D was ready.  He had his ear muffs on, his sweatshirt on and a full tummy of food.  His attention was focused completely on the arena in front of us.  Not much was happening, but what was coming was so exciting that there was no way to tear his attention away from the arena.  We  did our best to prepare him for what would happen.  We warned him that it would be loud and that he needed to wear the headphones the whole time.  Both boys were warned that we would sit out in the car if their behavior was out of control.

The announcer’s pitch and speed of speech increased.  Several motorcycles took center stage on the dirt arena.  They revved their engines and began racing around the arena, picking up speed to prepare for the impossibly high jumps in the center.  The first person lifted off the jump effortlessly and rolled down the billowy, air filled landing area without any problems.  The next rider went off the jump, and amazed the crowd again.  The jumps increased in complexity until the riders were going off of them at the same time, letting go of the bikes with their legs and then landing back on the bike AND the ground without incident.  Gasps of amazement shuddered through the large crowd.

Then finally, the moment we were all waiting for: the first monster trucks entered the arena.  Everyone was cheering.  I looked over at D to make sure he was ok.  He was staring in wide eyed amazement.  When the competition between the first two monster trucks began, D was still very quiet watching the amazing sight of these impossibly huge vehicles roar across the arena.  Our seats were nearly eye level with the arena so the view was spectacular.

Wide eyes and big smiles.  Only a bit of pesty fidgeting when the time approached 10pm.  Our friend’s children were just as impressed as our kids were.  A night’s worth of entertainment, nearly no whining and zero tantrums.  What a great way to spend a weekend night!  We’re looking forward to the next monster truck show since we now know what preparation we need to do to make sure that D can enjoy it.

We walked to the carnival from our house at around 5pm, when the crowds were fairly small. The first jumpy the boys went in had no line because it was meant for the younger kids.  They spent a while leaping around, attacking the blow up animals inside the farm themed jumpy.  Then the youngest noticed the much larger jumpy slide.  He leaped out of the barnyard jumpy and started running full bore, without shoes, across the lawn toward his destination.

This is so much like my youngest.  He runs headlong towards whatever he wants without thought of consequences of his actions. Can you tell he is three years old?

While the visual of this moment might be kind of funny: a little blonde boy running across a field with his mother yelling behind him and his older brother getting upset because he is trying to get his shoes on and being left behind, it was kind of not funny.  By the time I caught the little guy, he had already run across the field to the line of the jumpy he wanted to go on.  D was trailing behind us wearing socks and carrying his shoes.

The blare of the generators that kept the jumpy houses inflated was slightly overwhelming for me but if it bothered D, he hid it very well.  He was so excited about going on the jumpy slide that he kept running out of line.  As a mom who isn’t interested in waiting in the same line for hours on end, I held his spot and reminded him many, many, many times to stay in line or else he’d lose his spot.  Once the boys reached the front of the line on the jumpy slide, D hesitantly went in.  He climbed and then slid down. Climbed up and slid down.  While it wasn’t audible at first, people were starting to get annoyed. I asked him to come out. He did.  Then little brother went in, full speed ahead.  D was so bothered that little brother could do this that he went in after him.

After 5 minutes of waiting, neither of the boys emerged from the maze of inflatable obstacles.  Since the lady monitoring the  slide looked visibly perturbed, I asked if I could go in after them.   Before I went in a parent looked at me and said, “Hmm, my kids were waiting forever behind yours and they went in and came out before yours did.”  With that positive comment, I went in after them.  I found little man at the end of the maze climbing a Mount Everest type of rope climb to the top of a really tall slide.  I pushed him up to the top where he slid down with glee.  I climbed to the top and saw that D had just slid down.  Down I went, big kid on a jumpy house slide.

