Why I Canceled His Birthday Party

I love planning parties! It’s a bit of a creative outlet for me. So when Hudson turned one – the sky was the limit! Being an October baby, I went with an orange and pumpkin theme. We asked everyone to bring his or her most creative carved or decorated pumpkin for a chance to win a prize. The winner that year was a Death Star pumpkin.
 

Since the orange and pumpkin party was a huge success, we decided to make it a birthday tradition. We kept the pumpkin carving contest and we added a guessing game. I’d fill a jar with candy corn and whoever guessed closest to the actual amount won the jar! We also encouraged everyone to wear orange. Each year felt like a huge success and a great investment of love into our son.

This year was going to be no different. I designed our “Orange Party” invites and had Hudson place them in all 19 cubbies of his classmates. I gave a week to RSVP and by the end of the week I had 3 RSVPs…and they were all polite declines. The rest never responded. This would normally shatter my mama heart. And though it hurt a bit, I had an epiphany: maybe I was projecting MY need for a birthday party on Hudson.

When I realized no one was coming, I started asking Hudson what he wanted for his birthday. (I was testing the waters to see if he’d be disappointed if there were no kids at his party.) He said he wanted a pumpkin-shaped cake and presents. He didn’t mention a party and he didn’t mention friends – even though he had helped me pass out the invites! He was just going through the motions of what mom said to do. So even though there were a few family friends

that were planning on attending, my husband and I decided to cancel his

birthday party.

Instead of shopping the night before for gift bags and snacks and candy corn for a guessing game, I shopped entirely for Hudson. I splurged on our boy and loved every minute of it! I bought almost all things Minion and whatever supplies I needed to make a pumpkin-shaped cake. I set-up our dining table with presents, pumpkin decorations, a few balloons, and his requested cake so that he had something special to wake up to…and he loved it!

He squealed after opening each present and was over the moon when we let him have a slice of birthday cake for breakfast! And Daddy decided to make the day even more special…he decided we needed to take an impromptu trip to the Santa Barbara Zoo! (About a 90 minute drive from our house.) Not once did Hudson ask about friends or a birthday party. He simply loved and enjoyed everything we provided for him.

And that’s why I canceled his birthday party. He didn’t need it. I needed it. I needed it because that’s how you celebrate your kid, right? That’s how you show them they’re loved, right? Maybe. But that’s not what Hudson needed. And if he wasn’t going to carry an ounce of remorse over not having a birthday party, then neither was I!

What You Do, Not Who You Are

It has been over a year since my last blog and I feel it's a shame to let so much time pass before writing because I love to do it. In addition, there are so many victories and obstacles that Hudson has overcome that it feels like a shame not to share. I've also found that as I work out my own struggles, frustrations, and hurts; it has the potential to encourage others so it's a shame not to express. So with that said, I’d like to invite you into the hurt of my mommy heart from yesterday.

Hudson has been a part of a typical “transitional kindergarten” class. There aren’t any specially trained teachers, there aren’t any other children with special needs, and it’s not a specialized program for kids with autism. It’s just a typical pre-k class to help prepare the kids for kindergarten. Now he still has an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) and there is an aid that checks on Hudson through the week, but for the most part Hudson has been “mainstreamed.”

To be honest, I wasn’t thrilled when this classroom environment was suggested. Going from a classroom that caters to your needs into an environment where more responsibility is expected of you is a HUGE transition. The only reason we landed on this setting was because for the first 30 days of the school year, Hudson was in a special “autism class” and the teacher noticed quickly that he wasn’t being challenged. It was definitely a good problem to have because that means that Hudson is excelling, but I had no idea how he would do in a fully typical classroom setting. To my surprise, Hudson has been doing well! It’s taken a few weeks to get acclimated to the new routines and to understand what’s expected of him (he now has homework!) but he loves his new class. He still has some behavioral and social struggles that sometimes make him a disruption to class, but I’ve been working with the teacher for techniques to correct and re-engage his attention. And every once in awhile, he has a rough time at recess with “unkind hands.” But when those negative reports come home (usually in the form of a piece of paper with a picture of a sad face), we remind him the importance of kindness and tell him that he can try again tomorrow. Which brings me to my mommy hurt from yesterday.

