The A Child

Picking a Direction

2011-01-14T21:37:00.002-05:00

Most people would view being multi-talented as a blessing. Having the interest and ability would be even better. I have both in a variety of areas. Luckily, one tends to feed another. I love reading, baking, cooking, writing and gardening. And I love to read about all those things as well. Yes, I like to read about reading. Don't judge me.

Here is the problem. I am also good at all of those things. I read a wide variety of topics, authors and genres. A lot of my conversations start with, "I was just reading about …". I am an excellent baker. I can bake anything: cookies, bars, pies, cakes, tarts, etc. If you can name it, dream about it, or salivate over it generally I have already or would be able to make it for you. Cooking is another thing that combines ability and interest. Yes, I read cookbooks just for the heck of it. Again, don't judge me. I've cooked Indian, Moroccan, Japanese, Italian, Greek, Scottish and British. Give me a cookbook and some basic ingredients and generally I can create a satisfying meal. Gardening is my outdoor expression of art. It calms me, grounds me and fascinates me. I love growing food too. It is extremely gratifying to cook with ingredients from your own backyard. If I could just get around those chicken by-laws I'd be set. My gardens are woodsy, structured, zany and beautiful. Sort of describes me on a good hair day.

Now writing is cropping up. I've always been known for writing a good letter. They've been referred to as "Liz Letters" when the receiver has ticked me off. English has always been a good subject for me. I find words fascinating and with my little reading habit have developed a pretty good vocabulary. One drawback is that it makes me very judgmental of those with limited ability to express themselves or their ideas. I went and married a person with dyslexia and went on to have a son with dyslexia. How's that for divine intervetion ? What they've taught me is to be more patient and allow people to communicate in their own way and time. This has been a very good thing as Martha would say. I once worked for a college where the Educational Director used the word "irregardless" on a regular basis regardless of the fact that it's not a word. Now to give credit where credit is due, I used to use that word until my brother pointed out it wasn't a word. It was immediately banished from my lexicon. I have to tell you that it took every fiber of my being not to correct that Director every time we spoke.

But I digress. My issues with poor grammar, spelling errors and under developed vocabularies are another story for another time. And lots of therapy. It tends to distract me from whatever direction I am heading in. As my husband will tell, this is not a challenging thing to do. Apparently having multiple interests can also translate into having a hard time focusing during a conversation. With so many things to discuss and discourse about, why stick to one topic when you can maniacally jump from one topic to another ? Why indeed.

In describing my abilities, I don't mean to brag. Anyone who knows me well enough will immediately confirm that I am certifiably insecure about my ability to do anything. Surely anyone can bake, cook, read, garden and write just as well as I do or better ? I have been assured by people, outside of my very biased family, that my talents are somewhat unique. That my level of interest in the variety of subjects which influence my abilities is also somewhat unique. This puzzles me. How do people stay occupied if they are only interested in one thing ? Don't they get bored ?

The point of this little story is in the title. Picking a direction. How does one who possesses more than one talent, ability or interest pick a direction in life ? How is it possible to become masterful in anything when you are pulled in so many directions ? It's like being a magpie in a forest of shiny things. Each opportunity looks more interesting and new than the last. I guess I can be thankful that I will never be bored. Maybe I can take a step back and be grateful that I will always have the ability to feed my family, have many interesting topics to discuss, write terrific letters and add beauty to the planet. Maybe the only direction I need to go in is forward.

Gives Me Hope

2011-01-07T09:59:00.002-05:00

Well....

I've just lucked into the greatest little blog. Matt is an Aspie like my boy. Matt also likes to cartoon, just like my boy. Matt is an adult Aspie that has managed to build himself a pretty decent life, be comfortable with himself and appears to be a well rounded guy. This gives me hope. My boy is hyper-creative. Plasticene, Kinects, Lego, Cartooning, Claymation - you name it, he can create in it. I've bought more books, videos, clay, plasticene to support my boy's habit than I care to admit. HOWEVER, I've yet to find a social group that I can sign my boy up for so that he can find other people who love to do what he does - until Matt.

You give me hope Matt. Hope that my boy will find his way. Hope that he may someday make a living out what he loves to do. Hope that he will continue to grow and learn and appreciate his uniqueness like I try to.

Thank you Matt for your story. I've sent your book to my son's teacher to provide her with another resource to help my son understand himself and hopefully help others to understand him better. THANK YOU !!!

You Take Me

2010-09-14T23:09:00.001-04:00

Far away adventures. Tasty treats to be created. Loving relationships to build and nurture. Philosophies to learn and incorporate into my life. Animals to raise, love and eat. You take me to these places. These places of change, development and growth. These places of empowerment, decisions and control. You take me there.

A beautiful flower gently swaying on a summer's breeze. The butterfly skittering around on it's erratic dance of air. Snow falling gently with the promise of snowmen and days off work. Moonshine peeking through the clouds and tree tops reflecting the sun to us in the darkness. You take me to these places. These places of warmth and light and calm. These places of color, serenity and daydreams. You take me there.

A chubby little hand that clings to mine after the first sweet breath is taken. Pigtails and buzz cuts that leap and play with the joyful abandon of childhood. Text books, computers and teachers all full of fact and fiction. These places of learning, believing and youth. You take me to these places. These places of memory, innocence and naiveté. You take me there.

A white dress gliding down the aisle festooned with ribbon and lace. The small red brick house with a picket fence and garden. Fights won and lost. Friends made and set adrift. Love blinding us to the changes in family as we age and grow and change. You take me to these places. These places of living and dying and moving on. These places of me and you and we. You take me there.

My eyes allow me to see. My brain allows me to remember. Together they take me to these places. Together they make up what has been my life. Together they take me there.

Putting It Out There

2010-08-31T23:18:00.002-04:00

Well ....

Now the damn font won't change no matter what I do ???

Have you ever realized how much information is out there about you ? Strange. I just clicked on a link on someone else's blog and saw myself set up on the site. Do you think I remember joining that site or how to get back into it ?? Not on your life. Have no idea. It's gets me to wondering how many other damn things I've put my name on and forgotten about. How much of me is floating out there in cyberspace ? Has anyone invented a clean up tool which will find all the sites, emails and other crap you've signed up for but don't remember ? Now that would be a useful invention.

Needless to say, I seem to be over my earlier predilection for self pity and have moved on to blogging again. Having looked at the clock and realizing I have to get up in 6 hours to work out, I will make the effort to rest my brain and think up more titilating tales for another time.

Ta.

It's Been A Long Time

2010-08-31T23:08:00.003-04:00

Well....

That damn font still hasn't fixed itself. Maybe it's sulking as I've been away.

I got tired of writing and nobody looking. Maybe the draw of a crowd is buried in my subconcious. Or maybe I'm just a raging narcisist ? Eh - who knows ?

Either way - things have been busy. Crazy busy as my husband would say. Another year of school and Guiding has passed. Both went reasonably well. Husband got laid off again. Shocking I know ! Husband got new job and got laid off again. More shocks heard round the world. My world at least. Kids got bullied in school. I yelled at the school. They did nothing. The gasps of shock continue to suck oxygen out of the room.

Overall it actually was a good year. As we gear up for another kick at the can, I am excited. My boy is getting into Self Contained education. My girl is going to be taught how to stand up for herself and kick the crap out of whomever chooses to bully her this year. The husband is heading back to school as well and should have the golden ticket by January. And me ? I'll still be sitting here writing to no one. Now that shouldn't shock anyone....

