On being the cheese that stands alone

Summer is almost over. Adam's summer classes are almost done. Regular preschool is about to begin. It's something I have mixed emotions with. On the one hand, I am happy and thrilled that my dumpling is moving on to a regular preschool. On the other hand, I feel pretty dreadful and anxious that we might be a little in over our heads. I am blessed to have such wonderful therapists and special ed teachers, who, for the past two years, have taught me a lot about my child, and made me comfortable in leaving him to their care, for at least a few hours of the day. Not only are they trained to handle extraordinary kids like my own, but they love being in their company. They share my happiness and excitement with the nitty gritty of it, they are as thrilled as me when my dumpling reaches a milestone.

The little dumpling with his teddy (far right). Taken during his new school's first day of summer class.

Now that we're moving on to a new school, I feel that I do not feel as secure without that safety net.  Being around teachers and therapists, and waiting in the lobby with other moms and dads and grandparents and househelp who are more or less dealing with the same ordeals I go through with my child every single day, pretty much makes up most of my friends. They are my support system. They listen, and they understand. 99% of the time, they have been through the same stuff I've been, felt helpless and close to giving up like I have. Their disapproving eyes do not steal disapproving glances when my child flaps and kicks and spins his way around the room.  Instead, it feels like I have  10 extra pairs of eyes, that look at my child with adoring awe, as we all try to be in his shoes and feel and see how he feels in order to understand him more. I have 10 extra pairs of hands where my own might not reach him on time, if in case he trips or is about to land very badly during one of those perilous devil-may-care pirouette.  Being with them every single day is a safe place for me and my child. There is no judgment. No condescension. No awkward conversations. We would laugh at somebody who comes in with dishevelled hair, because her ponytail got screwed up while chasing after her ADHD child. She would laugh with us, and maybe even for a second, forget how tired she is. She wouldn't mind laughing with us about her messed up hair. After all, she knows we've all been there. Some of us might even have messier manes than hers. We are our own little tribe. We share the same heartaches, rejoice in our little milestones other parents who do not belong in our tribe may otherwise overlook.  We will hold each other's hand when one of us is close to tears and feel like she just couldn't be strong enough. We remind each other of our blessings, of our tiny successes, of our strengths.  If we had gnats in our hair, we'll pick those out of each other's heads too, I bet. We are our own little tribe.

The little dumpling and me (the kid on the left with a funny hat), and some of my tribe members. Taken during last year's summer class.

I just feel incomplete, like losing a limb, now that my dumpling has switched schools. Of course, my tribe is happy for me. They will listen to my experiences and provide supportive encouragement. They are as happy as I am, but at the same time share the same fears that I have. Some moms who've done it offer their advice, and those moms who are yet to be "released" from special ed class, listen with perked anticipation, as they eagerly wait for the day when they will be sharing their experience with the rest of us. I'm sure other parents love their child as much as we love ours. But I think something about raising a child who is different, breeds a stronger, more resilient mother. You would need to don this armor and learn to bare your fangs at people who obviously don't know any better. You wouldn't learn how to do that if the child you have isn't "special". Without my tribe, and being in the midst of other "regular" mothers, I could feel myself tiptoeing around, and feeling my way into the water so to speak. It's not that I am ashamed that my child is not like the rest of them. Heavens, no. For me, it feels like this information is intimate. You don't approach a stranger and tell them at once that your son has ASD.  It's like telling a complete stranger that I'm wearing a thong under these pants! (for the record, I'm wearing granny panties. Under my pajamas. At 11 in the morning.) You just don't spill it out like that. And I still haven't found the perfect time to spill it out.  It's during these times that I miss the comfort of being around other people who are just like me.

In my dumpling's new school, I'm the cheese that stands alone. Sometimes I find my own corner and guard myself from the rest of them by being sooo deeply engrossed in a book. When I find myself in harmless chit-chat, I keep the questions coming.. about themselves, and their children, in the hopes of evading questions about me or my son.  I know I will have to open Pandora's box sooner or later. Maybe, I just want to give them a chance to get to know my child for who he is, what he's like, and not for what he is diagnosed with.   There's no shame in that.

