After an especially trying weekend, I sought what I refer to in my head as my “haven” – propping myself up against pillows on my bed, in the bedroom farthest from the TV, the living room, the kitchen, and the noise Stephen generates constantly. But, he found me, flopping onto the bed cross-wise, one babyish hand finding my foot and patting it in that instinctively sweet way of his.
He’s stretched out, jabbering away, his t-shirt too short (as most of them are now), and I can see the jagged pink stretch marks on his belly…ugly reminders of his poor diet, his huge pharmaceutically-induced appetite, his inability to understand limits. Autism, the wild beast that invaded our lives a decade ago, persists in trying to tear us apart, and it has left its mark on my son’s skin as it tries to claw its way out. This evil, wrong presence – a million miles away from the happy, feel-good kind of autism that has parents lauding their child’s “differences” and appreciating their “uniqueness” – has terrorized my family, and there’s no weapon that can be used to defend us.
We have bound ourselves together to fight it, but inch by inch it creeps in. We are trapped, isolated, a bizarre island in a sea of unhappiness, and it hurts. It’s lonely. It’s impossible to understand unless you live a similar life, and there just aren’t many people who do.
At this very moment, as I type, Stephen is back on the bed, his round, soft cheek resting against my arm. He giggles. “Band-itch,” he says. I am silent, thinking. “Band-itch, peeze.” I have no idea what he’s saying. My heart breaks for a child who can walk and eat and sleep, and in most other ways is unable to conduct his life as a human being…trying to talk, staring earnestly into his mother’s eyes as he sweetly says, again, “Band-itch, peeze.” As I shrug and say, “Baby, I don’t know…” he once again gives up, not able to communicate, and so he retreats back into his mind, jabbering about Thomas or Percy or whatever. I got lucky this time. So many times this kind of non-communication results in screaming fits. What a wilderness of confusion his brain must be. It shatters me to imagine his bewilderment with the world. I’ve been a soggy, crying mess over the last 12 hours. Two more tears trace paths down my face, and Stephen reaches out a finger to catch a drop off my chin, and he wonderingly looks at it, then wipes his hand on his shirt.
The future scares me. Stephen’s puberty looms like another monster, an unknown enemy lying in wait. Our older son starts high school in a week – how is he doing, really? He told his dad last night that “this stuff” does get to him, but he doesn’t show it. He just goes downstairs and pounds on his drums. Have I failed him? Is he destined to run far from this home that I’ve tried in vain to make tolerable or even happy at times, taking memories of chaos and noise and pain? It is more than I can bear.
For years, I have worn a silver band engraved with “HOPE” on my right hand. I bought it at the first autism conference David and I attended. Those snake oil salesmen/vendors are nothing if not purveyors of hope, mainly of the false variety. Regardless, I have always gained a miniscule particle of strength when I’d glance at the ring on my finger.
Today I took that ring off. Right now it hurts more than it helps, because hope seems elusive, mocking me as it swoops in only to disappear when I reach for it. Oh, there are times when my eternal, cockeyed optimistic soul believes that happiness is possible: the scent of newly mown grass that transports me to childhood, Stephen’s wild dancing and laughing moments, Kerry’s enthusiasm over music, David’s constant ability to make me laugh till I cry, a perfect sentence in a book I love…
But my well of hope has run dry, for now. I’ll find a way to replenish it, but right now it’s empty. I’m afraid, I’m discouraged, I’m out of ideas.
Years ago Kerry gave me a necklace that has a charm on it: “#1 Mom.” He honored me by considering me a great mom, but I have a hard time convincing myself of it during dark periods, like now. Today I put my hope ring on that chain, and hung them both back on a hook. In sight, not packed away, but not to be worn…not while the beast snarls at the door. I’ll keep what’s precious out of harm’s way, with the vestiges of stubborn endurance I have left. We may be hanging on by a thread, but in my heart I believe the thread is made of something just strong enough to withstand the attack.
My sweet, loving, laughing aunt Joyce (“Sissie” to me and to many) died quite unexpectedly last night after a brief illness. I was there, in the room, with a host of family members. It was a heartrending yet precious thing to be there as Sissie quietly left this life.
I will miss her every day.
Even though I didn’t get to see her as often as I’d have liked, I did talk to her frequently, just to say hi. She was always my consultant when I had a sticky cooking issue or question. I’d call her up, tell her what was going on, and she always knew what to do, how to fix it.
