On First Days, Hope, and Good People

And high up above or down below, When you’re too in love to let it go

But if you never try you’ll never know, Just what you’re worth

Light will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try…to fix you

Fix You, Coldplay

There are some who would say “there’s nothing to fix, they are as they are meant to be, love them for who they are”. I accept my son, fully, wholeheartedly, as he is, but I will not accept any limitations for him. So with that in mind, I will try to “fix him” until the day I die. It’s not about changing him, it’s about allowing him access to his potential. It’s about wanting so badly to know what he knows, see what he sees, love what he loves.

“The School” has been a huge part of my proposed treatment plan for Kellen. After over a year on the wait list, several small miracles occurred that led to him starting this semester, and while he’s the youngest there right now, I honestly don’t think he would have been ready for this a year ago…but now, he is SO ready.

I was extremely anxious, nervous, excited, terrified as the days ticked down to his start date. That morning I could barely function. Of course, I wanted Patrick to document the day. I expected frustration and a series of bad pictures. Meanwhile, Kellen found the process somewhat entertaining.

New Shoes

And then of course, I am the typical mother cleaning my son’s nose. No buggers on the first day!

Tristan: “Can you check my nose while you’re at it?”

And then we went to the door to head out, and I wanted to try to get a “first day picture”…you know the ones that all the other moms get. I was certain that this was going to be another one of those reality checks…another “moment” that autism would steal from me because of course he wouldn’t look at the camera and if he did he wouldn’t smile and…and then…and then he did what he does best…surprised the crap out of us. I knelt down next to him, he looked right at the camera and started smiling like crazy, leading to me crying like crazy.

Dropoff went well…I held it together until we got outside without him…then I went to Target and cried into a Starbucks while buying completely random stuff. I counted the minutes until it was time to go pick him up. I managed to distract myself by watching “Honey”. I seem to think I dance just like Jessica Alba in this movie (you know, the one time a year I go dancing now)…but I’m pretty sure that’s comparable to me saying I felt like I was running as fast as the Kenyans on TV in the last few meters of the marathon last year…

Finally it was time to pick him up! And here came my happy boy. He was tired that evening…and somehow ended up looking even MORE like his daddy while snuggling in our bed, but he was good.

Lightning McQueen cup = part of the random crap I bought at Target

The next morning brought more stress as I was going to be leaving him with his before/after school caregiver. I am so lucky to have found another autism mom who was willing to watch him and then drop off/pick up both boys together. I was so nervous that first morning, but he just went running into her house smiling. He has made it so easy, and she is an absolute blessing! I seriously pinch myself that all of this is really happening. The school is one thing, but then to find another mother who would not only watch my son but KNOWS autism…you just couldn’t write a better story.

So this week is a week of hope. Of first days that seemed so normal. And of good people making first days and hope possible.

Autism is Like a Cold

I’ve said it before several months back on this blog. It’s probably my favorite way of describing the term “autism”. Our new favorite doctor actually used the same analogy the first time we were in his office, and I knew we’d get along after that!

Saying someone has “autism” is like saying someone has a cold. There is no one cold, there are numerous viruses, bacterial infections, allergies, inflammatory conditions, etc. that lead you to say someone has a “cold”. Multiple routes to the same itchy, sniffly, stuffy misery (can you tell I really enjoyed my cold this week?) but varying levels of severity of that same misery.

And just like there is no one cold, there is no one autism. I’ve had the privilege to meet several other mothers now, along with their children, and these kids are so completely different…but yet also so the same. Our children have had any number of tests, had more experts than we can fit in a room analyze their every move, been poked and prodded…and the answers are all different, but they’re all the same. Our children have “autism”. This includes the Rainman-esque kid rocking in the corner of the room, this includes children that also have some level of cognitive-deficiency (what some refer to as mental retardation), this includes the gifted savants we often hear about, and this includes our KK…who seems to be bit of an anomaly…I’ll need a separate post to adequately describe “Kellen’s autism”…but then again, I suppose this entire blog describes it…

If you ask the medical/scientific community at large, they will tell you they have no idea how autism actually happens…but the general party line is that it’s an inborn error. They usually like to blame the maternal genes…you know, because it’s always the mom’s fault!

If you ask Jenny McCarthy, she’s 100% sure that autism is caused by vaccines and that it’s completely curable (healable, recoverable?).

If you ask me, well I’d be a crappy politician because I sure like to sit on the fence. Wait, would that make me a good politician? Because I think they’re both wrong…and that they’re both right. Ooooh, maybe I would have been a good politician.