As I was walking Hudson to class yesterday, I overheard a girl from his class talking to her older brother about Hudson. My ears perked up when I heard his name. She said, “That boy’s name is Hudson…we don’t talk to him because he’s mean.” I know why she said it. Hudson was sent home with a sad face the day before for hitting. But I so desperately wanted to plead Hudson’s case with this 5 year-old girl. I wanted her to know that when he got his sad face, he was devastated and talked all day about trying again. I wished I could explain how much he has had to overcome to even be able to attend class with her! I wanted to tell her that he is one of the most tenderhearted boys I know! I wanted her to know that that’s what he did, but that’s not who he is! In a gentle, explanatory way I managed to say to her, “You know sweetie, we’re working really hard with him to teach him how to be a kind friend.” I dropped Hudson off, reminded him to be a kind friend, gave him kisses, and cried on my drive home. My heart was hurting for my boy who didn’t even realize he was isolating himself. He was just as happy as ever to be in class again and to be able to try again.

As I got home, I processed with Sean and I processed with God. And like He always does, God comforted my mommy heart by giving me a picture of how He feels about his own kids – us. I felt him saying to me, “Sarah, I’m also desperate to remind my kids that that’s what you did, that’s not who you are!” I felt like God was saying that his heart breaks too when we believe that our behavior determines our identity. It keeps us in the bondage of shame and guilt. It perpetuates the lie that we’ll never be any different – even if we want to be. We can get stuck in a pattern of bad choices because we don’t think there is anyone who believes we can be more. But God does. He is our advocate. He is the whisper in our ear telling us not to give up. He is the one who forgives when we make a bad decision and hurt others. He’s the one that says let’s try again…because that is ONLY what you did, it is NOT who you are! 

Out of the Comfort Zone

This week was one of tears for many parents. It marked the end of summer and the start of the new school year. Some shed tears of sorrow while others shed tears of joy. The mood in the Stepleton house was a combination of the two. Though our summer was fun, it was also exhausting. After all, three year olds don’t seem to understand that summers are meant for sleeping in! These last few months were filled with lots of play dates, time at the pool, family visiting from out of town, and even a trip to see friends in Minnesota! We also had speech twice a week and managed to conquer potty training! Though summer was fun, this mom was ready for a much needed break in the day!

We had been preparing Hudson all week by reminding him that he was going to be going back to school. With a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm – we would excitedly remind him of all the friends and teachers he was going to be seeing. We even had a chance to go to an open house for his school to let him come and get re-acclimated with the classroom. He seemed set…until we walked on to campus Monday morning.

He quickly recalled the routine that was to come. He would line up at the wall, mom and dad would leave, and he would spend the next 6 hours out of his comfort zone. We hadn’t even made it to the wall before he was saying, “Mommy and daddy stay.” We kept reassuring him that we would wait with him until school started, but that we had to go because we needed to buy his new Lego. (Yes, we called upon some assistance from Lego to help kick-start our son’s enthusiasm for school.) Even the promise of a new Lego wasn’t enough for him to willingly line-up with his other classmates. Eventually the teacher held his hand and the class walked to their first stop of the day (the playground). Every step of the way he kept looking back, and with each look my eyes welled with more tears.

It is painfully difficult to disregard the pleas of your child as they cry out for you. As they turn back with a look that says Mama, I need you. It feels like you are betraying their trust, but you’re not. As much as I want to protect Hudson and keep him near me at all times and allow him to feel as safe and secure as possible – I more desperately want him to overcome his challenges. I want Hudson to know that I will always be available for comfort and empathy, but I won’t shy away from allowing him to experience discomfort.

The reality is that with his autism, the more that I coddle him – the more dependent he’ll be on me. The more that I keep him in what is comfortable, the smaller his world will be. If his world is too small, then he won’t learn to be flexible. If he can’t learn to be flexible, then life will be filled with an unnecessary amount of disappointment. I want my son to be able to cope with the ups and downs of life. I want him to try new things. I want him to be on the solution side. I want him to have meaningful relationships. I want him to grow. I want him to continue overcoming his challenges.

