I woke up this morning to the rambunctious sounds of my little men bouncing off the walls and into each other, with the under current tones of prodding reminders from my Knight in Shining Armor husband trying for all he is worth to keep the boys on some semblance of routine as they try to get out the door for school. I slept through the moment of waking.

It’s one of those mornings. The kind that requires medication and slow movement as I climb out of my soft cozy bed. And even then I’m in a fragile state.  Twenty minutes proves the ability to move around without too much ache. Unfortunately there is more to this flare up. I try to help with the boys. But this type of flare up just compounds to normal issues ten-fold. This one messes with my head. You see, I have Lupus. An autoimmune condition that randomly attacks organs of the body. Today it chose one of the vitals, my brain.

And this is how it plays out: Jakob, 8 years old and diagnosed with SPD is told for the millionth time to go brush his teeth. He has five minutes before he needs to be out the door. He walks into the bathroom as I walk out. I have just checked to make sure there is toothpaste and a toothbrush in the tin. Somehow I know that he isn’t going to see them. This is where my struggle started. I should have just gone in to ensure that he would see them and encourage him calmly to keep looking if he didn’t. He battles classic SPD where sometimes he just can’t see what’s right in front of him. Instead I chose to forfeit all reason and stew within my mind how frustrating “he” is and how this task should be so reasonable at his age… And amidst this three second train of thought he exits the bathroom asking where the toothbrush and toothpaste is. Enters Lupus Brain: Loud and with as much adolescent  irrationality as remotely possible, the raging mama bear responds “It’s in the tin on top of the toilet! Right where it is EVERY time you go into the bathroom! SeRiOuSLy…!” Naturally he gets defensive. Then reality clicks and I look at my poor husband, a look of sadness in his eyes.  With that I yell, ” I can’t handle this!”  -Uhh, yeah, ya think’!-  He takes over and I climb back in bed. Uggg! …continue reading

My son is different. He is unlike other boys his age. You can’t necessarily tell it by looking at him. But, I can often see it in his eyes, his behavior, his questions.

Here’s one example. Recently, I told O we were going to the park, for a birthday party. Most nearly five-year old boys would likely react to this news by jumping up and down with excitement, screaming, “yay!” or “wahoo!”

Instead of either of those things, my son asked, “What does the park look like, mommy?”

I have come to expect these questions. Yet, they still catch me by surprise. …continue reading