You see, I have the precarious position to belong to both “parties”. I’m a scientist, I need facts and theories, I need experiments, I need answers. But I also fit the definition of the “warrior mom” even if Jenny and I don’t see eye-to-eye on many, many points. And here’s where I’m brutally honest, I am completely focused on Kellen’s autism…what caused it…and what’s fixable. I’ve said before that I hope to pursue an evidence-based medicine/science path with our sample set of 1-Kellen. The path that we are on will not work for everyone, some of you may whole-heartedly disagree with what I may say, what I may do, but it’s our choice. I won’t judge you for yours if you won’t judge me for mine. We all want the same for our children…we want them healthy, we want them happy, and we want them to have the absolute best chance at the life that everyone deserves.

People often ask me what I believe…and I suppose I’m qualified enough to give an opinion, but that’s all it is…so take it as you will. (and forgive me because I’m going to try to make this as un-sciencey as possible) Here are my thoughts on the most commonly implicated causes of autism…

Genetics- Yes, I do believe there’s a genetic component to autism, but it’s well proven by now that there’s no one mutation, not even one gene, not even one chromosome, that’s completely responsible for causing autism. Now multiple mutations have been shown to cause problems in the same biological pathways…different errors causing the same general malfunction. I think it’s the cumulative effect of these small changes that actually cause the symptoms that we see (and why we’re even able to diagnose autism by basic observations as opposed to a laboratory test). Many of these broken metabolic pathways can also be tied back to neurotransmitters, making it highly intriguing science. This is a path that we are pursuing with Kellen. If we can find what’s broken, can we give the body what it needs, what it’s missing? We’re chasing one theory at a time, but my gut tells me that it’s going to take a combination approach to get where we want to be. I’m less focused on the genetics as a diagnostic path and more focused on genetics as a treatment path.

Diet- No, I don’t think what we’re eating is giving our kids autism. I don’t think anything I ate (or didn’t eat) while I was pregnant caused this, I don’t think anything Kellen ate or didn’t eat caused this either. But (here I go on the fence post…) I absolutely believe that diet plays a role in autism. Why? Because I’ve seen it (back to my evidence-based plan). There are various iterations of “autism diets” ranging from the simple to the extreme. Yes, as a society, we generally eat like crap. We could all benefit from a cleaner diet. But these kids, I do in fact believe that some of the same broken pathways I described in the genetics component above cause significant issues in relation to diet. The metabolic and inflammatory pathways that are affected by the mutations cause a significant shift in what can be tolerated in their diet. When you start to look at how things like gluten (wheat) are processed by the body and look biochemically and where it fits in with the mutated/broken pathways, the big picture becomes a little clearer. So does diet cause autism? No. But does diet cause exacerbated symptoms? YES. If you don’t believe me then come over, I’ll give Kellen a cup of milk with a cupcake and let you handle the subsequent carnage. ; )

The Environment…dun-dun-dun- This is a tough one for me. It’s hard to follow my evidence-based plan when I have zero control over this. I guess I plead the 5th on this one with an answer of Maybe? Ultimately it could very well play a significant role…maybe leading to a higher number of spontaneous mutations and an overall increased inflammatory response in the population as a whole (as many have tied it into rises in asthma, allergies, etc. as well). So yes, but because there’s nothing I can do about it, then I don’t dwell on it (you like that non-committal answer?).

Bacteria, Viruses, and Fungi, Oh My!- This is a tough one for me, but it’s in fact a path I’m pursuing professionally. There is absolutely an important microbial component in autism. It’s still a very chicken-or-the-egg concept, but certainly the microbial communities (microbiomes) of these kids are significantly different from their peers. Add in the fact that we have WAY more microbial genes at work in our body than human genes and you can quickly see how the right/wrong group of bugs could help/harm an already volatile environment. I think it’s a fight worth fighting, but I think again there is not a universal approach that will work (and why many “biomed” treatments fail). Treatments need to be tailored to each individual child, and I know the biomed doctors are not running the right tests (because they’re not available yet…but we’re working on it).

Vaccines- There is no more highly polarizing topic in the autism community. First, let me tell you where I come from. I’m that person who chastised friends for not following the vaccine schedule precisely. I thought people who did not get flu shots were irresponsible. I would take any and every vaccine offered to me and my children, call it blind faith. Based on what I do everyday, I was far more terrified of the diseases the vaccines were protecting us from than I ever was of autism. But life has changed that line of thinking, and while I still believe in medicine, I’m also much more tolerant and understanding of every viewpoint. I absolutely see an immune connection to many forms of autism, and I think it's important to consider all potential contributors to prenatal and early postnatal development (which includes all of the above).

