Tap, tap, tap. ... Is this thing on? Hello? Anyone there?
I'm so sorry I'm so late to post. I was due a couple of weeks ago. I had it in my mind every day: Tonight I will blog. Then I curled up in bed with a book instead. But I'm back to this autism cum sleep-celebration-blog with some pretty joyous words: May 7th. Three Months. All night. Every night. So I hope you'll understand my little blog-vacation because even though you'd think I'd have lots of new energy -- and I do -- I've also re-discovered the joys of curling up with a good book before bed and of waking up early and lounging in bed until I hear the stirrings of my little ones. It has been glorious, if not rejuvenating. You see, when I look in the mirror I see the evidence of those 7.5 years of exhaustion. When I regard myself frankly I see the truth of what we have endured etched forever on the face looking back at me. And so, I thought, as I abandoned this blog for another night: it's ok. Go ahead. Rest. It has been a long time coming.
Maybe this post means I'm back. We'll see.
So what can I tell you? Since I last posted Sami has learned to read. Just words so far but he is beyond excited and I don't think it will be long until he is reading independently. Oliver is also doing well but about a step and a half behind his brother. What keeps me going is the look of pleasure on his face when we sit down to work each day. I just pray that the winds continue to blow in our favor.
The arrival of spring at our house means that a great deal of time is spent on the bikes and in the garden -- two things I'm sure I'll be posting more about. Oliver and Sami simply take my breath away when I watch them on the bikes. Often, when we are biking around town, drivers will slow down to pass us and I will note their broad smiles and thumbs up. I know that they are mostly taking note of Sami -- the improbably small, newly-minted five year old, riding like he was born on the bike. But what they would never guess is that Oliver is hands-down the most amazing kid I know and a downright miracle on the bike. I've watched, for example, as Oliver looks ahead to obstacles in his path and changes course to avoid them. I've been amazed by how seamlessly he reads our gestures and hand signals to navigate. To see him riding is to see a boy with no limitations, the boy of my heart's eye.