She has been a constant fixture throughout my life. She worked at the same university my mom did, so childhood summer days spent “working” with my mom always involved a trek across campus to visit Sissie. I always felt so independent on those walks, and so comfortable visiting her office. Sissie worked in the housing office of the university – she was famous amongst a certain group of “problem children” who were never happy with their dorm room assignments. She ruled with an iron fist, and rightly so! When David and I first began dating, he went with me to a cousin’s wedding. It was his first time to meet many of my extended family. He saw Sissie from a distance, stopped short and said…”Wait…she is your AUNT????” Turns out he had met Sissie already, albeit in a very different context. That always made Sissie smile when she would remember it in later years. She knew David on sight, and immediately remembered who he had roomed with, in what dorm, and what trouble he and his roommates were.
Above all, Sissie loved her family. Her son, her daughter, her grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, her brothers and sisters, and all of us nieces and nephews. She loved unpretentiously and fully. She adored my sons, always remembered their birthdays…Kerry and Stephen’s school pictures had a place of honor on her shelf, right alongside the photos of her grandkids and great-grandkids.
She was generous with her resources in every possibly way.
Sissie was the quintessential wonderful Southern cook. Her turkey and dressing would’ve won any contest, and she made pans of it every Thanksgiving to share with anyone who just couldn’t get the knack she had of making that delicious dish (ahem). Another specialty of hers was tiny, bite-sized lemon tarts – creamy filling inside homemade pastry tarts. These always showed up at Christmas, and I have very fond memories of the HUNDREDS of tarts Sissie made for my wedding reception years ago. I can picture her now in her kitchen: barefoot, hair a bit disheveled from the steaming pots on the stove, singing to herself…
Women across the centuries have been the lifeblood of the home, the caretaker, the nurse, the comforter, the provider of meals. Today, and every day that I endeavor to become a more loving mother, daughter, cousin…every day that I look for the fun in life, that I try to laugh a little more…with every meal that I put together in my kitchen…I honor a most precious Southern lady who succeeded in these ways and countless others..
Mama and Dooley and all of your family miss you. I love you always, Sis.
I discovered that an Earth Fare store was opening in our area by accident. I was looking up retailers for the amazing, wonderful Alabama's Organic Milk (buy it if you can find it…you will never switch back) and saw “Earth Fare – Hoover…coming soon.” I had just seen this store mentioned on the 100 Days of Real Food blog and had filed it under “stores that we don’t have around here,” like Trader Joe’s. So you can imagine my happiness to find an Earth Fare that opened May 30 in Hoover. I joined their buyer’s club (free) and was able to print a coupon for a free whole chicken and a pint of fresh blueberries, to use if I spent at least $15. That wasn’t hard to do, and I walked out of the store having spent about $60 but with a lot of good deals on things I would’ve bought anyway – bulk demerara sugar, organic roma tomatoes, my beloved Alabama milk, some Earth Fare brand organic ketchup, and quite a few other staples - plus a fresh chicken and some berries. Free!
I vaguely recall trying to cook a whole chicken once, in our tiny apartment kitchen, and feeling totally overwhelmed with the task at hand. So I was a bit nervous but had already decided to make the most of the freebie and cook it in a way that went right along with my real food commitment. I used my slow cooker to make The Best Whole Chicken in a Crockpot. I got it all set up before going out to run errands last week, and when I got home, the house smelled wonderful. The chicken turned out perfect, and we had the larger breast meat portions that I “carved” (it’s a learning process) for dinner that night, the pan juices spooned over each slice. I also made some quinoa with zucchini and artichoke hearts to go alongside. So, that’s meal #1 from my Earth Fare free chicken.
I chopped up the chicken that we didn’t eat that I had “carved” (ahem) from the bird, and put it in the freezer to use for chicken enchiladas later this week. So, there’s meal #2.
That night, I took the remaining…pieces…of the chicken – the bones and such – and put them and the onions that had cooked with the chicken back into the Crockpot. I added a couple more onions, about 3 organic carrots, the rest of a package of celery, including the leaves, that I had in the refrigerator, one sprig each of my basil and rosemary plants growing on the deck, and covered all of that with water.
I turned the Crockpot on low and let it cook all night – almost 8 hours.
The gorgeous, rich scent literally woke me up the next morning…
Homemade chicken stock! Nearly effortless and so rich and golden you wouldn’t believe it.