Not Quite an Old Dog Yet …

2009-10-20T22:35:00.001-04:00

Well…

It seems I have a few things to learn about Word. Especially this new version of Word. I have been wondering for a while if there is a way to blog and save it easier than I have been doing and wouldn't you know it ? Bill Gates was thinking the same thing.

I guess this relatively young dog has some new tricks to learn after all.

And In The End

2009-09-10T10:11:00.003-04:00

Well...

Hah - got the font before it got me.

So I finally watched "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button". Films like this are usually ones I stay away from. As I am a fairly serious person by nature, in that I worry and stress, etc., I like to laugh instead of think more. If I'm going to commit 1 1/2 hours of my life to a screen of some sort, I don't want it to be wasted. In this case, it was almost 3 hours. The last movie I watched that was this long was "The Last Temptation of Christ". The only reason I saw that was you got to see Jesus' butt. Plus I was 17 and didn't know any better. Having been completely disrespectful with that comment, I did enjoy the movie and still find the message quite moving.

Back to Benjamin and his buttons. It was actually very good. Surprisingly so for me. However, it did make me think which is something I try to avoid in my off time. It made me wonder about what we value in life. It made me realize that we go out of this world exactly as we come into it. At least if all goes according to plan. Short of a car crash or some type of disease taking us out prematurely, we hope to die in our beds peacefully. At least I hope to. What I got out this movie is that life is about experiences regardless of our age. It is about loving completely and taking some chances on that love. It is about being true to ourselves and recognizing that we make our life as exciting or as boring as we decide. Life is not about stuff and status. It is not about not living the life we think we should. It is about living the best we can the way we need to.

I often shy away from experiences that require use of talent. I often question people's sanity if they admire something I've made or a creative suggestion I come up with. Why is my idea so great ? If I thought of it then someone else would have come up with it surely ? That is not the type of life I want to lead. I want to live a life that is full of creativity and pride. While Jane Austen may have eschewed the sin of pride, I think it's one we should learn to embrace. I have a right to be proud of my cakes. I have a right to be proud of my gardens. I have a right to be proud that I can write creatively. These are not common skills. These are not things that all people can do or do them well. I have a right to own those talents and live my life being proud of that.

Life is too short to let talent go to waste. Whether you come into this life a wrinkly 90 year old baby or end this life as a shining new born, it's what you do in the middle that matters. Live your life being proud of who you are and what you can do. Be proud of the fact that you can love and be loved. Show the world that you are meant to be here and have a place to stand tall. And in the end, know that you have lived your life as you could. Proudly.

Has the Time come ?

2009-07-23T10:30:00.002-04:00

Well ....

Funnily enough I have been reading a book by Gene Simmons. Now I am one to read various authors and genres but Gene Simmons has never hit my radar. I saw the book in the library and wondered about picking it up. Also funnily enough, I left it alone but my husband picked it up. Now he is not a reader and his only genres are golf and millwright books.

So far this book has made me feel like an underachiever. I said to my husband this morning - I don't need confirmation that I don't work hard enough. I'm already aware. Gene Simmons is a a working crazy man. He has been since he was a little boy. I don't know that I'm willing to work that hard to get stuff. I don't really like stuff. I like experiences. Trips, museums, etc. I would however like to get rid of my second hand furniture so maybe some stuff wouldn't be bad.

My husband once again pointed out that I am not reading a book that will "improve" me. Not that he thinks I need improving but he does believe I should use my ability to read to do more for my life. This conversation did make me realize one thing - I don't want to read about how to write. I think I have a fairly good idea how to do that. What I need is someone to read my stuff and tell me if I should do anything with it ? Is there a genre for my type of writing that I could make money through ? Sort of like Carrie Bradshaw but without the vibrators.

So that is my next step. I think the time has come to attend some writing workshops, courses, etc. and see if I have what it takes to do something with this "talent" of mine.

I Wouldn't Know What To Say ...

2009-04-26T22:33:00.003-04:00

Well....

Ugh - this font issue is going to give me gray hairs. Oh look - it already has. Amazing.

My lizard is apparently focused on some intensely fascinating piece of I don't know what in his tank. He is stretched out straight up over his climbing wood and hasn't moved in a while. Maybe he has found his happy place. Mine is still Bora Bora ...

So after another game of catch up and get knocked back, I've decided I need to kick up this writing thing and make it happen. Are you not familiar with that game ? Let me enlighten you. This is the game where the gods of chance drop some money in your path. This can be a lucky lottery ticket, a generous relative, or in my case retroactive child tax benefits. Now as mentioned in blogs past, we are perpetually tight for money. Quite recently it was a huge decision if I could afford to buy shampoo. You get the idea. Well in this game, the gods drop this lovely bit of extra money in your path and then you sit and wait. What are you waiting for you ask ? Well the other shoe of course ! Because in this game is the whammy clause. Any money dropped in your path during times of lean income shall not be used for pleasure to help you deal with said lean times. Oh no - that would be against the rule of being perpetually tight for cash. When the money drops, so does the shoe and WHAMMY - something breaks. In my case, my computer is having anxiety attacks and the disk drive is apparently on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Thank God for my son's Cub leader who is also an IT and works for cookies and tea. Thank God I can bake like a demon with their tail on fire.

Needless to say, this has spurned me on to doing something about earning extra cash. Since I'm only down five pounds on my eating changes (aka diet - yeah for me !), swinging a pole is not an option. Plus I blush like crazy and get all goose pimply if it's breezy. Given what you wear when swinging a pole, I can guarantee this wouldn't generate much cash for me.

So I must do something. The question is, what do I talk about ? Who do I send my pearls of wisdom too ? What lord of the printing press must I dazzle with my humorous verbosity ? Well, I'm going to find out. Hopefully before both my computer and myself suffer from total breakdowns and lose the catch up get knocked back game by spending all our loot on a trip to somewhere warm. Bora Bora sounds nice ....

I Need to See a Boy About Some Clay ...

2009-04-20T23:36:00.003-04:00

Well...

Have to get one shot in about my boy. He has gone loco in the cabasa over Lego and clay. If you are reading this via my Facebook page, have a look at his creations. This boy was recently given my brother's set of Lego from 1976. He recreated every image on the box with no instructions. EVERYTHING. And correctly I might add. He just has to be given a picture and he can recreate it. He has done just about the entire Simpson's cast out of plasticine with the most minutiae of detail. And this boy has what they call Fine Motor Visual Integration issues ! Bascially his brain is not supposed to be able to tell his hands what to do. Well apparently his brain has finally decided to start doing something right and his hands are going like mad things !

If anyone has any ideas about how we can parlay this into a career, I am all ears. Anyone work for Disney, Pixar or any other place like that ? Have I got a future claymation specialist for you !

What's A Woman To Do ?

2009-04-20T23:18:00.002-04:00

Well..

Lately this blog has turned more into a venue for personal reflection than about my A Child but I have stuff on him too. Right now it's about me.

Do you ever wonder what it would feel like to go through a mid-life crisis ? I'm not sure what freaks me out more. The thought of having the crisis or accepting that I'm approaching middle age. I mean 40 would essentially be middle age and that is only next year so I'm not too far off the mark.

