Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

One Liner Wednesday

My son is four and very literal and impressionable. He had an outing with his Dad and after a tear fest insued. I went to see what was the matter and in his choked up sobs this is what he told me. 

Me-“what’s wrong love?”

Son-“I’m sad!

Me-“why?”

Son-“Daddy won’t take me to crazy town….,because we live there!”

*This is our response when asked where anyone is going in our house-to crazy town.* Oh my poor, misunderstood, literal, child it’s tough being four. ❤️

This has been my submission to http://lindaghill.com One liner Wednesday. Please check out her creativity and all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 💓

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Aware

I don’t know when the day was or how the feeling came to be, but I’ve always been aware that I was different. I wasn’t a shy child, I had an insatiable curiosity about life. I wanted to know about people, what made them tick, their likes and dislikes. Before I was born my Gram told my Mom I would be special. So on the day I made my arrival my Mom, Dad, and Gram were tossing around names for me. My Mom suggested Lisa, my Dad liked it but my Gram said no I will name her after a movie star I just seen in a magazine. So my fate was decided then and there. I always wanted to be an actress I knew enough about old Hollywood and the silver screen then any other five year old did. 

My friends at school didn’t know who any of my favourites were and thought I was weird since their minds were on Star Wars, Mork and Mindy, and Disney. I enjoyed these movies and tv shows too but there was a whole other wonderful world that awaited me in the movie pictures. My Mom encouraged my love of the classics in cinema and literature and  relished  each with joy. Not to many eight year olds could quote Shakespeare and discuss Charles Dickens and know what they were prattling on about.  I could though, and my Mom and Gram called me their old soul. It was a wonderful way to grow up, it was like I had a secret life that I could share with the adults I loved. 

I also seen auras around people, and at a young age I called them rainbows. I thought everyone could see them. I also had visitations from some people I knew and many I didn’t. I still remember the day I saw my friend crying over her dog that had died. I said it’s ok he’s not really gone, he’s sitting on your lap. My Mom got a phone call about that exchange and I had to pretend that my imagination got the best of me. Some friends just accepted that’s how I was without questions. My Mom protected me the best she could in my reality but in my dreams no one could. I seen things I never wanted to see, visions of things that scared me and some things that gave me happiness. 

When did I become aware of the fact I am empathic you may ask? I think it was when I was seven years old. I realized not everyone could see the “rainbows” around them or others. And a lot of people got uncomfortable around me when I discussed them. So I just learned to be quiet and not tell anyone I had a gift. It was something special I shared with my Mom, Gram, and her family. I still remember the stories my sweet Gram would tell me of her Mother’s visions. 

There was a time when my Gram was quite young and working as a housekeeper at a hotel. Her bosses loved her and doted on her. Then one night she went out of town for a dance. She had gone out on a group date as was the style back then, and her sister accompanied her. They had a fabulous time and were coming back into town since both of them had to work the next day. There was a car accident and down went the car over the side of the cliff. My Gram told me all she remembered seeing was a white light and floating. She woke up in a bed in the hotel she worked at being cared for by her bosses wife. 

My Gram came from a family of nine and all the children lived at home and worked to support the family. So her boss and his family decided they would look after her, and wouldn’t let my Great Grandma know what had happened to her. They had to avoid this because she had a very bad heart, and they were afraid that the shock would kill her. After several weeks while my Gram was being nursed back to health from a broken neck, my Great Grandma was tired of the excuses of not seeing her daughter. So she marched up to the hotel and demanded to see her. Luckily my Gram was on the mend but little did she know that her Mom knew something was wrong as she dreamt about the accident happening! 

I’ve always had the sight, the Irish eye is what my Gram called it. It was passed down from my ancestors to my Gram, to my Mom, and to me. I have relatives that have a strong psychic nature. It’s something I’ve passed down to my own children as well. And the older I get the stronger it becomes. The same thing happened to my Mom as she went from being clairvoyant to clairaudient and clairsensient. A transition that gradually happened as she had spent her whole life being connected to the spirit world. I’ve paid attention to this sixth sense, this inner knowing all my life. It’s much a part of me as my blonde hair and blue eyes. 

I’m aware that not everyone will understand it and fear me or my gift. It is human nature to fear the things we don’t know, or understand. The spirit of God always guides me to like minded people who share the gift or want to learn more about it. I always know when there’s good people and not so good people. I can feel vibrations in speech, energy patterns, and in conversation. I don’t hang out my shingle and set up shop for readings like some people do. I know when I’m guided to help someone as the energy vibration will lead me to them. 