The boys had a great time jumping, playing and running.  And then things started to change.  The change was almost instantaneous.  A light switch that was turned off.  I noticed it right after D pet the enormous tortoise (that acted like a lawn mower in his penned off area of the carnival).  I had two carnival tickets left and asked the boys if they wanted to go on one last train ride.  D screamed no.  Probably would have been a good idea to take that as a hint.  But like all tragic moments, hindsight is 20/20.  I herded the boys off to the train.  When I loaded them on, D started getting within 2 inched of little brother’s face and yelling at him.  I had to break up the fight several times before the train left on it’s voyage around the outskirts of the school.  I probably should have seated them in different seats but the ride was crowded. So I had faith that things would be ok and sent them on the ride alone.

And then I heard it.  Little brother’s scream and D right up in his face yelling at him just as they rounded the corner out of my sight.  I’m pretty sure I heard another yelp but couldn’t be sure it was little brother.  When the ride stopped, little brother was crying his eyes out, D was yelling and I could feel embarrassment tinging my cheeks red.  I swept the little one up in my arms and walked home.  D trailed behind, with a mixture of complaints and mean comments yelled as loud as he could muster. I walked as fast as I could with my youngest in my arms.

Upon arrival home the boys were promptly dressed in jammies and sent to bed.

My husband and I talked about it later.  I was so disappointed in D but my husband brought up a good point, he had been very good for the majority of the carnival.  The last 2o minutes wasn’t really representative of how he behaved for the other 2 hours.

I just wish I had just let those $2 orange tickets go and walked home when D was ready.  We should have left while we were still ahead of the game.  But in all reality, the boys will remember the fun times and the tantrum will be buried in the recesses of my mind.  It will be a reminder that things can go from good to bad in less than a minute.  And just as fast, I can help things change for the better.

We discussed the recent problems D had been having during behavior therapy.  His behavior has been steadily declining over the last few months.  She said that she and the therapists had recently met to discuss ways to remedy the problem. They thought if maybe they took some of the pressure off and we just had one of the therapists hanging out with us in the evenings, it might be a place to start.  The overwhelm, which I can usually hide but struggled to disguise after a long day, crept onto my face.

Structure added to our evenings, when I am so severely structured at school sounded like more work that I couldn’t muster at 5pm.  It isn’t as if things are a big free for all at our house in the evening, it’s more like there’s a general plan that shifts and changes as the evening presses on.  I think of it like a ball of clay.  We shape the evening out in general terms (dinner, baths, bed time stories, homework, playing, making lunches) but it doesn’t happen at a specific time or in a specific order.  Like clay, we add more embellishment to our evening as our creativity allows us. Feeling as if it needed to be structured or formulaic would take the life out it.

I couldn’t say that to his case manager. She smiled and looked at me.  She knew.  She absolutely knew what I was thinking as I tried to explain that we’re rather free form with our evenings and that I wasn’t sure how I could incorporate someone into our regular evenings.  Thankfully she came up with some more options that seemed like they would mesh better with what we’re  doing in the evening and allow us to have an important role in the therapy.

As the conversation came to a close, and as I took the last few bites of burrito, she said to me, “You know, I totally understand where you’re coming from.  Here I am barging into your house telling you what to do and here you are thinking, ‘I’ve already tried that, why do you keep asking me to do those same things over and over.’  It is hard to know how to advise you because you come from a similar background as me.  You’re around children, you have an education in child development and here I am telling you what you already know.  Many of our parents don’t have this same background and I have to remind them over and over about things,” she grinned at me, “But you–”  She was interrupted by my children attacking each other and screaming.

We both sighed and I rolled my eyes and said, “Thank goodness there’s a cold beer waiting in the fridge for me.”

And I thought, thank goodness for the real people of the world.  The ones who get that you aren’t perfect.  The ones who know you know better, you’ve tried it, you do it but your kids still act like hooligans despite your best efforts.  They understand the frustration of being an educator with a beautiful child who seems so typical sometimes that his autism comes across as a case of bad parenting. They don’t judge, they just love you no matter what… even if you plan to sip a cold one while your children scream at each other.

Yesterday morning both boys woke up at reasonable times.  They both got dressed without argument, sat down for breakfast without a complaint.  They got their teeth brushed and put their shoes on.  I even, (gasp of delight), brushed my teeth without anybody fighting!