On being the cheese that stands alone, I can't say I like it.. but I am comfortable in it. I like my inconspicuous corner reading a book. I am comfortable writing in a blog with 0 AWESOME COMMENTS and greets me every morning with BE THE FIRST FOLLOWER!  Writing for me is therapeutic, bold even.. The fact that I am writing all this, out there, it can either be read by anyone anywhere some time in the near future or not read by anyone ever! But I am still writing. Who knows, maybe I'll find a new tribe here.

All the pretty flowers

Alpha is sooo lucky to have a fashionista cousin in the States, because a few weeks ago, she received all of this.

Some dresses even had tags on them. Most of them don't even show signs of wear! I for one am not too partial about dressing my dumplings in hand-me-downs, because seriously, during the first year, they grow insanely fast. So I  pare down my clothing purchases to just the essentials. You could just imagine how happy my inner Scrooge was when we got surprised by all these pretty dresses! Alpha gets to look pretty, and it didn't cost me a penny! Score!

As a small gesture of thanks, I sent her these:

I've been crafting like a crazy lady, stocking up on these felt flowers before I officially open my shop (it's a scary and exciting experience, racking my brain cells to a pulp as I try to get all "crafty" and "creative", but that's another story)

Seriously, there's no way for me to best the clothes bomb she gave Alpha, but I really wanted to give her something. I hope she likes it.

A hair piece to match her every wardrobe. What little girl could say no to pretty flowers all lined up in a row.

And in case you were wondering why there are more flowers than the actual headband itself, it's because of this:

They're detachable! You can switch them out, in case you want something different later! A girl needs a lot of options, you know. :D

Whoa! that couldn't have been 3 months!

This month came by too fast for me. I feel like I'm not taking enough pictures. I'm not spending enough time with this little bumkin. It's like those 3 months were space warped into the length of an eyeblink! When did she grow all that hair? And look at those chubby arms! How did that happen?

It wasn't until I looked at this picture that I realized just how fast she's been growing. Although I am fortunate enough to stay at home full time to look after my kids, I still feel like I'm missing out on a lot of things. I have a lot on my plate right now and I feel like I'm spreading myself too thinly. I hope this is just all in my head, but I sincerely doubt that... especially when the little tadpole is giving me this look.

Boy do I feel guilty. Time to catch up on the snuggles.



Meet my "baby" ..

A few months ago, before dumpling#2 popped out, I got myself a new "baby"

It's a Brother Project Runway Limited Edition Sewing Machine. Quite a mouthful really. I call her "Simang". She's a worker. I love taking her out for a spin. Although I am no diva dressmaker (Just ask my classmates back in high school, and they'll tell you how I barely pass Home Economics by the skin of my teeth). A few close friends will even tell you that they've witnessed me picking a fight with the sewing machine in school, and I may have kicked it a few times too (sorry sewing machine). For me it always felt like the machine was making crappy stitches on purpose. Like it sort of "knew" that it was me kicking her, and she's giving me out crappy stitches in return.


But as they say, "necessity is the mother of all invention". I found new love for crafting and sewing when I became a mom. Giving my child something that I've made with my own hands makes me feel like I'm giving them a tangible representation of my love. Even without a sewing machine, I was making things for Adam, laboriously sewing every stitch by hand. Some were born out of necessity, like these duckie pants from two years ago...

The little dumpling's class will sing "Tatlong Bibe" for their Linggo ng Wika program, and he needed yellow pants.  I didn't want to buy him something that he'll be using just once, so I found a few fabric scraps (actually to call them fabric scraps is misleading, they were just rectangular pieces of cloth on its way to being used as basahan :D), some cotton balls, a little dye, and some elastic, and made him duckie pants! (They were supposed to be pants but I forgot all about adding seam allowances so they came out looking like duckie leggings! I also made him duckie feet that fit snugly over his crocs.

I had a lot of cotton balls left, so I made him a little duckie butt pocket too! Total cost: 20 pesos! (i bought some orange dye for the duckie feet).