I got this idea from the 100 Days blog – and I didn’t have an appreciation for how simple it would be, and how gratifying it was to make homemade stock.
I got 9 cups of stock, total – packed up in 1 or 2 cup portions and put in the freezer. Tonight we had vegetable soup made with the broth, and chicken enchiladas made from the rest of the chicken.
After I strained out the stock and removed the bones, I was left with very tasty vegetables and little bits of chicken. I couldn’t just throw that out. So, I chopped the veggies up in the food processor, added some water to a pot, and let it simmer. I cooked some barley in another pot and added that. Bingo. Chicken barley vegetable soup that has supplied 4 lunches. 
Meal #3.
So due to one free chicken, I got 3 meals (at least) and 9 cups of chicken stock for future recipes. Not bad.
In the last week I’ve also made a bread pudding with whiskey sauce that was simply glorious. It came from my old standby Betty Crocker cookbook, but I used whole grain raisin bread, real butter, organic eggs and cream, pure cane sugar and organic butter with the Jack Daniels for the sauce…and let me tell you that a tiny little demitasse-type dish of this pudding with a healthy dollop of whiskey sauce was just gorgeous and such a rich experience. Sooooo much better than most desserts I’ve thrown together. Again, there was a ritualistic aspect to serving these little portions, full of rich flavor and so satisfying.
I also made David a birthday cake with whole wheat flour, used coconut oil in place of vegetable oil, and made real chocolate buttercream frosting. It was a huge hit – no one would’ve guessed it had wheat flour. While I don’t plan on providing sweet desserts like this all the time, it was a delicious birthday cake, and it had none of the bad crap you get from boxed mixes and those little cans of frosting. The cake recipe is here: Whole Wheat Chocolate Cake and the icing one is here: Ghiradelli Buttercream.
I have lots more to share but I’ll stop there for now. Happy eating.
My Earth Fare post is forthcoming…in the meantime:
Yesterday afternoon I had to run an errand, and on my way home I passed a little produce market that I’ve seen a hundred times. I noticed a sign that wouldn’t have caught my attention 2 months ago. Unless you’re a local Alabamian, this won’t mean anything to you – but the sign said “Chilton County Peaches.” My car turned in to the parking lot as if under a spell and I made my way to the peaches sitting in their little baskets, soaking up the heat of the afternoon…the scent hanging in the air was sublime and I spent a lovely 5 minutes choosing just the right peaches. The lady at the register sorted through them and declared two of them “too soft” and went to the back to get two better ones. I love buying from small businesses like this. Imagine caring about your customers enough to make sure that they are getting the best you have to offer.
When I got home, I added the peaches to my now-overflowing wooden fruit bowl that sits on the corner of the kitchen counter…there are onions hanging in a net bag, garlic and tomatoes, apples, bananas… I couldn’t resist trying a peach, even though it was nearly suppertime. I stood at my sink, and took a bite of the best tasting piece of fruit I’ve had lately. I unashamedly licked my fingers, not wanting to miss even a tiny taste. I started thinking about writing about eating that peach…and just as quickly I thought, “Who wants to read about you standing over the sink eating a peach?” But that’s the thing, isn’t it? I write because I have to write. I love writing about what I’m doing, what I’m discovering, about the fact that I haven’t had a single Double Stuf Oreo in a month…and I don’t miss them. Really! Most of all, though, I feel like I’m ME when I write. I honor my passions, my interests…the things I value when I take the time to write them down.
So, this morning, dear reader, I had the most delectable breakfast. I sliced up a peach, poured a couple of tablespoons of organic cream into another bowl and frothed it up a bit with a fork, then…THEN, I drizzled that slightly thickened cream over the peach slices, the cream mingling with the peach juice. I took a bite and the taste, the scent, the texture was unlike anything I’ve ever had. I’ve always heard the phrase “peaches and cream” but never thought about actually eating it. The velvety cream wrapped around those bright saffron slices of peach…it was spectacularly good.
This is a perfect example of how learning to eat real food has changed my life. A month or so ago, I would’ve grabbed a Toaster Strudel or Pop-Tart, gulped it down with a huge glass of milk, barely tasting any of it. Now? Picking out peaches, taking them home, choosing one from my bowl, slicing it, preparing the cream…the whole process felt like a ritual, an homage to the amazing foods that are out there that I overlooked for so long.
