We are almost there. Tree up...check. Gifts bought....almost check. Cookies made....check. Bedroom painted....check. Yeah, we are that ridiculous. What normal human being, in their right mind, does a home improvement project during the week of Christmas? And not even on a room anyone ever really sees! Rob and I need our heads checked. Seriously.

I'm almost hesitant to blog about how well things have been going here. Evan is done with school until January. He had his Christmas program on Friday. I went, he saw me and he stayed on the altar! A lot better than last year. Except that he had a wardrobe malfunction that left him looking at his unbuttoned pants and grabbing himself for a good 90 seconds before one of the teachers rushed in to help him out. HILARIOUS! Ahhh, memories. Someday, when he is 16, I will show the girl that he likes the video and mortify him. Is that mean?

Eric has been doing awesome. I can't even begin to write about how great he is doing. In the last month, we went to see our "special doctor" and they started him on sublingual B-12--something I have been asking for from day one. We thought it would make him crazy, but it hasn't. He's been doing really well on it. So well, we were able to up his dose. B12 can help some kids on the spectrum with speaking delays. Only time will tell.

This is a portion of an email I sent to the woman that conducted Eric's sensory therapy (light/sound) back in August.

Last March Eric was unbearable. I love my boys to the deepest part of my core, but it was definitely one of the roughest patches that we have weathered. He was out there. Noncompliant. Difficult. Crazy. Sensory-overloaded. He was hitting. Crying. An emotional mess. Usually we can pinpoint a rhyme or reason, but we couldn't. There are always catalysts, but this was different. It was really just awful.

Since we did the therapy in August, he has changed. Initially, things got worse, but nowhere near last March. I'm a reasonable person and know that with Eric things aren't easy. There's no magic bullet. No simple pill that will make everything semi-normal. I had four goals for the therapy--he stop hitting, he stop holding his ears so much in loud, uncomfortable places, he stop sucking his finger and he just feel better about who he is. My goal was Christmas. I said by December we should start to see the fruits of our labor...and we have! He hasn't hit anyone in I don't know how long. He holds his ears on occasion, but can easily be redirected. We were in the grocery store and out to dinner this weekend and it dawned on me, that he wasn't holding his ears! He did quit sucking his finger for about a month, but it's back. But, that is a typical behavior. Something A LOT of parents have to deal with. I'm good with that. Normal, everyday parenting issues are a blessing to me.

He is calmer. He uses his trampoline more. He makes better eye contact. He is MUCH easier redirected when wanting something. He seems to understand more. Better receptive language.

I wouldn't change the core of who Eric is. He is the most lovable, wonderful, sweet, gentle giant anyone could ever hope to meet. He can't tell me, but he can show me that he is more comfortable. He doesn't seem like he wants to crawl out of his skin most every day. He seems content with where he is at any given moment.

If he got nothing else from the therapy, nothing that I could see or quantify, I wanted him to be more comfortable. More able to handle the everyday sensory stressors of life. And he is. He's doing it beautifully and with grace.

Eric has always been a delight, even in the darkest moments, but now he delights in his abilities like everyone around him.

That is truly the best Christmas gift I could have gotten. My son is understanding more. Interacting more. We still have a long road and steep climb ahead, but we are slowly getting there.

This year has been amazing. I would be remiss if I didn't say that I'm a little reluctant to head into 2010. I feel like the universe has paid us back ten-fold some of the obstacles that we have all faced and I'm afraid that it is our turn to pay again. Here's hoping I am wrong and that the next year holds even more wonderful, unimaginable miracles.