Such a cliché – “When it rains, it pours!” But, sometimes there is no better way to describe life.
We’ve had a lot going on lately and have had a lot of stress in our lives as a result. For the most part I’m good with stress; I can typically roll with the punches, maintain a positive attitude and keep marching forward - usually with a smile. The bottom line is that I know everything is cyclical and that this, too, shall pass. In the past month, though, amidst the rain, it began to pour in the Wilcox household and instead of singing and dancing in the rain – I’m admittedly sloshing a bit, mindfully trying to hum my way through it.
Most impactful, my mother-in-law passed away two days after Christmas. While it wasn’t a total surprise as we watched her health slowly decline over the past few years, it wasn’t necessarily “expected” either and it has been devastating on many levels.

Last year I wrote about what I refer to as our diagnosis anniversary and all of the emotions it brings with it each year for me…right around Christmastime. This year, marks 5 years since our lives changed drastically - when we entered the community caring for and serving children and individuals with ASD; our 5-year diagnosis anniversary.
Ethan doesn’t really know I have these bitter-sweet moments every December and I plan to keep it that way, at least for now…He LOVES the joys Christmas brings and I adore watching the joy unfold around him. Spending time with our extended family makes him happy from the tips of his toes to the ends of the hairs on his head. He now shops for our family members – spending his own money – and helps wrap each gift. Ethan helped prepare gifts for the teachers and administrators he adores at his school. He understands why our family celebrates with gift giving and loves to hear the story of the Three Wise Men bringing gifts from afar to the Baby Jesus. Someday maybe I’ll share with him about my conflicting emotions at this time of year, but only when he’s an adult, and only if he is able to comprehend and filter such information to benefit his life and outlook; otherwise – I’ll keep it to myself.

UPDATE 11/7/11: I JUST LEARNED THAT THE FREE VIEWING HAS BEEN EXTENDED THROUGH TOMORROW, NOVEMBER 8TH!
Enjoy, ~Leigh
Did you know that this week is Vaccine Awareness Week? Dr. Mercola and the National Vaccine Information Center have teamed up to offer free viewing of a particularly powerful film on the subject of vaccines through November 5th. THE GREATER GOOD is a film I strongly recommend to any person who chooses to be informed about vaccines, whether for yourself or for your child.
My husband and I saw the film together last spring at the Dallas International Film Festival. I feel the film makers did a marvelous job of carefully examining both “sides” of this controversial topic by speaking to experts in the field and interviewing individuals and families who have personally witnessed adverse vaccine reactions. It is a MUST SEE in my opinion.

Every now and then I appreciate a good surprise. Not a “Surprise! Happy Birthday!” with-20-of-your-closest-friends kind of surprise…I prefer more simple, organic surprises. This week I read a compelling chapter book written from the perspective of a girl with Asperger’s Syndrome. Mockingbird by Kathryn Erskine is a refreshingly well-written and powerful award-winning book that caught me by surprise, simply because I had no idea it existed.
As a children’s book author I like to stay dialed in to what is happening in the children’s literature market, especially when it pertains to a topic so near and dear to my heart, but life has been so hectic over the past year that I haven’t stayed as closely tuned-in to the market as I like. So until I came across the title (and blurb) in Ethan’s Scholastic Book Order earlier this month, I didn’t know that this tremendous book…this character…this story...were all waiting patiently out there for me to find them. I thoroughly enjoyed reading Mockingbird.

Amidst the recent earthquake, hurricane/tropical storm, and tornadoes in the USA, and after losing a family friend (see post HERE), I find myself very thankful for “simple” blessings, especially those concerning my son. While I was away to attend services for my friend’s mother, to show my support for her and her family and visit with my family in the same town, Ethan did beautifully with the unexpected changes to his routines, during the first week of school, no less! Thank God! Also, when I returned after being away for four days, Ethan was super sweet and happy to have me home. We spent time reading together in the afternoon and after lights out last night, I stayed to cuddle with him. As we were visiting in the dark, Ethan shared some worries and concerns he has about losing me (and other loved ones)…on the heels of my trip, I’m not surprised that this fear is weighing on his heart and mind. However, I’m wholeheartedly thankful that Ethan is able and willing to communicate these concerns to me.

One of my dear friends lost her mother to a long, painful battle with cancer this week. My friend has a nephew with Autism. When I asked if there was anything I could do to help the family, my friend asked for assistance helping to find someone to keep an eye on her nephew during the service. He and his family will be traveling from out of town. My sweet and thoughtful friend wants her brother and sister-in-law to be able to focus on the service even if their son feels the need to get up and explore, pace or simply move around.

The fog surrounding Frisco, Texas this morning directly mirrors the soupy sea of emotion I’ve been swimming through since I heard the news yesterday that Susan Loper, local mother of an 8-year-old boy with an Autism Spectrum Disorder, was found dead. This story is “hitting home” on so many levels. Not only was Susan raising a son with ASD the same age as my son Ethan, but her body was found within miles of our home. With that said, the “hitting home” goes so much deeper for me…
In case you missed the story in the news: Susan was abducted from Gleneagles Country Club where she worked as a fitness and Pilates instructor in neighboring Plano, Texas, early Tuesday morning. When police were notified and began to investigate, they immediately suspected foul play.

Our chocolate Lab is now 12 ½ years old. While she’s been a pretty amazing – and tremendously patient – pet for Ethan throughout the 8 years of his life, her health is declining. During a recent trip to the Vet, we discovered that our sweet girl now has a heart murmur. The vet is running some blood work to see how her other organs are doing before suggesting any potential medications.
In the past year as we’ve watched her gradually slow down, we’ve been discussing with Ethan how large dogs don’t typically live much past about 12. Thankfully death isn’t something Ethan has experienced much yet in his short life. He has lost a couple of pet hermit crabs, but he wasn’t especially attached to them. So I’ve been a little concerned about how he will take it when our one and only dog passes.
Then, a couple of weeks ago when Ethan was looking through our DVD collection for something new to watch on a Friday night, he discovered “My Dog Skip.” It was a relic of our pre-kid days and as I recalled, was a touching and endearing movie about a boy and his dog.

It's the question we have all asked ourselves and rarely are willing to talk about openly. It may haunt you while trying to fall asleep at night or it flashes across your mind like an out of control strobe light when someone cuts you off on the highway. What if today is that day?