Category Archives: on happiness

Autism: a tragedy

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When Evie was first diagnosed with Autism, I went in search of an online community for parents of Autistic kids.  What I found was a whole bunch of parents moaning about how Autism had ripped apart their, otherwise perfect, families.  At first, I felt really sorry for them…and really lucky that I had an incredibly easy kid. I stayed quiet and listened but the more I read, the more I was convinced that the misery they were complaining about, was mostly of their own making.

I saw an unspoken competition play out where parents earned martyr points based on how their Autistic kids were screwing their lives up.  I finally would chip in to the conversations with carefully worded suggestions about changing their thinking from a place of negative to a place of positive.

I was quickly lambasted and told that I was a bad mother.  Because I didn’t fight, fight, fight Autism.  Because our whole world didn’t revolve around therapies. Because I hadn’t tried xyz diet.  Because I dared to think that Autism is not a death sentence or a tragedy.

I chose to isolate myself from those communities.

For the past fourish years, we’ve been doing our own thing.  My only goal is to raise healthy and happy children.  We build our life around that.

Evie is six years old.  And when you’re six years old, and already going to school 5 days a week, your time after school and on weekends should be spent doing things that you love.  So Evie does an adaptive swim program two days a week because she is actually part fish and is happy in the water.  And all of the medical stuff that comes with Evie is scheduled during school hours as I do not encroach on her free time.  Ever.

Evie is sensory seeking.  I believe that is how she takes in information about the world around her and that she uses her senses to help cope when things are overwhelming.  I don’t try to dissuade her from that which is instinctive to her.  So that means if Evie wants to squish jello between her fingers and toes, that’s what she does.  And I don’t worry about the mess.   And if she wants to spend 10 minutes exploring a heating grate in the doctor’s office or the rubbery handle of the grill in her back yard, that’s what she does.  And I don’t worry about being ten minutes late or the pile of dishes in the sink (although it would help if my husband would put the dishes in the dishwasher instead of the sink) .

When Evie flops to the ground, I don’t worry about getting her to her feet or making her stop flopping.  I worry about answering the need that she or her body is trying to communicate. Her flopping is not an inconvenience to be dealt with.  A behavior to fix.  I am not a lazy mama who doesn’t set boundaries.  I am the proud mama of a small human being who is worthy of my respect and honor.  She deserves to be accommodated to have her needs met.

You will never hear the words, “I love Evie but…” come out of my mouth.  There are no buts when you truly and unconditionally love your child.  I don’t do a lot of things well, but I am very proud of the fact that I love every inch of both of my children.  And I do that well.

I am not without parental stress.  No parent is. I worry about Evie’s co-occurring conditions like her Epilepsy.  I worry that she doesn’t have a sense of danger.  I worry that she is over-scheduled.  I worry about her when she leaves the protective cocoon that we have built for her and goes out into the world where she is not given unconditional respect as a person.  I worry that she does not have a more sophisticated method of communicating as of yet.  Evie does not stress me out.  Dealing with other people about Evie does–and there are too many people to deal with and there is too much red tape to hack away.

But I would certainly lose at the parental martyr game.  We are not living a tragedy.  And would you believe it if I told you that I have an easier time parenting Evie than I do Maxine?  Because that is true…and Maxine is not a hard kid to parent either.  My marriage is not being ripped apart by Autism.  I cannot actually remember ever having a single argument with Scott about Autism or Evie.  Because we are united in our mutual love and respect for her and our unfaltering desire to raise happy and healthy children.  Our time is not consumed by endless therapies as we have no desire to see Evie perform like a trained chimpanzee.  Life is pretty good because we usually go with the flow.

100,000,000 parents  would tell me that I am doing it all wrong.  And I might listen if they seemed happy.  If they seemed like they enjoyed their children. But the people that are telling me how wrong I am about every possible thing, are the same ones that are so caught up in the tragedy of Autism and the misery of their existences as parents of Autistic kids.  No, I don’t have all the answers.  And I’ve gotten more wrong than I’ve gotten right.  But my kids are both happy.  I’m happy.  And at the end of the day, I know that I am getting the important things right.