As I was thinking through this concept this week, a movie clip came to mind. It’s a powerful scene from the movie Ray. Please watch it below.

His mom choosing not to step in and help may at first appear to be cruel. After all – the poor kid was blind, had fallen, and was calling out for help. However, the help she gave her son was not in coming to his aid. It was allowing him to discover his inner strength. By forcing him out of his comfort zone – he was learning how to “see” with his ears. She withheld a momentary comfort to help build up a lifelong confidence.

Though it may be out of MY comfort zone - that is the type of mom I want to strive to be.

A Voice for the Voiceless

One of the areas affected by autism is communication. Many children are developmentally delayed in this area and therefore struggle to communicate their needs, wants, fears, preferences, etc. This can be very frustrating for the child and heartbreaking for the parent. There’s nothing worse than your child crying in frustration because you don’t understand how to help them. Because of this struggle – many advocate for children with autism to help “be their voice.” We have been more than blessed with wonderful therapists and teachers that have been a voice for Hudson. They have persevered with his struggles; they have helped to get him the right kind of therapy; they have helped to draw out our son from his autistic shell. There are many who are helping in the autistic community to be a voice for the voiceless.

Over these last few weeks, I have been learning about another group of children who are desperate to have a voice. They are desperate to know someone cares. They are desperate to be children again. They are those that have been enslaved in human trafficking.

Maybe this is the first time you’ve even heard this was still a problem in our modern day society. Maybe you’re like me. You’ve heard of the issue before, you’ve shaken your head at the atrocities, but you’ve never been moved to action. Well, I’m not sure what clicked. But I have felt drawn to be a part of the solution.

I’ve been following a blogger named Jamie Wright who recently wrote of her experience in SE Asia and her eyewitness account to these children being exploited for sex. Though the content is heavy – it isn’t absent of hope. Jamie also shares about the good people who are fighting to bring these children freedom…people that are willing to risk their comfort and safety to be a voice for the voiceless. Please take a moment to read her post:

http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com/2013/07/the-big-ask-how-can-i-help-fight-human.html

Sometimes when things are too hard to imagine, we turn our heads and ignore the problem because it’s too much to bear. Sometimes we look the other way because we feel helpless. Thanks to organizations like The Exodus Road, we don’t have to feel helpless. They have provided a practical way for us to make a difference. After learning more about this project, Sean and I decided to support an investigative team monthly so that they have the resources to be the hands and feet that reach out to these children in bondage to sex trafficking. Check out http://www.theexodusroad.com for more info.

I strongly believe that we are blessed so that we may in turn be a blessing to others. Hudson’s struggle with autism is not over, but he has been given a voice. I now want to also make a difference for those children whose parents have betrayed them. I want make a difference for those families that have no idea what has happened to their loved ones. I want to stand up against the evil in this world. Edmund Burke once said, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men should do nothing.” I want to do something. I want to help be a voice for those that are still voiceless.

Father Forgets

Recently, I've been wrestling with the thought that my expectations might sometimes be too high for Hudson. There are times I've asked myself, "Am I just training him to be a little adult? Do I put adult-size expectations on my son?"And then yesterday I was listening to a podcast and heard this poem that cut straight to my core. It's a piece written by W. Livingston Larned and it's titled Father Forgets.

"Listen, son; I am saying this as you lie asleep, one little paw crumpled under your cheek and the blond curls stickily wet on your damp forehead. I have stolen into your room alone. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat reading my paper in the library, a stifling wave of remorse swept over me. Guiltily I came to your bedside.

These are the things I was thinking, son: I had been cross to you. I scolded you as you were dressing for school because you gave your face merely a dab with a towel. I took you to task for not cleaning your shoes. I called out angrily when you threw some of your things on the floor.

At breakfast I found fault, too. You spilled things. You gulped down your food. You put your elbows on the table. You spread butter too thick on your bread. And as you started off to play and I made for my train, you turned and waved a hand and called, "Goodbye, Daddy!" and I frowned, and said in reply, "Hold your shoulders back!"

