And so this is Christmas.. and what have you done... another year over..

Another year over.  Almost.  I am not certain what to write, which is why I mostly have not written.  My last update was in April, in a sleep deprived fog.  We have nights now that we sleep.  Sometimes several nights in a row. T here are nights too when sleep remains not more than three or four hours. It's hard.  Michael has been making tremendous progress this year, often speaking in full sentences.  He's not even four, so that is good. At the same time.. you see children of two years old speaking at the same level as he does and you want to scream.  Why can't you do that?  Why won't you still not poop on the potty.  For goodness sake, let's just get this over with.
But it won't be over with anytime soon. Perhaps never.  The worst part I think is the fact that all those inspirations stories don't really inspire me.  That wonderful little movie about the boy with down syndrome who gets his acceptance letter for Clemson?  Yes.. it made me cry to see his joy.  Then it made me cry again because I do not want to get Michael into some sort of "Live" program. I want him to study analytical engineering and be hired by BMW to develop their new line solar engery operated sportscar.  Or something of that nature.  I want him to become a blacksmith who travels around to Ren Fair events and makes pewter cast jewelry that people snap up.  I want him to become USC's new history professor with an incredible memory for the details of the Korean Wars...  I want him to have friends, a marriage.. a normal life with extra ordinary details, even though we may need to fight harder for it.
I am not encouraged by people who say that 'these kids' are 2/3 of the emotional age of their peers, so they hope their daughter, who is now 14 will be able to get maybe an associates degree possibly and be living out of the house when she is 30.  I am not inspired by stories of the boy in Australia who wins math contests.. but is minimally verbal.
I want stories like: Andrew had a tough time.  It took him several years into Highschool to get around socially.  Academically things went fine after we manged to get his speech under control with several years of speech therapy but now.. he's 25, graduated college (or finished hair dressing school for all I care) and is now enjoying his first vacation off his busy job  Can you believe he went climbing all by himself? But that's Andrew, he always liked his piece and quiet.

And I want to know that Michael will be like that. That he will have challanges and that they will be overcome.  That he will fit in, like a different coloured puzzle piece that still makes the whole more complete. I want to stop changing diapers.  I want to stop the extra work. I want to stop feeling guilty if I want to zone out with the computer or some knitting because I should be engaging him.  I want someone to come down here and tell me it will all go well, that he will learn to read, study and that I can get off this insane mill of worries and work.

Maybe this blog should be called the three am chronicles.  I am figuring out that that is the only time I may have to write.  And, sitting on a chair in front of Michael's room..there is not much else I can do.  See..one of the more gruelling aspects, I have found, is that children with autism often (very often) have sleep problems. As usual there are many theories as to why, no real answers, and above all... no quick solutions.  During the day, you try to offer constant attention and interaction to your child, ABA therapy, lots of love, everything to the point of worrying if you are short changing your other child.  In the mean time, you also cook everything from scratch and avoid the microwave, because a natural, grain free, starch free, sugar free, soy and corn free and dye free diet is best for your child.  And then at night, you often end up awake for several hours because something, either external (a bird, a storm, a gust of the aircondition) or internal (who knows what)woke up your son, and getting back to sleep takes literally hours.  Hours that you have to sit perched on a chair in front of his room, because if not... he will slap open that door and start wandering around he house, waking everyone else up as well.

t three am, with a meeting at 8 am, for which I need to be alert and for one also looking well (photographs will be taken), it is hard to think of positive things right now.  But they are there.  Michael did  make his first peepee in the potty today, leading me to believe that this may just be my last year of changing his diapers.  He is speaking  more and more.  He loves to play with me, with his dad, with his brother... At just three, he knows all the letters of the alphabet and can recognize them.  And I love him.  I love him so much.
But at 3 am, I am not feeling like celebrating victories.  I want to go to sleep.  I want to look well and professional tomorrow.  I want to have my brain available, not lost in a fog of sleep deprivation.  I work twelve hours a week.  Most weeks, eight or more of these hours are worked from home, several even after both boys are off to bed.  The few times I do actually work with people, I do not want to be a zombie. 
At three years old, you should be past the sleep deprivation that you expect the first year or so with a new baby.  It seems somehow as if the baby phase is extended: difficulty communicating, no self control, difficulty sleeping...  I want to go to the next phase.  
Michael is so full of potential, so full of life, and love, and gifts.  I look forward to seeing him develop, and I pray for the strength to give him all he needs.  I also pray for sleep.  Particularly on nights like this, where -with tears in my eyes- I am seeing the minutes tick by and am reverse calculating how much sleep I can expect.  At the moment I am estimating three hours...