So thanks, but no thanks, you can keep your  copy of “How to Ensure that Autism Destroys Your Family.”  We will write our own book.

SOME of what it takes to care for Evie

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I saw this link to a care map on a blog that I follow.  I’ve adapted it to illustrate the points that I am trying to make.

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I know that for a blog called, “Love Explosions”, it sometimes feels more like anger explosions.

I’m sharing this,not to try to garner sympathy.  We don’t want or need sympathy.  We are very happy most of the time, contrary to what it might seem like when you read my blog.  I’m sharing this so that you will have a tiny bit of understanding about what it takes for us to be a family.

About our Family:  We live in Vermont.  My husband, Scott, travels about 80% of the time for his career.  Out of the state.  Usually just during the week.  But sometimes it eats into the weekend.  I (Beth) take care of an adult, in our home, who has developmental disabilities.  This is more of a joy than a job but it also comes with responsibilities that cannot be ignored and coordination issues of its own.  We have two daughters, Evie, who is six.  And Maxine who is three.  My mother, Alison, lives with us in an inlaw apartment in our home.

Evie goes to school Monday through Friday from 8:15-2:45.  She does adaptive swim on Wednesday mornings, before school, and Friday afternoons, after school.  She needs more outside services than she is getting.  For reasons relating to insurance, availability, scheduling, and Evie’s quality of life–not overscheduling her, we are not currently getting all that she needs.  You can see, on the map I made, all of the things she really needs.

Maxine has a life too.  I stay home with her and she goes to a few classes: dance, gymnastics, and swim twice a week with Evie.  And she is a pretty demanding little bugger.  She, like any three year old, does not just want to sit in the house and watch me perform daily living tasks.  Nor should she have to.

During the week, I ideally, work out three times.  This almost never happens because my kids’ needs come first.  Other than occasional doctor or dental appointments, I don’t schedule anything that relates to myself.  Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t keep up with the three workouts a week that I consider most important as it is.  So yeah, I don’t really have a personal life.  I’ve let most of my friendships go because I don’t really have the time or energy to be a good friend.  I’m mostly okay with my personal situation right now and know it will get better as Maxine gets older.  I do feel a burning need to fulfill another part of my life–which is contributing something significant for the population of people to which Evie belongs.  That cannot take a back burner.

On the weekends when Scott is home, I catch up on sleep.  Evie has sleep disturbances which often keep me awake and I have periodic bouts of insomnia. I also spend a lot of time playing catchup on household chores, paperwork, laundry, email correspondence, etc.  And of course, we spend time doing fun stuff as a family.

We do have help.  We have a fabulous babysitter, Heather, the only person outside of our family that I trust to take care of Evelyn while I am not home.  We have a housekeeper who comes once a week.  We have the driveway plowed, etc.

We have appointments for Evie coming out the wazoo.  They often involve traveling to NH or Boston.  They often have to be rescheduled because of weather, illness, other life events.  Evie has a difficult time sleeping in places other than her own room.  More than her normal sleep difficulties.  Appointments are a disruption in Evie’s routine and they can throw her off for a week.

I feel like I spend half of my life on the phone talking to insurance, scheduling appointments, canceling appointments, getting support/advice and arguing with people about any number of things relating to Evie .  It is energy sapping.  I wish the entire world would convert everything to email.  Oh and until very recently, we had a huge amount of medical debt and our phone rang constantly.  Debt collectors–not happy with the amount of money I decided to pay monthly.  Both the phone ringing about 20 times a day and the debt itself was very stressful.

Just like everyone, we need to shop and run errands.  This is best done without Evie as she gets restless in the stores and I can’t stand the dirty looks we get.  And because the child is a geographical genius.  I’m not kidding.  She fuh-reaks when we pass a road that brings her to place that she wants to go.  It is especially fun in the summer when we have to pass our neighborhood pool whenever we leave the development.

There are simultaneously never enough hours in a day and always too many.

Then shit happens.  Evie kicks into a bad sleep pattern, causing her to miss school and appointments to be juggled and missed.  Childcare to be rearranged.  Inability to get errands done.  Or someone gets sick.  But it throws everything off kilter.  Or childcare falls through.