Could I enjoy the moment?  Yes.  It was like a decadent chocolate.  I needed to be savored and enjoyed.  Not only had the kids been well behaved but we were going to be on time today!  Everything was perfect. But like all delicious chocolates, wonderful moments melt and fade away into reality.  This thought sat in the back of my mind as I loaded the kids in the car.  When is this going to fall apart?

It started with the smallest complaint.  Just a whine.  ”I want my bunny.”  And then my refusal, “I’m sorry, we don’t have time to get it. You already have 3 blankets.”  And then, like pulling a loose thread in a sweater, it all unraveled.  The storm clouds rolled in. Thunder and lightening boomed and flashed in the garage as I tried to get a screaming little boy into his car seat.

Now I know people say, “Enjoy those times when they’re little.  They go by too fast.”

Yes, it is true that the years fly by fast but I can’t figure out why moments when the kids scream at the top of their lungs seem to go by more slowly than the good times.  Listening to a child scream in close confines for 30-45 minutes at a time is akin to torture.  I might be more tolerant of such behavior if it wasn’t how I spent the majority of the time with my children. It might even be humorous (haha, remember that one time when the little one threw a tantrum at the restaurant) if I had a few less stories like this to share.

One day.  One day we’ll get into that car and there’ll be no drama. When that day comes I will burn it into my memory, “The perfect day.  The day when things didn’t unravel.”

On Saturday I did the morning chores and got the boys ready so that I could go to they gym.  I geared up.  Water-bottle, iPhone, earbuds, giant wad of kleenex (I could feel a cold coming on), keys… check!  We loaded up in the car and rushed off to the gym where I did some extra practice before the half marathon on Sunday. The boys were great.  No cries or shouts or upset.  Next stop was Trader Joe’s where I loaded up on my favorite vegan meals and snacks.  Nothing but good behavior.  Only a few minor complaints. Upon arrival home it was lunch time then ‘quiet time.’

And finally, the moment the kids had been waiting for: The Birthday Party. We were one of the first to arrive at “Mary’s” (name has been changed) house. Mary, a student in D’s class, greeted us at the door and showed us into her backyard.  The immediately ran to the jumpy house, then the sand box, then the swing set, then the trampoline.  The boys were totally occupied while I was able to hold several continuous and coherent conversations with adults.  The boys had such a good time that when we left 3.5 hours later, the youngest was inconsolable at the thought of leaving… Until we arrived at Whole Foods for dinner.

When we arrived home an hour later, it was bed and bath time.  Normally, the youngest will have an excuse or two tucked up his sleeve so that he can come out of his room after his bedtime.  That night, not one peep came from behind either of their doors.  They were out cold!

Early Sunday morning I was awake and preparing my stuff for the half marathon.  Water-bottles filled with coconut water, snacks, compression socks, sun glasses, giant wad of kleenex (for the raging cold that had developed), cough drops, iPhone, earbuds, spf 100 sunscreen… check!  When the babysitter arrived at 6:30, I was ready to go.

The race was fun.  Sunny, heating up and fun. While I had driven the road we were running on for 10 years in my commute to work, it was strange seeing it from a runner’s perspective.  I missed so many things while I ran because I focused on my feet, my form, my breathing, my sneezing and just making it up the hills.  I didn’t notice the gorgeous scenery.  I knew it was there but couldn’t tear my attention away from what was going on in my head to see what was going on around me.  The book I was listening to on my iPhone distracted me from the fatigue that was building up.  While Melanie/Wanda from Stephanie Meyer’s book, “The Host,” escaped from the ‘seekers,’ I ran up hills, down hills and closer to my destination.  I finished the run much slower than I had hoped.  I suspect that catching a cold involving the respiratory system didn’t help me much but I at least I completed the race! I could have easily used the illness as an excuse.

