid I have learned more than I ever wanted to know about the history behind all sorts of things we say, read, sing, etc,...from nursery rhymes (don't remind me about "ring around the rosy," - it's creepy!) to everyday expressions and terms. The quest for reason is never ending! Now, people like me, who talk <i>a lot</i>, sometimes tend to fill "dead air" with totally superficial and meaningless things we say - this is not a good mix for living with a kid in the Autism spectrum! Frankie has taught me that every word has weight, meaning and consequence. I am more careful about what I say because for him, words have value, positive and negative and he will question every sound out of my mouth. I remember the first thing I had to learn when I was being trained to do ABA (Applied Behavioral Analysis) at home with Frankie was to reduce the amount of words I used with him. I had to use mostly action words and keep them to a <u><i>minimum</i></u>....It was the hardest thing I had to do in my entire life but it taught me to place importance and meaning in what I said and did. Best lesson ever learned now that Frankie is out to get me!<br />
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Our interactions regarding this matter is not always pleasant and funny like the dogs/cats/rain one; sometimes, they are just plain shameful for me. There was a time when I was very overwhelmed and I didn't even realize when I told someone on the phone that I was ready to "kill myself" from all the stress I was under. I don't think anyone who was around me at that moment even blinked at my words but Frankie came to me crying and asked if I really wanted to <i>kill myself.</i> No laughing matter, people - this really hit home. Once again, I had to explain to him that I really didn't mean to say something like that and that I would never, <i>ever</i> consider taking my own life. "Why do you say things you don't mean?" was his reply. The truth is that I don't know why...but I must stop doing it. <br />
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Being in the Autism Spectrum makes Frankie a student of <i>"typically developing</i>" beings<i> </i>and he questions our words, our actions and our decisions. Because he is different from the rest of us he goes around trying to figure out why we do the things we do - he often finds out there is a lot of following and not a lot of meaning in our conduct. Why do we go through life saying things we don't mean; using expressions that mean nothing; wasting time and energy building empty sentences that have no substance? I guess it took a kid struggling with a condition we know so little about to remind me of the importance of speech and the responsibility that I have to him, and to others, to use it wisely and properly.<br />
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Lesson learned: No, it doesn't <i>really</i> rain cats and dogs. It does rain hard and a lot. Let's keep it simple but true. Let's keep it real while we <i>walk the talk, </i>trying hard to remember not to talk<b> too much.</b></div>
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ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-13198964118980077022012-03-31T00:10:00.001-07:002013-01-02T18:40:21.453-08:00Light it up BLUE for Autism this April 2nd, 2012<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7GF3Q_ev-hM" width="420"></iframe><br />
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http://www.lightitupblue.org/Markslist/campaign/display/profile.do?campaignId=5502ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-48729982269797481902012-03-07T07:05:00.014-08:002012-03-08T16:48:18.139-08:00In my daugther's laugh<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlx8c4uRDvn7JiInmMzkrmgd2iW3ps-vdnEbxpTXPOjWw074GgCXGzXRQRZKzFQntOFiALhlQyQhpsCZz7JCdYgOkcI7sWn7r4VaVxxLgM-ZM8aw9OjjksUqHO2CFuCk7NwgEIwDPyaU4X/s1600/Becca-90.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlx8c4uRDvn7JiInmMzkrmgd2iW3ps-vdnEbxpTXPOjWw074GgCXGzXRQRZKzFQntOFiALhlQyQhpsCZz7JCdYgOkcI7sWn7r4VaVxxLgM-ZM8aw9OjjksUqHO2CFuCk7NwgEIwDPyaU4X/s320/Becca-90.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717648149097694818" border="0" /></a><br /></div><br />I seldom write on my blog about my daughter, Rebecca . It's a shame and I am sorry. I am going to fix that today because I just discovered something: we have the same laugh! Yes, we don't look alike - we have never even looked like we are related but thanks to a special gift from an amazing photographer, we learned we have the same laugh....<br /><br />I wasn't planning to be in Becca's 15th birthday photos because this session was about her and about her only. I didn't dress for it, and I had hardly any make up on - even my hair was messy! It felt so awkward when Carly, our photographer, asked me to join Becca for a shot. "You have to trust me!" she said. So I did.<br /><br />See, Becca doesn't get much attention these days; she is kind of on "auto pilot" ever since our lives went on "Autism mode" with our youngest child - add a middle child with ADHD-overload and you get an eldest daughter who needed to mature fast.....sadly, there wasn't much time left for her. We got lucky because Becca was born old; sometimes I think she is an old soul who has been here many times and yet, because of that, she manages to stay a child at heart. I think she always will. She doesn't ask for much; she blends in the background and is hassle-free to raise. I do feel guilty sometimes that I don't have to deal with many issues when it comes to Becca - more like none. Honestly, it would tip me over the edge to face teenage drama when our house is an ABA-center, treating tantrums, meltdowns and emotion regulation issues all at once - so I am grateful and I count my blessings, starting with a special daughter like Becca.<br /><br />Besides all the fun stuff we have planned for her 15th birthday I did want to keep one thing traditional; the Quince Photo Session. Still, I didn't want it to be traditional, on the contrary, I wanted to capture and share with the ones who love her, the real spirit of being young, beautiful and most of all, kind and simple. This is a lot to ask from a photographer! I wanted her to capture the very essence of what makes a daughter special for her mother.... Really??? I agree, it was an unreasonable expectation but I found Carly and she did more than what I expected.....<br /><br />Carly took pictures, yes, but she also helped me discover that a lot of what Rebecca is, she has learned from me - perhaps I am not slacking off so much on paying attention to Rebecca the way I sometimes feel. Perhaps, facing Autism as a family has also made her become more compassionate, more patient and it has given her a sense of belonging. We all have a common goal in this family and it is to make each others lives better, easier and fun. Most of all, we do strive to have FUN. We cry sometimes but we mostly laugh - and whether the going gets tough or it gets easier, Becca and I walk together - Countless times, she picked me up when I was falling into an ugly hole and she would offer a listening ear....she also made me laugh when I really didn't see anything funny about long hours of early intervention sessions and missing our family in Florida.<br /><br />I know a photographer doesn't work magic, but an artist, who has a true passion for her art, can strive to find the magic in others.....Carly did find it in Becca. Because I believed she had a gift, Carly in turn gave me one. I trusted her when she told me to do so....I hugged my daughter, kissed her and laughed together because I do love her laugh.<br /><br />Wait, it's also MY laugh!<br /><br />Like mother like daughter, they say..... In this case, it probably is the other way around.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK7VtT32wvADsk3BTvu9UImf6iWdQWIOJ6j2dDG8TwYZOjYWutSGxhgnVc6np_BPEcKVEILXxBKtbfimXP7RRJeBD8kmagdCkf5BUKliRs5cNPa_VxAH96xhFXv__WUalAIauydT8iVMF/s1600/Becca-95.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 377px; height: 250px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyK7VtT32wvADsk3BTvu9UImf6iWdQWIOJ6j2dDG8TwYZOjYWutSGxhgnVc6np_BPEcKVEILXxBKtbfimXP7RRJeBD8kmagdCkf5BUKliRs5cNPa_VxAH96xhFXv__WUalAIauydT8iVMF/s320/Becca-95.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717601625368605602" border="0" /></a> Thanks, Carly, we owe you one!<br /><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHtNLw0yTNKrvEW-l5g_3oOD3WmCGflDw7E7DYfjypICCd8u46ZSeKYHHk-7o7zDboioI2uZN5XC6sv_KyW66KZPUQwTmggFgM_Fl12iiVW1vSuK_60wnbKy1aGZFb7XObX5Jwc3Ql_6x/s1600/Becca-18.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 95px; height: 143px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPHtNLw0yTNKrvEW-l5g_3oOD3WmCGflDw7E7DYfjypICCd8u46ZSeKYHHk-7o7zDboioI2uZN5XC6sv_KyW66KZPUQwTmggFgM_Fl12iiVW1vSuK_60wnbKy1aGZFb7XObX5Jwc3Ql_6x/s320/Becca-18.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717646861891982242" border="0" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EtH9wllKnMyUUCddy7ba3jzUhOsc2KJdDfZQpaTfFB_lox9PTQ59EJIdcLDD9txTrsVfOy0XJoOkEd8-0N_u7UnYA73dZtRsdFnTXdBMIEmLN0I1wzKYE1sB2xpnCSoU2mBArbJ_q5Rm/s1600/Becca-76.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 95px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_EtH9wllKnMyUUCddy7ba3jzUhOsc2KJdDfZQpaTfFB_lox9PTQ59EJIdcLDD9txTrsVfOy0XJoOkEd8-0N_u7UnYA73dZtRsdFnTXdBMIEmLN0I1wzKYE1sB2xpnCSoU2mBArbJ_q5Rm/s200/Becca-76.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717647671670186434" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68TmmypzPTwqjGzrbFrnULT-IJYwKLtwa7HNDlAucAPOXhhgyAWd8G-eoiRBkg1BtL0-4gGx_yUN_ciWeS4R2lfzd4nOLujBAEa-VI-GyCXn03FBDgLNJZgPENvj-3p761cRNK4Ga-ZSI/s1600/Becca-35.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 98px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68TmmypzPTwqjGzrbFrnULT-IJYwKLtwa7HNDlAucAPOXhhgyAWd8G-eoiRBkg1BtL0-4gGx_yUN_ciWeS4R2lfzd4nOLujBAEa-VI-GyCXn03FBDgLNJZgPENvj-3p761cRNK4Ga-ZSI/s200/Becca-35.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5717647318842735186" border="0" /></a></div> </div> </div><br /><br /></div>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-34867364680979791872012-02-02T00:12:00.007-08:002012-02-02T01:18:39.851-08:00When you least expect it....the sun comes out.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7AohOMxE6w8XftI3WLyg09DLETOz2BkRZk_TCuqaVb84WHgdsedAEyPaUHQ-e31F70Gcn6I5DIfmN4zWwMraOobB1g0Jxo4dIhhzmXKmvsoFmfxXV6opwvzW2Kiwj9H6sYdyN3iipC-D/s1600/images.