Other random proposed causal associations…** Older fathers- Nope, not us. **Anti-depressants while pregnant- Nope, not us. **Obese mothers- Um, no. ** Kids less than 18months apart- uhhhhh, yep (this one actually plays into the folate pathway that we’re currently pursuing… tracks back to a genetic component, more on this later)

My overall take? There are a lot of potentially good treatment paths out there, and we’re just at the start of our journey. I generally think the causation is flawed in many cases, usually due to the fact that people try to overgeneralize to all autism rather than stratifying into relevant and applicable populations. Again, all I care about right now is my population of 1…and this is where we stand…for now.

More on our treatment/therapy plans later…

When People Say I'm Sorry

We say "I'm sorry" for all kinds of reasons to all kinds of people. I bump into someone's grocery cart at the store (which happens a lot because I suck at driving those things): "I'm sorry." A friend tells me that someone close to them has died: "I'm so sorry." Same words, very different sentiment.

I have a lovely summer cold at the moment leaving me a grouchy, stuffy, snotty mess causing Patrick to jokingly say I was "gross" yesterday in front of Larkin. She took offense and told him to say sorry. Not finding his sarcastic "Sooorrryyy." to her satisfaction she then told him "Can you say sorry again politelier?" So begins the next generation of highly useful made-up words. : )

But sorry, back to the topic at hand.

When someone tells you less than favorable news, it’s our natural inclination as caring people to say “I’m sorry”. So the numerous times we’ve had to tell people that Kellen is autistic, well we’re commonly met with “I’m sorry”. Although many insightful people have actually said things like “I want to say I’m sorry, but that doesn’t seem like the right thing to say either.” Truth be told, it’s hard to know what to say. I don’t honestly know what I’d like you to say. Maybe just for you to feel like you don’t have to say anything? Maybe just ask “So what’s your plan now?” Hell if I know. But in the end, I don’t want you to feel bad about saying “I’m sorry”…your heart is in the right place. I just want you to know where our hearts are.

Don’t be sorry Kellen has autism. It’s autism not cancer. He’s not dying, anymore than you or I are.

Don’t be sorry because you feel like we got “less”…we didn’t. Don’t feel sorry for us at all. Remember us when you had to say “I’m sorry” any one of the many times we miscarried. There’s nothing to be sorry about here…have you met Kellen? LOL!

Don’t be sorry because our daily lives are hard…everyone has their own struggle. I see perfectly neurotypical children behaving horribly all the time. It happens. Just don’t judge, we’re all getting by the best we can.

Do be sorry that I can’t just plop my kids in the car and go shopping. But then what mother of young children does that all that well anyway, right?

Do be sorry that we can’t take some lavish vacation because every penny we have needs to go towards Kellen’s therapies/school/treatments while making sure Larkin has all she needs. But then isn’t that what the “hard years” are about anyway?

Do be sorry that we can’t be spontaneous with the kids because we need to follow our “routine”. But let’s face it, I tend to like my routine anyway ; )

Do be sorry that Kellen doesn’t talk…yet…because we are so excited to hear what he has to say when he does.

And here’s the bottom line…we’re not sorry. Would everything be easier for him, for us, if he didn’t have autism. Well, duh. But we know that removing those parts of him would inherently change who he is, who we love, who we need. I love that I can calm him when he’s in the middle of a hurricane of emotions…that no matter what wall autism may build, that I’m the one who can always bring it down. There’s a bond there that is different, that is special, that I would not trade for anything.

He makes us all a little better. Larkin has become a protective, sharing, encouraging big sister. Patrick and I have learned to just go with the flow (well he has…I’m still working on it), and we all have a greater appreciation for the little things…a little song, a little smile, a little funny wave, a Smurf flying into the toilet, a sloping bathtub used as a slide, 2 cats + 1 dog + 2 kids in a game of never-ending giggling chase around the first floor.
Our lives are never boring…and never will be…and for that, I am not sorry.

Why.

Why.
Not a question. A statement (I think).

Not “Oh God, why me?” or all the other various ways of phrasing that particular sentiment.

Simply…”why.”

