Traveling at Mach 9: 24/7

I had just started typing this post in a document when son #3 is being carried down the stairs by son #2 with the  ringing announcement, "He's bleeding, he's bleeding, he's bleeding!"  Daughter #2 had thrown her microphone with precision aim and nailed him in the nose.  He's resting with an ice pack, daughter has apologized and is tucked into bed and I will attempt to start this again...


I'm not an aeronautical engineer, but I've watched Little Einsteins and have some basic rocket knowledge.  When a rocket is traveling through space the blasters come on and the G force kicks in and it thrusts the rocket forward.  Then the burners turn off and the rocket glides along for a bit while everything cools off and then the blasters go again. (If this is not correct, please don't tell me...I love to pretend to know about things.)  If the blasters were on all the time, the rocket would overheat and burn up.  When traveling with the blasters on, the pressure is unbelievably intense, to the point you can pass out.  Many of us that have children with special needs, children with trauma backgrounds or just children in general are traveling through space with our blasters burning at Mach 9 day and night, night and day.  It's exhausting, it's traumatic and it's leads to burnout.

At my house, we don't have children that rage, have major meltdowns, there is no physical violence, (except for a thrown microphone or two), no self abuse or abuse of other siblings.  I am thankful for this and my momma heart breaks for every family that deals with these behaviors and struggles daily.

What we have is five children at home right now.  Three stay home during the day and are being homeschooled this year.  Of those three, all of them have Down Syndrome, two  have been home two months and don't speak or understand hardly any English.  One of those three has a moustache and is showing signs of either autism or coping behaviors where he lives in his own world most of the time.  The other two are girls, five and six, one home eighteen months and one home two months.

At 5:30 am when three of the five children awaken everyday, I am on full alert, blasters burning, guard up, eyes peeled for signs of trouble and on the search for tools.  Tools for communication, for learning, for therapies, for answers, for understanding, for connecting, for what they will eat and won't eat, where they should be sleeping, why they aren't sleeping, why aren't the pooping, why is he rocking back and forth, why can't she walk straight, how to stop them from picking their fingers until they bleed, how to teach volume control, tone and speech.  How to teach English, how to explain that you are a fourteen year old boy, you stink and you need to change your underwear everyday, how to teach him to sit on the toilet ring and not the actual toilet when he goes #2, how to throw the used toilet paper in the toilet and not on the floor.  These are a few of the things whirling in my mind as I try to get the first cup of coffee in me.

If the little girls are quiet or out of sight for one minute (and I mean one minute).  There is trouble brewing.  Since Nini came home, now Gracie has a cohort and there are Shenanigans.  Big Shenanigans! They have used Elmer's glue as lotion and slathered themselves to the point of appearing to have a severe case of leprosy.  Nini can smell a knife or scissors from anywhere in the house.  Leave it on the table for one minute (again, I'm serious about the one minute thing) and she will be cutting something.  A box, piece of paper or the doll's hair.  They unroll the toilet paper, the empty a pack of wipes faster than imaginable, they have flooded the kitchen, the table with all of my mailouts on it, the bathroom and overflowed the toilet.  Now, you might think I'm just hiding out in the car when all this is happening.  I wish!  When I stand at the sink to do dishes, if I do not remember to bring them in the kitchen with me, chaos erupts.  They have to travel from room to room with me and when I take a potty break, they sit on the steps in front of the door and wait for me.  Occasionally waving under the door or hollering through it.

Joe loves to help and loves to be with me.  When I say be with me, I mean like standing on top of me be with me. He is three inches shorter than me and weighs in at 130 lbs.  He cooks with me and when we are in the kitchen we touch from shoulder to leg and when I step to the drawer, he steps with me.  When I go to the fridge, he's right beside me.  When we sit at the table, his chair is touching mine and our knees are best friends that can't be separated.  When we go to the store, he likes to help me push the cart, so it's my wide load and him in front of the cart, doing the bump, bump, bump as we both waddle down the aisle.  He likes to keep constant pressure on the cart so even when I'm stopping the cart, he is still pushing.  He also wants to push faster than I want to travel, so my biceps and triceps are becoming spectacular!  When he tires of pushing the cart or gets overstimulated, he goes into his "zone".   This involves circling the cart as it's traveling or pacing back and forth in front of it, speaking very loud Chinese gibberish and either running into the people he doesn't notice or hugging ALL the people he does notice.  Joe and I are learning to communicate.  It is painful, it is frustrating and it is so very slow.  He still doesn't recognize hardly any English words and when I sign, he copies the sign but struggles to use it.  I still have to take him to the bathroom and show him, wash your hands, brush your teeth, acting each action out so he will understand.  He is very loud and he talks to himself about 18 hours a day.  He has no concept that people are trying to sleep and babies are in bed.  He's a Ninja warrior and he loves to bounce and roll.  Everywhere. On the beds (he's broken his slats three times) on the couch and across the tiny living room.  He is making progress with communication, but it is slow.  I cried when he picked up a piece of pizza and said "peeeza"!  Right now he is stretched out on the couch, bouncing, laughing and rocking.  Growling in Chinese at a good, solid, yelling tone with some intermittent singing of the one song he knows.

