Today is brighter. Whew!

I’m a logical individual but when there is regression, my emotions take hold and I’m thrown back to my personal Vietnam. I’m taken back to the time when thirty-sixty minute meltdowns occurred several times a day if:

* I would walk out of a room first.

* I got my baby girl in the morning and would be met without a smile or outstretched arms, but instead pacing or rocking, that got ugly when interrupted.

* mentioning leaving the house.

* not planting my hostas in a perfect line (when she was two…TWO).

* disturbing anything that she lined up…dining room chairs, pens, books, seeds, and the list goes on.

* going into a public restroom where the sound of flushing toilets or hand blowers were just too much.

* not being able to walk around vents or fans in any public place.

And the list goes on. Even though Ellie has come miles and miles away from that place and is doing so well, my logical self is nowhere to be found when there is regression. The heart and soul of me just can’t bear to see her in that pain and I can’t bear feeling so trapped and helpless.

The nice thing is that the regression doesn’t last and neither do my flashbacks.

It’s a high autism weekend here. I guess the sun got sick of shining. Bastard. Rigid behavior is making an appearance. When that happens, there is an expectation that I make the world perfect. We all know that is NOT possible. Ellie, however, doesn’t get that and it results in much anxiety, whining, screaming, and overall shit attitude toward anything. Including fun. When it gets to the point I have to WORK for fun, I have hit the summit just prior to jumping.

Luckily for me, I locked myself in the bathroom. To clean. How awesome for me. No matter how much I scrub, the mildew is not coming out of the grout. Fail. Oh, but while I try, I can listen to the neighbors fucking dogs bark their heads off. Why don’t I keep a stash of Vodka in here somewhere?! Fail again.

That is all. This day sucks holes. Thanks for listening.

My friend, Lizbeth, meme’d me with a Sunshine Award. This is ironic for two reasons. 1) She, and my other Autism Mama/Daddy Posse (is it still cool to use the word “Posse”?) bring a lot of rays this direction and I’m so very grateful. [End Sappy Scene]. 2) I’m a GoGo. Or a Bangle. Whichever girl group walked on Sunshine in the 80s. Yep. 2012 is the year for walkin’ on Sunshine at our house.

In the last year, since our family participated in an intense, two-week, parent training course for kids with Autism, the changes we have seen have been amazing. The most life-changing strides occurred at Christmas. I feel like Cindy Brady the year Santa granted her Christmas wish for Carol’s voice to return in time to sing. Better even.

Ellie is looking at us and smiling. SMILING. Most people remember the first smile at four or six weeks, but the one at four years was brighter than anything I’ve ever seen. She made connections with extended family. Real connections. During all previous holiday visits, Ellie was an additional layer of epidermis on my torso. It was painful to watch her pain. There was too much noise, too much unpredictable behavior from others, and dogs. The dogs were the icing on the cake of unpredictability. It was difficult to participate in the joy of the season when Ellie was anything but joyful.

This year, she joined her little cousin in playing with her wonderful, teddy bear of an uncle who loves to get down on the floor and be a big kid himself. She JOINED. She also chose to engage both Grandpas and was a true little buddy. She followed them around, showed them her favorite books, and if they thought about leaving the room, she interrogated them about the precise moment of their return. She talked to me about them as if they were the best invention in the world and forlornly told me she missed them when we returned home. SHE MISSES THEM. Oh, and she’s playing with toys. TOYS. On her own, she is initiating play.

AND. If all of that weren’t enough, for the first time in her little life, she is happy. There is true peace, harmony, and laughter exuding from this little girl where fear and anxiety previously gripped her. This is truly the year of walkin’ on sunshine. And breathing. Oh, how I’ve missed breathing.

So, part of the Sunshine Award involves answering some questions. They are, as follows:

Favorite color?
Sunshine yellow.

Favorite animal?
Those who enjoy basking in sunshine.

Favorite number?
8. That is how many letters are in “sunshine”.

Favorite drink?
Whiskey. It makes me feel warm. Like SUNSHINE.

Facebook or Twitter?
I can’t commit to either. I’m tepid on both.

My passion?
Crocheting. I’m currently making the sunshine a cowl.

Giving or getting presents?
I enjoy both equally.

Favorite day?
SUNday. Actually Friday, but did you seriously expect a different response given the topic?

Favorite flower?
Hostas, which oddly, prefer shade.