I have some pretty amazing friends that are there when I need them…even when I forget to call, or email back, or facebook back, or …um, yep, so turns out I generally suck as a friend, but the ones that tolerate me are pretty freaking awesome ; )

Anyway, as I was saying…among those friends are a few that when they get to talking (and when I say talking then obviously that means talking while drinking) find themselves saying it for me…”why did this have to happen to us? Hadn’t we suffered enough? After everything, how did we deserve this?” I love them for thinking it, I love them more for saying it. Let’s face it, we’ve thought it. How could we not? But I’ve chosen (and fought with myself) to not allow myself those thoughts for more than a brief moment.

Why do I choose not to let myself wander (run) down that self-pitying path? Because when you start to ask “why?”, the answer seems to come a little too easily. I have multiple friends, from very different stages of my life, who truly knew/know very different iterations of me, who all say the same thing… that it can’t have been coincidence. They believe that I was purposely given an autistic child…that there was a reason…that I was meant to go down this road…because I would change the road for those behind me.

Why me? Because what if this is what will make my life matter…what if this is my purpose…

First let me say that there are many stay at home mothers of autistic children who do a damn good job of researching and understanding highly complex material related to genetics, biochemistry, immunology, etc. without having spent years in college classrooms attempting to learn it. I’ve definitely learned a thing or two from these moms myself.

But why me? Here is this complex disease that spans genetic mutations, broken metabolic pathways, immunologic responses, altered microbiomes, etc…And guess what...this is what I've been trained to do. This is what all my favorite people in the offices/labs around me have been trained to do, too. If I was searching for a purpose, well here it is slapping me in the face.

Why? Why me? Why the hell not me?
Most of you know my general hate for the "Everything happens for a reason" line...but holy crap, what if everything happens for a reason...sure makes all of this a lot easier to swallow.

So I'm taking a different approach. All of the above is my "why."
Because I can.
Because he can.
Because we will.

One last thought. When we were first diagnosed, much of what I read was firmly rooted in the "why God why?" line of thought. One piece that has always stuck with me was that they recommended we “mourn the child we dreamed of”. Huh? I call bullshit. I only mourn for the time I wasted reading that crap. He's not less, he's different. He doesn't make me want to mourn anything except that I wish everyone else understood him as well as I am beginning to.
He feels strongly, he loves unconditionally, and he laughs infectiously.
I don't have time to mourn...I'm too busy being in awe of him...and planning the future for all of us.

Trust

Things are changing. I personally feel myself regressing emotionally because I feel the weight of it all bearing down on me so quickly. But change isn't always bad, and if this perfect storm continues to come together, we will all be so much better for it...but we obviously will have a few growing pains along the way.

I go through phases of complete and utter overwhelmedness (did I just create that word?). Thankfully those periods are broken up by what I like to call my "well-adjusted" phases. I need to focus on more of those, even if it's a "fake it till you make it" deal I make with myself on bad days.
In the end, I learned that it all seems to boil down to trust...and faith.

The Man
Patrick made a job change...scratch that, not a job change, a career change. Gone is the soccer coach/teacher and in his place is a white collar corporate instructor. I like the corporate man. So far he's happier, he dresses prettier, and he's home in the evenings. When we get to August and he's home with us every weekend, it's really going to blow our minds. The change scared the crap out of me. But I had to trust him...trust that this would be a positive move for him, trust that this would be good for all of us, trust that this was the path we were meant to be on.

The Girl
Larkin changed schools. I've trusted the same place with my children since they were born, but due to a long story on their poor communication/consideration with Kellen, we were presented with an opportunity to make a change for her. We could get her into an accredited preK with more structure and more educational opportunities. We even took her with us to tour, got her opinion, and she transitioned seamlessly. I had to trust these people to care for her the way I would. I had to trust that she had the strength to make such a big change. And she did...the report on her first day was that she had already taken over the class. I go in there, barely 3 weeks later, and she has new friends hugging her, running to her, flocking to that magnetic energy that she can't help but exude. People joke that she's my mini-me...but this is all Larkin...she has the confidence that I never had growing up.

The Boy
I've slowly realized that our interactions have changed. It's subtle, but it's slowly accumulated into a very different mother-son relationship. I trust him. Some of it was forced, Patrick telling me to let him do things like walk independently from the car to the front door. But the rest has been gradual...trusting that if I tell him to stop, he'll stop. Trusting that if I go into another part of the house that he'll keep playing and just find me if he needs me. Trusting that he won't hop the gate at the top of the stairs, or climb up his chest of drawers, or play in the toilet...at least no more likely than the average 3-year old. I've even seen healthy fear...of heat, of stairs, of water too deep. It's all so....normal. So I find myself developing a more trustful and natural interaction with him than I ever expected this young. Mind you, his tattle-tale sister helps along the trust front, but still...it's a positive change.

