Rubber Band Therapy {a guest post - Arianne/To Think is to Create}

{While I am off enjoying my family, y'all get the pleasure of enjoying fan-tabulous writing from some of my favorite bloggers. Aren't you lucky?!! You're welcome. Enjoy! And be sure to give them some comment lovin'}

My three boys, two of which have autism, inspire and invigorate pretty much everything I do. From my rants to my raves, their essence is sprinkled throughout my soul like sand in your toes after a really rockin' beach day. Their struggles, their successes, all of it makes me love deeper and richer each day. I love my boys for who they are and who they are struggling to become, and I love God for wisely knowing that they were the perfect children for this mama to have. What a gift! What blessings.

As my second son (3yo) struggles more than his big brother as of late, I'm trying to relish in the good days as they come, and live in the moment as much as possible. Sometimes a day might not be all that extremely bad, but my sweet boy will be miserably unhappy all day for no apparent reason. Other days we see severe tantrums that last an hour or more, where he seems almost possessed and not at all my sweet boy, and the "aftermath" will be some of the most touching bonding time we ever share. It's a roller coaster, to say the least, and it means that I am constantly trying to keep one step ahead and pre-empt any bumps I foresee in his path.

He requires (and demands) a rigid way of living, where everything is done just so (a feat which is impossible to actually accomplish, by the way), and often my husband and I feel like we are juggling and dancing and playing those one-man-band machines (a-la Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins), just to keep things running smoothly. I've noticed lately that this habit of routine and rigidness sometimes bleeds into my own life and my own wants. I find myself getting bent out of shape at the small stuff at home, when in truth it's actually my moment to be free from all that. I may have to put on the dog and pony show for the kids, but for myself, my kids and my God, I can just relax and be me. I cannot forget this.

A week ago, after a particularly difficult and upsetting tantrum (for us and for my son), I noticed he had grown quiet in the other room. We were at my mom's house and he had silently walked into their home office. I peeked in and saw that he had pushed the desk chair over to window and climbed into it. There he sat just staring out the window. Looking for someone? Watching the wind? I had no idea, and when I asked him what he was up to I (unsurprisingly) got no response. I walked back into the other room and sat down, happy that at least the storm had passed and he seemed somewhat content now. I cried my own quiet tears for his inability to control his own emotions and the fact that he had no way of just being the happy guy I knew he wanted to be. I prayed for him, that he would at least know that I love him through these raging moments, and that he could feel the peace I knew resided somewhere within him, no matter how dormant or how deep.

Not two minutes after my prayer, my son came walking into the room where I was sitting. He walked up to me and stuck out his arm to show me a rubber band he had put on his wrist. It was snug, and he said, "It's my special bracelet. It will help me when I get really sad, like today". I died right then and there of cute overload, and when I came-to he pulled a rubber band out of his pocket and put it on my wrist. I said, "what's this?" and he said "It's your special bracelet to help you remember that sometimes I get sad, but it's ok, I'll get better". Of course then I died again, and since then I still have not taken that rubber band off my wrist. I look at it and it reminds me that I need to stretch and be flexible, and remember that all will ok. He will get better.

Read more of Arianne at To Think Is To Create