Archive for September 24, 2011

24 Sep 2011
Autism • Marriage • Parenting • real life • Special Needs

New home? My autistic daughter’s stamp of approval.

by Jennifer Dyer

As I have stated, we are moving. It is always stressful to move, but this time around has been particularly difficult because of our autistic daughter. Change is difficult for her, and there are so many considerations in finding a home that affect her. Location and the surrounding schools are only the beginning.

Over the last month we have looked at numerous homes. Each time, I kept Rachel in mind, or at least that’s what I told myself. All I saw were hazards and difficulties. That bathroom is isolated: too much potential for floods. Those hardwoods are close to the bathroom. More flood potential. That one has a pool. Yes, Rachel loves to swim and it calms her down, but she will be wanting to swim all hours of the day and night all during the year. It won’t be safe, especially with how easily she figures out things like fence locks. That one didn’t have an office with a door so hubby can work. That one had too much yard work, this one doesn’t have enough of a fence. Rachel won’t be safe. On and on…blah, blah, blah.

We were having no luck. When I looked at why, I saw that I was being stubborn. After disliking several things about our last two homes, both of which we took a loss on when we sold, I wanted something better, fancier, and with a better resale potential. I wanted an investment on the golf course that looked as though it just came out of a magazine. And those pesky things called reality and budget just wouldn’t let me have my way.

There was one house hubby kept bringing up, but I didn’t like it. It seemed like a plain, cookie cutter home with dated fixtures. A bit expensive for what it offered, at least in my opinion. Plus, it seemed like too much to clean.

But after a month of fruitless searching, I finally agreed to see it with new eyes. At first, I just looked around and saw projects that would make it more magazine worthy. I needed to change this, and this, and this…

But then Rachel walked in. Her eyes lit up as she took in the big staircase. She darted upstairs and did a big dance on the landing. She rushed from window to window, squealing with delight. She sashayed into a bedroom and took her dress off, a sure sign she felt at home. Then she ran to the potty to start flushing–checking out the plumbing is another sign she is getting comfortable. With sister and cousins in tow, she ran down the stairs and hid in the closet below the staircase. Then back upstairs to squeal some more.

The other kids loved it too. I tried to see it through their eyes. They didn’t care about the counter tops or light fixtures. All they saw was room to roam and neighborhood kids outside to play with. Places to hide, and carpet to roll on. In other words, I wanted a snooty, upgraded little magazine showplace, which we were never going to find, especially in our price range. I had lost sight of what we needed: a family home where people could gather and play and feel at home.

Silly of me, I know, but I decided to get over myself and my magazine dreams. I couldn’t afford them anyway. Even if I could, I’m not sure it would be the best place for me. Once again, God will land us in a neighborhood that will be a great place to live and get to know others.

May your house be filled with fun and laughter.

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22 Sep 2011
real life

Moving: passing on the pain…

by Jennifer Dyer

We are in the middle of a big move. It’s been difficult, especially the house part. The world of real estate is a bit ugly these days. Foreclosures abound. Industries fail and leave communities devastated. People are anxious and even desperate. I keep asking myself, “Why are we doing this now?” But it is what it is.

So, for months I worked to get our house ready to sell. I repainted almost every surface, some of them more than once. I scrubbed, refinished, filled in, caulked, resealed, cleaned, packed up and stored anything unnecessary, weeded out (both indoors and outside), and we even put in new carpet. All this to move away from the house…

Nineteen days into our house being listed, all the work paid off. We had an offer!

But…

That’s right, it was a bit ugly. The offer was close to asking price, but the price we listed the house at was already low–lower than what we had paid for the house five years ago. (And that didn’t include all the work and new upgrades we had added to the house.) The offer also came with a contingency: give us your brand new refrigerator or the offer is off. They wanted the fridge my parents had just bought us. (My husband calls it the cancer fridge because it was sort of a new beginning in the house after my brush with death.)

I was not happy about the contingency. As I said, the refrigerator represented more than just a piece of kitchen equipment. My agent conveyed this to their agent, but she said they didn’t care one bit. Give them the fridge or they walk to the next house. They will not pay you for it. You’re going to give it to them because they are doing you a favor by buying your house.