The Doctor
This needs a complete series of posts, maybe even a dissertation, but the short story is that we've begun to work with a new doctor. He's a pediatrician, but he has a special interest in autism. I met him as a scientist, and so we've been able to have our discussions at a different level. I think I was sold during our first office visit, when he got down on the floor with Kellen, and Kellen went to sit in his lap. We're embarking on a completely new path with him. I continue with my ideal of pursuing evidence-based medicine in my n = 1 study. We had some theories...and we've had some data come back recently that suggest he fits the "autism mold" we were looking to find. I'm terrified, I'm excited, and I have to trust that this will be worth it...and I have to have faith that this could and will matter...and maybe even matter to more than just our KK.

The School
I find myself writing a lot of big checks lately. Again, this is something that will deserve it's own line of blog posts, but to summarize, we're moving Kellen to a full-time ABA program (an "autism school") in the fall. For those out of the loop, this is the big leagues, the "throw everything at them all day long sink or swim" mentality. The general idea is that the younger they are, the more rapid progress they can make. We've been on the wait list for over a year...and now we've been given a start date. We have such high hopes...so much so that it sends me into a panic just thinking about starting. And then the financial bill attached to that hope is enough to send you puking in the toilet.

Me
Well you see this is where it all starts to fall apart...because none of this will work without trust in myself. Trust that I won't literally fall apart the first time that Patrick has to take an overseas work trip. Trust that I won't throw it all out the window (drugs, supplements, therapy?) the first time Kellen has a setback. Trust that I can continue to function effectively in the sea of constant change. Trust that all the hard moments won't keep me from seeing (and appreciating) all the amazingly wonderful awe-inspiring moments.

Trust and faith...that we are right where we are supposed to be...and that it will all be worth it in the end.

My European Tour, Part IV: Back to Paris and Coming Home

I easily made my way back to Paris, but when I arrived it was pouring. After I soaked myself trying to find the Metro, I got smart and took a cab. The good news about the drenching rain is that it seemed to somehow "wash" Paris. It smelled less, looked less dirty. This was also helped by the arrival of much cooler weather that evening that persisted over the rest of my stay.

I finally got to meet up with everyone, and we headed straight over to Musee d'Orsay. Again, a beautiful museum, and I was very excited to see some of my favorite pieces from Monet, Renoir, Van Gogh, and Degas. Apparently you can't take pictures in there but I managed to sneak a few.

We walked back over the Seine toward the hotel and found this supercool bridge...all the locks had couples' names on them. I wish I had gone back and put a lock with our name on it! Totally random, but I thought it was pretty cool.

Then I saw these superhuge flowers and knew I had to take a picture of them for Larkin. 

That night I learned we were right down the street from "The Opera"...as in the operahouse from Phantom of the Opera...that was pretty awesome.

I also got the to FaceTime with the kids that night and found myself getting really emotional. So much so that Larkin proceeded to try to wipe my tears from the iPhone screen. Kellen even gave me a few huge smiles, but thankfully did not seem at all concerned about me being in the phone instead of there. I am so grateful for that. I needed to see them happy and doing well.

Then the next morning while I was getting ready for the conference, my FaceTime rings again...this would be past midnight Texas time. It's Patrick...I answer and he says "Did you know Wal-Mart had wifi?" So we proceed to chat via FaceTime, me fresh from the shower with no make-up and he sleep-deprived and looking for what the kids need since they were coming home the next morning. That man is completely lost without me and I love him for it. I missed him so, so that call really helped me get through the next few days.

And then it was time to work. The meeting was great. All went well work-wise. The best part of the conference was that in place of our usual lunch fare of either cold sandwiches or fish/chicken of the day we were served hot French food with cute little salads, awesome mini desserts, and more importantly WINE...in the middle of the day!

The wine however caused the need for a mid-day coffee run...to where else? Starbucks! LOL! You know I can't stay away! The funniest part is that the coffee was about the same price there in Euros as it is here in US$...meaning my $5 coffee was more like my $7 coffee....OOPS!

The first day of the conference also marked the death of my curling iron. It had been hanging on through the European voltage, but finally succumbed an hour before I was to report to the meeting (and before I had finished my hair!). I am now the proud owner of a European hair straightener (let me know if anyone needs to borrow it! LOL!).
The second morning of the conference, I got up early to visit Notre Dame. It was absolutely beautiful. I sat through a short French mass, and then took a few pictures.