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 228px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG7AohOMxE6w8XftI3WLyg09DLETOz2BkRZk_TCuqaVb84WHgdsedAEyPaUHQ-e31F70Gcn6I5DIfmN4zWwMraOobB1g0Jxo4dIhhzmXKmvsoFmfxXV6opwvzW2Kiwj9H6sYdyN3iipC-D/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5704456330088843074" border="0" /></a><br />It rains in Seattle....a lot. Winter is cold and gloomy and the rain is freezing. When it's not raining, it's still dark and sometimes windy. And then, out of a sudden, there it is - the sun comes out and it surprises all of us. After days and days of being cold to the bones, wearing your boots and feeling like your coat is an extension of your body, the sun comes out and you reach for your shades because it hurts your eyes, so used to the shadows of this season. A winter sunny day is a true miracle for us here in the Pacific Northwest. The sun shines and it changes everything! Strangers in the street, at the market, at school, smile, wishing each other a nice day because the sun is shinning. You often hear: "get out there and enjoy the sun!" "Hey, it's sunny today, make it count!" - It's like the sun alone is reason enough to be happy, no matter what. The kids look forward to getting out to the playground because the sun is shinning and they don't have to have "indoor" playtime. It's like there is a big party and everyone is invited to join.<br /><br />Around here, everything looks different when the sun shines - it's like things are not so hazy anymore and you can see that what looked scary in the darkness, it's not so bad once there is light. Your fears, your hesitation, your lack of hope; it all gets erased away because you can see how small your problems really are and that all it takes to face them is to wait for the rain to stop. And the rain does stop and usually, it does when you least expect it - then, the sun shines and it makes it all better. Hey, what can I say? I am easily amused and small wonders just take my breath away. Today was one of those days. When I looked up in the middle of a rainy, cold morning, and I saw the sun, I smiled because it always reminds me that no matter how long bitter winter days might be, there will always be a sunny day in store. The good Lord knows that we need this sunny day that brings hope and promises of better tomorrows yet to come. Because good things do come to those who wait.<br /><br />To be really honest, I'm just exhausted and worn out from the winter, the cold, the rain, the wind, the snow and the trials and errors to make things work for my kids, especially Frankie. It's tiring to wait and hope and then to try again when it didn't work. But there is always tomorrow and that might be the lucky day when what you are trying out would work and then it would just be like a sunny day in the middle of winter - a true miracle. The unknown makes me uneasy and it makes me fearful, especially when I don't see immediate results but I press on. When it gets dark in my life and I want to stop, I push myself to keep on going because there is always someone who will have a flashlight and will offer to light the way for me. When it's cold or rainy on my path, I get plenty of umbrellas and coats along the way and better yet, I often get the arm of a friend around my shoulders to keep me warm and keep me company along the way.<br /><br />On a clear day like today, it's easy to realize that although nothing might be falling into place in my life or in yours, the most important thing is to keep on going, one day at a time, because after many grey days, you are bound to find a sunny day along the way - when you do, just stop, enjoy it and treasure it, because in the winter, they are not easy to come along.ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-53645435554278504822011-11-26T20:28:00.000-08:002011-12-08T07:20:17.151-08:00The best day ever!<div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6Fmpsx6JIqNpHREgnJbLFpFFylkFGJgeoGFrl7mSSqUd4PwO47NoyzzJ9_hv3sdEeY367sK0oEsx1Hhl50BEhTvT7WKVf5Ihc3dC8_dlN-MGGckdFdWBctelb3J8nrXiMXUzd6mxQhyx/s1600/11222011895.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 242px; height: 326px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip6Fmpsx6JIqNpHREgnJbLFpFFylkFGJgeoGFrl7mSSqUd4PwO47NoyzzJ9_hv3sdEeY367sK0oEsx1Hhl50BEhTvT7WKVf5Ihc3dC8_dlN-MGGckdFdWBctelb3J8nrXiMXUzd6mxQhyx/s320/11222011895.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680221381738199298" border="0" /></a></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >"...Thanks a lot, thanks for the wonder in me.....</span>"<br /></div><br />Thanksgiving is an American holiday, granted, but it's also THE holiday that should be adopted by everyone in the world, regardless of religion or believes. So, from here on, I declare, Thanksgiving day in our house will be <span style="font-style: italic;">The De Armas Happy Feast!</span> Sure, we will still eat Turkey (and pork, and rice and beans, and flan, and Cuban bread....etc) and all the fixings but we will also be thankful because we have faith and we have hope and now we can say that ALL of us in this family have finally learned to believe.<br /><br />We are, indeed a family of believers. I confess to be the biggest offender at never giving up when others tell me to let it go. Raci has learned to trust me and takes most chances along with me. Rebecca is more of a stubborned person than a believer but I am not complaining - it's part of her charm and it gets the job done. Victor, well, that kid is just so good he will believe and trust until the day he dies. Now, Frankie is another story. Believing? Trusting? Not a chance! Well, on the best day ever, on the day that marks our Happy Feast, all that changed, thanks to a Kindergarten Fall Festival and two wonderful teachers who have helped him try and try again.<br /><br />Frankie has been working with his Developmental Kindergarten teacher on a "blending" program, where Kindergarten students in self-contained classrooms have an opportunity to join the General Ed, Full-day Kindergarten class during the day, for academic or recreational time, based on their ability to cope with the requirements. I must say it was not easy at the beginning and we were both very, very scared. This was something that terrified Frankie and made me hesitant. Still, we took the plunge and the process has been amazing for him. In less than two months, he's spending more and more time in the General Ed class, without support or an aid and doing the work his peers are doing. He doesn't always finishes his work so he brings it home - no matter how much complaining and whining, he has learned the work doesn't go away. He has to finish it and he does. When he turns it in and brings it back with a star or a nice comment, his face is lit up brighter than our Christmas tree! I volunteer on Mondays and Fridays to help with a special activity they have in Kindergarten called "stations" where the kids have the opportunity to move around the classroom as a small group to experience different kinds of fun learning stations....I did it at first to be there to coach Frankie and see first hand how he was coping with his "blending" - the possibility of bullying, teasing and mean words that can hurt more than punches had me terrified and I wanted to make sure I was there to re-direct. Well, what I found is that Frankie can hold his own ground and that he is stimulated to learn by the challenges he has to face in a General Ed setting. Most importantly, he is willing to TRY. No matter how much we praised him before, "I can't" was his motto. You would tell him he had a positive trait or a great ability and he will answer right away with a "No, I am not - No I don't!" - it was frustrating and sad at the same time. As he spends more time on a General Ed setting, he believes he can do the work and what is expected of him as a "November Kindergartner." He can listen, follow directions, ask for help, and be part of a team....that's all perhaps not a big thing for a typically developing five-year-old but it's a huge thing for him and for us.<br /><br />The best part of this process is that Frankie was invited to participate in the Kindergarten Fall Festival this year, along with the General Ed class! He worked and worked and practiced and practiced and I am sure it must have been a painful process to follow the words AND body movements of six songs, one poem and one dance. Frankie would have melt downs in his preschool music class and will refuse to do PE because of his motor issues and challenges with coordination....I couldn't imagine him participating in a performance with twenty more kids and struggling to keep up without crying or breaking down. Well, he did. When he brought home the card inviting us to attend I was even afraid to ask the teacher if it had been a mistake. I figured, hey, if they are willing to give it a shot, so am I - <span style="font-style: italic;">let's do this thing!</span> I tried not to build it up so much so he wouldn't give up before trying and at the same time, I tried to make a bit of noise just enough to get him excited about it...it was a hard balancing act! When the day came for the performance, he would not tell us what it was about - there was no getting a word out of the kid and his major thing was that the parents would be really surprised and proud of the Kindergarten class. Frankie was so happy to see us at the library when the class walked in he started clapping at us....<span style="font-style: italic;">awkward</span>, since none of the other kids were doing it but I didn't care - he kept on telling us how much we would love what they were going to do and he was not wrong - it was the best performance I have ever watched because it was a display of self-confidence, trust, persistence and most of all, of hope. All of that wrapped up with a dose of Kindergarten charm. I could have not asked for a better show.