Already, the thought of one of those “breakfast pastries” makes my stomach churn. I can’t fully explain to you what a difference this new philosophy is making, not to mention that while I’m not counting calories, I’m willing to bet that this decadent breakfast would win out health-wise over any of that junk I used to put in my body. To date, I’ve lost a little over 14 pounds eating cream and whole milk and rich cheese and real butter and fresh local produce. I feel like I’m getting away with murder!
I hope you can enjoy some lazy summer mornings, delicious meals, and for the lucky few that can get them, some Chilton County peaches.
I’m going to run out of titles soon. How many ways can you say “here’s the food we’re consuming”? “Here’s the Grub ”? Umm…no. “Fancy Fixins’”? Ewww. “Food: the Sequel”?
Let’s see. Last night we had what I thought was a very tasty and satisfying meal. And, no meat was involved! I’ve found that buying good quality meats and poultry is what drives up my grocery bill. So any time I can do a meatless meal that is still hearty and delicious, that’s a great thing.
I cooked Cheesy Vegetable Chowder and Ultimate Cheddar Bay Biscuits (click the names to see the recipes). The chowder was soooo creamy and good. It may be my new favorite soup. I diced the potatoes (Yukon golds, 5 lb. at Organic Harvest on sale, $2.99), the celery, onion and carrots the night before, and stored them in water in the refrigerator overnight. Once the vegetables were simmering, I made the cheese sauce. Using whole milk to make the roux really added so much creaminess to the soup.
Roux thickening on the left, veggies simmering on the right
After the potatoes were tender, but not mushy, the cheese sauce was mixed in.
At first I thought the chowder was a bit thin, but after settling for just a few minutes, it was velvety and just the perfect consistency.
Finished product:
The Cheddar Bay Biscuits were also a hit. Next time I’ll use salted butter (I always keep unsalted on hand because I mostly use it for baking) and I’ll watch to make sure the edges don’t overcook. This time they went just a minute or two too long. These are like the biscuits that Red Lobster serves, and I’ve traditionally used this mix to make them:
Oh, they tasted good, these little Betty Crocker biscuits. Kerry would get all excited when I’d say we were having them.
And just look at all we were getting for the low, low price of $1.49:
Enriched Flour Bleached (Wheat Flour, Niacin, Iron, Thiamin Mononitrate, Riboflavin, Folic Acid), Partially Hydrogenated Soybean And/Or Cottonseed Oil, Vegetable Oil (Palm, Palm Kernel), Leavening (Baking Soda, Sodium Aluminum Phosphate, Monocalcium Phosphate), Corn Syrup Solids, Salt, Dextrose, Garlic, Buttermilk Powder, Modified Corn Starch, Whey, Dried Cheddar Cheese (Milk, Cheese Cultures, Salt, Enzymes), Colored With (Artificial Color, Yellows 5&6), Whey Protein Concentrate, Maltodextrin, Reduced Lactose Whey, Citric Acid, Natural Flavor, Disodium Phosphate, Sugar, Garlic Powder, Onion Powder, Hydrolyzed Soy Protein, Disodium Guanylate, Disodium Inosinate. Contains Wheat, Milk And Soy Ingredients.
Gulp.
Now, I’d love to show you my beautiful pan of made-from-scratch Cheddar Bay Biscuits, made with organic wheat flour, and natural ingredients.
Except I forgot to take a picture of them.
They DID look like these, and they were savory and moist and full of flavor.
I had one small biscuit and a couple ladles full of soup, and enjoyed both tremendously, one smooth and delicious bite at a time. The biscuits are very filling and buttery and kind of heavy (as they should be in this case) so it’s not likely we’ll have these often, but when we do, we shall enjoy the heck out of ‘em.
Which is the whole point!
Otherwise, what else is going on? Well, I visited Whole Foods yesterday. Again. Second time this week. I just love being there, surrounded by all the beautiful food. I went to get just an item or two…and you know how that goes. I found a nice pinot noir on sale, so since that’s part of the Mediterranean way that was really a necessity. I got some beautiful, soft, non-grainy garlic powder that smelled SO GOOD…enough to fill my spice jar at home, $1.29. I also bought a basil plant and a rosemary plant ($2.99 each) and put them in a container on my deck. I’m planning to do a little container gardening – maybe a tomato plant, some lettuces…who knows? I also got a fresh organic demi-baguette, flavored with rosemary, $1.39, and some heirloom tomato salsa, which was my splurge item…a very small container was $3.50, but the guy who rang up my groceries was raving about it, so I think that’ll be a nice treat, to savor….perhaps I’ll slice up that baguette, toast it, add some salsa, and drizzle with olive oil. Now my mouth is watering!