I’m very grateful that God blessed me and my family with a psychic sense. My Mom always told me to never fear it, but not to abuse it either. She said a great responsibility comes from using the sense properly. And that’s what I teach my children as well. A gift from God is to be used to help, heal, and never to harm or hinder. So I keep my thoughts to myself even when I see or I’m aware of the outcome. It’s like a present that gets unwrapped when I need it. But I’m always watchful, careful, and aware of my surroundings as to who’s watching me. 

This has been my submission to Sunday confessions of http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her confession, the anonymous ones on her Facebook, and all the other talent who link up. Thank you for stopping by. 😊

 

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Admit

I must admit I should be sleeping as I’ve been up since the ass crack of dawn. I got up and got my kids ready for hockey, so their Dad could take them to the game. I should be sleeping but my time alone is so precious and I have so many things I want to do. Yet here I sit writing to you, and admitting my faults one by one. I stay up late continuously watching and waiting for someone who needs me. I start my days with little sleep and end them with even less. Even if I’m not needed, I admit I love the feeling of that quiet time when everyone’s sleeping.

It
‘s my precious sliver of the late night where I do things just for me. I drink wine, I sip tea, I read, write, entertain myself with Facebook. I seek out inspiration, quotes, funny memes, I write about whatever pops into my head or discover a new word prompt. I know I have no right to complain about being tired, yet I do. Is it because I like sabotaging myself or is it that me tone is just too valuable to give up? I don’t really know it could be a combination of things, I like the sound of my own voice, as I sing, and I putter around in my kitchen. I grew up with my Mom doing exactly this midnight was her golden time. I would wake up and hear her sweet voice singing and she’d be making tea. I would feel like I was missing out on something magical, so I’d stay up and watch old black and white classic movies till 4 am. Only to have to 4 hours of sleep and have to rush out the door to catch my bus for school. I may have grown up tired but I look back on those time as beautiful moments in my childhood. Magical moments that only my beloved Mama and I would share. She called me her little night owl and now I have one of my own. When he wakes up and sees me on the couch we snuggle together until he falls back to sleep. I carry him to bed and eventually crawl into my own. I know I should’ve gone to bed earlier and I’ll regret skipping sleep on purpose. I have no one to blame but my own self for my sleep deprivation. Would medication help me sleep? Perhaps but I like feeling like me, even if I’m a groggy, sleepy eyed Mombie in the morning. I know I can always catch up on sleep and I must admit that feels like a blessing. This world that I’ve carved out for myself is a secure one. I know with my youngest son’s sleep apnea, and my oldest son’s reoccurring nightmares I will always be needed at the wee hours of the morning. This is part of being a Mom, living with anxiety, and being that proverbial apple not falling from my Mom’s tree. She grew up with a very military style where she went to bed early, kept her room tidy. Her home was as neat as a pin as that’s how my Grandparents liked it. I think when my Mom grew up she began to rebel. Our home wasn’t always neat and tidy.
We had clean clothes, dishes, and food in the cupboards. We may have had to do a mad dash to clean up quickly when company was expected. But we were always happy. My Mom would help my sister and I make our lunches at night. And get us off to school in the morning and she’d be there at the end of the day to ask how was your school day. This is how I grew up and this is the Mom I am today. And I have to admit that feels pretty wonderful to be here raising and watching my boys grow into men. So if I lose sleep well it’s not the end of the world, I’ll catch up and I’ve adapted. I wasn’t much of a sleeper as a child, and now I live that daily. I will take whatever hours I can get always yearning for more, but for now this isn’t broken. My life works, I fix what’s broken, I repair what’s cracked. Whether that’s my heart or my psyche, I know each day I’m trying and I’m not perfect I’m just real and genuine. So if you’ll excuse me I admit I’m a little tired now since seeing the sunrise. I will enjoy a couple hours of slumber and wake up refreshed and ready to take on the world. 😃

This has been my Sunday confession for the lovely Ash of http://www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her confession and all the other amazing bloggers that link up. 😘

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Life with my sensitive child