<br /><br />When the time came for the show to end and parents asked for an encore, "the dance" number was up and the "wipe out" song started playing. Oh, man, the hand movements, the jumping, the SURFING! Not all the kids did it right but they did it and so did our Frankie. He DID it! He believed he could do it and he did. That's enough reason to feast, and feast and feast! At the end of that night, during our praying time together, he told me that he "will never forget this day" but I am sure it's just the first one of many more wonderful days to come because he found a little switch inside that allows him to try HIS best, and to be proud of his accomplishes. That makes all the difference in the world and it's what Thanksgiving is all about; being grateful for realizing that what really matters in life is always inside of you.ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-86707609400447588172011-09-24T23:34:00.001-07:002011-09-25T00:26:02.960-07:00Easily Amused!I never considered myself a simple-minded person, on the contrary, I used to enjoy complicated things, the more polarized a subject, the more interesting a discussion was for me! I was probably obnoxious and pushy; perhaps I was convinced that I was sharp and smart but the truth is I was probably unbearable.<br /><br />That seems so long ago now that sometimes I feel like that was another person's life and not mine. Indeed, it was. My life is simple now. Day by day and step by step but boy, the pleasures a simple life can afford are amazingly underestimated. My world was turned upside down on a cold winter morning when a therapist from the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">UW</span> Autism Center told me that my son had Autism; still, the first thing that popped into my head was: How do I fix him? I didn't think of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">why's</span>, I didn't ponder on when this had happened, all I wanted was to move forward, to look ahead and get my child to be normal, just like everyone else. I have been working on defeating Autism ever since that morning but I have also realized along the way that my son is not broken. He doesn't need fixing. He doesn't need to be like everyone else. His life is harder than other children's because he has to learn everything - nothing comes to him naturally but that is just a fact we live with. Once I stopped looking at him like a project to be completed, I started enjoying him for who he really is. Life became amusing and simple at the same time.<br /><br />I cry easily these days but I also laugh easily and I must confess I'm easily amused. I'm amused at how things fall into place everyday and when they don't, I go to bed crossing my fingers that it will all be better in the morning. It might take a few mornings but they always do fall into place and when they do, it's always a small miracle.<br /><br />One thing that makes me immensely happy is to see my children laughing. I can't help but to smile when I hear them giggling!~ Once upon a time my baby boy lost his voice and his smile but today he laughs and I can't help but to laugh with him, even when I might also have a tear or two in my eyes.<br /><br />It's all in the small stuff and there is no reason not to enjoy it, one smile at a time.<br /><br /><iframe height="349" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/_hJszcxTKZs?hl=en&fs=1" frameborder="0" width="425"></iframe>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-90458168372409116162011-09-24T19:02:00.001-07:002011-09-25T07:24:14.501-07:00Sparky the dog!<p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO0q9Cpgqectgl6VyqGnlU-JDC3kjYkBfKuwKxCsAohv2UTJ25R9lp3M1CljrLM7fZXRY6itnvjGl2_rnP3xmHIltqf9aXpwtSkcvAWpzlF3YdNKZTUxXoQ-E4XXg927CkyyQ8yQT4Pxz/s1600/untitled.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 106px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 184px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656288161777041410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWO0q9Cpgqectgl6VyqGnlU-JDC3kjYkBfKuwKxCsAohv2UTJ25R9lp3M1CljrLM7fZXRY6itnvjGl2_rnP3xmHIltqf9aXpwtSkcvAWpzlF3YdNKZTUxXoQ-E4XXg927CkyyQ8yQT4Pxz/s320/untitled.bmp" /></a> This is Sparky, our dog. We don't know if it's a boy or a girl yet but we know it's a Portuguese Water Dog. (no relation to the Obama's dog, for the record). We don't know when Sparky will join our family but we know it will. We are sure as the sun will rise tomorrow that this dog will be our friend, our helper and our guide in so many ways the possibilities are keeping me up at night. This might just be the biggest thing that has happened in our family since Victor was able to drink regular milk or since Rebecca discovered Dr. Who, the series. I tell you, it's BIG.<br /><br />Sparky is not going to be a regular dog. It will come from the best line of dogs we know, raised with love to work for love. I can't put it any other way.<br /><br />So, we are not big animal people....to say the least, our daughter Rebecca has suffered for a long time because we wouldn't get a pet, specifically, a dog. We couldn't commit to the extra work and I personally felt it was just too much of a responsibility and I couldn't be bothered. Truth is, I didn't want to get emotionally invested with a pet that I knew will die one day. Well, life has a way to make you face your fears and I did fall in love with a dog, our sister's dog, who came to live with us two years ago. Although she was an older lady, Chiqui was amazing with our kids and when she was gone she left a big hole in our lives and in our hearts. I did learn one thing out of our experience with Chiqui; she brought the best out in all of us, especially in Frankie. They shared a especial connection and when the end was near for her, she chose to lay next to his bed - sometimes I wonder if she knew how much he really needed her and did not want to leave.<br /><br />Since then, one thing has led to another and on a fateful sunny day we were at the City of Shoreline Parade and met a happy bunch - they go around helping people, young and old through their labor of love. This singular troop is lead by Mrs. Laurie Hardman, who is a certified breeder and trainer of these amazing dogs, the Portuguese Water Dogs. I must confess I'm very ignorant about dog breeds and I had no knowledge of them before; I did like their no-shed coat and hypoallergenic quality but that was that. Because I like to know and I like to research, I have made it a point to find out more about who these dogs are. I have found out they are intelligent, independent, working dogs that are easily trained into the various Service Dog roles such as hearing dogs (assistance dogs for the deaf), mobility dogs, and seizure response dogs. They also make<strong> unusually good therapy dogs</strong> . Therapy dogs! Did I hear <em>therapy dogs</em>? Once I bumped into Ms. Hardman again at the HS where I work, I knew the universe was trying to tell me something, so we started our journey to find our Sparky. With her help and guidance, there is no price tag we can put to the realization of a dream.<br /><br />By the way, the name Sparky is a "puppy" version of Sparkles, the name that Frankie wanted for our dog. I'm not sure where he heard it but it couldn't be a better fit - this dog is <em>sparkling</em>, shining full of possibilities and it's already loved and wanted by a family that enjoys hard work and values hope more than anything in the world. Also, what better dog could we find for our water-loving kids than one that would swim with them? It's a match made in heaven!<br /><br />More to come soon......<br /><br />****If you want more information about Mrs. Hardman's labor of love, please visit <a href="http://siriushealing.com/">http://siriushealing.com/</a> ******</p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-30465370163454010852011-05-01T22:44:00.001-07:002011-06-24T22:07:13.141-07:00Beautiful feet! *warning: if you hate feet, don't read!*<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxqqClKTT1v1mUNrjl4MMGTSlZqD7hLcux26ShSR84NDBV-26XpHgwgQ-7Pb9Ohadx_RQMARe8-skOGf7t_a8ZoW4xdkQqhbC1_I8iYn_Pnfcyb_ErStS7bn9B-J8xOvjCepES1C-8438/s1600/040920111323.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 179px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 146px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5621845106535385650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIxqqClKTT1v1mUNrjl4MMGTSlZqD7hLcux26ShSR84NDBV-26XpHgwgQ-7Pb9Ohadx_RQMARe8-skOGf7t_a8ZoW4xdkQqhbC1_I8iYn_Pnfcyb_ErStS7bn9B-J8xOvjCepES1C-8438/s320/040920111323.jpg" /></a>Who writes about feet? Not my sister, she hates feet. I can do it. I can write about anything these days, as long as it amuses me or makes me wonder and yes, I am easily amused....<br /><br />My feet are not the prettiest feet, I get that, but for my son, Frankie, they are gorgeous. I know this because he told me so! Ok, so that's not a big deal to many but it's a HUGE deal to us. As many of you already know, our little one is ASD and we have had to re-arrange him inside and out to make him fit our society rules and expectations. He's awesome the way he is but we have to make sure everybody else realizes this, even if they don't take the time to see beyond his often expressionless face and awkward ways. Part of this is to teach him rituals that are socially accepted AND expected. Don't get me wrong, as a parent, I had to teach all my kids their "please and thank you's" but I didn't have to teach them how to point, how to smile, how to kiss, how to say "I love you." These were all small battles from the past that we fought and we won and we made a big deal out of them (see previous blog entries for proof!). Now, getting into the subjective stuff is a lot harder and we are working through it slower but steady!<br /><br />Showing Frankie the art of "complimenting" others has been quite interesting for all of us involved since it's not as easy as it looks. I've heard that teachers usually learn more than their students and this holds true for pretty much all the ABA programs we roll-out for Frankie. First we had to use "compliments" among each other and make sure he understood what a compliment was; make it clear to him when he was receiving one and when others were exchanging them. Needless to say, our home became very courteous and pleasant, at least for a while! Frankie had to learn how to realize when he was being complimented and to be grateful for it. He also had to learn how to give one back without being prompted. Hey, people like to hear good things about themselves and flattery will win you friends - I tell you, one must get crafty these days to make friends at the playground!