Evie needs around the clock supervision.  She will put anything and everything in her mouth which is both dangerous and accounts for her killer immune system.  She has zero concept of danger.  And she is prone to wandering.

Then there is dealing with support providers.  If you’ve read my blog you know that we have had issues with many, many, many doctors.  Thankfully, right now we have a fabulous team–including the very best pediatrician, Dr. Paul Parker of Richmond Pediatrics and our new psychiatrist, Dr. Jeanne Greenblatt–she is all kinds of fabulous.  You can see all of the other providers and diagnoses that Evie has on the picture of the map.

We also work with two social worker type people whom are both lifesavers when we need help.  Very competent.  Very caring.  Very understanding.  I couldn’t ask for better.

There is dealing with school.  Which tends to be most difficult at IEP time.  Which is now.  Her entire school team is sweet.  And I know they are always trying to do what they think is best.  But we almost always disagree on the important things.  It is a constant struggle between doing what I know is best for Evie and not pissing someone off so much that it affects Evie.  The very best part of Evie’s school, in my opinion, is her morning paraeducator, Sue.  Sue has worked with Evie for almost two years and she is enthusiastic, loving, positive, and respectful.  Always.  I can tell when Sue is absent from Evie’s day by her mood when she comes home–even though there are probably equally wonderful people working with her.

The question/comment people most often ask/make:  “I have no idea how you do all that you do.”

The answer is that the alternative is not doing it.  Not an option.

So, we muddle through it.  My husband and I spend almost zero time alone together.  I don’t remember the last time we went someplace without the kids.  It has been years.  And by someplace, I mean for even an hour-not a vacation.  We are ALWAYS exhausted.  Our home always feels like a cluttered mess.  And keeping commitments that have a specific start and end time is really hard–like I can’t explain to you how hard.

But we are a happy family.  Seriously.  Like I’ve never been so happy.  And tired.

 

 

 

 

I am mama. Hear me roar. You are perfect.

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I’m struggling with Evie’s autism lately.

And yes, I’m angry.

Angry with the people that have a singular focus.

Angry with the people that refuse to consider that there may be more than one way to help her.

Angry with the people that are so certain of their own opinion, that they refuse to hear a different perspective.

Angry with the people that view her differences as a detriment rather than beautiful.

Angry with the people that want to force Evie to live in a neuro-typical world–rather than building bridges that will allow us all to cross back and forth between these two worlds.

This is my dear child.  I am her fierce and protective mama.

You may have 200 letters after your name.  Your walls may be lined with diplomas and certificates proclaiming your autism expertise awesomeness.

But I’ve got something better.  I’ve got a mother’s intuition.  I’ve got my child’s best interests at heart 100% of the time–regardless of the budget, regardless of the current educational trends.  I have earned my child’s love.  I know my child better than any other soul on this planet.

I know how to make my child smile.

I know how to alleviate her frustrations at being stuck in a world that mostly doesn’t understand her.

I know what she needs.  And I am tired.  Tired of trying to play nice at the expense of her best interests.

So I quit.  I quit the politics.  I quit smiling and trying to accommodate egos.  I quit all of the bullshit that doesn’t serve Evie 100%.

I am on team Evie.  And only team Evie.

I am sorry Evie.  Sorry that I allowed myself to put the egos of others ahead of your needs.  I failed you.  I will not fail you in that way again.  Ever.

You are my perfect child.  You don’t need to be fixed.  You don’t need to be cured.  You need to be happy.  Like everyone, you need to work for your happiness.  But you need to work for YOUR notion of happiness.  Not the idea of happiness that someone else imposes on you.

We are working in the right direction.  We have some fabulous people that are going to bat for you-and your happiness.  We have some fresh perspectives.  We are seeing some really great things for you.

We are seeing you smile more.  Kiss more.  and cuddle more.

Everything else can take a back seat to that.

 

Slow

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Slow is beautiful.

In the morning Evie gets up slowly.  She gradually tests her voice with a series of little contented moans that build in intensity.  Build into happy shrieks.

