Having children is a rocket ride that will cost you everything, and still give you more in return.

It probably goes without saying that when I wrote my last post, I was discouraged and worn thin. There are times when this parenting journey leaves me so depleted and isolated, filled with exhaustion and worry and more than a little self pity. Most of the time, when I feel that way, I’ll write something and file it away. Nobody wants to read that, I tell myself. You’ll make people feel awkward and they won’t know what to say. 

Maybe I did make people feel awkward. Maybe they didn’t know what to say. 

Maybe they loved me anyway, and maybe it was worth it. It definitely was for me. 

Writing is my pressure relief valve, and it’s how I make sense of my world when emotions get jumbled up and things are overwhelming. I have no doubt it will save me many times in the years to come, and I’m grateful to those of you who read it, even on the days when it’s disjointed or depressing or downright bewildering.

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With that said, I had to share a few wonderful things that happened last week. I knew they were coming – they had to be coming – and the universe came through and kicked down the can of joy.

My children did a jigsaw puzzle together. If you’ve spent any time around Owen Willis, you know he is the Destroyer of Puzzles, Stacks, and All Composed Things. It’s a perfectly two-year-old role to play, and one he performs with gusto and glee, every chance he gets. Since Owen gave up naps, Tim has barely gotten to do any puzzles, because he never has ten minutes to tackle one while baby brother is distracted. But when Tim asked for a puzzle the other night, I decided to give it a shot. As he happily sorted his pieces and I wrestled with his thrashing brother, something amazing happened. Owen stopped struggling with me and started watching Tim. I picked up a piece and set it down next to its intended spot. “Owen, do you want to try?” He placed it perfectly. He’s never had any interest in jigsaw puzzles, and he did it perfectly. Before I knew it, all four of us were doing the puzzle – Reed and I pulling the intuitive pieces for Owen and chaperoning, while Owen and Tim excitedly built it. It was priceless. 

We took the boys to their first movie in the theater – and it was a huge success. We were looking for fun new activities for Tim’s birthday last weekend, and we decided to roll the dice on a matinee showing of Coco (which was completely fantastic, by the way!). Tim hesitated to walk into the theater; the previews had already started, and they were loud. I coaxed him a few steps into the room, and suddenly, a dog barked on the screen. I thought it was over right then and there. (Tim is sensitive to the sound of dogs barking, and often freezes and covers his ears when he sees one, in case it barks.) I hugged him and guided him to the side of the aisle as he covered his ears. And then somehow, for some reason, he let me coax him to a seat. He covered his ears for about 75% of the movie – but insisted he didn’t want to leave. And the second the credits began playing, and the lights came up, he turned to us both and asked, “Watch it again?” 

After three months of being in love with the Happy Birthday song and blowing out candles for “pretend birthdays,” Tim had not one, but two birthday cakes and sets of candles on his birthday. We did just a big, festive slice from the bakery at home (waiting on the big construction-themed cake for his party next weekend), and then his Uma baked a cake with him, letting him pick flavors and frosting and candles. Every photo from those moments, every video, is just pure joy coming off him in waves and wiggles. Seeing him so happy sends all of us to Cloud 9. It was a beautiful day.

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Like I said the other day, the highs are so high. Small joys blossom into elation, gratitude, and hope all the time. It’s a rollercoaster ride filled with ups and downs and sudden left turns. My mother’s heart is on the upswing again these past several days, and not a moment too soon, as we prepare to start the IEP process for the first time. 

Thank you for being a part of our journey, especially on the days that I don’t come to the keyboard with good news. I appreciate it more than you know.