<br /><br />Unfortunately, these kinds of things don't pay-off right away and the fruits of your labor are not reaped immediately, until one day it does. On that day, that blessed day, your kid comes up to you and randomly notices you had a pedicure done. Your feet are looking p-r-e-t-t-y nice....he thinks about it, he makes really good eye contact and tells you: "Mommy, you have beautiful feet" - and there you have it! Those words make it all worth it....all $17.50 of it and the half-hour you spent waiting. That day you and your kid learn the power of a compliment!<br /><br />I probably shed a tear or two when I was told my feet were beautiful but not because I was flattered but because it was the proof that often times I need. I need wonderful proofs like this one to believe that <strong>everything </strong>Frankie needs to learn can be taught to him and that he can learn it. It does take a lot of effort, time and patience, but isn't it the same for EVERYTHING in life that's worth accomplishing? So, with that compliment in my mind, I will keep on moving my "beautiful feet" and hurry up on this trail we have ahead because time is of essence!ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-15043508081959900142011-02-21T21:06:00.001-08:002013-01-02T18:38:18.806-08:00Living on a prayer...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDRbpB6zClfIi7x6q1BkwBryhhVSIeyJpDrKqvboto5KudK0ep-KLwNA7CxTzCO4HlqYPKnLWDwwpn-UFOpw1E7yUBkhdS4EJUGXG3LpYkY21LfuMssxMU18Xk-JoW0ixIt_xm-JER15El/s1600/MISC.+257.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588249705520891186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDRbpB6zClfIi7x6q1BkwBryhhVSIeyJpDrKqvboto5KudK0ep-KLwNA7CxTzCO4HlqYPKnLWDwwpn-UFOpw1E7yUBkhdS4EJUGXG3LpYkY21LfuMssxMU18Xk-JoW0ixIt_xm-JER15El/s320/MISC.+257.jpg" style="cursor: hand; display: block; height: 159px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 185px;" /></a>This picture is really old. It wasn't a pose; it wasn't staged - it was taken at a moment, like many moments of my life, when I just pray quietly, asking to find a way to live this new life I have now. I do this pretty much all the time, anytime, every day. If praying gets you to heaven, my ticket is ready...and this is all because I have a son who happens to be in the Autism Spectrum.<br />
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People tell me very often that I am a special person and that's why God sent Frankie to me - it's the total opposite. I wasn't special at all before I had Frankie. Truthfully, I am not special now if you ask me; I am just like any other parent who is facing a more challenging task than the parents of a typical child. There is one thing we do have in common: feeling overwhelmed! If you don't believe in something bigger than yourself, it's pretty much inevitable to sink deep into desperation but if you enlist the "big man" on your team, things do get a little easier.<br />
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All of my kids have been a blessing in my life and I am grateful for this. Although Frankie's special needs have been difficult to adjust to, it's because of Frankie I am more patient now. Because of Frankie I am more tolerant. Because of Frankie I don't judge. Because of Frankie I live day by day, like we are supposed to do anyway, making each moment count. I treasure the good days because they are glorious and I pray through the hard days because they are dark and I need to make it to the next one.<br />
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I must confess that although I pray constantly, I don't make it to church very often. It makes it a little hard sometimes to cope with one hour in the quiet room...It doesn't help either that your child is not welcomed in Sunday School because he is too distracting to the other kids. I'm not complaining, I am just saying that life doesn't fall into place smoothly for our special kiddos - even at church, where everyone should be welcomed. It's the truth and I won't sugar-coat either, still, I don't worry about how "churchy" I am or not - I honestly believe that God still gives me brownie points for trying. He knows I need Him. I know I need Him. This is more powerful than any homily I can listen to sitting on a church pew. God's gospel is alive in my life and there is no other way to describe my living arrangements: I live in the hands of the Lord and that's where my family belongs.<br />
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Our Autistic kids are here to make us better, to give us that extra push, to move us from being average to becoming great. We probably needed them more than they needed us and there is a God above who decided to match us in heaven because we probably had no hope otherwise. I believe this from the bottom of my heart and it comes to my mind every time I can't help my kid get over a meltdown. I no longer look for a cure to Autism; it's not an illness, it's a condition...like all conditions, I want Frankie to learn how to live with it, own it, control it and thrive in spite of it. That's a lot to wish for, I know it, but I am getting good at praying; practice makes perfect!ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-29530373811825237542011-01-25T21:53:00.000-08:002011-09-25T00:40:35.767-07:00Oxygen Mask<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wij2XpLoQuI3_mfuqsJ-P0bGumDfwl-E2ibLYI0XKw5vjs_ez-QVT3e5WlerrQvsg3zGHDDXXQUblzMccRDgLIRtHWaMz6RbJPZQ-3R6D0Uk_rE3sMGvTZrWxmMcNnrcqjnANdy6U7Ne/s1600/062820111932.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5656198246751244834" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4wij2XpLoQuI3_mfuqsJ-P0bGumDfwl-E2ibLYI0XKw5vjs_ez-QVT3e5WlerrQvsg3zGHDDXXQUblzMccRDgLIRtHWaMz6RbJPZQ-3R6D0Uk_rE3sMGvTZrWxmMcNnrcqjnANdy6U7Ne/s320/062820111932.jpg" /></a> I made a decision to go back to work because I was going mad at home.<br /><br />It was a selfish decision. It was irresponsible. It was probably shallow too but it was also the best thing that could have happened to our family.<br /><br />Taking this step was like grabbing the oxygen mask that falls down on your head when there is turbulence during a flight. I don't know about you, but I have always questioned the instructions of the flight attendants. In case of an emergency, you are supposed to wear your oxygen mask FIRST and then assist others under your care with theirs.<strong> What???</strong> It never made sense to me that I would put MY needs before the needs of any of my children. After grabbing the "oxygen mask" that literally bumped my head at the beginning of this year, I will never question airline policies again!<br /><br />Autism was and continues to be a part of who we are as a family but it has stopped being everything we are. The truth is that it has been a slow process to work through, especially for me, since I am, without a doubt, the "soul," and <em>not the head</em> of this family. I did have to work through ALL the stages of grief and realized that after that first diagnosis, this journey will have a beginning, a middle, but not necessarily an end. I like happy endings; I always have. There is no happy ending or a sad one for this story - I have finally learned there is no end. For a long time I kept on hoping for an end of any kind but I know now that there is none and that's OK. In order to keep my sanity, something had to happen - I had to reclaim my own identity so I could help everyone else in this family to find theirs. Working has always done that for me. I am a working woman - it gives me a purpose and helps me get balance.<br /><br />As it turns out, getting a balanced, stable, mother was all our family needed - It was all that Frankie needed. During the past few months, as things got tougher in school with Frankie, my world kept on getting bleaker and bleaker. Working hard was not paying off and I was falling apart....our family was falling apart. I was really scared to let go but once I did, everyone grew up a little and stepped up to the plate. Once I was out of the picture, everything fell into place - <em>everyone </em>fell into place. It was like stepping back and looking at a work in progress, like a painter might do - sometimes you have to see the big picture from afar and get a new perspective so you can finish your masterpiece - some times you need to get some oxygen first to stay alive and help those who count on you.<br /><br />I'm grateful for those who encouraged me and told me everything was going to be fine if I did this for myself. I'm grateful for those who told me things would fall into place once I let go. Most of all, I'm grateful for all the positive changes this decision has brought into our lives and for the breath of fresh air that now fills our lungs. There is a way to live with Autism as part of your life, once you HAVE a life - struggling to make sense of it is not the answer, the answer we have found lies in keeping our identities strong for the journey and taking the time to breath along the way. Frankie will find his identity in due time and he will be strong to fight his own battles - he has a few examples to follow...more like FOUR of the them! <br /><p></p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-54859361178860876682011-01-09T17:21:00.000-08:002011-05-01T22:44:02.502-07:00Like two drops of water<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFib-VZmX9sjQ3rZyRLfECi6C8G6gyp3ciV7DGk7hQdbxM4X17movsz_bRb2n-_J_-KdTm-0Q9rk18TelXIGqS5D7Uk4URsRxYMfQXquT_bW-eDztUtq3VKPRH8jr1UiWDkKvCg2Pun5eg/s1600/12.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 297px; HEIGHT: 187px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5543512805696763554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFib-VZmX9sjQ3rZyRLfECi6C8G6gyp3ciV7DGk7hQdbxM4X17movsz_bRb2n-_J_-KdTm-0Q9rk18TelXIGqS5D7Uk4URsRxYMfQXquT_bW-eDztUtq3VKPRH8jr1UiWDkKvCg2Pun5eg/s320/12.