I listen on the monitor and go to her when I hear those little shrieks.  I open the door and say, “Good morning Evie.”  She is always sitting up on her bed with her legs extended straight out in front of her.  She squints as the light from the hallways creeps into her room and her pupils slowly adjust.

When I sit on her bed she smiles and hugs me.  I lift her body up.  Because of her low tone, she melts into my body.  Hypotonia has its perks.  For a blissful moment, I don’t know where I end and she begins.  It is one of my favorite moments of the day.

I carry her downstairs and our morning ritual ambles along.

She eats her breakfast slowly.  In courses.

Her face and hands are sticky from pears as she climbs in and out of my lap.

She gets up early.  Some would cringe at the hour that she rises.  But I have come to love our morning routine.  We don’t have to hurry because the hours until I drive her to school stretch out before us with comfortable sameness.  The predictability of knowing what comes next.  But being in no hurry to transition.

From Evie, I have learned to slow down.  To savor the moment.  The many ways in which Evie is different from typically developing children is especially apparent in the morning.

She offers me her, still open-mouthed, kisses in abundance.  Uncharacteristic of her age.  But wonderfully characteristic of my girl.

In the morning we are fluent in the same language.  For a few short hours, I can live entirely in her world.  Speaking little.  Communicating in hugs, kisses, and cuddles.  Almost every morning, I have a fleeting thought of keeping Evie out of school to feast on our synchronicity.  But while Evie doesn’t speed up much as the day progresses, I must return to my world of fast moving.

So I don’t indulge that tug I feel to linger there with Evie.  Where nothing is as important as a morning snuggle or a juicy pear.  Where deadlines and appointments don’t exist.  Where fast and competitive cease to be.  Where just being is splendid.  And where you never have to steal a kiss because open-mouthed smooches are dealt out freely and without restraint–even when you’re five going on six.

 

adventurin’

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Today was a really good day.

We picked up Evie’s friend, Emily, and went to Pizza Putt.  For those of you that don’t know, Pizza Putt is a Chucky Cheese-like establishment…an indoor recreational facility for kids–complete with mini golf, arcades, bowling, and a gimungous play structure.

My heart melted when we were driving to Pizza Putt as Emily and Evie held hands in the backseat of the car.  Chills.

Emily is a super sweet child that has a lovely natural tendency to nurture.  She is so wonderful with Evie–hugging her, helping her, and not judging her–even when Evie dipped her hand in Emily’s ketchup at lunch.  I guess she has a wise old soul and I am so grateful that she and Evie are friends.  Girlfriend  also plays a mean game of skeeball.

After lunch, we entered the “structure” area.  Oh.My.God.  Being zero degrees or so, it was wall to wall packed with kids.  When I say that kids were literally emerging from tiny crevices, I am not exaggerating in the least.

Emily immediately guide-carried Evie up this structure thing.  I don’t have a picture of the two of them together but here is a picture of her doing the same thing with Max.

I tried not to have a heart attack.  I lasted, maybe, 3 minutes before I climbed the structure to get Evie who was sort of stuck in that little cubby hole at the top.  She was happily getting trampled by the other kids but I figured the bottom obstacles might be more appropriate for her.

Then Max went flying up that thing with Emily.  My heart was in my shoes.  As Scott said, “She was, by far, the littlest one up there!”  I ended up performing another rescue mission when Max got caught in some netting somewhere deep in the structure.  I also plucked another little girl out of the netting while I was there that said, “Help!  I am going to fall through!”

I thought Max might be done, but no.  She just went another way to avoid the netting.  Every once in a while, I would catch a glimpse of her and Emily making their way through.

But this thing is BIG and it took like 15 minutes for the two of them to get through.  I was thankful for the windows on some of the tunnels.

Because as much as I would like to say that I am a natural free-range mama, I sure as shit am not.  It took every fiber of my being to exercise self-restraint and let Max explore with Emily.

And my bravery was good.  Because Max was thrilled with the adventure.

thought policing

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Scott had one of those down in the dumps days today.  He was feeling blue and out of sorts.  As such, he was feeling frustrated with the kids, the dog, me, and I’m sure himself.  He made a comment that he was feeling upset about Evelyn.