I arrived home around noon.  After a quick shower and a light lunch, I loaded the boys in the car for : “Joe’s” birthday party!  Joe’s party (name has been changed)  was held at a park nearby our house.  The boys were thrilled to attend two parties in one weekend.  They played like wild men on the play structure.  They ate cake and candy.  We actually had to leave a little early because D was falling asleep on a bench. When we arrived home my husband was there.  We went out to dinner and then it was bedtime.

It seems the key to a successful weekend alone with the kids is lots of activities.  My kids and I didn’t have even one second to be bored (or even buy groceries or clean the house!) so the fighting was kept to a minimum.  Let’s keep those birthday parties coming because they were a welcome distraction on an otherwise boring weekend!

D’s behavior therapist held little brother’s hand and  I held D’s hand as we walked to the park. When we arrived, we were the only ones there.  The boys slid down slides, climbed the structures and ran around.   There were your average scuffles, and few more significant ones between the boys but overall the experience was good.  Little brother even demonstrated some amazing redirection skills.  Little brother was jumped off one of the structures and D decided that he wanted to do it too (but be mean about it and hog the entire area without taking turns).  Instead of screaming about it, little brother ran to the slide and made a big scene about having a lot of fun until D came over to try and ruin his fun.  The second D climbed up the stairs to the slide, little brother ran back to the structure he was playing on.  I couldn’t have mitigated that situation any better.

The trouble began as we were leaving the park to go home.  Little brother found a little oak tree that had sprouted from the ground and dug it out until he found the acorn. He tore the stem off and held the enormous seed in his hand.  I didn’t think a think about it until D started got upset.  ”He can’t have that, it’s garbage! I’m going to throw it in the garbage can!”  D ran after little brother and attempted to take the seed.  Both the therapist and I attempted to distract him but D persisted.

When a tantrum is coming, there is this tension that is as easy to feel as a storm is as easy to see on the horizon.  Sometimes you can divert it and move away from it.  Other times it seems you’re headed right for it no matter what you do to divert your direction.  In this instance, the storm clouds moved over us slowly.  Every evasive maneuver I tried to take actually steered us right into the heart of the storm.

We made it half way home when things started to get worse.  The complaining gave way to yelling.  I attempted to appease D and helped him to find something he could bring home.  He chose a rock from somebody’s front yard. I objected to the rock because every time we walked by that guy’s yard, D would have wanted to bring home a rock.  I don’t know the owner of the house and didn’t want to annoy him so we looked for something else.  In my frantic scan of the yard, I spotted a dried up stem from an agapanthus plant.  In a very misguided attempt to appease D, I picked it up and gave it to him.

Little boys and sticks… I should have known even before I picked the thing up off the ground.  The first thing he did was point it at his therapist’s rear end.  ”If you touch anybody with that stick I will take it away,” I said in response.  Less than a minute later, he poked little brother with it.

And then the world ended.

D’s sobs rang out down our street like a crack of thunder when his therapist took the stick away.  We walked several more feet and I attempted to look for something else he could have so that he would stop crying.  ”Here, look at this leaf.  You can have this,” but to no avail.  Then the screams turned into sounds I imagined a pterodactyl might have made, murderous cries from the depths of the soul.  Our house seemed miles away but we were only 5 houses down from our front yard.  D’s therapist asked little brother and I to walk ahead while she worked with D.

And we did.  We walked up that street.  My head hanging low. The longest walk up my street.  A walk of shame as my oldest son screamed at the top of his lungs while his behavior therapist helped him cope with his emotions behind us.

It is one thing to have your child freak out in your house.  It is a whole different thing to have him freak out in public, especially on the street you reside on. We have probably developed some bad habits to keep him from becoming upset in public.  We aren’t totally rigid with the rules in public places because we don’t want to deal with the conflict, the tantrum and the embarrassment.  But it seems that peace comes at a price.  The price is a confusing expectation of when D is required to follow the rules.  While I didn’t see that offering D the leaf was so bad, it turns out that I was reinforcing his bad behavior.  It is hard to think like a behaviorist, especially when the tantrum is coming but I guess it is what we need to do.