I also lit a candle for my family...for our Kellen. That's his candle in the middle in the picture below.

The rest of the trip was a whirlwind. I managed to run us into some accidental shopping while looking for the Starbucks and found the rest of my souvenirs. I even accidentally kicked around the soccer ball with French kids in the plaza in front of our conference center (the Palais Brongniart). I became very confident with my navigation of the Metro, too. We had a pretty awesome gala dinner, too. Let's just say the French start with champagne and appetizers, then feed you a long drawn out dinner with wine freely flowing, then personally invite you (table to table, no microphone announcement) to join them for after dinner drinks and dessert (this would be second dessert). Then there was the after-after party...a good time was had by all...and much Starbucks, water, and Aleve was consumed the next day ; )

Our last day there I was literally counting down the minutes. The best part was seeing an autism study on the "big screen" that proved exactly what I (and so many autism mothers) already knew. Antibiotic treatment can induce severe negative behavior changes in children with autism...please refer to my prior post Regression and a Confession. And it just helped to push me in the right direction...the doctors didn't know. But I knew...without anyone ever telling me, I knew when I saw it, and then the mothers told me...and then my own science told me. The right people have been talking to me all along, and it was time for me to start listening. I need to start trusting my instincts...and trusting the mothers that have forged their own path without waiting for doctors or published science to catch up. But that's a post for another time (and there will be oh so many).
I was lucky enough to have FaceTime one more time with the kids that night. Larkin was excited (Patrick seemed pretty excited, too), but not only did KK give me big smiles, he stole the phone out of Patrick's hand and put it right up to his face. At one point, I'm pretty sure he was trying to feed the phone, but he was definitely trying to kiss and trying to see me as closely as possible...I loved it!
We barely slept that night and were up at 4am to get ourselves together and wait for the shuttle. I had packed my fancy European straightener, so I decided to try our Jennifer's "curly hair stuff" (titled Foxy Hair) to see what it would do with my temperamentally wavy hair. Not much was going on as it dried, so it ended up in a bun by the time we got to the airport. Once we made it through the various levels of security, I took it down...to see some seriously foxy hair. Remember that episode of Friends where Monica's hair kept getting bigger? That was me...sadly no pictures were taken (thank goodness!).

Our plane ended up being about an hour late for takeoff...during which I had the breakfast of champions = latte , chocolate croissant, with a chardonnay chaser! The breakfast of all nervous fliers! LOL! I managed to get on the plane without too much stress, but did shed a tear when we took off....I had never been more ready to get home to my family. Flight was ok, we watched Breaking Dawn which was a good 2 hour distraction. Then I took a little nap (yay me!), then read for awhile, then started freaking out as we hit some bumpiness getting closer to Houston! The descent felt like a roller coaster, and the group of high school kids on our flight proceeded to throw their hands in the air everytime we hit a bump and say "Wooooaaaahhh!" LOL! Then after a less than ideal landing, they broke out into applause.

I'll  never forget stepping off that airplane. The heat, the humidity...I was HOME! I could feel my European dried skin instantly moisturizing...could feel my chapped lips plumping up again. I'm a Texas-grown girl, and my soul said...you are HOME! Then I couldn't get through customs fast enough!

Suffice to say, I had an amazing reunion with everyone. The kids were great. They were excited to see me, but didn't seem at all traumatized that I had been gone. I had never been so grateful to have 50 questions coming from one while the other was pulling me off for something he needed...all while Patrick proceeded to fall asleep in my lap whenever I was sitting still. My life was back...and crazy as it was...I missed it terribly.

Jet lag was fun, my first time, but not too terrible. Less than 48 hours after I landed, I had to do a 5K race...and while I contemplated taking the timing tag off my shoe due to fear of embarrassment, I managed to post a PR with a time of 26:07! I think I've been training all wrong, and I must add French wine and Belgian beer to my marathon training plan next year ; )

So ends my European adventure. I'm glad I went, it was an experience I needed, and made me appreciative of all that I have...and even all that we have ahead of us.

My European Tour, Part III: Brussels!

While the beginning of this story is fairly dramatic (I know, you're shocked right?), this is by far, my favorite, favorite, favorite reason for having gone to Europe! I had been dreading (and constantly thinking of ways to get out of) this trip until a few months ago, one of my closest (which is funny because she's my farthest friend distancewise!) friends Jenn said they might be moving to Brussels. I admit, I encouraged her. I knew she could totally handle it, the kids would thrive, and they would all be better for the experience...I like to live vicariously through other people ; ) So, when her move was a done deal, it was my turn to commit to my trip and book a train trip to Brussels!