Our agent advised us to take the offer because most houses weren’t selling and, if they were, the offers were terribly low. I wanted to counter to get some compensation for my very expensive refrigerator, but we were advised to just sign. The deal continued to be negative for us from there. I think the people decided since we didn’t counter that we would give into any of their demands, which seemed numerous.

Fast forward a few weeks. We are on the other side of the table: about to close on our old house and looking at homes to buy. So, how did we handle it?

Sadly, I’m pretty sure we passed on the misery. We made an offer on a home I liked, but didn’t love. So, we offered low. A few hours later, I sat in bed, praying, and thought about the people as they looked over our offer. They had already moved on to a new phase of their life and needed to sell their home. An offer comes in and … it is not what they expected. I prayed for them. After all, whatever I think of the house, these people had made it their home for years. Yes, it is business, and property appraisal values have dropped, but I couldn’t help thinking that there should be a nicer way of doing this. The next day hubby and I talked about the condition of our hearts in making this offer. Had we gone with the old standby of passing the buck? Yup. We stuck it to the next guy because the last guy had stuck it to us. It’s as if we are a bunch of kids pushing the guy in front of us in line because some behind us shoved forward.

It took them several days to respond, and their offer reflected the spirit of ours. They didn’t move much.

I wondered… If we had come in a bit closer to them, would they have come down a bit lower because the spirit of the offer was nicer? I don’t know. It’s so hard to tell, but at least my own conscious would have been clear. Perhaps we still would have met in the middle, but without all the stress and hard feelings. Yes, there are people who make great deals in real estate. I don’t begrudge them, I just don’t have the stomach or the heart for it.

May your day be filled with passing on joy, my friends…

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07 Sep 2011
Autism • Moms • Parenting • real life • Special Needs

Why some animals eat their young and other middle-of-the-night musings while sitting in my car.

By Jennifer Dyer

Staying with someone other than your nuclear family can be stressful … for everyone. Since our relocation a few weeks ago, we have been staying with family while we wait for our last house to close and look for a new one. Most of the time, this has been quite pleasant. Last night … not so much.

Sleep and autism are words that do not often mesh. For some reason, children with autism struggle to sleep. We often have nights where Rachel is up for hours only to fall asleep right before school. Last night was one of those.

In our previous house, nights such as those were spent with Rachel in the bonus room watching TV or being allowed to yell and scream without waking big sister. Because our upstairs had carpet, we could keep the sound from traveling. Not so in this house. With wood floors and several children needing to go to school, Rachel yelling and screaming at 4 a.m. is not … convenient, especially when she wants to sleep in the room with big sister and cousin. (And the Labrador with the loudest tail wag I have ever heard.)

So, you can imagine last night. I tried everything to keep Rachel silent, but she wasn’t having any of it. The kids woke up. The dog thought it was time for breakfast and her tail thumped out a drummer beat a band would love. Rachel wouldn’t stop yelling, no matter what I tried. She wanted me to sit—not sleep—next to her, and did not want my pillow anywhere nearby. My daughter and niece were fed up, as I was. After almost an hour, several room changes, and a host of trips to the kitchen, I lost it. “Shut up! Just shut up!” I hissed. “Why won’t you just shut up?”

Shame washed over me, but it didn’t defrost my anger. I was derailing and saying things I didn’t like to say. Exhaustion, frustration with Rachel and her autism, and worry for the well-being with others pushed me to my limit.

In desperation to escape the situation and my anger, I told Rachel we were going to the car. That is how I found myself contemplating animals that eat their young while sitting outside my sister’s house in the middle of the night, hoping a police officer didn’t drive by and arrest me for loitering.

I put my head on the steering wheel and prayed out loud. I asked God to forgive me for my harsh words and that he would not let my barely-verbal child pick up those ugly words. (Words stored with a strong emotional attachment are often easier for the brain to access, which is why many children with speech problems can cuss better than they can say other words.)

After cooling off for a while (literally) in the car, Rachel and I decided to go back inside. After I got her settled, she quieted down and we went back to sleep … for about 30 minutes.

Hopefully, tonight will be different. And that is something I must cling to: hope. Hope is how I make it through every day.

May your days—and nights—be filled with hope, my friends.

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