After sixteen weeks and four days, we moved back home. It took nineteen weeks and four days for the first uninterrupted night’s sleep. It’s happened twice so far, and while I’m not holding my breath, each day we’re back it seems a little easier, the boys seem a little more sure we’re home for good.

I know I’ve been gone from my blog for far too long. Getting settled again has taken time — boxes and boxes to unpack and resort. Every article of clothing we owned was whisked away after the fire and professionally cleaned. It all returned neatly pressed on hangers under plastic. I’ve had to come to grips with the fact I’ve been carting 30 pairs of jeans around for the last 15 years. Will I really ever fit back into those size 10s? Lots of purging going on, and I’m happy to say I’m down to just three pairs.

There are many things I discovered about myself over the last four months. One is that I can survive on a lot less. We have made three trips to the Salvation Army already and are still purging. I literally feel lighter as all of these things leave our house.

The boys. So much to talk about with the boys. Sam is really doing great in his typical preschool and is besotted with a boy who possesses the name of one of the Thomas and Friends engines. If this were not compelling enough, they both share a love of the trains themselves. However, the other boy is a bit of a bully and can barely tolerate Sam’s adoration. Every time I pick him up, Sam shouts as we are leaving: “Bye, Gordon! Thanks for playing with me!” while Gordon barely acknowledges Sam’s effusiveness. However, after our first parent-teacher conference, I was told that he is one of the easiest children in the class and also one of the most self-aware four-year-olds they have met. The consensus seems to be that he should be fine in kindergarten next year. We are crossing our fingers. At the same time, the county is getting ready to move Sam up to a less restrictive special ed preschool class in the next few weeks.

John is both more engaged and more autistic. There never seems to be an hour when he is not stimming with his hands, flicking them about with silly talk. According to his teacher, the biggest barrier to him learning is this stimming. It really troubles me and makes me want to try to eliminate wheat or dairy or something to see if he eases up on this. It interferes with everything, not the least of which is his interactions with us. And yet — there are moments, albeit brief, when he is engaged and laughing and just there. Actual pretend play: bringing my head down to his level and saying, “Sleeping” as he demonstrates with the cutest pretend snore.

Lots to share. Hope to be back blogging more regularly.


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