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p align="left">An awful lot of people I know are getting divorced. The ones who are not, already did and the ones who are still together are not truly happy. The ones who are divorced spend time looking for that one person that would complete them. Some of them have found love; others are still looking. </p><br /><p align="left">I am still married but sometimes I wonder until when. I wonder if there is an expiration date for commitment. I have learned that divorce knows no rules - it's not a matter of age or maturity because when I think of all the failed marriages I know of, there are different ages, reasons and situations that contributed to the separation. At the end of the day, the result is the same, a broken family. Once it's all over, there are two people who decided to end something and start all over again. "All over again"...that sounds so hard, especially when you are of a certain age, when you are facing your own "middle life crisis" and you question what you have accomplished and what you have yet to conquer. When it comes to relationships, I used to think the secret for a fulfilling relationship was that "opposites attract" but the older I get I realize that a lasting relationship, is based more on your similarities than in your differences. </p><br /><p align="left">I have noticed there is a new trend of emotional and spiritual growth and people are looking to find more meaning in their relationships and are searching for their soul mates, their other half but I don't remember ever taking on that quest when I was younger. I was just looking to find the one guy who had all the qualities I didn't have so he could complete me and we could be a good team together. I found my guy. He is everything I am not. I am everything he is not. Here is the pickle, the older we get, the more those differences that seemed to unite us have now become the very essence of the distance between us. This past year has been a year of growth for me, when I am questioning everything, including my set of values. I have always believed that love was not a feeling but a decision. I decide who I love and I stick to it - here is what I believe: emotions come and go but commitment is the glue that makes a relationship last. Well, that worked for many years until my world was turned upside down and I came to realize there is got to be something else, something more. </p><br /><p align="left">Recently, a friend of mine who experienced a painful divorce many years ago, was talking to a friend of his (who is also going through a divorce!) and he was describing his newest relationship. He said that his girlfriend (who is also divorced, of course) and him were "male and female versions of each other" - I listened and watched. I watched my friend and his girlfriend looking at each other in a way I never see two adults do these days. They moved at the same time, they finished each other sentences, they seemed at ease, at peace, they were whole, they were complete. Good for them. I believe in second chances...and a third and a fourth. In a perfect world, you would get it right the first time around but we don't live in a perfect world and making mistakes is the way we humans learn our lessons. But then, what to do? Do you get divorced now or later or NOT? Well, again, I am making a decision but this time, it's also a decision shared with the man who has helped me build this family, our family. I have decided to make a compromise with the adult who now shares my life. I know he will never be the male version of me (ever!), but I choose to try for as long as it is possible, to build him up, to back him up, to help him out and in one word, to accept him for who he is and celebrate what he has brought into my life. I have also decided the best thing I can do for my kids is to love their father and teach them to love him with his qualities and shortcomings because we are not perfect - nobody is. </p><br /><p align="left">It's a win-win for everyone because in the end, we are all just looking for love and to be loved. It's really our choice if we go for a second chance or if we give each other another one in the same relationship we once felt was the right match. We can only hope we are not making a mistake but if we do, we just have to try again. We are bound to get it right eventually and when we do, it will feel like we were meant for each other, even if we weren't.</p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-90547377580761473542010-11-09T22:41:00.000-08:002010-11-09T22:46:10.821-08:00It will get better by Amy Gravino.Just wanted to share a video made by Amy, a survivor, a fighter, just the kind of person I want my son to grow up to be.<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" class="youtube-player" type="text/html" width="560" height="345" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/9FJrXhJjTeE?hd=1" frameborder="0"></iframe>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-41504888080350305972010-11-03T00:29:00.000-07:002010-12-17T22:31:04.430-08:00Dreaming and other wonderful things!<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgot1LdFOBi5z-gEyVcDrFxUqhE8WGpS3S6ry0-2AJ4VT6KxWwR7DHnNgr2XMzgKcwZVb_HqnJKmDRbUb1X5nzG99XzZokruWdQgQ_6nSbCUupMALzinTNbJxCB5WiZ9_MTcDrcjcMhQAZD/s1600/sleeping_and_dreaming-1727.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 193px; HEIGHT: 148px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535222799573264162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgot1LdFOBi5z-gEyVcDrFxUqhE8WGpS3S6ry0-2AJ4VT6KxWwR7DHnNgr2XMzgKcwZVb_HqnJKmDRbUb1X5nzG99XzZokruWdQgQ_6nSbCUupMALzinTNbJxCB5WiZ9_MTcDrcjcMhQAZD/s320/sleeping_and_dreaming-1727.jpg" /></a></p><p align="left">I have heard there is a funny side to Autism but I do believe there is a sweet side too. The sweet side is the side that keeps you going when things get ugly. I know this because I have had a chance to enjoy all of those sweet things my PDD-NOS child says to me; things that are so unique that keep me wondering about his world and how he looks at everyday, ordinary things. Lately, the new thing he says to me when he is sleepy and he wants to go to bed is: "mom, let's start dreaming" - this just sounds so wonderful to me...Every time he says this, I think of new possibilities, new beginnings, new opportunities and the chance to dream up a better tomorrow. The term he uses to define the action of "sleeping" takes everything to a whole new level...For Frankie it's not only about resting, it's about stating what he does while he is asleep: He dreams! I know he doesn't dream ALL the time when he is sleeping but just realizing that my kid has dreams is amazing to me. Because Frankie dreams, and he is aware of it, I know that life in the spectrum is not black and white and it's not simple at all - it's actually complicated and full of interesting terms to define a different kind of world. </p><p align="left">In this world of Autism - the world of Frankie - life is defined in pictures, in specific terms that project the intangible. See, for Frankie I don't have white skin, I have "vanilla skin," he doesn't have brown hair, his hair is "chocolate hair," and of course, my fake red hair is not red but "fire hair." I know that all of these might seem irrelevant and not even worthy of a blog entry but it is, it's so worthy! These are the little things that encompass how special these kids are - Autistic children are unique and each one is like nobody else. I can't think of anyone I have known who calls things by such amazing names....the everyday becomes so special and the regular things take form in their attributes rather than in their definitions. It's amazing to realize that this same boy who understands things literately so often, can also perceive the world in such a creative way. </p><p align="left">I tell you, it's all a bout the silver lining and the time you take to understand it, appreciate it and ultimately, cherish it.</p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-5639833070304156042010-10-25T00:49:00.000-07:002010-11-05T09:01:42.787-07:00The Fork-Spoon<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEP7HU66OYODvk5XuSvPHF4trijPQ5BGIyPmf6Qpc-6nBp9DNalqHmXB5QaFN9MbP5is8qmARQlFU9hCE9awSheNehJgib8ul3dsL7xkhIyeATagx6KhBflXtY3FCVIi5Lz1UsOGFQMnG/s1600/IMG_4904.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 193px; HEIGHT: 244px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523353806585654642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLEP7HU66OYODvk5XuSvPHF4trijPQ5BGIyPmf6Qpc-6nBp9DNalqHmXB5QaFN9MbP5is8qmARQlFU9hCE9awSheNehJgib8ul3dsL7xkhIyeATagx6KhBflXtY3FCVIi5Lz1UsOGFQMnG/s320/IMG_4904.JPG" /></a></p><p align="left">A "fork-spoon" is NOT a <em>spork</em>. It's not a hybrid-it's the real thing, one spoon, one fork, stuck together with scotch tape. The creation of my little man, Frankie, and already being ordered by Victor and Becca because of its very efficient mission. Use the spoon for your rice, turn it around and pick up your chicken with the fork. Very, very, smart!<br /><br />These inventive creations are the everyday things that make kids in the Autism spectrum very interesting human beings. There is an upside to being "different" and seeing the world in a unique way - it's called creativity. Frankie can be rigid at times and struggle with complying with society rules but his very weakness represents his most valuable strength. The invention of the "fork-spoon" by Frankie came about as a response to not wanting to comply. Here I am, asking him at dinner if he wanted to have a spoon or a fork for eating his dinner and what's his response? I want both. Of course, I said he couldn't have both - why???? Just chose one or the other! He just couldn't understand why he couldn't have both and to be honest, now that I look back, I don't see why either! Once he stayed on this course, I went along with the idea and the result was the "fork-spoon" you see in this picture. Very handy....I must say it actually takes skill to wrap up those two together but mostly to alternate them while you are eating. It's priceless to watch.<br /><br />I figured after so many dark blog entries lately, I should get back to the root of why I started to write about our family's journey into the Autism spectrum; the desire to highlight the positive and not the negative. I take little pieces of our days and freeze them in time on this blog, usually so I can remember what is so special about our little guy and why we are fighting so hard to help him get as far as he wants to go - the sky is the limit.<br /><br />The "fork-spoon" is only one of the many gadgets he goes around the house creating to make life interesting and different. We are so lucky to be part of his unique world.