It seemed relatively simple. I just had to get to the north train station in Paris, take the "fast train" to Brussels, and then take one local train to their "suburb" Hoeilaart (or something like that...believe me it doesn't sound anything like it's spelled!). I studied the metro in Paris, figured out what I was doing, and was SO PROUD to have found Gare du Nord (the north train station) with zero problems!

When you get in the train station, you learn that there's big board that's constantly updating that will tell you which platform to go to about 15 minutes before your train departs. I really felt like I was going to Hogwart's at this point. I was so excited that I even took a picture of the fast train : )

Turns out that wasn't my train...I kept hearing announcements about my train number, but none were in English...then I saw the word "Retarde" pop up next to my train number....WTF! I have the only train that is freaking late. I start to panic. My train finally gets there, I board no problem, but I quickly realize I'm going to miss my connection train in Brussels. Then they tell us the wifi is out on the train...crap!

Before I get to drama, let me say that the fast train is super cool, but I did feel like we were going to crash at any moment...the turns are serious LOL! The best part is that it made me feel like I was on Alias...gosh I miss that show!

We get to Brussels, and I try to figure out where the eff I am...and quickly realize I have no idea and none of the signs are in English. I wait in line for the one information desk girl and of course learn that I've missed my train. I try to call Jenn...and realize now that I don't have her new number. I also come to the conclusion that I'm not sure these information people are telling me to get on the right train because the platform they pointed me to says nothing about Hoeilaart. Not to mention I'm stuck there for an hour...cue complete emotional meltdown while on the phone to Patrick.

Short version "I hate Europe" "Why can't everyone just speak English?" "I want to go home."

I'm surprised I didn't start chanting USA in the middle of the train station.

Patrick was cool as could be...everything is fine, I'm sure Jenn will call you when she sees you're not there, don't worry...blah, blah, blah. Apparently he was not as calm as he pretended to be!

Luckily, my "little bit of Kellen" made me count all of the stop names that were before Hoeilaart, so not only did I know the entire sequence, I also knew that we were theoretically the 9th stop. When I got on the train, I learned they do NOT call out the stops, so panic again! But a very nice older man said he was going to a stop past there and would gladly tell me when to get off. Turns out it was the 9th stop, so I would have theoretically been ok, but he did a lot to calm my nerves (plus obviously he spoke English).

This led to me being a little more calm when I finally talked to Jenn (who at that point was trying to sound calming but only made me realize how freaked out they all were when I heard how hard she was trying "I WILL BE THERE TO GET YOU, DON'T WORRY!". Thankfully Adam (her husband) called next, and well he's always calm, so that helped me not to freak out.

When I finally got there, I exited the train at basically a pile of dirt that served as a train station, panicked momentarily, and then once the train passed, I saw the head of bleached blonde that I love so dearly! I exited the ghetto train stop and got into Jenn's very nice rental car which held a glass of wine in the cupholder....few people know me as well as she does!

I made it to their house, and while reintroducing myself to the two children I have bathed, read stories to, and comforted after a fall more times than I can count, Adam proceeded to take my glass, refill it, and put it back in my hand without me even realizing. LOL!

We had such a great night catching up, playing with the kids, awesome food, champagne, wine. Jenn even made me try caviar for the first time...um, not a fan. But it was the best because I got to try it with the kids. Again, I saw Gwen when she was born in the hospital, and not only did I see Cole when he was born, we even stayed the night with Gwen when they had to go to the hospital to have Cole. These kids were my kids before I even knew I wanted kids...and they were my surrogate kids when we were trying oh so hard to have them....they really kept me going during such a difficult time.

So it was awesome to see their little personalities...not much had changed LOL! Larkin is just like Gwen was at 4, so it was fun to see what I'm in for. Cole needs his own TV show he's so hilarious.

Anyway, we forced ourselves to go to bed, and I was so excited to get Gwen's room...I'm pretty sure you could fit 2 of my Paris hotel rooms in her room. Had a terrific night's sleep, and got up and got ready eagerly as I could hear the kids rumbling around.