Alarms sounded in my head.  My heart started skipping beats.  And I got that sinking butterfly wings beating furiously deep down in my gut.

I have this problem with people having anything but 110% positive about Evie.  Especially my husband.

I can’t stand the thought that someone would think, for a moment, that her disabilities have any negative influence on her propensity to be happy and whole.

I can’t even articulate the extent to which this penetrates my soul.

I don’t allow myself these thoughts.  And selfishly, I don’t allow the people close to Evelyn to express them in my presence without going to the moon and back to discredit their feelings–out loud and in my head.

I tell them, I tell myself, that they have a problem.  A big one.  How could anyone not recognize that Evelyn’s life is beautiful every moment of every day?

I was sitting here thinking about how I could convince Scott to think like I think.  He doesn’t call me the prosecutor for nothing.  And I started thinking about how I must win this argument.  Every single time.  I am relentless.

I’ve convinced myself that my way is the right way to feel.  And that no moment of doubt is acceptable for anyone else.  Not ever.  Evie is happy and that is all that counts.  End of story.  Scott’s flawed thinking that Evie will feel frustrated sometimes because she cannot speak like most of the population must be anihalated.

Somehow, I started thinking that maybe I am the one that has the problem.  You see, I almost never let negative thoughts creep into my head when it comes to Evie’s disabilities.  At first I told myself that it is because I am so evolved that I simply don’t have them.  But I couldn’t sell it to myself.

I wonder where my thoughts go?  The ones that I don’t let myself have.  I guess I bury them way deep down in the pit of my stomach and they only threaten to rise up when someone else gives them words.  Maybe somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I have told myself that it would be unfair to Evie to ever express a moment of doubt that she is, indeed, the happiest person on the planet.  That her disabilities do not matter.  Not in the least.

So maybe when I fight so hard against Scott’s fears, I am really fighting against my own.

And maybe, just maybe, there are times when I am doing Evie a disservice by not allowing myself to think the hard thoughts.

Maybe I’ve built this super defense mechanism that is damaging the people that I care about.  Damging myself.

Don’t get me wrong.  For the most part, I am super duper right when it comes to keeping everything in perspective.  To  thinking positively.  And really, not allowing anyone to entertain doubts and negative thoughts for too long.

But maybe, just once in a while, I should allow people–allow myself a moment to be human.  A moment to acknowledge Evie’s unique challenges without treating it like an attack on her happiness and going into warrior mode.

While there are some thoughts that need to be quashed without hesitation, there are others that should be considered in effort to enhance Evie’s happiness.  And while I might not be able to speak them, maybe I need to learn to make room for others to do so.  And maybe I need to give them the occasional space to roll around in my consciousness and feel their weightiness before I shove them into the underbelly of my mind.

Maybe.

But maybe not.

 

 

It is birthday babble

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“To Gillian on her 37th Birthday”  ‘memba that movie?  It keeps popping into my head because I turn 37 today.  It came out about 15 years ago, I think.  I remember thinking how positively ancient 37 sounded.  And here I am.  37.  Married, stay at home mom to two kids, a mortgage, a dog, a cat.

My early twenties self would scoff at my 37 year old self.  I had no intention of ever getting married–buying into that silly piece of paper that shackled two people together.  Bringing children into a world full of suffering, poverty, war, and unhappiness?  Selfish and irresponsible.

It is funny that I was in the twilight of selfishness at that point in my life.  I thought of little more than designer clothing, partying, and falling in and out of love with all the wrong men.  I know that I didn’t have a concept of how to really care about another human being in a meaningful way.

I used to want life to speed up, to get on to the next moment that held all the promise of being better than the last.  Now, I would give anything for life to slow down–to be able to savor these delicious moments spent loving my family.  How could any moment be sweeter the one spent cuddling my girls, watching Evie’s face light up, or seeing Maxine learn something new?  I find myself fighting my tendency to mourn the passing of time and the death of each precious moment.