The family room couch is not much better.  A playstation remote sits rights where I plan to stretch my legs on the couch.  The remote joins the transformer that has been sitting on the middle part of the sectional couch for about a week.  Children’ books from the library sit on the coffee table, the plastic dust cover reflecting the light of the TV.  I can still hear the laughter from the boys after this week’s favorite read: Meet Wild Boars.

Our bed is unmade.  Well, it was made earlier but the boys have knocked all the decorative pillows off to have a wrestling match. There are several fleece blankets with cartoon characters woven into their fleece fabric strewn across the  bed.  A stuffed bobcat with a miniature, orange safety cone perched on top of its head is placed where my pillow once sat.  Demands that one room in the house remain untouched by children’s toys have been ignored.

Not even the master bathroom escaped the boy’s decorative flair.  The shower basin contains 1 matchbox pickup truck and a toy whale.

But at night when I sink into the rocking chair with my little boy, singing a song; or when I lay down with D in his bunk bed and rub his back, I am reminded why the messy house is worth it.  How the constant chaos and mayhem can be balanced by a laugh, a giggle and a sweet smile.  The wild boy moments where they can’t be left alone. EVER. are accepted when I hold their sweet little hands in mine. They will only be little for a little while longer.

Cameras aren’t only for special occasions, they are for all those little moments that fill the space in between the big moments.  The colorful threads that make the pattern of a much larger blanket.  Pictures of reading books, digging in the dirt, playing with monster trucks and splashing in the bath. Even when I don’t think we’re blessed, we are.  Fortunate to have two boys, lucky to learn so much, blessed to be able to provide a good life to our boys.

Life is full of challenges, sometimes I wish mine were somebody else’s but in all honesty what would life be without those bumps in the road.  Or cars underfoot!

D came home on Friday with a story about snails.  I wasn’t sure if he actually touched the snails but I know that he had to wash his hands afterward. The experience spurred a need to go exploring for snails.  Right at that moment.  D needed to go snail hunting right then but I held him off until Sunday morning.

Sunday morning D came ran out of his bedroom in excitement.  He was ready to go look for snails. The boys dressed and gathered the bug boxes that the easter bunny brought them in their easter basket this year.  I pulled my uggs on over my yoga pants.  It was only a few minutes after 7 when we excitedly tromped out the front door.

Since we have eliminated most of the snails in our yard, snail hunting was more difficult than I thought it would be.  We began our search at the border of our yard and our lefthand neighbor.  I gingerly lifted ivy leaves but found nothing.   The boys were reluctant to do the same but with some encouragement, they stomped around in the ivy (and probably on the only snails in the area), lifted leaves and yelled that they couldn’t find anything.

We moved on to the next area, where our yard meets with our lefthand side neighbor.  While I enjoy gardening and knowing the names of most flowers, I don’t know the name of the flowering shrub like plant that borders our neighbor’s yard from ours.  The plant boasts little blue flowers that bloom among small dark green leaves for most of the year.  If there weren’t snails in there, I didn’t think there could be snails anywhere in our neighborhood.

I moved the foliage aside to search near the base of the shrub.  In the first few seconds of searching I found one.  I showed the boys but they were more interested in its capture than in observing it in its natural habitat.  Since the whole experience was D’s, I decided that he deserved the first snail.  I picked it up firmly by its shell as it curled its slimy foot inside of the shell.  Along with it came the dirt and bark it had been sitting on.  After a few minutes the snail relaxed and began to roam the inside of the bug box.

We then attempted to find little brother a snail.  Apparently the snail we found was a loner or his friends were much more stealthy since we couldn’t find any more snails in the entire length of the yard. Thankfully, just before my foot went down, I saw it.  The snail’s shell-less cousin.  A tiny slug slithered over the bark near the lavender plant.  I carefully picked it up with a leaf and put it in the other bug box.  I felt a bit guilty that younger brother only got a slug but then realized it was a blessing in disguise… for the snails in our neighborhood.  I looked over at the little guy screaming and yelling with joy as he was swinging his bug box by the strap through the air and realized he would have made a snail smoothie if I had actually found one for him.