As a kid, I didn't like how our crayons came with a flimsy cardboard box. i've broken lots of crayons because the box's bottom gave in under all of the crayons weight. I especially hate it when my colors end up making marks on the inside of my backpack, all because the crayon's box got torn up. So when my little dumpling was to enter preschool, I wanted to give his colors a "home" that will be sturdy enough to last the whole schoolyear. So I made him these:

It's a crayon roll! I found loads of tutorials for this floating around all over the internet, and I knew I could make one of those by hand. This crayon roll was a hit. I had a lot of friends asking me to make them one, but I had  like 10 million puncture wounds and a few thousand calluses just handsewing this one crayon roll, I couldn't possibly bear to endure 10 million more. Maybe now that I have Simang, I might actually make them some. 

Click! Click!

I've been taking pictures of dumpling#2 every single day to chronicle her first 365 days of life. Here are a few of my favorite shots.

day 3

That's the duo taking a little "sun time" by our tiny hospital window. I love how real and unguarded this photo is.

day 21

The picture on the right was taken 4 years ago. Yep. That's Dumpling #1. Fast forward to the present, I was woken up by a wailing dumpling#2, took one quick look at her mushed up face and knew the scene is eerily familiar. I knew that I've seen it before, and I was amazed by how vividly I remembered that random moment 4 years ago when I asked my husband for his cameraphone so I could take that picture. not only did dumpling#2 's knotted facial expression look exactly like her big brother's, she was also lying on the same exact blankie that he was lying on when he made that face! I immediately grabbed for my camera and took a few snaps before calming her down and voila! It's photo dejavu! :D If you could take for granted that the blankie on the left obviously has more signs of wear... it doesn't look like much time has gone by between the two photos!

Crafting 101

I am not a crafty person, but I can be crafty-ish. I  have my moments. Inspired by the gazillion flower bows and headbands tutorials floating all over Pinterest, I've been making lots of hairbows for my little girl. But this one is my hands down fave.

Nothing is cuter than an oversized flower on a dainty little face. Except perhaps an even bigger flower will do the trick, eh?

The Little Dumpling's Story

This is kinda personal.
Really personal.
I guess writing it down, or at least its attempt will provide a release of sort.
Maybe it would be a testament to my healing.

My little dumpling is special...
That's one way to sum it up so almost everybody will understand.
Our family has known for quite some time now.
We have been in and out of nursery schools, special ed schools,
We have worked closely, and have grown to love our doctor, therapists, and teachers..
We have been on that emotional rollercoaster that goes hand in hand with learning that
your child is different.

My little dumpling is special.
And we struggled with it, lived through it.
We tried to be stubborn about it.
We screamed, and cried, and fought,
and cried some more,
We prayed, and loved, and found joy in little triumphs...
But mostly, we cried.. a lot.

It's hard to accept that your child will not have as easy a life as the one you've had.
That he might need to give so much more of himself, and work harder, be better
Just to get the same opportunities given to the next kid in line
It's hard. It breaks your heart...
It surely broke mine.
But it needed to be put back together ASAP if I am to help my little dumpling at all.
So my heartaches, and the tears, they all had to be put aside.
I need acceptance if I want my child to live with what he's given, and not be defined by it.
I allow myself a few moments to cry... mostly at night when he's asleep
And then I welcome the morning with dry eyes and an eager smile.

I try to do my best every day, but I still have a lot to learn.
Mistakes to make.
Heartbreaks to endure.

As a mother..
As his mother,
All I want is for him to see the world NOT as a cruel and judgmental place where people who are different can never find happiness.
All I want, all I wish for... is that I leave this world knowing that I have shown him love and trust and peace and bliss, so much so that he would not be afraid to explore the world on his own.

My little dumpling is special.
He is also smart.
He is quick to love.
He is happy.
He does not hold grudges.
He is a big heart.
And finding out that he is not like other kids did nothing to change how much I love my boy.

His therapists and doctor believe he may be ready for a regular preschool.
Last week he came home from his last day at special ed school.
It feels like a lifetime ago, when i first handed him over to his new teacher,
and now that chapter's closing and we're starting a new one.
I am not deluding myself into thinking that the worst is over,
that from here, everything else will be an uphill climb.
But I am allowing myself to celebrate this little triumph.
At least today, things are starting to look up.
And I couldn't be more proud