Then it began all over again in the late afternoon. As I came up the road, I spied you, down on your knees, playing marbles. There were holes in your stockings. I humiliated you before your boy friends by marching you ahead of me to the house. Stockings were expensive - and if you had to buy them you would be more careful! Imagine that, son, from a father!

Do you remember, later, when I was reading in the library, how you came in timidly, with a sort of hurt look in your eyes? When I glanced up over my paper, impatient at the interruption, you hesitated at the door. "What is it you want?" I snapped.

You said nothing, but ran across in one tempestuous plunge, and threw your arms around my neck and kissed me, and your small arms tightened with an affection that God had set blooming in your heart and which even neglect could not wither. And then you were gone, pattering up the stairs.

Well, son, it was shortly afterwards that my paper slipped from my hands and a terrible sickening fear came over me. What has habit been doing to me? The habit of finding fault, of reprimanding - this was my reward to you for being a boy. It was not that I did not love you; it was that I expected too much of youth. I was measuring you by the yardstick of my own years.

And there was so much that was good and fine and true in your character. The little heart of you was as big as the dawn itself over the wide hills. This was shown by your spontaneous impulse to rush in and kiss me good night. Nothing else matters tonight, son. I have come to your bedside in the darkness, and I have knelt there, ashamed!

It is a feeble atonement; I know you would not understand these things if I told them to you during your waking hours. But tomorrow I will be a real daddy! I will chum with you, and suffer when you suffer, and laugh when you laugh. I will bite my tongue when impatient words come. I will keep saying as if it were a ritual: "He is nothing but a boy - a little boy!"

I am afraid I have visualized you as a man. Yet as I see you now, son, crumpled and weary in your cot, I see that you are still a baby. Yesterday you were in your mother's arms, your head on her shoulder. I have asked too much, too much."

I don't want to measure my son by "the yardstick of my years." I don't want to have "the habit of finding fault." Training is necessary. Discipline is necessary. But I hope they are outweighed by our playing together, celebrating together, and laughing together. I'm sorry son. Sometimes mama forgets too.

FIRST and THEN

As we were winding down for the evening the other day, Sean called Hudson into the playroom to help clean up. Though Hudson walked into the room, he wasn’t really helping with much. I’m pretty sure both he and Sean were overwhelmed by the task at hand. After all – Hudson knows how to put the CAR in CARpet. They were everywhere!

Sean started cleaning up train tracks while he had Hudson focus on putting his Hot Wheels in his toy chest. The problem is that when Hudson starts collecting his cars to clean-up, he remembers how fun they are to play with! Needless to say, he gets off track and it takes longer than it should to clean-up. In all honesty – it would probably take Sean and I two minutes to get the job done, but it’s a value in our family to teach personal responsibility. And when you’re 3, personal responsibility means putting your toys away.

After several attempts at trying to keep Hudson focused, we all started getting frustrated. Before giving up, I decided to try one last tactic. I said, “Hudson, FIRST we need to clean up cars and THEN we can play hide-n-seek.” Immediately his attention perked up and cars started flying into the toy chest. The reason he wasn’t helping us before was because he wasn’t motivated. Until he knew what was coming next, the task at hand seemed purposeless.

This week – there have been times when I have felt like I needed to know the next step…or two…or three. I’m a planner. I tend to deal better with change when I know what is coming. It gives me a chance to prepare myself emotionally. If you ever drive somewhere new with me, then be prepared to call out at least the upcoming three moves on MapQuest directions. When I have to have a difficult conversation with someone, I’m the type of person that plans for multiple outcomes to the conversation. “If they say this, then I’ll say that. But if they say that, then I’ll say this.” And my husband can attest that I am the type of person that asks questions at the movies (quietly mind you); even if neither of us has seen the movie. “Who is that? Why are they doing that? Are they a good guy or a bad guy?”

