The Big Change

As you might have noticed, it has been over a month since we last posted. Kayla and I were just talking the other night about how we need to get better about putting posts up. I guess it's like the gym... or cutting carbs... you get it in your mind to DO IT, then you think, "maybe I'll do it tomorrow." Our family has been preoccupied over the past ten weeks, preparing for a big change.

Two weeks ago, we sold our house.

203 Church Street was the only house that Hudson or Finnley had ever known. They took their first steps here, and have spent all but a handful of nights away from this place. Kayla and I poured our hearts (and wallets) into making 203 Church St be as perfect as it could be for our family. But, as time went along, we knew that it wasn't "enough" for us or our boys. We wanted something bigger, something better.

We started looking at houses about four years ago, but never found anything that was truly perfect for us. It was easier back then, too; we could search neighboring communities and school districts. There were lots of houses available, but nothing that quite met all of our needs for a "forever home." Kayla and I felt comfortable in taking our time and letting the real estate market come to us. We're thankful that our realtors stuck with us - four years is a LONG TIME to work for a commission!

Things changed drastically after Hudson's diagnosis. Since his therapies are largely coordinated with providers based on their geographical coverage area, we found changing school districts to be increasingly more complicated. In our county (and likely in many others), there are waiting lists for therapy services. We have heard of some instances where families have waited over a year for speech or physical therapy openings to come along. To move out of district meant jeopardizing his Pre-K enrollment, and meant that we would likely lose his current therapists and become wait-listed for others.

In late-February, we were approached about a property in the district that we had nearly purchased two years prior. Just as we were ready to submit a Purchase Offer and list our house for sale, NY state went on lock down for COVID. We could not list our house for sale while realtors were shut down, and so we waited. We were finally able to list our house in mid June, and were quickly under contract to sell. Fast forward two and a half months (which for us, was anything BUT "fast forwarding"), and we officially got a move-in date for our new home.

Kayla and I struggled all summer with how to approach the move with Hudson. Finnley is young enough that he would adapt to a new house with no concerns, but Hudson wasn't going to be so easy. We tried to repeatedly emphasize the benefits of the new house to Hudson, but he kept saying, "no, I don't want to move. I like it here." There were things about our old house that Hudson did not like. The yard was small, there was a lot of traffic in the village, and the fire whistle would go off for all emergency calls. With the fire department being less than a mile from us, I can assure you the whistle was quite loud, and reminiscent of the World War II bombing alarms that we would hear caught on film in History class. The new house was further out in the country (away from the fire whistle), and with a much larger lot. But none of that mattered to Hudson; he was happy where he was, and did not want to move.

We dreaded Moving Day with a passion, knowing that it would be the perfect storm of chaos and meltdowns (for us and Hudson). In most pre-COVID real estate transactions, you are given about two weeks notice prior to closing that you need to prepare to move. For us, we had FOUR DAYS NOTICE. Four days!! As we frantically packed in preparation for the move, Hudson wasn't really phased at all. He didn't seem to notice the boxes piling up, or the lack of pictures on the wall. Maybe the move wasn't going to be so bad after all...

Wrong. Moving Day was a disaster for Hudson. The flurry of people grabbing everything from inside the house was too much for him to handle. He spent the greater part of the morning crying, "why is the couch gone??? Where will we sit?? Where are my toys???" Poor Kayla was relegated to managing Hudson and Finnley while I tried to coordinate the heavy lifting. Before COVID, there were lots of places that either one of us could have taken the boys to be away from the chaos of moving. But during a pandemic, your options are practically non-existent.

As the dust settled on the move, and we settled into the new house, Kayla and I tried to quickly give the boys the comfort of our old home. Kayla had their toy room setup almost immediately, and the boys adapted right away. Less than three days after telling us how much he didn't want to move, Hudson told us how much he loved the new house.

Change is hard for all of us, and is often expected to be harder on children with Autism. Thankfully, Hudson showed us once again how amazingly resilient he can be, and adapted to his new environment quickly.

Giving Grace

When Matt and I decided to start this blog we were excited. We discussed all the things we could write about in our journey with autism. Our plan was to write something and put it out at least once a week.

But then COVID happened. While we were home with our two boys 24/7 (with a front row seat to everything you would think we would have a lot to write about), we instead found ourselves barely holding our heads above water. We were both navigating working from home, distance learning for Hudson, juggling four teletherapy sessions a week and a crazy toddler. Not to mention the fear of a global pandemic. By the end of the day we found ourselves exhausted and uninspired to write much of anything.

Honestly, I still feel uninspired, as well as overwhelmed and stressed. Although things are starting to open in our area it seems as if the rest of the country is imploding. There is still so much unknown; will we go back to school in the fall? Will we continue distance learning? Will life ever feel normal again? Will we ever get a break?