So…even though our most dreaded time of the year is here (summer…which should be growled through clenched teeth) I am doing my best to stay positive and enjoy the life that’s opening in front of me. Mine!
I hope you’re enjoying the ideas and recipes I’m collecting. I hope, as I learn, that maybe you’ll find something new to try – and also, since I’m trying to include prices when I can remember them, you’ll see that you CAN eat better, even with a budget. When I found those Yukon potatoes on sale, I snapped them up – THEN found a recipe to use them with…sometimes you have to think on your feet.
A quick “programming” note: I’m considering changing the name of my blog to more accurately reflect what’s happening here. To borrow a phrase from the same Floyd song I’m using now…what do you think of “Coming Back to Life”? Let me know in comments. Thanks for reading and, happy eating!
INGREDIENTS: Corn Syrup, Sugar Liquid (Sugar Natural, Water), Water, Salt, Flavor(s) Natural & Artificial (Lactic Acid), Cellulose Gum, Preservative (Sorbic Acid, Sodium Benzoate), Sodium Hexametaphosphate, Caramel Color, Phosphoric AcidThat’s right. None of that nasty high fructose corn syrup. Just…low fructose corn syrup? And, I’m sorry, but… “hexametaphosphate”? How is that not a drain cleaner or windshield de-icer? Regardless of what it is, it sounds frightening.
Not so bad, right? The problem comes when you study the label.
Butter. Ingredient list? “Pasteurized Cream, Salt.” Yes, it has to be left out for a few minutes to be truly spreadable. This is not hard to accomplish. You set it out, you do some of the other stuff that needs doing, and when you check it again, it’s ready. It is a beautiful creamy yellow and tastes so good. It even says “milk from grassfed cows” on the package. Yes! That’s exactly the kind of REAL FOOD I’m looking for…
I used organic whole wheat pastry flour, good unsalted butter, and pure vanilla extract. I used Nestle semi-sweet morsels because I had them on hand already. And these turned out beautifully! David and Kerry thought they were great. The only drawback was that when Stephen asked for “Chis Ahoy” and I smiled brightly and brought over one of these beauties, he picked one up, sniffed it delicately, and said, “No. Chis Ahoy peas.” Ah well. 
In general, I do my best to avoid the overused, banal phrases that, to me, signal mental laziness and a poor vocabulary. However it pains me to admit it, though, some clichés are just spot-on.
“Sometimes we don’t appreciate something fully until we think there’s a chance we might lose it.”
Ugh. So trite, so hum-drum, so…absolutely true.
A routine test turns up what is 99.9% likely to be nothing, but until you know it’s nothing, you worry. Suddenly life is so heartrendingly precious you can hardly stand the intensity of your feelings. All of the annoyances, the petty problems, the minor things are so very unimportant that you can’t believe you ever gave them a second thought. Even having a severely disabled child and a host of other problems to deal with on a daily basis seems like a walk in the park. The mere mention of a problem that might affect the quality of that life – or at the very worst, take that life away – and you swear you will never, ever NOT appreciate what you have.
For this life, I am grateful. For the people who love me, who accept my love, who bring me laughter and joy and things to think about and do, I am grateful. For the sons of my heart, who grew within me and who carry a piece of me with them, I am forever grateful.
Today life is crystalline, bright, perfect and full. That is enough.
Dream, my little love.
Dream of trains that talk
of bears that eat honey and sing songs
of blue puppies, of paw prints
of every precious thing a childhood can hold.
Laugh, my little love.
Toss aside the standards of the world
for they matter so little – your world is your own…
Your happiness is the purest expression of joy that I have ever known.
Rest, my little love.
You are safe here.
You are my baby, born into a world that would not understand,
entrusted to me
for always.
We love you with depth unimaginable.
We protect you with every fiber of our being.
We celebrate you today, the day you arrived
and changed our lives for good,
for not-always-so-good,
forever.
Stephen will be 12 soon – in 13 days to be exact – and that will mean that we’ve known he has autism for almost a decade. Most years I’ve done a post to commemorate his birthday, and maybe I’ll still do that, but I felt inspired to get some thoughts out today.
