We’re gettin’ a little restless here in the Northeast, needing some entertainment for our umpteenth blizzard today. This one’s at my expense. (You’re welcome.)

Murphy’s Law by allie taylor

Murphy’s Law says it all. You know what I’m talking about. (And I need to be careful — I know Murphys.) I don’t necessarily blame you Murphys, but it was just that kind of day. It’s only 2 p.m., and I’m not waiting any longer to write this tale. There are miles to go before I sleep, and who knows? The other shoe might drop. And if it does, it’ll just have to go in another post. No room for any more Murphy today. (No offense.)

I was chatting about this with a friend, following the calamities of early this morning. How for some odd reason, it’s funny to laugh at someone else’s calamity. I mean, not the real ones, just the ones that confound, frustrate, and drive us to insanity. The stuff that makes us consider getting committed before things get any worse. So go ahead, laugh. I am. It’s what makes the world go ’round.

So I woke up early today, to discover my post Glimpse of Sunshine: Part 2 didn’t publish on the site at 5 a.m. as scheduled. A little glitch, my fault, fixed that pretty quickly. Big kids headed out the door to school, time to work on the pile of breakfast dishes, make Charlie’s lunch, get him out the door. Sounds simple. But our ancient dishwasher quit a few weeks ago, so we’ve been eating on paper plates, gainfully employing live teenage dishwashers as needed. It worked out ok ’til we ran out of paper plates the other day. One of these days we’ll replace the dishwasher.

Meanwhile, Charlie and I are pulling valentines together for school, lunch packing etc. All of a sudden, I realize time has evaporated, Charlie’s bus will arrive a block away in just four minutes. We race him out the door, he makes it in time, phew. Because that would’ve complicated my morning even further. My heart rate returns to normal and I continue with the dishes. I don’t finish though, stop to empty and rearrange my Bible study bag, pack the i-pad and cord etc.

Hudson arrives in the kitchen, Curious George is over now. He needs a kleenex. Maybe two. I head to the bathroom, grab some. In the brief moments I’m gone, he grabs the full, open box of raisin bran left by the early crowd, dumps the entire contents on the floor. What a mess. The thing is, he did the exact same thing just four mornings ago, also a brand new box of raisin bran. This morning’s box was the replacement for Sunday’s dumped box. (Just sayin’.)

So he’s busy rooting out sugar covered raisins off the less than clean kitchen floor, stuffing them in his mouth. I’m trying to fend him off, scoop the raisin bran into the trash can. Second time around, I’ve got a four-step system going complete with brush, dustpan, trashcan and vacuum. I’m also thinking that a big pile of sugar covered raisins could create an unpleasant diaper down the road. So I’m scrambling and we’re fighting over those raisins.

We get through that fiasco. I return to the sink, wash a few more, smell an overpowering odor. A diaper change is already in order. I know my time is short, really need to get out of the house for Bible study. I leave the dishes, get the diapers and wipes, find Hudson drumming on a drum in the living room with his little hands. Little brown hands. Yes. “Oh be careful little hands where you go.” I know, TMI. What? You don’t want to hear about it? Can’t help that. Trust me, I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy either. But it’s the truth, what I had to deal with today. (Sorry if you’re eating breakfast.)

I march him off to the bathroom, find an old toothbrush in the drawer, scrub down little hands, fingers and fingernails. Hudson, he doesn’t care for it, but we get through. Then I rummage in laundry baskets to find new clothes, also necessary. Meanwhile the clock tick tick ticks.

I go out in the frigid, start the car. Wouldn’t you know, it’s the coldest, windiest morning of the winter, below zero. Driver’s door open, I balance on the running board, lean in to stash stuff in the passenger seat and crank her up. Too bad I left the windshield wipers on yesterday, because last night’s snow sweeps over me. Yeah, it really happened. All this morning. Happy Friday to me.