Tomorrow I have a meeting and I’m feeling very nervous about it. I’m asking for help for my son. I’ve been his Mom OT (occupational therapist) for a year now. I’ve wrote about his sensory “diet” before with exercise, deep pressure massage, skin brushing, and joint compressions. I’ve recently started using essentials oils and adding in more vitamins, and Epsom salt baths. I also use PECS (picture example cards) for transitions. He knows when we’re leaving for school, choices to make after we’re home play Legos, Color, cartoons etc. He knows what we do for quiet time, read, cuddle, yoga, or IPad time. He knows when his meal, snack, and bath times are. Now this may sound very structured and read that I’m a anal retentive control freak. I assure you this is not the case, he needs to know everything about his daily life as change is his nemesis. For some people change is comfortable, adaptable, and like an elixir in life. Not to my son, with his SPD (Sensory Processing Disorder) it’s one of the most terrifying things to experience. With the traffic jam in his brain while trying to process his five senses, as well as the proprioceptive and vestibular ones, is a lot for him to take in. He gets exhausted as I can see how he struggles with a world that can be too indifferent, too loud, too bright, and too busy for him to live in. I keep him regulated as much as I can, and when I know there’s going to be a change I prepare him with social stories, plenty of positive feedback, and sensory tools like fidgets and things for him to safely chew. When we recently went away for the weekend we talked extensively about our trip beforehand. He knew we would drive there, stay at a hotel, go swimming, and watch hockey. When we arrived at the hotel my husband and our oldest son went for lunch. We decided to go swimming since we ate at the hockey game. I got our luggage upstairs and to the door and walked in. My sweet sensitive boy wouldn’t come, in he told me he was scared and stayed in the hall. I had to sit and hold him, assure him he was safe and I would protect him. As he’s very sensory he’s also highly sensitive to the spirit world and sees what others don’t. So it took me a half an hour to talk him into the room after blessing it and asking whoever was there to please go. If you’re still reading you’re probably thinking get that Mom a Xanax STAT!!! I get my son more than any other person on the planet, being empathic I feel what he sees. And sometimes I’ll see it too if I’m tuned right in. After all was settled we went for a swim and soak in the hot tub. This is just what the doctor ordered as we both felt refreshed and rejuvenated. So back to the room to shower and change and go for dinner. We walked over to McDonalds home of holy grail of chicken nuggets. The only chicken my son will eat by the way. We get our food and sit down to eat and then my son is upset. He wants to have his drink which I say after and I substitute for his water. Yes I get your typical 3 year old reaction of Noooooooo!!!! Then he just escalates from there as this McD’s doesn’t look like ours back home, why can’t he play, followed by crying and whining. As his frustration grows I’m almost packed up our food and ready to go. This time he’s in full sensory overload and the whole restaurant is there to watch the show! I’m dodging slaps, punches, and scratches, and yes I’m frustrated as well. I pick up my son and ask him to use his words and tell me how he feels. He says “I’m so scared Mommy I want to go home!” So back to the hotel we go, I held him in my arms and hugged him so tight. My heart was breaking for my sweet boy as he shared with me all the things he was scared of. Too many transitions in one day, tired, travelling, hungry, boom sensory overload was the result. So after I had him regulated and calm we watched cartoons and used my Sesame Street app called Breathe to help. Which brings me to the meeting I have tomorrow, I’m asking for help with my sons needs. It’s not easy for me to ask for assistance but yet here I am doing it. I’m scared of handing over the reins of his primary care but I’m also exhausted. I’m tired of being the Mom who’s worn out, with bags under my eyes that now are a set of luggage! I’m tired of being the only one advocating and protecting my bear cubs. I’m tired of everyone around me getting more sleep than me, and telling me I look tired!!!! One thing you NEVER $@@@%# say to a sleep deprived Mombie!!! I’m tired of staying up late after my sons naps out of sheer exhaustion. I’m tired of feeling lonely and missing feeling special, for a date night with my husband. I’m bone tired of having to sleep with one eye and one ear open, when the dreaded Obstructive sleep apnea takes over and my son wakes up scared, coughing, because he’s stopped breathing. I feel like the most impatient, misunderstood, pathetic, angry Mom. Who in my worst moments swears and yells at the my precious sons when my patient bucket is empty. Most of all I’m tired of struggling and surviving on vapors of sleep. It’s hard for me to accept some days this is my life, because I wanted to be so much for my children. So I’m asking for help for the Calvary to come in and join me on my team of no sleep or “barely enough to function sleep.” It breaks me to hear my son snoring and knowing that soon he’ll stop breathing. And I will run to him while he’s crying and alone for those moments. I feel like the oldest saddest woman, who’s only nice thing I do for myself was go see my favorite band Fleetwood Mac in concert. And it took nearly 2 years to do that, since the last concert of theirs. So that leaves me lying awake, watching my son sleeping peacefully, and praying it will continue throughout the night. And my heart lies here on my sleeve open, exposed, and bleeding, while my tears silently fall on my sons cheek.

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*Image used with permission from the wonderful http://www.bravegirlsclub.com*

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One liner Wednesday’s

I’ve watched you as you slept until the night became the dawn. Slowly watching your chest rise and fall and then I was gone. Loving you has become my all. No matter what you go through, no matter where we go. I will always be your Mama, how I love you so. ❤️

This has been my submission to One liner Wednesdays with the amazing http://LindaGHill.com. Please check out her page and all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 😘

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