D and I sat back and observed his snail friend while the little guy made a lot of noise and swung his bug box around some more.  After a thorough observation of the snail was concluded (and the slug was twirled around in several hundred more circles) we carefully put the displaced creatures back in their natural habitat.

A lovely morning spent with the boys just letting their interests guide their outdoor exploration.

So I just keep juggling.  Every day is different, though.  Some days I’m juggling too many responsibilities, other days there are only a couple to deal with. Most days, I have several that are on fire and I’m required to run while carrying them. Yesterday I was thrown one with a spikes and another that burned like fire if I held it for too long.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I let everything just drop to the ground.  What would happen if I let go and just let things just run their course without my intervention.  Before I even go down that path, I realize that isn’t an option because letting go of all responsibility isn’t an option once you’re a parent. But I wonder, how much more I can juggle before things start dropping to the ground on their own.

When I was single with no kids, it was so much easier to just throw my hands up in the air when things got tough, and say, “I tried, but it was just too hard.”  I could have thought to myself, “It was not meant to be.” When you have kids, there is no option to say that, you must move forward, move on and keep juggling responsibilities even if you’re on only running on a few hours of sleep and a cup of coffee.

It will get easier, it must get easier but if it doesn’t get easier I will just grab some coffee, strap on my running shoes and just run with it because the show must go on!

There are days, due to the nature of his job, when he isn’t home and I have to do everything on my own.  On those evenings, everything must be carefully orchestrated.  I have to figure out how I will get each child to sit and eat without argument.  If there are extra turns in the road, like a full dishwasher that needs to be unloaded, I must carefully devise a plan to divert the children’s attention for 20 minutes so that I can do this task while they are awake (so I don’t wake them unloading dishes when they’re trying to fall asleep).  If I’m lucky, I can get everything done in less than 2 time outs and 1 tantrum. And all before 7:30.

Last night was one of those evenings.  My husband alerted me to the news earlier in the day. I would be doing the evening time routine alone. I rushed out a staff meeting that was running late at 4pm, to pick up my son before daycare closed at 5, in our home town 45 minutes away.  I arrived 5 minutes before closing with D in a great mood.  It was like listening to the beginning of a beautiful symphony.

When we got home, the youngest needed to play outside and D was hungry for dinner. Normally this would have bothered me but I realized the beauty in the moment.  The little one was playing alone for a few minutes giving me time to make dinner without the boys pestering each other.  I decided I would feed them dinner in shifts.  While one was eating dinner the other would be showering.  While one was watching TV the other could shower.  No fights!

Then, my tired brain used every strategy it could dream up to motivate the boys to do my bidding.  I used rewards (chocolate easter bunnies, thanks grandmas!) to get them to eat 2 servings of fruit and their entire dinner.  While D took a shower, I used competition to motivate him to finish the shower without argument (“Whoever finishes their shower first gets to choose what to watch on TV.”)  I set specific time limits that they would understand, to know when they had to do things, “When Scooby Doo is over, and I am done unloading the dishwasher, it is time for the little one to go to bed.”  Guess what happened when Scooby Doo was over… The little one said, “It is time for me to go to bed!”

When we arrived in the little one’s room to tuck him in D says, “I want to rock with my little brother tonight.”   I imagine an expression of shock mixed with happiness crept onto my face.  Stunned by this declaration, I agree without hesitation.  I pulled out my camera and started snapping pictures of this beautiful moment when the boys are actually friends.  After the rocking is done, D tells me he wants to tuck his little brother in.  Little brother then says that he wants D to lay down with him and chat a while.

Now I don’t expect this sort of thing to happen with any sort of frequency.  Maybe 1 or 2 times more this year… I have a photograph of the last time the boys were buddies like this from over 6 months ago.  I am grateful, though, it happened during a time when I was totally overwhelmed with the evening chores.  After last week’s incredibly difficult behavior, I never would have imagined this level of compliance and kindness was possible.  Their positive attitudes made the whole parenting thing fun and manageable.  Thanks, boys!  You guys made my day!