Lately I have been wondering what can I do to change my life ? I don't mean dramatically although if the 649 happened to pay out I wouldn't say no to a new house. What I mean is, how can I make it better ? Not just for me but my family. I've been throwing around career ideas mainly. The rest of my life I like. I am creative and have an outlet for that with my cakes and garden. I am contemplative and have an outlet for that with my books and friends. I tend to be more of a chief than indian and I have an outlet for that with Guides. Thank God for 9-11 year olds who still listen and a team that tolerates me !

I have many facets of my personality that I have outlets for except for work. I am trapped in plebian jobs that lead essentially no where. I don't tend to climb ladders or get promoted. I tend to buck the system and remain a staunchly independent thinker which does not usually fit well in the corporate mould. Right now I am in what is possibly the best job I've ever had. I work for Girl Guides of Canada and I love it. I love working for a company that I can share the same values and goals with. I love working with people who share ideas and creative processes. I love that we are challenged to think outside the box. I love that we are valued as people for the support we provide to Guiders and girls. I love knowing that I am part of an organization which has delivered quality program and activities for close to 100 years. That is mind blowing. 100 years !

What I don't love is the money. It is becoming about the money for me. I need to find a way to be true to myself but make more money. I cannot sell out. I cannot stand up for a product or service that I don't believe in. It destroys me when I try. This job lifts me up and I can hold my head high. What it's not lifting is my income bracket.

Hence my dilemma. Do I sacrifice this amazing opportunity to help provide fantastic program to girls in a world gone image and consumer crazy ? Do I give up on working for the greater good and go for the greater paycheque ? Isn't there a way to have both ? I am frozen in indecision. I am caught between the ideals I can live with and the money I can't live on. When my husband gets back on his feet, these thoughts may abate. He will make fantastic money once he gets his ticket. I can't wait! However, it gets me to thinking - maybe I need to find a ticket. Maybe I need to find a way to do both. Is there a way to keep my job that I love and make the money I need to live on ?

Maybe the challenge is for me to believe in myself as much as I believe in my job. Maybe the challenge is to know that I am capable of more. Maybe the challenge is to take a chance on something I've been trying to do for a long time but have been afraid. Maybe it's time to give this writing thing a shot in the real world and not just cyberspace. Maybe - but what's a woman to do ?

I Sometimes Wonder

2009-04-12T23:26:00.004-04:00

Well....

I still can't seem to get that font thing right. Oh well, one can't be skilled in all things.

I sometimes wonder about the lives we lead. Are they meant to be for us or somehow have we stumbled into someone else's reality ? I look back on my life and think, "Really? This is what I have accomplished ? Hmmm, how disappointing." I've often thought I was meant to be doing much more with my life. I have done a lot. I have done exciting things. I have been extremely fortunate to have the kids I've always wanted to have. I have been extraordinarily fortunate to have a husband who accepts me the way I am. As one friend recently pointed out, I am a colossal bitch. His laughter could be heard through the phone from quite a distance when I said, "Of course and I'm good with that". But now I wonder, am I really ?

Is being a colossal bitch really worth not getting ahead ? Is being a colossal bitch really helping me to accomplish anything worthwhile ? I sometimes wonder how much being who I am holds me back from being who I could be. I sometimes wonder if remaining true to myself is really worth all the effort. Is being honest and hardworking what I need to be happy ? Could I live a life that I had stolen from someone else ? I sometimes wonder if I could.

I wonder what it would be like to just say, stuff you charlie I'm taking what's mine and you can't have any. I wonder what it's like to go through life with no conscience. Does it make people happy to only live for themselves and to ignore the "greater good" ? I wonder if they are able to sleep peacefully in their beds or do they toss and turn and worry like I do ?

I've been thinking alot lately about what to do with this life I have. I need it to work for me. I need it to work for my family. I need to be able to live with myself at the end of the day. I wonder how much I'll need to change in order to have a different life. I wonder if a different life would really be any better than the one I have now. I think I have a good life. I think I live in a meaningful way and yet I can't help but wonder what else there is for me to do ?

I've been exploring doing some kind of writing. I've been exploring getting into a different career. I've been wondering what else I am capable of and would anyone else believe in me enough so that I could try this new life. I know my husband believes in me. I know my kids believe in me. Of course my mom believes in me but she is biased. In fact so far all my examples of people believing in me are biased but I guess that is a good thing. I wonder about the people who don't have that belief and support system. Do they succeed in spite of it all or cave and live a life not worthy of themselves.

I sometimes wonder if I am too chicken to have another life. I wonder if it's what I should do or should be that really matters. I wonder if I would fail or succeed ? That's probably why I am still exploring. If I don't try and just stick to wondering, then I don't have to worry about failing or succeeding, I can just "explore" non committally and bump along for a few more years as my life drifts along.

I think what I need to do is stop wondering and try. I need to see if I can try to make the life that I should have. I need to move forward and find a way to be me and still succeed. I have the potential to shine if I will only turn on the light.

I sometimes wonder where to find the light switch ....

The Future

2009-03-23T22:15:00.016-04:00

Well...

That damn font just won't stay changed. But I digress...

I guess you have to begin a thought in order to digress but I had lots of thoughts before I started to write so for me it was a digression. You'll catch on shortly.

My writing is mostly about my kids. My kids provide a lot of fodder. They also make me think alot so that's a plus. Other people and their kids make me think alot too. I also tend to read. A lot. I mean scary amounts. My husband has been bugging me to read to "better myself". Now he doesn't mean that in a malicious way. He truly believes in me and truly believes I could be doing more career wise. He is quite enamored of my crazy ability to read and would like me to channel this superpower for the good of all. In his way, it is a compliment. So I've finally started to listen. I've read books on different careers. I've read books on how to find the job that would fit my "renaissance" personality. Honestly, the book was called "The Renaissance Soul". I've read books on how to write. Well, I've taken that one out of the library and flicked through it at least. But the last book I read was quite by accident and has given me some ambition to get moving. It was "How Starbucks Saved My Life" by Michael Gates Gill. Sounds like a pretty catchy title eh ? Think you know what it's about ? I was surprised to find it wasn't what I expected at all. I won't spoil it for you but needless to say, it has impacted my life.

I grew up with a father who defined himself by his job much like the author of the afore mentioned book. Everything was about getting ahead and judging those that didn't. I have therefore never felt completely satisfied in my jobs as they have never given me the prestige or lifestyle I thought I should become accustomed to. My hindrance is that I have this inner need to help people. I love to teach. I love to show people how to do things and get them to be successful. My two years teaching college were some of the most challenging and rewarding working years I've ever had. I loved the job but hated the college. My other inner need is to be honest and conduct my life with integrity. Now I can swear like a trucker and fart like a pony but I will not lie and I will not cheat people. This college wanted me to do both which put an end to my teaching career. Another part was when asked what I did for a living I would say, "I teach the medical office administration program for a college" and I would get looks of admiration. Then I would get asked, "Where do you teach ?" and when I answered those looks changed to looks of "Poor you". That broke it for me. When I got more looks of pity than admiration, I knew it was time to go. Great hours, pretty good money, a chance to teach and change people's lives and this college had to go and be a bunch of low lifes. I see myself as representative of whatever place I work for and when people start associating me with the amoral practices of some pseudo-college, I am done. Most people can suck it up for the bigger picture. They can lay their souls down and barter with the devil if it means a fancier car and snazzy shoes. I cannot. It's the same as when people ask me what I think. My response to them ? "Do you really want to know ?" At least I give them an out before I let loose. Whether they choose to take it or not before it's too late is up to them.