Precious Gracie is also very loud and she talks when she is asleep  (really-all night, next to my bed) she sings and talks from the moment her eyes open until they close at night (then it's only intermittent)  She has no highs and lows, just one tone, one volume, which is what I would describe as playground voice level.  She talks with her mouth full, she talks when she's watching TV and she talks and talks and talks.  Unfortunately, she had no understandable speech when we brought her home.  She is now saying about 30 words that are understandable.  The rest of the time it's just loud nonsense, calling my name "Ma" about two-hundred times a day (not an exaggeration, I counted one day) and mimicking whenever anyone else is talking.  She also needs to touch me about every five minutes.  This involves, rubbing my arms, feet, face, occasional licking, combing my hair, touching my hair, touching my face, kissing my face, my arms, my legs, my feet.  When I sit in a chair, her and Nini take turns sitting on the arm of the chair, and sometimes they both squeeze in and sit.  I haven't sat alone in "my" comfy chair in eighteen months.

All of this beautiful chaos keeps me burning at Mach 9, with 6 g's pressing against my chest all day, everyday.  Would I trade it in and go back to the quiet of two kids, teaching career and happy go lucky life.  Not on your life.  Am I weary, exhausted, stressed and very lonely.  Yes. I am all of those things.  Most of the day to day drama of my life will get better with time.  The blasters will turn off and I will coast more than the ninety-five minutes of bliss that is naptime everyday.  I will stand alone in my kitchen someday and cook at my own pace in my own space.  But not today and not tomorrow.

The house is quiet now, the children are bathed and in bed.  My eleven year old is chatting about his birthday tomorrow and I can hear Joe upstairs, firing his fake gun over and over as he prepares for sleep.  Fortunately he shares a room with Ollie, who has 90% hearing loss without his hearing aids, so he sleeps in peace as his brother fights the good fight late into the night.  I will do the supper dishes, work on my Jamberry business, eat a snack and drag myself to bed before 10pm.  Nini, will be there waiting for me, ready to dig her feet into my back like the happiest cat on the planet.  This will continue until my hubs comes home at midnight (he's a second shifter), where he rolls her over toward him and let's me get a few hours of peaceful rest.

For those of you living out a Mach 9 life, I encourage you to find a few moments of quiet.  I hide in my car on occasion or take a leisurely walk to the mailbox.  I sit on the porch whenever possible and just breath in the air and let the breeze cover me.  I color when the kids color and I sleep when the kids sleep.  I am not ashamed to say I watch 30 minutes of Netflix and take a 60 minute nap every week day.  Let people hug you, not the patronizing do gooders, but your spouse, a friend, find a couple of good huggers and fill up.  It makes a huge difference.   If you need to cry, cry.  If your head hurts from gritting your teeth, take a moment.  If you lose it, say sorry and keep going forward.  There is no shame in feeding your kids McDonalds or letting them sleep in their dirty clothes once in awhile.  A little dirt under their fingernails builds good antibodies.  There is no condemnation if your floors are dirty and the couch is covered in laundry.  There is no shame in telling you seven year old to turn his socks inside out and wear them another day because it saves water which is good for the environment.  Let go of expectations, release yourself from the picture perfect life and know that you are doing well, you are breathing life into your children and you are creating world changers.  Leave the toothpaste stuck to the sink and take a moment.   Turn the blasters off, glide, breathe and be thankful that you have been chosen to do good, to serve, to love, to teach, to connect, to be.