Autism is still a horrible, frightening, frustrating disease, disorder, whatever. There are times when it breaks my heart and makes me feel hopeless…but not nearly as frequently as in the past. And, honestly, part of the reason is that I’m finally on a good medication that keeps me from having total freakouts on a daily basis…but there is another element. Stephen tries harder every day to learn useful words. I’ve also found him on more than one occasion lately doing his own Google searches – holding a video in one sweet, soft, babyish hand while he diligently types the name of the video with the other one. He used to always come and get one of us to do it for him.
So even with a child this affected, time brings improvements…glacially slowly, perhaps, but the overall trend is positive.
Something else has been creeping into my consciousness recently. A perspective change of sorts…having a child so very dependent upon you for every need can (and does) often feel like an overwhelming burden. It’s a hard life, nearly devoid of spontaneity and spur of the moment events…but what I’ve realized is that there is a graceful dignity that can imbue nearly every aspect of this life. We are Stephen’s caretakers. We take care of a soul who, without a caring network of family and teachers and friends, would be utterly lost. There is a sense of pride in keeping him neat and clean and as well-fed as possible. There is a peaceful feeling that comes with knowing that his hair smells of shampoo, that his clothes are clean, soft, and comfortable, that his socks are straight on his feet so the seams won’t press against his toes… He can’t tell us when small things are uncomfortable or irritating…and I’ve found honor and purpose in caring for my son…in making him smile, in hearing his laughter when his daddy blows bubbles while Stephen’s in the tub, in seeing his big brother engage him and tickle him till he laughs that precious laugh, in seeing his obvious delight when one of us understands what he’s saying.
We could do our “duty” and make sure he is appropriately fed, clothed, and sheltered. But there IS joy to be found in trying to understand him – to decipher the problems, to try to find solutions, and yes, to honor this little human person, to give as much scope as possible to a life limited by a cruel disorder. I have always known that his soul shines, his innocence untarnished…to find deeper truths in this life of ours is a blessing that I embrace thankfully.
David pointed out to me this morning that I haven’t written in a long time…also, that I tend to come to this blog as a last resort, most often when I’m fed up, in pain, mad, or in despair.
Guilty.
My writing seems to flow most easily from a place of pain. I’m not sure what that says about me. I’ve always heard that to be an artist, one has to have suffered. It seems rather fancy and pretentious to consider myself an “artist,” but since art is about creating, and I’ve created this blog…I’ll let it stand. So perhaps I’ve just taken that suffering thing too seriously.
Regardless, I want to build on a former post about Thomas and Stephen’s self-designed speech therapy. Stephen continues to love love LOVE watching various videos on YouTube. Like some autistic children David read about, Stephen doesn’t seem to be able to watch and listen simultaneously – it’s just too much to process. So, with much repetition, he will watch a video segment, then turn his head away, cocking his ear toward the speaker and listen. Watch, then listen. Watch, then listen. It can get annoying, but when you realize that he’s trying to learn, it’s a bit easier to stand it. After watching/listening, he’ll try to say whatever’s being said, or sing the song being played. It’s really precious to see.
We’ve continued to notice that he is also using the phrases appropriately in various situations during his day. “Whatever is HAPPENING?” is a popular one when he’s, well, wondering what is happening. We still hear “I can’t stop! Help! Help!” or “Oh, no, I’m in trouble!” when there’s a crisis. And this morning, a sleepy Stephen who wasn’t ready to get dressed for school declared: “Of all the beastly luck! Confound that ridiculous Colonel Hathi.” (Stephen is Shere Khan the tiger and I am Colonel Hathi the elephant in this scenario. That’s from “The Jungle Book,” for the uninitiated.)
It is no less than astounding to see this boy, so trapped and encumbered by autism, continue to find his own way to communicate. He is still a delight and a joy when he is happy – dancing through our lives with his smiles and belly laughs.
Overall, things at our house are, dare I say it, smooth at the moment. David, Kerry and I have settled into the relative peace, and as a team we are learning more about riding the waves of Stephen’s ups and downs. It helps to have each other to lean on. Kerry is as laid back as ever, calm and unruffled. David has become rather masterful at figuring out the reasons behind some of Stephen’s meltdowns. And thanks to my doctor’s help, I seem to have found a good anti-anxiety medicine, and I feel stronger and more capable of weathering those storms.
Thanks to David for giving me the nudge to write this morning. It’s good to acknowledge the bright moments, and I’ve neglected to do that at times. So, we will keep taking each day as it comes, knowing that we really can handle whatever happens.