Needless to say, this inner need to teach and be honest does not open a lot of corporate doors for me. I cannot bend my life around any employer who wants me to anything other than what I am. I cannot condone people getting ripped off. I cannot knowingly say to someone, "Yes, you need to lose 10 pounds and shots in the ass with some odd vitamin concoction and starving yourself is the best solution" as I had to do for one job. I lasted there less than two weeks. First job I walked out of and never walked back. Still gives me shivers to see these sorry looking women paying hundreds of dollars when all they had to do was go for a walk.

This puts the progression of my career in a bit of a holding pattern. I look to my future and I don't see a clear path. I don't see "the job" that I just have to do for the rest of my life. The thought of doing one job for the rest of my life just makes me queasy. Even teaching, which I love, would have to change and evolve in order for me to stay focused and involved. I need to switch it up.

Now as my kids are the reason I started writing in the first place, I cannot completely leave them out for my future involves them. My future, short term anyway, is helping them find their future. I often wonder about the amount of time my husband has had to waste finding his path because his parents couldn't get it together and help their kid sort himself out. Apparently kicking him to the curb at 16 seemed a reasonable solution. That's a whole other chapter right there. Had they actually pulled their heads out of their behinds and taken a look at this kid, he might be so much further along. Instead, he has to get married to a wife who won't back down from nothin' for no one in order to feel supported enough to go back to school. My husband's future is starting to look pretty bright. At 41, he has been an apprentice millwright for 5 years. It is his calling. This is what he should have been doing from the get go. He is able to build just about anything. He is fantastic with his hands (hubba, hubba). He can visualize and construct the weirdest things. This is where he should have been 20 years ago had his parents recognized his potential and supported their son.

This gets me thinking to my kids futures. What do I see them doing ? What are they interested in ? What are their strengths ? What do they need to work on ? Funnily enough, my daughter wants to teach. She comes from a long line of teachers on both sides of my family. We won't get into my husband's family - that's a whole other book. My son wants to do something with kids or cars. Mostly he wants to be a dad but as that doesn't pay well, we are trying to get him to broaden his scope. He has many possiblities but tends to like building things. He is also good with his hands and seems to like the ladies so he may have his own wife one day who can give him the "hubba hubba" complliment.

It is our job as parents to monitor our kids and support their present in order to secure their future. It is our job to expose them to different ideas and different experiences in order to give them a diverse frame of reference for career choices. It is our job to talk to our kids about the importance of school. It is our job to talk to them about the realities of running a house. It is our job to explain what happens if you don't have a good enough job to support that household because you didn't go to school. We have taken the time to discuss with them where they see themselves career wise and what they want for their future. I'm hopeful that they will see us as a resource on their career path rather than an obstacle to be over come.

This brings me to my digression. I have been thinking alot about writing as a career. I think I write quite decently. The odd spelling mistake and questionable grammar are unavoidable but overall I have a unique perspective on life that apparently most people don't share but do appreciate. My current boss, who is fabulous and likes me just the way I am (well mostly) tells me she appreciates my unique perspective and reassures me that it brings a wonderful quirky element to the office. I believe that is PC for "You are a bit freaky but we like you all the same". This has caused me to start looking at my career path and wondering do I continue to follow the current trail of bread crumbs or get off the trail, bake my own damn bread and drop my own crumbs where I want ? Do I continue to take jobs because they present themselves or recognize that I have some control over where I end up ?

Michael Gates Gill undergoes a monumental shift in his career, life and thought processes through no fault of his own during his story. While he has not control, he takes his experience and grows from it and accepts that his future isn't what he thought it would be. He finds that it's better. I don't want to wait until I am unexpectedly forced to write. I want to be able to start to do it and make some sort of a living at it. I want some control over my future and what it will bring to me. The question is, which path do I follow to find my future ? The one I am on or the one I make ?

Is it MY turn yet ?

2009-03-06T22:47:00.002-05:00

Well....

I've spent the last 10 years or so doing stuff for other people. Ok - actually more like 20 but we'll focus on the kid years as they tend to be more obvious suckers of life. I love my children completely but as my grey hairs will attest, they wear me out. I also have a small issue with guilt about being "selfish". Having said that, if you encroach on what I consider "me time", I will get very pissy. This usually involves reading which does not require me to leave the house. The problem is - my children expect me to be around all the time. They expect me to be at their beck and call. When I take time to go to a weekend conference or out for a night, I get guilt. I get grief. I get crap. My response is usually - hey now, what do I do for myself ? They can't usually come up with an answer but that doesn't seem to matter. If my fella and I go out for a night with friends, we are evil incarnate and abandoning our offspring. This though we leave them with movies, gummies and kisses. Ugh. So sad.

Now that brings up another point. Am I somehow adding to this situation by not going out more ? My husband doesn't mind. In fact he encourages it. He recognizes far better than I do that I need time out by myself. Yet when I want to go, I want them with me. Ugh. So sad. I love being with my family. They make me feel safe. I also can feel guilty if I go without them. Ugh. So sad. I've also had to put a lot of things on hold for my husband although not because he has asked me to. His apprenticeship training has been the main focus of our lives for the past four years. It is the ticket to a relatively secure future. It gives him a feeling of security and confidence which is worth every night of staying in. I am proud of him and will continue to support him as long as he needs it. Having said that, there had best be some kind of sparkly thing at the end of this adventure and I don't mean some knock off cubic zirconia.

My children get to go out. They get to have adventures. They get to go to their friends houses and play and yuck it up. I don't guilt them or give them crap. Hell, I drive them and wave nicely ! Why can't I be allowed to go play with my friends and not feel like Mommy Dearest ? Ugh. So sad.

So that brings me to the title of this little constructive catharthis. When will it be my turn ? When can I stop giving up my life to accomodate school and guides and scouts and whatever else needs to be done. When will I be able to go out and not feel bad that I'm not doing something for someone else ? Quite frankly a little foot stomping full out tantrum might be in order. Ugh. So sad.

He Looks Me in the Eye

2009-03-01T13:07:00.003-05:00

I keep looking for info to understand my boy. I've read the technical books. I've signed up for websites. I've attended the Walk for Autism. I've traded emails with a parent whose child was suspected of having Aspergers. But so far none of these methods has offered an insight to how my son functions. How he feels about things. How he might perceive the world. Then I read John Robison's book "Look Me in the Eye". The title immediately caught my attention as we had spent years saying the same thing to Thomas accompanied by two fingers directed at our eyes so he had a visual. Initially, we just thought he was being rude when he wouldn't look at us. We thought we were raising him properly. As Mr. Robison alludes to in his book, people who don't look you in the eye are generally perceived as shifty or up to no good. Seeing how we started our little "eye training" at the age of 1 1/2 or so, it's doubtful Thomas was up to serious trouble. However, the fear of him growing up to be a future juvenile offender was in the back of our minds.

Since then, I have learned that this was Thomas' way to cope with stimulus. We joke now that we were inadvertently engaging in IB therapy before we even knew we needed it. He does, however, now for the most part look people in the eye when he meets them and during conversations. He has to gaze avoid now and then but hell, so do I depending on who I'm speaking to and the state of their breath.