</p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-3393940912876195812010-10-23T00:36:00.000-07:002010-11-03T01:13:54.563-07:00A slap in the face<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZTYXs_Qzc99bnV9K2cNzmSi6chuFASHvt2e1e8lYn8Lni3tCaLXrTvuehciRbt_LMlc87oCJkNXDq0vQBqxSdV-HdzJi9GMCz3RjZaXoADMDptsdwIkq_dxxF0hWK6EVlE5kFTf4f-Yzm/s1600/068.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 238px; HEIGHT: 290px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535225056331857426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZTYXs_Qzc99bnV9K2cNzmSi6chuFASHvt2e1e8lYn8Lni3tCaLXrTvuehciRbt_LMlc87oCJkNXDq0vQBqxSdV-HdzJi9GMCz3RjZaXoADMDptsdwIkq_dxxF0hWK6EVlE5kFTf4f-Yzm/s320/068.jpg" /></a></p><br /><p align="left">At this local juice bar in Mount Lake Terrace, a "slap in the face" will cost you a dollar...I got a real one recently for free, compliments of my little Frankie. </p><p align="left">I don't know if you have ever gotten a slap in the face but I don't think I remember getting one; perhaps I earned one or two in my teen years but honestly, they must not have made an impression because I can't remember if I did or not. The one I got a couple of days ago burned my face for a few hours but I know I will remember it for the rest of my life.</p><p align="left">Needless to say, we are still struggling with Frankie at school. Things are not getting better, perhaps they are getting worse. Everyday I pray that he didn't hurt anybody or that he is not so frustrated when he gets home that his whole day is ruined. All the while, I have been trying to be positive and have infinite patience with him but here is the deal, I had not yet gotten hurt. My turn came up and I got a slap in the face. In the face! Boy, it hurt my pride more than it did my face. What was I doing wrong? Why is this kid not getting it? Why is he so angry he is hurting me, his mom, the one person he probably loves the most? I was speechless. For once, I was speechless. His therapist says we talk too much to Frankie - well, this time, he got no words from me for sure. Of course, time-out followed the infamous slap for Frankie but the one who needed it the most was me. There I sat, struggling between being angry and being embarrassed...All the bells and whistles went off in my head and the haunting stories I read in the past years about parents physically abused by their teen Autistic kids came bursting in. I kept on telling myself that was not my story. I refused to allow that to become Frankie's story either. My sweet kid is somewhere inside this angry child and I know he will come out, sooner or later. Regardless, my worst fears were taking shape at that moment - Frankie has been hitting, biting, kicking, running away - it's all falling apart and I don't seem to be able to glue it back together. I know some parents will be thinking at this point that Frankie has a discipline problem. Perhaps that we are not consistent enough or strict enough. What I see is a kid in pain and struggling to deal with an environment he does not fit in. My job is to help him cope and I am failing miserably. </p><p align="left">Since the slap in the face, I have woken up to a new reality. These are the years that will make it or break it - either I help Frankie cope and fit in or I miss the boat completely and he will struggle with regulating his emotions for a long, long time. I choose to conquer, and I know I will. Frankie needs me to fight and not sit here and cry over a burning face and a hurt pride.</p><p align="left">The slap in the face at the juice bar might wake you up in the morning, but the one I got that day did more than that, it woke me up for the rest of my life and I don't think I will fall asleep again.</p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-2885040810088549152010-10-17T22:45:00.001-07:002010-10-19T13:29:42.449-07:00What's in a Backpack?<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7b3qmJAb45doe9W5Qs8lQg1AQORMqUp-1zKEXqe2zcWWCy5zTeyyLrs2Fj48QIPUyF2s67806DsQbmNv1Gi3v4yTKYkZvY-bHWw40Z_g4Dd-PMWmdOS8HwZD3UITCrK8TmKMEPRHQwMk/s1600/What's+in+a+backpack.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 173px; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529258242765971730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO7b3qmJAb45doe9W5Qs8lQg1AQORMqUp-1zKEXqe2zcWWCy5zTeyyLrs2Fj48QIPUyF2s67806DsQbmNv1Gi3v4yTKYkZvY-bHWw40Z_g4Dd-PMWmdOS8HwZD3UITCrK8TmKMEPRHQwMk/s320/What's+in+a+backpack.bmp" /></a></p><p>A change of clothes,<br />A stress ball,<br />A plush Sponge Bob,<br />Happy books,<br />I SPY books,<br />A timer,<br />A pouch to hold certificates awarded for being “good,”<br />Noise canceling headphones. No, not these yet - I am still deciding if I should include them or not…<br /><br />What kind of backpack is this? It's the one my preschooler carries around every day. Not a typical backpack for a little one; some of his classmates don’t even take backpacks to preschool but Frankie does and we are constantly adding more stuff to it. This is his <em>gear </em>for battle. Being a preschooler is not easy but being a preschooler with PDD-NOS is really hard. The noise, the rules, the schedule, the noise. Did I mention the noise? It can’t be easy to function when so much is expected from you. I know it’s not easy for me, so I can understand how hard it’s for him. I guess I can see why he is not all excited about going to school every morning; it’s not all fun and games when you are picked to be the goose at <em>duck, duck goose</em> game and you don’t want to run after your classmate because you are afraid of failure. It must be crushing to get up in music class and give up your spot in the rug when you have claimed it as your own. It’s not fun to have a meltdown because your hot dog bread came apart at lunch and you have ketchup on your shirt. And it’s certainly not fun to ride a noisy school bus for half an hour before you finally make it home. I keep on telling him school is fun. Now that I think about it, it really is not. When I came to that realization, I stopped trying to make Frankie <strong>like </strong>school and I just focused on getting him <strong>prepared.</strong> Here is how it goes: Frankie, do you need down time? Here are some happy books. Do you need stimulation? Here are your I Spy books. Are you mad? Squeeze the stress ball. Are you sad? Hug your Sponge Bob pal. Are you having a hard time cleaning up, packing up and lining up? Play a “beat the timer” game with your teacher and win a certificate! </p><p>Man, it’s exhausting. But it has do be done. We are lucky to count with such great professionals who want the best for Frankie. They endure being pushed, kicked, hit and lately bitten. It's not as bad as it was and he's slowly understanding school is not going away and he must find a way to cope. The strategies we are using are working and his days are not so challenging at times, but each day is different and a new situation teaches us he might need another “tool” to help him endure the process....like the noise level getting too much to handle. Are really headphones the answer? </p><p>When I look at my first-grader's backpack and it feels so light, it makes me want to cry. It’s just not fair. I open it and I see a folder, a bottle of water and a snack. No “tools” to cope. No timer. No headphones. I pray that one day Frankie can also leave all of these things behind and take a lighter backpack to school. I know that day will come and when it does, I will blog about it. In the mean time, his backpack will be heavy but it will help him get where he needs to go.<br /></p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-565200594733941972010-10-17T22:40:00.000-07:002010-10-19T13:32:43.280-07:00The Devil's Garage Sale<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwW0TgpK8cudQcufDvKr-yxHdg_ggqtdp74ns_99AFQwXVI-EdlvbK8VX72Q85V0YzVTCugAESOmHffokSxQ5ggE-v_DBKNI6wXbYEkwiI-nZttCLT1SegS3764M8hjiyePNVXZHwBkL9-/s1600/Devil's+weapon.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 145px; HEIGHT: 188px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529257455364963858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwW0TgpK8cudQcufDvKr-yxHdg_ggqtdp74ns_99AFQwXVI-EdlvbK8VX72Q85V0YzVTCugAESOmHffokSxQ5ggE-v_DBKNI6wXbYEkwiI-nZttCLT1SegS3764M8hjiyePNVXZHwBkL9-/s320/Devil's+weapon.jpg" /></a></p><p>The economy is pretty bad these days and even the devil can use a break, so I heard he was holding a garage sale recently to make some extra money. He was selling, among other things, all of his special weapons to tempt man....all but one. There was a special box he did not include in the sale because that was his most important weapon and he couldn't do his job without it. Guess what was in the box? It was "despair." Once he hits a poor soul with despair, he is fried. No hope means no praying. What for? If there is no hope of a prayer being answered, despair leads you in all sorts of different ways, but never in the way to the light. Clever Lucifer!</p><p>So this was a joke I heard in church last Sunday. I don't particularly write much about sermons and I don't preach. I just tell a bit of my life, my thoughts and a lot of the crazy things that go on inside my head. This stuff I heard did not just came and went from my head - it stayed inside and it has been going around in circles. The devil of the story was right on the money. Despair IS indeed, the best deterrent from a life of prayer. Regardless of religion, any person who believes in a superior being prays in one way or another, mainly because we want to have hope, - well, I already wrote once about hope so I am not writing about that again - we want to believe that things will eventually get better. And they do. Eventually, they do; if you wait long enough. Now, if you are not willing to wait, somehow things do get a bit, let's say, bleak. Despair sets in. The Devil is in business. </p><p>When I moved to Seattle, I heard so many stories about how EVERYONE got depressed here at one point or the other. I heard that, statistically speaking, Seattle is the city where more suicides happen in the United States. This is eerie, I don't argue with that but I always wondered what exactly can get a person so desperate and so sad that they decide dying is better than any form of life. Even when I think I might consider this alternative if I am terminally ill, in a lot of pain, or hopelessly dying, even then, I wouldn't choose to kill myself. I guess it's just genetics and I will never be able to relate to that choice, made by others in such high percentages. I like to think that rather than it being a genetic thing it's a "hope-prayer" thing. It has been very few and far in between the times when I have hit rock bottom but even at the bottom of the hole, I always managed to get some sort of rope sent down to me from up above and I never despaired, and when I did, it was usually <em>momentary insanity -</em> nothing that a little praying couldn't take care of to get me back on track.