Most of the questions rolling around in my mind recently have had to do with the future. Are we on track in life? Are we going to be in Vegas forever? Are we going to have more children? Should I start working again? Are we ever going to have a house? If I knew what was on the horizon, then I could start moving in the right direction. But alas, I don’t have the answers to these questions. Therefore, I don’t know the next steps that I’m supposed to take. *Sigh*

However, I am trying to grow in living out the Biblical philosophy of worry. The Message translation of Matthew 6:34 says, “Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” Ultimately, when we spend our time worrying – we miss out on the blessings, the grace, and the joy that comes with each day. And with a special kid like Hudson – my day is filled with lots of moments of joy.

So as I’m trying to grow in releasing control and worry, I’ve tried to look at my future the way we challenge Hudson to look at his…one step at a time. I’m learning to better embrace that FIRST we enjoy today, THEN we see what tomorrow holds.

Never Say Never

Sean and I were married for seven years before we decided we wanted to try for kids. And then it was another four years before Hudson finally came along. Though we were anxious to have our own shot at parenting, we definitely used our season of waiting to learn from others that were ahead of us. Sometimes you learn from others mistakes. Sometimes you learn from their victories. And some lessons you can't fully grasp until you experience them yourself. Let's take for instance the stereotypical screaming kid at Wal-Mart.

When I was an aspiring parent and would encounter these "screamers," I would find myself thinking, "I will NEVER let my kid act like that." Or "I would NEVER use bribery." Or "My kid will NEVER be a whiner." It only made me feel all the more anxious to show the world that things can be done a different way! Well - there is a Biblical saying that pride comes before the fall!

Fast forward to present day and I can assure you that I have violated ALL of my "never" statements several times over. And to add a level of complexity - Hudson's autism makes him even MORE susceptible to emotional outbursts and tantrums. Hudson is definitely teaching me to enjoy the taste of Humble Pie. In fact - just the other day he presented me with yet another serving.

We were walking around (you guessed it) Wal-Mart and happened to be perusing the toy aisle. One thing Hudson is pretty good about is window shopping. We can tell him we're not going to buy anything, and he's usually ok with just looking.

All of a sudden while I'm looking at puzzles, I hear my son burst into tears and Sean trying to console. Hudson wanted nothing to do with consoling. I asked Sean what happened and he said he had no idea. Hudson had asked for help putting a tricycle away. But once Sean helped him, he became upset. He went from 0 to 10 in a matter of seconds. He was screaming, kicking, and snotting all over the place - and we had no idea why! And a quirky OCD-like comfort that Hudson has is tissue. The moment we start trying to address his behavior he starts screaming for tissue because he wants to wipe his face. He becomes obsessed with needing tissue and won't listen to reason. Unfortunately we didn't have any on us so we continued to try and console and he continued to scream louder.

It's at this point that we sat him down on a bottom shelf of a display and gave him a time out. While we're waiting for our son to stop hyperventilating - I notice that we're putting on the 3 o'clock show at Wal-Mart. Stick around - you won't want to miss the grand finale! Yes - we are the family everyone is staring at. Everything in me wanted to high tail it to our van. But then I recalled the words of wisdom that my friend Darla left me with after she had kids. "The reason you shop at Wal-Mart is because EVERYONE'S kids scream at Wal-Mart!" So after putting my pride aside - Sean and I talked and felt it was best to help Hudson calm down before giving in to his demand of tissue. We don't want him to learn that he can emotionally manipulate us because he cries or because we might get embarrassed. Slowly he started to calm down and we were able to explain that if he wanted tissue we could get some from mommy's van. But if we were going to go to mommy's van, he needed to stop crying first. Eventually the tears subsided and I was able to walk back to our car and pretend like it was someone else's kid screaming. (Just kidding!)

Though I walked back to the van a little emotionally drained - I also felt victorious. I was able to put my pride aside and invest into my son. I was able to persevere through an awkward parenting moment. I was able to do what was best for him and not my ego. And I'm continuing to learn more and more that there is no cookie-cutter way to address a distressed child. All we can do is choose our battles, keep humility and love in the equation, and sometimes a lollipop in your purse to help shape and mold the little lives we've been trusted with.

And one things for sure when it comes to parenting - never say never!