My son is easier to speak to now. He can express more about how he is feeling or how someone makes him feel. He is quite expressive and is free from the monotone, inflexionless voice that can characterize most Asperger people. He is funny. He loves to tell jokes although the ones he makes up are for his sense of humor only. He loves to tell stories about his day or what he saw on TV. He is very empathetic to all types of situations. I mention these things because before reading Mr. Robison's book, I did not appreciate these characteristics. I did not appreciate that these things can be difficult for most Asperger's to master. I'm hopeful that we have done all we can to help him avoid some of the social pitfalls that Asperger kids can fall into. He gets bullied occasionally. He is perceived as weird or odd by some people. But overall, the feedback is that he is a polite, caring, nice little fella who is welcome in most people's homes. That's more than I can say for some of the little buggers on the playground.

My boy causes stress. My boy causes grey hair. My boy causes shouting and upset. In other words - he is "normal". Whatever that means ....

Do Tell....

2008-08-29T06:38:00.003-04:00

Well ....

I think I was born Catholic in another life and flogged mercilessly for not telling the truth. If you are Catholic I mean no offence or disrespect. I think it can be a valuable thing to have a complete fear of lying or in any way fudging the truth. In my case, it seems to border on pathological. This can lead to some problems.

It drives my husband crazy for one. Any time we are shopping and something isn't right with the bill - I speak up. Usually to our detriment. Case in point - his new golf bag. A few years ago I bought him a golf bag for his birthday. It was supposed to be around $90. Not much but when you are counting every penny, it was huge. It rang up at $35. He is standing behind the cash where the CSR can't see him but he can see the total. He is frantically waving his arms at me, telling me to shut the heck up. I can't do it. I'm afraid that as I walk out of the store, some big hairy security guy will grab me and smack me down. So I say to the CSR, "You might want to check that". Turns out it was their error and we got the bag for the $35 but not before my husband hung his head and muttered to himself, "Here she goes again". I've gone back and paid for forgotten groceries and all kinds of silly things. I just can't stand the thought of ripping someone off even if it's some huge store that probably gives it to me up the butt everytime I shop there. I know someone somewhere will take the hit for my "deal" and that bothers me.

I probably tell my kids the truth too much as well. I explain things up the wazoo to them but do try to keep it appropriate. This drives my mother crazy. I explain to her that I don't want them to grow up thinking money just appears and the kind mortgage fairy lets us live here for free. I don't want them to think that Michael and I never argue or don't get angry. I want them to know why I am angry and that sometimes I feel sad too. What is the point of trying to raise healthy, well-adjusted children if they never see emotion or understand that parents are people too ?? Heck - that's how I became me and we don't want that for future generations.

I think my truth issues stem from my parents. They never told us anything. Nothing about money. Nothing about their feelings. Nothing about job changes. Nothing about nothing. We just took the fall out. My brother and I suspected for years that my dad was being less than truthful with his whereabouts on a regular basis and who he was spending this time with. We saw my parents growing apart and how they just quietly ignored it. The proverbial elephant in the room if you will. One day that elephant went on a damn crazy stampede and my family got torn apart. The elephant wanted to marry someone else and if my mother didn't mind, the elephant was leaving the zoo. Needless to say, my mother was caught completely off guard and was totally shattered. This was a completely understandable reaction and one that I loathe to experience. I also loathe to cause that reaction in someone else. As things progressed in my parents divorce, it came out that this particular elephant had been trying out new zookeepers for sometime. It also came out that the elephant had been stashing peanuts in various locations and had decided not to let my mother know. Deception upon lies upon deceipt upon total crap.

I let my father know in no uncertain terms that he was an ass of epic proportions. I was 17 and full of bitterness. He had lied. The person I was supposed to look up to and learn from had spent most of his married life lying like a cheap rug. This was a huge turning point for me although I didn't recognize the impact until years later. I would never cause the look on my mother's face to anyone. I would never devastate my children and lose their respect as he had done. I would never hide things and deceive people for my own selfish gains. Did my father have some redeeming qualities ? Yes. Do I care to list them at this time ? No.

I have spent my life trying to live a truthful existence. Not only to myself but to others. This does not always work out the way I intend. There are times where I have had to speak up when I shouldn't have as the anxiety and stress of living with what I perceive as lies just builds up to bursting. It plagues me relentlessly. I realize this sounds peculiar. I realize that as an adult I have the power and fortitude to hold back information and decide what needs to be said. My past appears to have had a stronger influence than I've realized on my ability to do this. If I feel like I've lied, I cannot rest until I put it right. I will worry at it like a dog with a bone. I am slowly overcoming this inability but sometimes my mouth will run away with me and before I know it, I'm back in the shithouse again.

What I've also come to realize is that I make far more of my truth issues than other people do. When I follow my gut and reveal information I anticipate a big problem. Usually it doesn't turn out that way or at least the other person doesn't let it appear so. I then worry about forgiveness and making sure the other person understands I meant well and truly had the best of intentions. It's a never ending cycle that probably requires medication. People still tend to share their feelings and situations. I don't appear to damage the friendship in a permanent way. I do worry that they feel they won't be able to trust me when that won't be the case. I am hopeful that they see I try to judge the best way possible for all concerned. Hope springs eternal....

I'm hopeful that by leading a truthful existence, my children will learn the same. I'm also hopeful that I am teaching them that there are times where white lies are ok. Full out whoppers inlcuding infidelity, stealing, etc. - not ok. But when Mommy asks - Do I look fat in this ? Then they have my permission to white lie. Heck, what can it hurt ? Sometimes the truth can set you free. Other times, a little white lie gets you through the day. My job is to make sure they know when to choose the right path.

Great - September .....again .....

2008-08-25T20:27:00.003-04:00

Well....

The day has come when we have to face September again. I have one child ready and raring to go. Thomas, not so much. He seems to try to get excited because he sees that his sister is, I think. I try to pump him up about the technology that is coming and how much easier this year will be. Doesn't seem to be working so much yet. I'm hopeful.... that I don't have to be medicated myself this year..

So far he has actually done quite well. This is a child who has Asperger's, ADD, short term memory issues, fine motor integration problems, asthma, allergies and dyslexia. Doesn't get any better than that in this gene pool. He is pleasant, friendly, loving, caring, witty, creative, funny, cute, daring, brave, empathetic and many other things. So I guess the two go hand in hand. I couldn't have him the way he is without having the "issues" that go with him. While they don't define who he is or what he can do, they do make up parts of his personality. And while he drives me two types of crazy, I love his personality. He is quirky. He is interesting. He worries me.

I worry that he won't make friends this year. I worry that he won't care that he doesn't have friends. I worry that he will care he doesn't have friends. I am starting to worry about his being able to get a decent job. Or hold any job at all.

So this September I will try to embrace his personality. I will try to embrace his learning issues. I will try to remember to hold off putting on the shit kickers until absolutely necessary. I will try to remember to be patient and polite with the school board.

Great. It's September. Again. Woohoo....

Say it with me now ... preventable !

2008-05-27T22:57:00.003-04:00

Well....

My son has distinct issues with listening. He cannot retain things for long periods of time if they are instructions. Or most things for that matter. He can remember things to do with TV shows or movies or books. He can remember things that have to do with him growing up, etc. However - day to day instructions just seem to baffle him. Hence our story for today.