We are fortunate and I know that. We have it so good in comparison to many, but it doesn’t mean that our “new way of life” hasn't taken a toll on me. I feel as my parenting skills have become way below subpar. I find myself getting frustrated easily and my boys are getting way more screen time than ever before. I have been with them everyday since March with very little breaks and, while I am grateful for this time together, it’s also difficult for any type of “self-care” (what’s that?), much less even a conversation with my husband that isn’t interrupted by screaming children. Mix all this in with the current stresses of the world, oh and buying/selling our home, and I’m stretched about as far as I can go.

The other day I felt as if I had reached my breaking point. While playing with the boys outside, I was turned towards our youngest, Finnley, who was giving me a hard time. I turned back around and Hudson had taken off. I found him in the backyard, but I lost it on him and it was not pretty. I sat in the swing and sobbed as my boys quietly played in the dirt. Hudson came up to me, wiped away my tears, and whispered “I love you.” It took me by surprise and I started to cry even harder. He was so sweet, and quick to forgive me after I had just screamed at him. Not only that but it’s quite uncommon for autistic individuals to be so empathetic, and here he was comforting me when he could tell I really needed it.

Anytime I mention to my friends or husband how overwhelmed I feel they all tell me the same thing; I need to give myself some grace. We’re in unprecedented times and many people are feeling this way. After blowing up at Hudson the other day I realized I need to give my boys grace, too; especially Hudson (Finnley adores every second of being home). I think Hudson is struggling more with quarantine and all these new rules just as much as I am, but it’s much harder for him to communicate that. Before all this he saw friends regularly and we were able to jump in the car and go to his favorite places whenever we felt like it. Now we’re still pretty much home bound and everyday feels the same. And getting him to wear a mask? Yikes!

Hudson certainly has been showing behavior that reflects these feelings, but it has not been easy deciphering them. When quarantine began, he started to have sleep issues. He’s been having nightmares and feels the need to come into our bed, sometimes 2-3 times a night. He acts like a dinosaur most of the day, even trying to eat like one. It can be frustrating and annoying. Hudson is mean to his brother a lot, too. His listening skills are almost nonexistent. At first we weren’t sure if it was his age, or him being on the spectrum but now I really feel as if it’s a product of “our new normal” and being cooped up (maybe a mix of everything?). I can see how it’s affecting me, so why wouldn’t it affect him, too? I know I need to give him grace, just like I need to do for myself.

I am starting to make a conscious effort to help my boys through this as much as I can. I can’t promise everyday will be great because that’s just not real life, but I don’t want this to impact them negatively for the rest of their life, either. Maybe with a little grace, we’ll all get through this together.

Last Day of School!

Yesterday marked the official end of the school year, and closed out Hudson's experience in 3PK.

His first day doesn't seem all that long ago. Kayla and I were cautiously optimistic and paralyzingly petrified at the same time. We didn't know what to expect... how he would adapt to not being the center of attention... how he would interact with his peers... how well he would transition from task to task... how his teachers would handle his not being potty trained... or even how well he would follow simple directions for eating breakfast and lunch (let me tell you - meals are a messy marathon at home).

I remember putting him in his car seat and asking him questions about what was coming, making sure to record the entire interview on my phone. It's still one of my all-time favorite videos to scroll to and watch when I need a smile. As the year progressed, Hudson would ride to school with Mommy or Aunt Alicia, Molly, and Emily, and get dropped off by one of his teachers (we still can't thank you enough for this, Jess!!). We cherished the special days where we got to take part in a special event with him; the Halloween parade through the playground, his class birthday party, the Christmas Party, etc. Many of my greatest joys came from picking him up from school myself. I could often hear him as I walked down the hall to his room "my Daddy is coming to get me today!", and he would always greet me with the biggest smile and the warmest hug.

Hudson has grown so much from his year(ish) in 3PK. He amazed us daily, and proved all of our worst fears wrong. We are forever grateful to his teachers, therapists, and friendly peers for how they made him feel like a welcome addition to the school. In today's cruel world it can be painfully difficult to be accepted by your peers when you are "different." We thank God every day that Hudson was part of such a warm and accepting classroom.

These next words I write for Hudson to find someday in the not-so-distant future:

Hudson,

You are our dinosaur "super hero." We are so proud of you for everything that you've accomplished during your first year of school!! We always knew that you were so brilliantly capable of doing amazing, incredible things. And yet somehow, you managed to surprise us with how much you exceeded the aspirations that we had for you this year.

We are so sorry that "the sickness" robbed you of your final months of school. You continued to excel while at home, even with such an unexpected change in routine. YOU ARE AN INSPIRATION TO US ALL!! The world around you is changing everyday, and we have no doubt that you will continue to be a beacon of joy to those that are fortunate enough to be around you.

Thank you for making our lives so much more interesting and full of love, laughter, and dinosaur facts than we had ever imagined possible.

Love,

Mommy, Daddy, and Finnley

What a wild, crazy, confusing, challenging, and rewarding year it has been.