After a yummy breakfast (I had better croissants in Belgium than France! and my coffee came with Bailey's in it), Jenn and I headed out into Brussels. Allow me to take an aside for a moment...Jenn is a terrible driver. I am not really prone to motion sickness, but get in the car with her for too long, and anyone would be. We'd literally hold on when we got in the car with her, and I don't think Patrick ever succeeded in being a passenger in her car. Knowing this, the idea of having her drive me around in a foreign country was a bit scary...and I was right to be scared LOL! We survived though, and made it to my new favorite grocery store in the world...Rob!

Rob is awesome because they have supercool stuff, and their upstairs has grass carpet with cow covered chairs...yep. But what was more awesome was the hot chocolate you made by swirling a block of chocolate into hot milk.

Then we made our way into central Brussels, into what I think was called the Grand Palace? I don't know, but it was freaking beautiful. It was SO charming, and I loved it so much more than Paris.

That might have something to do with the fact that every other store front was a chocolate shop that looked like this...

We did A LOT of shopping...which really, that's what Jenn and I are good at...shopping for random crap...but there's not a Target in downtown Brussels so it was toy stores and candy shops ; )

Then we decided we were hungry, and when I say hungry, I mean thirsty. We stopped at an awesome place, sat upstairs, and I had the best Croque Hawaiian, which was like a grilled cheese with ham and pineapple on the best bread ever. I also learned that in Belgium, they only give you your beer in a glass made for that beer. Something about this made me super happy! Affligem Brune was pretty badass.

We did more shopping which included Jenn trying to cross a street while traffic was coming, screaming, and then running back out of the street...none of this shocked me as I'm pretty sure we did this in Texas regularly. Then I decided I had to pee, which translated into us being "thirsty" again...I will never get used to paying for a freaking toilet! But the wine was good ; )

Then it started raining, which didn't phase us one bit, but made us put our hoods on. We of course could not pass us taking a picture of this restaurant for Patrick.

The whole trip through downtown, we're trying to make our way to seeing the "peeing kid". I confess, I expected a large statue of a child peeing in the middle of the fountain...I was a little underimpressed by 1) how small it was and 2) that it was covered up in St. Patrick's Day clothes...but by this point I was having my first Belgian waffle and didn't care.

And then...it happened. The one thing I was lacking on my trip...I saw a real live ROBO (again, see  Eurotrip for the reference!)!!! My European experience was now complete! This would have been awesome, except when I sent this picture to Patrick, he realized that I had on my arm a set of beer glasses which were obviously for him so he wrote back "Don't break my glasses on the plane!" and totally ruined the surprise LOL!

We finally made our way home where the kids were eagerly waiting for their new playmate. I then made the cardinal sin of wearing socks on stairs and went flying around the corner of this... to which Gwen remarked "Wow, you were going really fast" and "You went really far" and I remarked "Owww" and "I'm ok"...and then Jenn handed me a Limoncello with champagne and all was ok...

And then we had these for dessert and everything was really okay....along with this bread that had apples and infused liquor and oh my God, Jenn, send me a loaf of that bread in the mail!!!

We stayed up and talked and drank and then in true Jenn form, she fell asleep mid-conversation. I went up to bed, talked to Patrick for a bit (this time difference was still so weird for us), and had a terrific night's sleep. Woke up early the next  morning to spend more time with the kids. While we were hanging around that morning, I also got to experience the best of Belgian satellite TV...which at that point in time was Nigerian Idol...LOL!

Now, this pond behind us was absolutely gorgeous, except that it's home to some very horny frogs. I witnessed frogs copulating and huge disgusting masses of frog eggs. As a scientist, it was super interesting...as a mother, I would totally have freaked trying to explain that to kids..LOL! The frog plague may be coming to Brussels, I mean Hoeilaart, I mean Jenn's house!

I hated leaving...absolutely hated it. Jenn and Adam had made me feel so at home in this ridiculously foreign place. The kids were amazing, made me so proud that I was there when they were babies, and helped quell that ache in my heart I had from being away from my own kids that week. I dreaded going back to Paris, and I hated the fact that these guys were going to be an ocean away from us for the next couple of years...I vowed to come back! And we will. While Patrick hated Paris, he's never been to Brussels and I know he would love it. We never go anywhere, but the kids are getting older, and they adore staying with Nina and Papa, so if we set aside a little vacation money, I think this would be awesome...we need it, and I can't think of a better place to head to.  We've always said we'd visit them, and it's crazy that of the 3 places they've lived since Texas, BELGIUM is the only house I've made it to...LOL! Well we just might be there twice!

Suffice to say, I boarded my train back to Paris with no problem. I shed a few tears as I pulled away, but I knew work was waiting for me...which will be continued in the next and last post...