You Can't Bull Sh*t a Bull Shi**er.

Words of wisdom brought to you by my father, Monty Steele.  It's that time again.  The time of year when I can look back and say that these upcoming two weeks, two years ago, were the most difficult span of time I have ever encountered.  They were really long and really short at the same time.  I watched my dad's vitality and will and mind be sucked away from him...and though I miss him, I don't think about that part too often, thankfully.  But just this being September, and waking up to take the kids to school, I smell it in the air, and I feel it when it cools off in the evening.  I'm taken back to that time.  And it's bittersweet.
I have to admit that my father has left me with some pearls of wisdom that I use daily.  The title of this post, for one.  I remember the first time he said that to me.  I was a teen, and I was trying to get out of trouble without lying, and without telling the whole truth--you know, softening the edges and whatnot.  But he saw through it.  And that's what he said to me.  I also remember how I rolled my eyes, and thought to myself that surely there was a better way to let me know he saw beyond my story.  And did he really have to "back woods it up" like that? I mean, really.  
He had a lot of those embarrassing sayings.  Stuff that may not have made any sense, or maybe too much...but it's all in my brain, and it's the first thing I think of when the situation seems somewhat familiar.  I feel bad that I never realized how much those things that I used to despise would mean to me, when he was gone.  How despite all my book learnin' and whatnot, (which, in being honest, there wasn't much),  the words of my dad are still the ones that come to mind, first. 

Anyway, the title of this post is basically targeted at Sydney.  Like they all seem to be, lately.  As you are all now aware, Syd has been attending her "special classes" weekly.  There are about six other little kids in there, with her.  They range from lower functioning autism to high functioning aspergers, and then there are those that haven't been diagnosed, like Sydney.  I've told you my reasoning for that.  My sister in law, Shauna, has told me for a long time that she is quite sure Jeff has aspergers, and I trust her judgement, because Jeff has always been different, and it's been an ordeal to figure him out.  (And I'm bat-crap crazy, so he has his hands full, too).  Shauna has done a lot of research on this, and with her son, Andy, having autism, she's made herself very educated on the topic.  I've honestly tried to do the same with Syd.  She's made leaps and bounds, but there are still some social aspects that sometimes worry me.  Honestly, what parent doesn't worry? 
So I've tried to have more patience with her.  I've tried to be lenient, and understanding.  Syd won't pick up her toys because "she doesn't understand what I'm asking".  Syd doesn't try her dinner because she's "special" and the texture is too weird for her.  Syd doesn't follow most of my orders because "they are too complicated and I need to make them more understandable".  
The thing is, before all these classes, I was a lot harder on her.  And I know that I was expecting too much.  But then I went fully the other way.  Like, "Be free, Syd!  Do whatever you want and let your "specialness" light your way. 
So she began taking advantage.  I kept telling myself, that I needed more patience, and to let her learn at her own pace and blah, blah, blah.  But really, I was a complete sucker.  And she totally played me.  

The other day she was a nightmare.  Honestly.  A beautiful nightmare that I wanted to put in the garage and accidentally forget about.  Hey, I would have given her some apple juice and put a fan in there, too.  I'm not a monster.  
I was done with her.  It was dinner time, and I made sausage tortellini...and she usually loves it.  As long as you call it chicken.  Anyway, she fought me tooth and nail, and didn't want to eat it--she goes back to being this basic feral kid when she doesn't want to do something.  Jeff was with me, and after some loud clashing of wills, I asked him to take her to her room.  She knew Jeff was going to make a shake, so that really put her out, as she was ready to guzzle her part of it.  I'm pretty sure that's why she didn't want to eat.  
This was the first time we'd done this with Sydney.  Normally, she knows that she will get what she wants, or not get what she doesn't want, or be left to her own devices.  But with Riley and Cole, I remember doing this quite often.  The struggle to get them to eat something not gummy or chocolate.  The fights over bedtime.  Syd had never had to deal with that, because she's "special".  Anyway, that's what she made me think.  After we showed her we were seriously not going to give her any shake if she didn't eat, she was shoveling those babies down.  And she was sweet and loving, and letting us know what a "good girl" she was, while giving Jeff, me, Riley, and Cole high fives and bones after each bite.  Every now and then she'd throw in an "Oh yeah!" and an "I so awesome!"   

And this weekend we've put her into her toddler bed...something that I feared would be the end of a sound sleep.  But after one night, she will get into bed, play for a bit, and then drift off.  Not coming out at all.  She gets it.  She totally got it before, and I didn't give her the chance to show me or any discipline because I had really convinced myself that some things were WAY too advanced.  She has BSed me all this time.  I thought I was the smart one...but she's had me figured out for months.  I'm learning.  She's growing, and she's smart.  And though I thought she was way behind socially, Sydney knows how to play people.  If she's interested, she'll let you know.  If you have something that she wants, she'll find a way to get it.  Sometimes it turns out that the thing you keep wanting more than anything, continually praying for, is right in front of you.  And it's not until you're willing to really go with your gut, that you see those miracles are happening.  I've come back to my early opinion of my youngest daughter.  She's a big time brat.  Who knew I'd be so grateful for that? 
When my dad was dying, the day that he lost all mental recognition, was awful.  He was scared, and angry, and couldn't communicate, and he was lost.  I still get emotional thinking about it, because I honestly can't imagine anything worse happening to someone.  But I called Jeff, and asked him to bring Syd to say goodbye.  It went against rational thought, but I strongly felt she needed to come over.  Jeff brought her, and I took her over to my dad as he lay in the Hospice bed in the center of the living room.  As soon as Dad saw her, he was cognizant, he said, "Hey, hey little girl!".  Those were the first audible words he'd said that day.  I'd been there since 8:00 am, and it was about 2:00 pm at that time.  He was with us for about twenty minutes, cooing and talking to Syd, fully knowing who she was, and able to say goodbye.  There's something about her.  Something great.  And any parent will tell you the same about each one of their children.  There's a light that is theirs, personally, that makes you a better person.  That after you see and feel it, you can't imagine being without.  Regardless of how many scares they give you, or how hard you've got to work to get them where they need to be, somehow they let you know it's all worth it.  That not an ounce of the love and sacrifice you give for each and every one of them, is wasted.  

 Even if they know that they can play you like a cheap violin, every. single. time.  
A happy week to all of you.