We only get to Bible study ten minutes late, turns out it’s my turn to lead today. Not that I didn’t know that already. We’re having brunch, it’s relaxed. It’s just that I reach in my bag for the study book to start, realize that in rearranging things prior to the cereal dump, I neglected to put the study book back inside the bag. So that’s just how the morning progressed.

A kind friend brings me a surprise: a 12-pack Lime Diet Coke. Things are lookin’ up. Told me she went to three stores to find it. Think subzero morning. Bless her. She’s remembering the Lime Coke that froze on my porch last week Baby It’s Cold Outside. So despite the craziness, I’m feeling the love with that 12-pack.

So we get home, Hudson has lunch, plays with toys. I head to the bathroom to bleach the sink and counter, throw out the nasty toothbrush. Glancing in the mirror, notice my shirt’s on backwards. No joke, honest to God, I led the Bible study all morning with my shirt on backwards. And you know what? I don’t even care. I leave it. (Probably have spinach in my teeth too.)

The last straw happens as we’re about to leave, me in my backwards shirt, to pick up the big kids from school. I find Hudson in the living room, sitting in a large puddle of milk. He’s somehow managed to separate the lid from his screw-on sippy cup. Never has it happened before, sure hope it doesn’t again. Time for a third outfit.

That’s all she wrote folks. Now I’m headed north, with my clean little guy and a can o’ sunshine. Wish me luck. Maybe the breakfast dishes’ll get done later. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll splurge on a stack of paper plates while I’m out.

Related post: Misery Loves Company

The post Murphy’s Law appeared first on Through Her Looking Glass.

Thursday a week ago was such an amazing miracle-filled day all around. I had absolutely no idea when I woke up that morning what the day would hold. Guess we never know what a day holds.

Glimpse of Sunshine: Part 2 by allie taylor

Remember that Thursday? It was the day Hudson clearly said hello to the nice lady in black and I was left speechless. (Rare.) If you missed that Glimpse of Sunshine post last week, catch up here first:  Glimpse of Sunshine  so you’ll understand today’s post.

So after music therapy that day, I gave Hudson lunch, brought him to school. Came home and penned Glimpse of Sunshine at the kitchen counter, while it was still fresh in my mind. Charlie’s the little artist of the family, so I was thinking, I really need to ask Charlie to draw me a sun. That would be just perfect for my post. Time flew, and in no time at all it was time to go pick up Charlie from 3rd grade. He got in the car, had a burning question on his mind.

“Mom, why do you think instead of just giving us the sun, moon and stars, God gave us the planets too?”

Me: “Maybe He just wanted to wow us, you know, so we’d look up at them and think wow, what an amazing God we have. That he could just hang them up there.”

Charlie: “But the thing is, evolutionists look at the planets too, and they don’t say that.”

Me: “You got a point there.”

Charlie: “When I get home, I’m going to write an encyclopedia.”

Me: “Wow, that’s enterprising. What will you put in it?”

Charlie: “Words that mean something.”

Me: “So what’s your first word gonna be?”

Charlie: “Evolution.”

Me: “That’s an interesting word to start an encyclopedia with. Do you believe in evolution?”

Charlie: “No.”

So we pick up Hudson from school, get home, hot chocolate at the kitchen counter, etc. And Charlie starts his encyclopedia. True to his word, begins with the first entry, evolution.

Oops, the encyclopedia got wet…

I’m sitting at the counter, tweaking my post. I see Charlie over at the kitchen window. I can’t see what he’s drawing, but I can tell he’s drawing on the window with a yellow waxy window crayon.

He got the window crayons a few years ago, hasn’t used them in a long time. He steps aside, and I see this beautiful sun.

Me, with chills: “Charlie, why did you draw that sun today?”

Charlie: “I don’t know.”

And so I tell Charlie the story of Hudson saying hello to the lady in black this morning. And how beautiful it was, like a glimpse of sunshine. That it was a little miracle. And how I was going to ask him to draw a sun for me, but hadn’t yet because he was so busy with his encyclopedia.