I preface this by either illuminating or reminding our readers that Thomas' latest adventure included lighting a match in the boy's bathroom at school. This ties in to our word for tonight - preventable.

Michael and I are sitting on the couch TV surfing. Loads of mindless for the masses reality TV that quite frankly makes me ill. Who gives a flying crap about Kim Kardashian anyway ? She looks like a brainless idiot who cannot fathom that the world does not owe her squat. Or Dina Lohan who is the world's worst mother next to Mommy Dearest. But I digress ....

As we start to head for bed it's now after 10pm and this little voice calls down the stairs - Mommmmmmm. Quite rudely I say "What ?!". Please bear in mind I've had a long day. The little voice says - "You're going to be mad aren't you ?" At this point I'm already annoyed so I say "yes." I then discover that my son has taken his lovely putty which has been given to him by the occupational therapist and has somehow got it in his hair.

I preface this by saying I have repeatedly asked Thomas not to keep the putty in his room. I have repeatedly removed the putty and put it downstairs. And I have repeatedly found it back in his room. Now we go back to the whole instruction thing which we've already covered.

So I see his rather large clump of silver shiny goo firmly ensconced in my child's georgous auburn hair and I say, "idiot". No pretty language. No feel better language. Just "idiot". I swear. Idiot, idiot, idiot. So we head to the bathroom and under brighter lights I see that Wile E. Coyote has got this stuff matted in his hair and at this point it's not coming out quietly. So I decide to go to town on the hair. We comb and comb and comb. Putty is coming out but so is hair. Not a lot but enough that the eyes start to water and the boy starts to beg for Daddy's brilliant suggestion of shaving his head. To this I say no. To this I start to sing a little song which goes to the tune of It's a Small World. Sing it with me won't you ??

It's a world of laughter, a world of tears
It's a world of hope and a world of fears
There's so much that we share
That it's time we aware
To leave the putty downstairs

Then we go to the chorus. Quite original I think:

Leave the putty downstairs
Leave the putty downstairs
Leave the putty downstairs
Or it will get in your hair.

My son at this point is not finding this amusing. His head hurts. He is tired. And his mother is making unholy fun of him for getting putty in his hair. At this point I take further pleasure in using this moment to define Preventable. Our word for the day. I say to my son, "how many times have I told you to leave the putty downstairs ?" He replies through tears and snuffles - "About five thousand". "Close" I say. "This, my son, is a perfect example of preventable". I go on to illustrate that he and I both could have done without this moment in our lives and I ask him again what Preventable means. He forgets. I illustrate again how the fire at school was Preventable. I ask him again what Preventable means. He remembers. As we go to bed, "What is our word for tonight Thomas ?" "PREVENTABLE Mom - I get it !"

Sometimes my son has to learn things the hard way. I did too. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be super sweet and smothering when he pulls a bone headed move because he won't remember the lesson in all of it. Sometimes it pays to sing a little song about the word of the day: Preventable. Sing it with me won't you ? I'm just hoping my next song won't have the word Contraception in it.

Why Am I Such An Idiot ?

2008-05-18T23:29:00.005-04:00

Well....

I'm sure we've all had those less than stellar moments in our parenting careers where we wonder why the CAS doesn't wake up and pay a visit. I've had several. Not for hitting my kids. Not for depriving them of anything. Not for anything "illegal" going on in the house. Just one of those bone headed, really stupid, I shouldn't have done that moments where you wonder why you didn't make the husband wear a condom just that one time so you wouldn't have to be having this moment at all.

My son is remarkably immature for his age. He is 10 going on 7 on a good day. Other days he surprises me and shows he is getting closer to his age. Those days are few. This frightens me, frustrates me, makes me a little nutty. After all it is all about me anyway. Today was a 7 year old day but more for me than him.

He was working on the computer. He has taken to using the old education programs I got a couple of years ago which are quite young for him but there you have it. Probably a grade 2 level or so. He likes that he gets a gold star which his mother was not going to earn with her contribution to this story.

So he is minding his own business playing this game. He gets frustrated, starts pounding the bench he is sitting on and saying "I can't do this !!". Now any sane mother would have said, "There, there.... there, there. Let me make it better". Thomas' mother chose to get angry, yell at him and belittle him. Stellar moment. I see that he is rushing, I see that he is not paying attention, I see that he is struggling - and I choose to be an ass. Of epic proportions. No "there, there". No "let's work together". I'm all about the yelling about how he should slow down, pay attention and not be an idiot. Stellar. Totally stellar. As soon as it pops out, he has tears, I've frightened him and we are getting no where. I am the biggest jerk to ever walk the planet at this point. But do I stop yelling ? Oh no. I keep going. SLOW DOWN THOMAS. WATCH WHAT YOU ARE DOING THOMAS. WHY AREN'T YOU READING IT PROPERLY ???? More stellar moments. More self-esteem building from mom. NOT.

Finally I pull my head out of my ginormous butt and sit down. I try to placate him by telling him how I am frustrated because I know he is not an idiot and if he'd slow down, he'd be able to do this. What good is that going to do ? Is he going to remember in the long run that I don't think he's an idiot after I've calmed down ? No. He is going to remember his big moron of a mother who is supposed to love him and build him up, yelling like a crazy woman and calling him an idiot. I have now confirmed that he is an idiot and repeated the same destructive history my parents created with me. Yes, I am going to go there and pull out the "it's my parents fault" card. Sort of.

I accept what I did. I realize that I am an unholy moron for having done it. But that is what I grew up with. Instead of patient encouragement, I got yelled at. Instead of compliments on what I could do, I was picked on for what I didn't do. Instead of Great Job ! I got why can't you finish anything ? I have tried my best to fix and change most of what I don't agree with in how my parents raised me. I spend more time with my kids. We do interesting things together. I am silly with them. I explain more. I say I am sorry more. However - the big one I am having trouble with is the yelling and name calling. Not horrible names. Not swear word names. But names none the less - goof, turkey, twit, noodle, nooge, weirdo, etc. All specifically designed to demean and inflict damage. And hear I go again.

It has taken me years to learn to believe in myself. It has taken me years to discover that some of the things I do are special. That not everyone can read like I read. Not everyone can bake or cake decorate or garden or cook or create whatever like I can. I always thought I was average. That nothing I did was extraordinary. My parents never thought so. I thought I would be a better parent that way. I am not as encouraging as I'd hoped I'd be. I'm not as patient as I'd hoped I'd be. I'm inflicting more damage than I thought I would and am very disappointed by that.

I called my son an idiot today. I struck him where it would hurt the most. Right in his heart. What kind of a mother does that ? What kind of a mother attacks her child in such a low and cutting manner ? I'm sure mother's do worse but I always thought I'd be better than that. This is one area where I'd hoped I'd be above average. Turns out it isn't my son who is the idiot. It's his mother.

Worth the Fight

2008-04-17T10:13:00.002-04:00

Well....

Doesn't that sound like an imposing title ? Worth the Fight ! Is she going to get her butt kicking boots on again and tirade against those who don't help her son ? No.