My twenty something self wasn’t wrong in a lot of ways.  The world continues to be the home of so much sadness.  And yeah, it probably is selfish in some ways to bring kids into the world.  But with the passing of the years, I’ve been able to see beauty and hope in even the darkest moments.  I’ve learned to go looking for light and promise.  And I’ve learned that alongside the horror and darkness, it is always there, waiting to be discovered and worn as a protective shield around my heart.

I’m not so evolved that I don’t get angry or judgmental.  But my hard edges have softened and have given way to a more malleable me.  I’ve chilled.  A lot.  I’m sure that I owe a shout out to my good friend Paxil.  But I’ve also put in the hard work to become a person that I’m proud of on most days.

It is really hard to be good.  To swallow my pride often.  To forgive–usually myself.  To go easy on other people.  And to look for that thread of goodness that is always woven into the tapestry of life.

Good god, I’ve become a cheesy sentimentalist.  But in becoming so, I’ve opened the door to real honest to goodness love and unimaginable happiness.  I’m a work in progress capable of smiling with context.  And as I nurture my spirit, I try not to think about whether or not I will have another 37 years to marvel at the evolution of myself.  And I try to let each moment be fulfilling and enough.

Maddie, Emily, and Evvoon

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I’ve been wanting to blog something so meaningful to me for a while.  Evie doesn’t bring home pictures she has drawn from school.  She doesn’t tell me about her day.  But about a month ago, this card from Maddie came home in Evie’s folder.  Call me sentimental but I will cherish this until the day I die.

This tells me everything about what Evie is doing at school. She is connecting with people. She is making friends.  She is learning the very best thing there is to learn.

I’ve underestimated my child and I’ve underestimated her peers.  I’ve never been so beautifully and wonderfully wrong in all of my life.

You see, we love Evie so very much.  But I was too afraid to hope that her young classmates would be able to see past her disabilities.  I couldn’t imagine them putting in an effort to try to connect with Evie when Evie connects in a way that is so foreign to most.

Evie can’t keep up physically.  She doesn’t speak.  She rarely makes eye contact.  She’s been known to steal food from peers.  And she occasionally bites.  That’s a lot to swallow for a five year old.  But these kids reach out to my daughter.  They reach across all of the differences and the obstacles and they find a way to be a friend to my daughter.

And it is not just Maddie.  I’ve been dropping Evie off at school for a little while now.  Almost everyday, a young girl named Emily meets Evie.  Her eyes honest to goodness light up when she sees Evelyn.  My eyes honest to goodness fill up with tears and I get that gulpy-holding back the cry feeling in my throat.  Yes, every day I get a little heart lift from seeing this exchange.  And every day I fight the urge to hug Emily and cover her face in my tears and kisses.  This would be frowned upon by admin and Emily alike, I would venture to guess.

I’m learning to expect the very best there is from children.  Evie’s friendships give me hope for her future, they give me hope for our family, and in a really sappy maybe-overreaching-but-I-don’t-think-so way, they give me hope for humanity.  Her friendships remind me to look for the best in people and to try to find common ground–even if they bite.  We can still love people that do things that we don’t like–stealing snacks or otherwise.   Okay, don’t worry.  Quashing my urge to go all peace monger on you and will just say that we all could learn a lot from kindergarten kids.

spring

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I love winter.  Up until the last month or so.  Then my heart, mind, and body prepare for the very best season of all.  Spring.  I am a bona-fide spring junkie.  Today was the first time this year that I got the springy dingy feeling.

I’m going to get carried away in this post.  Consider yourself warned.

Today was an unexpected delight.  After last night’s terrific thunder storms, I figured it might be kind of warm. But when I stepped outside this morning–oh my gosh.  Bliss.  And there is no better bliss than the kind that catches you off guard.

I loved seeing those super white, chubby, little legs dangling out of the first shorts of the season.  Those little that have been hiding under layers of fleece for months came out to be kissed by the sun (and mama) today.  Exposed arms and faces soaking up the natural vitamin d those bodies have been craving.

A first real exploration of the outdoors for Maxine.  Crawling around.  Do I like the feeling of grass on my knees?  Do I hate it?   Oh, right-right, I’m mama’s daughter.  I love it.  I think.  Maybe.