Charlie’s so excited about Hudson’s word, he races out to the living room to find Hudson.

Charlie: “Hudson, Hudson can you say hello to me? Hel-lo? Hel-lo?”

And Hudson obliges, clearly says a halting “hel-lo” again.

Charlie, back in the kitchen, beaming:

“Guess it wasn’t a coincidence that I drew the sun on the window today, was it?”

Big hug. No Charlie, it wasn’t.

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.”

– Albert Einstein

Related post:

She Picked Up Her Pen

And: Shut Up and Listen

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The post Glimpse of Sunshine: Part 2 appeared first on Through Her Looking Glass.

A truly beautiful and monumental thing happened just this morning. Only Hudson and I know about it. It involved three people, but only two of us “get it”. It’s after lunch now, and I was just pairing up winter boots and gloves by the side door, vacuuming up the salt and grime that comes with winter around here. Tidying up, thinking about what happened today, and my eyes filled and spilled. I stopped vacuuming for a second, looked straight down. So the wet would fall straight down on the L.L.Bean water hog door mat, not ruin my mascara. (I’m just that vain.)

Glimpse of Sunshine by allie taylor

On my fridge door,  five years now…

Hudson and I headed to his music therapy session this morning, just like any other Thursday morning. We were running late, as is often the case in winter. Hudson is resistant (understatement) to hats, coats and mittens, a difficulty in the Northeast. With below zero temps here this morning, these were non-negotiables today.

Music and speech therapy are ways we attempt to encourage speech and communication for Hudson. Children with Down syndrome and other special needs often have difficulty communicating. With Hudson’s fifth birthday rapidly approaching this spring, he can say maybe ten words (or an approximations of ten words). Milk is “elk”. Music, “ick”. Cookie is “ookie.” All very important words in his world!

Surprisingly, Hudson’s actually a little social butterfly who manages to get his point across quite well, but mostly without words. He points, gestures, signs, has a vice grip finger-lock he engages, then gently drags you along where he wants you to go. It works some of the time, but as you can imagine, often frustrates him and us both, as we try to guess his wants and needs. Let’s just say, it’s not a long term workable strategy.

So this morning, hand in hand, we’re walking together across a long snowy parking lot to get back to the car after saying goodbye to Christina at music therapy. Hudson is entranced with the snow on the ground, but concentrating even more on his little suede Stride Rite fire engine boots. The boots are six years old now, a hand-me down from his big brother. The captivating thing to Hudson about the boots is, that at the right time and with the right “stamp”, he can make the little red engines light up. The tiny built-in batteries are old now, mostly dead. But every once in a while with a little luck, the lights still engage. So Hudson is very busy stamping, prancing his way along to the car for the desired effect.

Along our route, a nice lady wearing all black, and a pair of knee high black leather boots, crosses our path. She flashes a radiant smile to Hudson stamping his way along, pleasantly says hello to us. Hudson looks up from the boots, takes the chewy tube* from his mouth, waves, and very clearly and appropriately says a two syllable, halting “Hel-lo” back. He glances up, smiles at me. He gets it. I’m overwhelmed, speechless. (Rare.) She keeps walking, oblivious to the gravity of the communication that’s just taken place, but cheerfully throws back over her shoulder, “Nice to see the sun today, isn’t it?”

Communication for our children is something we take for granted. We often assume they’ll one day be able to express their wants and needs in an often harsh world. But it’s different for parents with special needs children. Because we don’t know if our children will ever be able to communicate or express themselves clearly. But I’m overjoyed and thankful for this fire engine boot-stride of progress today.

She was right on. It’s nice to see the sun today. We all need that Glimpse of Sunshine now and again. To give us hope.

*A chewy tube is used by individuals like Hudson with sensory issues who crave oral stimulation. A chewy tube provides that, and also builds up the muscle tone and strength of his jaw, helping prepare him for speech, feeding and overall motor skills.

Related Post: Glimpse of Sunshine: Part 2

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