</p><p>Prayer. This word is not politically correct lately. Nobody wants to be told what to do, what to say and what to believe in. Granted, it's a free country and unless there is "something in it" for us, we really don't want to be bothered. Well, there IS something in it for you when you pray. You might not get the answer you want, but you do get an answer. The most important thing that happens when you pray, meditate, count your beads or chant, is not the answer from God, it's that you stopped and went inside your own self to get the balance you need to wait, to make a plan, to get patience, to endure. The strength that comes from finding your center is the harmony that comes from praying. The best thing of praying is prayer itself and no devil can ever make you despair if you can find the answer to your questions within your own spirit.</p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-71068868007621808102010-10-12T21:32:00.000-07:002010-10-13T00:27:04.991-07:00Being Still and Doing Nothing<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40KIf4OiS9garRmD38CJp4sF5JoT6HqUrGXWsj2z2WdcHDJilRDzIS-IBcS8Xt_GB6MFGD0n8jYYekxLLB-oN3IiyXr6F5F96tKbnnEYvv-0BvoV9Djc4pIycwMD_4KI6PPBjQwkuINxc/s1600/sitting+still.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 127px; HEIGHT: 163px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527417363610214274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40KIf4OiS9garRmD38CJp4sF5JoT6HqUrGXWsj2z2WdcHDJilRDzIS-IBcS8Xt_GB6MFGD0n8jYYekxLLB-oN3IiyXr6F5F96tKbnnEYvv-0BvoV9Djc4pIycwMD_4KI6PPBjQwkuINxc/s320/sitting+still.bmp" /></a></p><p>"Being still" and "doing nothing" are not the same thing. I didn't hear this from the Dalai Lama, but from Jackie Chan. Jackie Chan might not be the best source for Zen-related advice but ever since I watched the new version of the Karate Kid this weekend, I have been thinking about that line from the movie. A dear friend of mine is always talking about reading the signs of the universe - he is a fan of Paulo Coelho, of course - but I would never expect to receive deep messages from a worldly movie like the Karate kid....see, the signs are everywhere and they come in all sorts of packages; you just have to be still and listen.<br /><br />Being still....There is a new concept for me. If you know me, you know I am <em>everything </em>but still. Doing nothing is just not in my book - I hold world records for packing and unpacking an entire house; I can clean fast and well; I can get a "to do" list done in a flash. I am a mover - I am a shaker and I like things to roll. Now, being still, that's hard for me. At this point in my life, I am faced with many challenges and situations that require stillness more than actions. I can't rush into them and I have to be patient. This is a hard concept to grasp when I feel all the time that being still IS the same as doing nothing. But you see, I am not doing <strong><em>nothing</em>,</strong> I am just....still. Things are falling into place like big pieces of a puzzle and I feel like I am seating around observing this crazy rain of events fall around me. The more I stay still, the better the view gets - it's not blurred by my constant running around, stressing much and accomplishing nothing. When I am still I am gaining strength, for when the time comes to get up and run, I will know exactly where to go and it will save me time. Stillness promotes inner peace and silence of the soul gives you clarity to understand what the next step will be.<br /><br />I thought I had a crazy ride with Frankie's early intervention years, but I realize now that the ride has just begun. If I am not still, I will keep on missing the whole picture and I can only see fast flashes that run wild before my eyes. I have made that mistake before, over and over again. I was told before that I didn't "aim and shoot" but just shot and forgot about aiming. I am busy aiming now and not shooting just yet; waiting for the right angle, for the right moment...being still so I don't miss. Being still and doing nothing is definitely NOT the same thing. </p><p>Thank you, Mr. Chan. </p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-58334317206068137322010-10-04T21:06:00.000-07:002010-10-04T21:07:23.512-07:00The memory of trees (originally published in October of 2008)<p style="TEXT-ALIGN: center" align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVvmWHu6_3jiCPKSpZf4moFwpL5UAWS8yglgK7USnsuJILVo3wVaBsYSNqYi9rzPTTsb57Cxe0OdwFol5WqyU2z21XVBxvhH0F0Er4QjQ_YV2ZbYxqu-0kL2XNP2y33kxEvfLxtUASEGH/s1600-h/Fall+002.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 176px; HEIGHT: 245px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254984267571777538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGVvmWHu6_3jiCPKSpZf4moFwpL5UAWS8yglgK7USnsuJILVo3wVaBsYSNqYi9rzPTTsb57Cxe0OdwFol5WqyU2z21XVBxvhH0F0Er4QjQ_YV2ZbYxqu-0kL2XNP2y33kxEvfLxtUASEGH/s320/Fall+002.jpg" width="195" height="278" /></a></p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">The other day I drove through one of the streets of my daily routes and the trees were all yellow! When did this happen? Well, I guess I can ask the same thing of the year all together...where did it go? Just a little bit ago I was looking forward to the "glorious" Seattle Summer that everyone was telling me about (which was indeed, glorious!) and now I am digging out recipes for Thanksgiving day! Nonetheless, Autumn brings so many wonderful changes along with its changing leaves....the cooler weather, the comfort foods and Halloween, my daughter's favorite holiday. This season, I can't help but to remember my dear aunt, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">Orfa</span>, who is not in this earth anymore but lives on through <em>T<span style="FONT-STYLE: italic" class="Apple-style-span">he Memory of Trees. </span></em></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">A long time ago, when were all still living in Nicaragua, la Tia <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Orfita</span> was lucky enough to travel to the United States in connection with her work for the department of education. I will never forget her stories of the changing leaves in Washington DC. Through her stories, my 10-year-old-child imagination could see the yellows and the browns and how beautiful Autumn was in the far away lands of the north. Later on, after I moved to Miami, I still could not have the chance to see those changing leaves because of Miami's tropical weather. Whenever we traveled up North, I would miss the leaves and only got to see naked trees. La Tia <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Orfita</span> traveled again, this time to North Carolina, again in Autumn, and the stories of the trees continued. She loved this scenery so much and described it with such joy that it was impossible not to fall in love with those burning red trees and yellow leaves although I wasn't 10 anymore.</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left">La Tia <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Orfita</span> is gone now but I remember her every time I see a tree with yellow leaves. I feel her soul when I admire the wonderful sights of the Fall season. After almost thirty years of the first time I heard from her about the great process of nature that is Autumn, I have finally watched with my own eyes, the wonderful festival of color of the changing leaves. I am enjoying every minute of this season as much as I enjoyed listening to my aunt's stories. The wait has been worth it.</div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="center">Thank God for Autumn and thank God for aunts like la Tia <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Orfita</span>. </div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="center"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="center"><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="center"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="center"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left" align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Click below for a video of Fall paints/pictures around Seattle as well as some of Tia Orfita's pictures along with the sound track from Enya's <em>The Memory of Trees.</em></span></div><p align="center"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyAOF9AhVLLDP3bB-XzVT2MgHNfjXwcZW0mOa9lT5R0HsfkYXukd3bBmz3BVowZNV-5MXpW2-tZjQ3p5ALQZA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-4000347215086945022010-10-02T21:44:00.000-07:002010-10-04T13:57:02.489-07:00The lottery, my heart and my treasure<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOt2E_1iNr_XSkSi0Dbm0v9PJeNGFbciIOunAgGA3hEunIdHnoMP2r7skcJ1dycuA5V7Fy0Wodtz9e2N124cW4o5dXYoaQYw8ePQ-vrEwYZIEVMSgYPrt8VuyQV98MeTVqPdWQRThQ5qIb/s1600/lottery.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 163px; HEIGHT: 144px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524065092740420434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOt2E_1iNr_XSkSi0Dbm0v9PJeNGFbciIOunAgGA3hEunIdHnoMP2r7skcJ1dycuA5V7Fy0Wodtz9e2N124cW4o5dXYoaQYw8ePQ-vrEwYZIEVMSgYPrt8VuyQV98MeTVqPdWQRThQ5qIb/s320/lottery.bmp" /></a></p><p align="left">So here is a random post.