This is something that I needed to explain to my son one day. A few months back, he asked a question that I've since forgotten which prompted me to reply, "Because you are worth it." I explained to him that I will fight his whole life to get him what he needs. As my mother has proven time and again, you never stop caring for your kids. My children will be no exception. My son requires a little more effort but I fight for my daughter as well. She is currently being bullied by a "queen bee" who has admitted that she finds Vanessa threatening. She says she is jealous of what my daughter can do. GOOD ! My daughter has a lot to be proud of and she shouldn't be made to feel bad about it. We ended up having a long talk about jealousy and being true to yourself. I looked her in the eye and said, " I believe in you and I will always believe in you. You are smart, funny, loving and cute and you have no reason not to believe in yourself." She seemed to get it and appreciate that my sentiments came from the heart. Having said that, I would like to take little miss Queen Bee and knock her chicklets in.

Back to my boy.

My son will be getting approved shortly for technological help in the classroom. He will be receiving a laptop, scanner, printer and four different softwares so that he can achieve his potential in school. It has taken me three years to get this but it will be worth the fight. My son is smart. My son is creative. My son loves to read. He does not like to learn in the classroom. He cannot retain what is being said to him as his memory is so poor. He cannot follow directions well as his ADD takes him to places far beyond the walls of his classroom. He needs this help and I have great hope for it. He will now be able to show them what he is capable of. All along the school has said, we know he can do more - thank God they hadn't completely written him off ! There will be a special place by the hobs of hell if that technology does not come through and God alone will not be able to protect those who deny my son what he needs. The shit kickers will come out.

But let's be positive. I am going to be cautiously optomisitic that the school board will fulfill it's obligation to help my son and implement the recommendations of the psychologist. I am going to remain hopeful that the special resource team will continue to get the support they need in order to continue helping my son. I am going to remain certain that if any of this falls apart and hinders my son's education, that not only will they be aware that he is worth the fight but they will feel the steely toe of my shit kickers right where it counts.

My children will always be worth the fight and I hope that my actions on their behalf prove this to them. I hope they grow up confident knowing that I will back them up and be there for them always and forever. I think I am succeeding as evidenced by this little tale - One day we were discussing the importance of stranger safety. I was drilling in to their heads that not all strangers are friendly and some might try to take them from me. My son piped up and said, "I don't worry about that Mom. You'd find me." Then my daughter piped up and said, "Yeah - and then she'd kill them". Out of the mouths of babes....

He wants to belong

2008-01-02T10:34:00.000-05:00

Well...

Christmas is over with much ado. My boy enjoyed himself as he always does. He has believed in magic for as long as I can remember and I value his imagination even more at these times. His belief is guileless which I truly enjoy. His favorite present ? His anatomy book from my brother. All other present opening stopped at that point. He was so engrossed in the book he didn't even realize he had more presents to open. My girl ? She tore through them with abandon. She refers to Santa and I think she is trying to still believe but it appears to be becoming a challenge. I've told her that I believe in Santa with a true heart and I do. I believe in the spirit of giving. I believe in looking out for others. I believe in the happiness I see on my children's face Christmas morning. I thoroughly enjoy that. We weren't able to give as much as I'd have liked to Charity this year. I did donate to the food bank and to the Salvation Army for the teachers but we didn't do toys this year. Next year I will make sure.

During all this hullabaloo, Thomas and I had a conversation that showed me my boy is changing and we are heading in to a new time in his life. He wants to join a "club" at school and they won't let him. This has never seemed to bother him before. He seemed to be content to just do his own thing. Now it seems to be an issue. Not large. Not insurmountable but definitely signifying change. I'm not sure what this "club" is about but it involves boys and his friend Jeffrey is campaining to have him included. God love Jeffrey. I'm not sure where this is heading or what I can do to help him. This will be an adventure for both of us as he discovers that he is different from other kids and I hold back from strangling the kids who make him realize this.

My boy is growing in many ways. I hope he never loses the wonder of Santa. I know I haven't. But I hope he is able to change and grow in ways that allow him to fit in better at school. If it doesn't bother him, I am going to try to not let it bother me. Maybe we both need to grow and change during this time. Maybe next year growth and change will be on my list for the jolly man to bring. Chocolate just makes my butt bigger and gives me migraines anyway...

The best of 2008 to all.

Happy Tears

2007-12-12T14:32:00.000-05:00

Well...

So my son got his second psychoeducational assessment today. In our home, on his medication, relaxed and feeling fine. I was amazed. I got the best news that any parent of a child with special needs can get - there is hope. Now that sounds kind of negative as well. Didn't we have hope before ? Well, yes and no and here is why.

Thomas' first psychoed did not go well. He was not medicated. He had to be taken for three weeks to a new environment that he never appeared totally comfortable in. We were trying to wean him off dolls and the psychologist was using them as a reward. This created more anxiety when Daddy came to pick him up. Thomas did not want to cooperate and the psychologist didn't seem to know how to work with him. At the time, we thought things were going well. Then the results came in. The psychologist's two conclusions ? That my son was borderline retarded (her wording not mine) and that he was afraid of his father. Both of these observations were not helpful and none of her suggestions were either. They did provide a foundation but we were going in the wrong direction because of her. The testing did little to alleviate my fears for Thomas' future and did more damage I think in hindsight than it helped. I saw the window closing on Thomas' future and that caused me great anxiety. No - Thomas' life is not all about me. No - I do not make his woes my whole life. No - I was not willing to accept this. No - I did not accept it at all. Just while writing this and after discussion with the psychologist this morning, I've come to realize that this has been the major part of my stress issues for the past two years. That damn report.

I let that report dictate my son's future. I let that report decide where things were going to go for my son. I let that report change the way I looked at my son in that I allowed it to make that window smaller. I knew it was wrong. I knew it was wrong and yet I let myself believe it. She had the education. She was the professional. I knew it was wrong and I let it beat me. But maybe not as much as I thought. Once the report had been delivered, I immediately put Thomas on the list for ErinOak to do an assessment. I knew the wait would be long and I knew that report was wrong. I would wait to prove it. And the wait was worth it.

Hallelujah my son is dyslexic !! Hallelujah he has memory issues !! Hallelujah WE CAN WORK WITH THAT BECAUSE HIS INTELLIGENCE IS NORMAL !!! Why is that a big deal you ask ? It is a fault of mine. I value intellgence. I link a good future with a certain amount of intelligence. The first report relegated my son to "Would you like fries with that ?" . Now that line of work is honorable, honest work but I resented that being his only choice. I resented that window being shut. I resented his choices being taken away. I let that damn report steer me to thinking that way.

Now another thought occurs to me. I am letting this new report shape my thinking as well. Not about my son as a whole. I love all parts of my son. Some parts more than others but overall he's a kid I enjoy. I like his imagination. I like his cuddles. I like his acting. I like his unique thought processes. I think the way my kids' mind works is kind of cool. I won't like him any less or any more based on this report. What has changed is the stress about worrying about his future. Thoughts of his future besieged me. The uncertainty was driving me nuts. I realize that all kids futures are uncertain. I get that. But something about his was just off the map. I just couldn't put my finger on what the issue was. This was it - the sentencing of that damn first report.

What this new report gives me is hope. It opens the doors back up. It gives me something to work with. I realize that no matter what I will do everything for my son. I will support him in whatever he decides to do. Report or no report, he is my son and I love him. I will do whatever it takes to make him happy and a new report doesn't change that. What it will do is give me more ammunition to fight the school with. They had started to write him off. They started to tell me that this was all he could accomplish. They started to believe that report and they started to falter in helping him. They stopped seeing his future as it could be but rather what they thought is should be. That just won't do.