Evie pushing the limits of her comfort zone.  And.  Wandering into the back yard by herself.  Crouching down to squish leaves and mud.

Rebecca arching her head back to feel that honest to goodness spring breeze on her beautiful face.

Me with a permagrin watching my girls fall in love with spring.  Me falling in love with my girls falling in love.

Long walks in the stroller with Wally trotting along beside.  And sometimes in front of the stroller.  That’s a mistake Wally.

Open windows.  Ceiling fans circulating the beautiful spring air into the house and the stale winter air out.  At least that is what I picture happening.

Dirty feet.  There is nothing better than dirty feet.  There is a direct correlation between how dirty you are and how much fun you had.

Little reddish buds on all the trees waiting to burst open into that young green in just a few short weeks.

A little chipmunk darted in front of us while we were lounging on the lawn.  Like 1 foot in front of us.  Okay, well that part kind of sucked because I don’t like rodents.

But mostly today promised me so many things.  Of the long daylight hours.  Of the summer nights with trips to creamy stand–Maxine can have her first soft serve this year.  Today promised me that our world would soon be exploding with green.  That the daffodils that opened today are just the first of many flowers to come.  It promised scraped knees and bee stings and all of the rights of the rights of childhood passage.  It promised us long hours at the park.  And swimming.  Lots of swimming (I considered pulling the kiddie pool out of the cellar but vetoed myself since I was the only adult here).

We were promised the endless summer–like the ones that turned me into the insane springy ding dong loving gal that I am today.

Enjoy the spring!

check myself before i wreck myself

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For the most part we aren’t crass consumers anymore.  By we I mostly mean me because I am pretty sure my husband would go hog wild on electronics if given the chance.  We weren’t always this way but we’ve made some great strides towards the whole less thing.  There was a time in my life where I had almost 100 pairs of shoes and enough clothing to make your eyes bulge out of your head when you got a glimpse of my closet.  In fact, I am pretty sure I am largely responsible for the economy crashing as I pretty abruptly buttoned up my spending.

I get off track so easily.  Back to my point.  I do have one.  I swear.

So anyway, I was bragging about being such responsible consumers.  Comparatively.  And since we’ve made these changes, I have felt better.  I’m not focused on amassing a bunch of crap that was likely manufactured in China by young children under horrible conditions.  I don’t stress out about not having the latest and greatest XYZ (again, this is my blog, not Scott’s.  he may well be stressed about the unconsumed electronics).  I am pretty sure that I used to be somewhat compulsive about consumption.  Not to get all Freud or whoever, but it wouldn’t be a big leap to say that I probably bought things to assuage some subconscious want or dissatisfaction with my life.

I am currently in the process of remodeling my home.  Before having kids and moving into Vermont, I was seriously into design and spent much of my free time perfecting my home in FL.  It feels good to feel energized about making my space in Vermont my own.  I don’t feel guilty about doing some consumption or spending my free time scouring the web for diy tutorials.

But I am occasionally finding that spoiled, over consuming, brat makes a guest appearance.  My intention is to do everything on the cheap–reusing, repurposing, and refinishing whenever possible.  But that damn brat pops up in attempt to derail my best efforts to be responsible–tempting me to make the flashy trendy purchase over the practical enduring purchase.  And if that is not bad enough, she even slips back into obsessing over consumption of this or that.  And sometimes I don’t even realize she is here until I catch her whining about wanting/having to have this or that.  And I’m disgusted.  But I haven’t known how to control her.

Until today.

I remembered that no matter how much I bought, I never felt fulfilled.  So I would keep looking and buying more.  Vicious cycle.  I wasn’t happy.  And gosh darn it, before I started thinking about amassing more crap, I was totally happy.

Holy shit.  I’m so obtuse.

What I really want, I have.

And when I stop focusing on the love– on my little sprites,  on our good fortune,  on our health.  The happiness–it fades.  And really when I am spending so much time wanting a couch instead of enjoying my beautiful life, I am unworthy of happiness.

It is so simple.  I feel like a fool for losing sight of it.