<br /><br />The lottery - who doesn't want to win it? All you have to do to get it is to play! That's it. </p><p align="left">I have a funny story about the lottery....when I was in HR, I used to enjoy doing new hire orientation; it was so much fun for me! One of my favorite ice breakers was to ask everyone what they would do If I would hand them a million dollars that day, you know, like winning the lottery - Pretty much everyone wanted to help their families, buy a home, pay off their debt and start their own business but the answers I really enjoyed were the fun ones! some people would just get really into the game and talk about what was secretly in their hearts - fun stuff like traveling, learning to play an instrument, going back to school to study something that had nothing to do with their current career, and some even wanted to become writers or singers! There was always someone who wanted to get a face lift, perhaps a liposuction; others wanted to buy an expensive sports car, a boat or a motorcycle, The crazier the stuff, the more fun we had with the game. When you are given a million dollars, and you are allowed to make your dreams come true, the true desires of your heart come out freely - who doesn't like to dream? I know, I do! But here is the pickle....most of the time, we are afraid to make dreams come true because we see them as that, just dreams, unrealistic wishes that we know we must not discuss with others so we don't sound immature or just plain irresponsible. We are too busy making ends meet and coping with what life throws our way that it's easier to live on passive mode than on proactive awareness. When we leave it up to chance, just like winning the lottery, not only can we afford those sound, responsible things, like paying off our homes or debts and putting our kids through college, but we can also indulge on the other stuff, the fun stuff we don't talk about. Neither the practical things or the crazy dreams are impossible to obtain without the lottery; they just take longer and require effort and patience, besides a good plan to get them accomplished. It all starts with knowing what we want and that's really the tough part. </p>Whenever we played the million dollar game, I also remember that employees wanted to know what I would do with the money too. My answer was always the same....I would turn around and give it to my husband or to my dad; "they would know what to do with it." I thought that was a funny way to end the game, and we all had a good laugh with it - the sad truth was that I really didn't have any priorities of my own other than the ones that were given to me by others. This was shocking because I'm well known for having many plans, usually Plan A is only the beginning, I also have Plan B, Plan C and of course, an emergency plan when the first three fail! The problem is that my great plans are made to obtain practical and sound goals. They usually benefit others and have to do with <em>grown up</em> issues. I didn't have fun plans. Most of all, I didn't have a plan for ME because I didn't have a clue of what was inside of my own heart. What were MY heart's desires? No idea. I came to realize that I was in a lot of trouble. I had no desires, no dreams, nothing. In the middle of my very busy and "meaningful" life, I remained empty. I was oblivious at the time that I lacked knowledge of my own self and I used to be happy by making sure others were happy. At one point or the other, you come to realize that being a daughter, a wife, a mother does not define YOU - these are only hats we wear at any given point in our lives but the head wearing those hats is also connected to a heart, which lies right were your treasure can be found. If you don't find that treasure, then your heart will be homeless and that's how it will remain until you take the time to figure it all out. Sooner or later, it has to be done.<br /><br />I am happy to report that lately I have been wanting to win the lotto like never before. This time, I do have a plan for the money. I don't want my husband or my dad to decide what to do with it. I can see clearly what are the things that I would do with my millions. I'm sure now that I have defined what makes ME, Orfa Baez, very, very happy....and I don't need the lotto to do it, it would just take me there faster. Since I have more chances of being hit by lightning than winning the lottery, I must continue working for those crazy things that take me to my happy place, whether they are naive, childish or irresponsible, they provide a home to my heart and where my heart is, I'm sure to find my treasure!<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPXO6WoSyB5JEf88NiU2oX8tQbLL3MZS8p8MMvV-6ui0kgMFiq-PaIjvneORArWRaz66UFaDJ6P79w8tEYyP2g4dOwZIMqFC_EqaqEV_Jqp877wWM2Nn12pGgYxrFFOfcOvZ-iKn4xtLU/s1600/treasure+chest.bmp"><img style="WIDTH: 121px; HEIGHT: 129px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5524065368304489186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPXO6WoSyB5JEf88NiU2oX8tQbLL3MZS8p8MMvV-6ui0kgMFiq-PaIjvneORArWRaz66UFaDJ6P79w8tEYyP2g4dOwZIMqFC_EqaqEV_Jqp877wWM2Nn12pGgYxrFFOfcOvZ-iKn4xtLU/s320/treasure+chest.bmp" /></a></p><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBPXO6WoSyB5JEf88NiU2oX8tQbLL3MZS8p8MMvV-6ui0kgMFiq-PaIjvneORArWRaz66UFaDJ6P79w8tEYyP2g4dOwZIMqFC_EqaqEV_Jqp877wWM2Nn12pGgYxrFFOfcOvZ-iKn4xtLU/s1600/treasure+chest.bmp"></a></p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-608741520118047992010-09-27T21:22:00.000-07:002010-10-01T12:45:22.431-07:00TirelessSomeone today said I was tireless. I have been thinking about that for a few days....I do get tired. I do need a glass of wine once in a while and many times I feel like I can't keep on going, but I get up the next day and go at it again. After all, there is always tomorrow and each day brings a new opportunity to make things work.<br /><br />A little background for the record: Frankie has been giving everyone the hardest time at school. This year he is just set on a "civil disobedience" rampage and is out there to defy, defeat and prove to all that he does not need to go to school....he knows already and he is done learning. Yeah, it sounds funny but it's not at all - it's actually pretty frustrating for everyone involved. His teachers are great educators and will go along with any and all strategies we put in place to help them get Frankie to follow their instructions but Mr. Smarty Pants is a hand full. Here is our conversation as we drive to school:<br /><br />Frankie: "why are YOU taking me to school again? I told you I don't need to go anymore, I am done."<br />Me: "No, you are not done, you don't know how to read, you don't know how to write and you need to learn this stuff"<br />Frankie: "I hate school. They make me drink milk at lunch everyday."<br />Me: "you have your juice in your back pack, you don't have to drink the milk"<br />Frankie: "....I still hate it. Why are you taking me there...I told you I don't need to go anymore!"<br /><br />And there it starts again. Every morning, every week, since Sept. 1st, until today.<br /><br />We know the usual things that work with most kids will not work with Frankie...we just need to try different ones and fail; and try again and fail again...until one day, we try the ONE thing that will light up those wonderful eyes and we can get him on board with us. His therapist calls that "engaging" him but I call it SPARK! Once I see that spark in his face I know we have hit the jackpot - we reached the wonderful Frankie that hides behind that defiant kid - the one that can learn and can teach, the one that has changed our lives.<br /><br />Really, get him to obey and follow directions? really? that's it? that's the challenge we have this year? Man, and here I was so worried about his social interaction with typical children - I was so scared that he would be the lonely kid who nobody talks to, who nobody notices...well, no worries there, because all the kids recognize him, welcome him, greet him by his name when he arrives, they ask him to join their games and activities - it's just great to see he is accepted and that he is not going to be lonely. Now, If I can get him to WANT to go school, that would be the beginning of a journey that might just change this world. I am convinced he will touch many lives because he already has, now it's just a matter of not getting tired, getting on that van every morning and enduring the same conversation about how he is so perfect and he does not need to go school....<br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwYH2SSxiMK-G_5Nlmzuxdq5STuc4iXjodyvsm9Sbvfa7A2tPtvT7o3C9OxoK4oAsjvUhQYhIkVXkYym604szkXFZWh_uki1OIQhZ310PYksY8BhbhW-Gv4TkVvpxyzYfWamoc_a1pNcb/s1600/IMG_4929.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 242px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523161496834869970" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigwYH2SSxiMK-G_5Nlmzuxdq5STuc4iXjodyvsm9Sbvfa7A2tPtvT7o3C9OxoK4oAsjvUhQYhIkVXkYym604szkXFZWh_uki1OIQhZ310PYksY8BhbhW-Gv4TkVvpxyzYfWamoc_a1pNcb/s320/IMG_4929.JPG" /></a></p><p align="center">I think this would be EASY-PIECIE-LEMON-SQUEEZIE, Frankie boy!</p><p align="center"></p><p align="center"></p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7104500871080249584.post-662414023282843772010-09-08T10:58:00.001-07:002010-10-01T12:02:22.528-07:00Writer's block or sunblock?<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBe-7tgXHTyjeMgtuVJK4visvSl2URyYu7iSycTaoZCxyuvp2M4KzaNRi7_1p3uSdmtnWIUWSsMythMvAXvmJM8Czi04Xy6Ia7uDHry7So5bGwCOckb4OtvfdYc7j1zNhXKQCcbV4xDsU1/s1600/IMG_4415.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 194px; HEIGHT: 146px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523150071177371058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBe-7tgXHTyjeMgtuVJK4visvSl2URyYu7iSycTaoZCxyuvp2M4KzaNRi7_1p3uSdmtnWIUWSsMythMvAXvmJM8Czi04Xy6Ia7uDHry7So5bGwCOckb4OtvfdYc7j1zNhXKQCcbV4xDsU1/s320/IMG_4415.JPG" /></a></p><p align="left">I have been missing from the blogger world...but I have not been missing out in life, fun and SUN. After what we call "the hardest years" of our lives, we figured we would play as hard too! Got on a plane to Miami, jumped in another one to Nicaragua, had a blast - came back to Miami and continue having a great time. I have to say that it was probably the best time I have had since I came to find out what having a great time really is. Our time in Nicaragua was priceless; time with our loved ones, time with my memories and time to build new ones with the kids. I got the relaxation time I needed and the kids got the fun they wanted. Pool, beach, amusement parks waited for us in Florida and we did it all and then some more. This has been the summer of our lives...we celebrated each other, got loads of quality time and recharged our batteries for the next school year. Life is great, God is good and we have each other...what else can we ask for? oh, yes, the lottery </p>ORFAhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17836812877466244260noreply@blogger.com0