Now I have the proof. I told them all along that I had problems with that first report. I told them all along something was missing. I told them all along that my son could do more. And now I can prove it. Now they will get back on track to the future that is waiting for him and not one they feel he deserves. He deserves whatever he can get out of life. He deserves to be whatever he wants to be. I've told him he can be a doctor, a nurse, a mechanic, a baker.. whatever he wants. And now the school will know it too.

I called my friend to tell her. I couldn't stop crying through the happy tears. My son has his future back and what a bright and shining one it is. My boy. My heart. Damn reports.

Go Softly Into The Dark Night

2007-12-10T22:20:00.000-05:00

Well...

First off - I keep forgetting to change the damn font on my blog and it's driving me nuts. Note to self - change font.

Second - I am freaking tired. Not had a bad night tired. Not hung over tired, which might even be worth it. Not under the weather tired although that is coming too. But seriously bone crushingly tired. Now Jess will read this and say sing it to the choir sister. I don't even know her kind of tired. God Bless you woman - I don't know how you do it. You have my eternal admiration for how you survive on such little sleep. I NEED sleep. I get downright crusty, nasty, teary, unhappy when I don't get my sleep. I am not pleasant to be around when I have not slept. Why do I share this you ask ? Because I am punchy and I want to.

Third - I was just reading some of my earlier blogs. Darn I write well. I am quite pleased by some of them. I wanted to see how I had changed or if I had changed. I'm happy to say no. I still write irreverantly. My spelling is still good. I have some deep thoughts worth sharing. I have found this process so cathartic, so liberating, so confirming. I really enjoy it. I like reading the blogs I find. I love the Aspie blog because now I don't feel so alone. I love that people peek in to see what I have to say. Do I have a large community ? Heck no but I hope those that do look enjoy.

This got me to thinking about communication. One of the reasons I blog is to get it out. To vent my spleen. To clear the cobwebs. Email does that for me as well. If I am thinking of something at 2am it is not appropriate for me to call that person and writing it down to call about it later doesn't let me sleep. Sending a quick email gets it out, let's the other person know what's up and sends me to my beloved sleep.

It also got me thinking about how people abuse email. How they hide behind the anonymity of the keyboard. I will lay money down that most people use email to say things they would never say to someone's face. Have I done that ? Once or twice. Usually - no. If I'm going to say it to you via email, 10 to 1 says I'll say it to your face. Especially if you piss me off. Email actually allows me to think through what I am going to say rather than entering a heated argument. It allows me to edit my words and think about what I truly want to convey. Except if I'm pissed off. Then email allows me to vent my spleen with acid. Again, catch me in the same mood in person and I'll rip you a new one without blinking. I am not a bitch. I am not a mean person. But I do say what I mean and mean what I say. If you want to do battle with me then be prepared - the gloves can come off. I pride myself that I have worked very hard to correct this. There used to be no stop between the head and the mouth. The brain wasn't even involved in some cases. This was not good. This caused trouble. This needed to change. So I've worked on it for the past 10 years and it's gotten better.

Why is she spouting about this you ask ? Isn't this supposed to be about her son and his challenges ? Yes it is but occasionally other things need to be said. In a round about way, this involves my son. I have volunteered in various capacities for my son's school in order to say thank you for all the hard work that they do for him. I realize this isn't necessary but it is for me. I am grateful. Having been a teacher myself, I know the extra hours they put in for him. I know they worry about him and work harder for him. Volunteering is my way of saying thank you. Lately, email has caused problems with my volunteering. People have been mighty free with the email when they maybe shouldn't have. Me being me was mighty free right back. This takes us back to the old not thinking before we speak issue. However, they did deserve it so I sleep ok at night.

I got to thinking that the phone is a useful tool. I speak all day and so tend to be quite quiet when I get hom. I rely on email to still stay in touch with the world without having to speak. I think maybe tomorrow I will write a good old fashioned letter. Then I'll scan it in to my computer and send it as an attachment via email. Ha - gotcha.

Not Today

2007-12-06T23:03:00.000-05:00

Well....

I had a little conversation today that made me laugh. I try to laugh often. I try to laugh hard. I try to laugh loud. Embarrasses the hell out of my kids but you know what ? Life is too short to be that anal. I will be anal about other things but making an ass out of myself is not one of them. I will skip down the street if I feel like it. I will howl at the moon for my Brownies. I will shake my money maker whenever the hell I feel like it. I have been through enough crap in my life that I have learned that lesson and learned it well.

One of the other lessons I have been trying to teach myself is positivity. Look for the silver lining. Look for the lesson. Don't let angst be in vain. All that clap trap that gets us through the day. This has been a long damn week and today I don't want to see the positive. Not today.

My week started on Saturday with a sick kid. My daughter is a lover of strep as was her mother. Strep sees us and kicks up it's heels. Strep giggles and says let's party. It started a party in my daughter's throat. Sunday I get a call - my office has had a massive fire and my side of the building has been destroyed. Not mildly charred. Not slighly smokey. Freaking crispy toasted. My computer, my radio, my brand new water jug, my cd's, my pictures, my map, my all - garbage. Landfill. Gonzola. My week progresses. Now we are at Monday and unbeknowst to me the strep party is in full swing. Off to the doctors on Tuesday and we get confirmation that said party animal is at work. Mommy was a bit slow on the pick up apparently. A problem from last week has decided to continue in to this week and if I never see another poinsettia in my life I will be THRILLED. I ended last week being wrongly accused of involving my school in fraud and the fall out continues. If people would just ask questions instead of acting like this is highschool and going all he said, she said the world would be a better place. I hated highschool and now I remember why. All the damn stupid people.

So now I have been at home for the whole week trying to do a job without files, redoing my email contacts, trying to access a phone that has melted and been chucked so I can't get my messages and dealing with not one, but you guessed it two sick children. For the love of all that is good in the world, will someone get me a latte?

I figure this has to be it. After a sucky November and a shaky start to December, this has to be it. But wait ! This is my life so of course this can't be it. While earnestly trying to pay my bills I discover I can no longer access my bank accounts. They have been frozen ! What the sam hell of pile of crap is that you ask ??? Well I asked that too so I called the bank. Well wouldn't you know it ? Someone has decided to give me an early Christmas present by stealing the info off my debit card and trying to wipe out my account. Now my wicked glee is that I have no money to speak of so they've wasted a lot of time for essentially nothing. Sucka ! However, they've also wasted alot of my time as I've had to go to the bank to reset my password and will have access to said bank account tomorrow.

Needless to say I am having a hard time finding the silver lining this week. I do have a couple of things to be grateful for:

1. My son - he will get a proper psycho ed, in my house, on Wednesday morning by a woman with a special needs child. He will be on his medication. She was patient on the phone while I tried to make sure she "gets" him, which she appears to. Rule number 1 - you must GET my son in order to HELP my son and if you don't GET my son then get the hell out of the way for someone who does before I push you down a steep slope. The last psychologist did not get him but I have not been able to get her near said slope. She's damn lucky.

2. My office burned down - I am going to get paid to work at home as much as I can with no penalty other than doing some overtime when I do get an office which seems only fair. I have also been paid to stay home with my sick children and have not had to pay a babysitter nor stress about taking time off work.

3. Laughter - I had the best laugh today when discussing said lack of silver lining. Jess and I were discussing the days when it is hard to find that lining. Today is one of those days. I mentioned that I would like to world to F#@! OFF. She mentioned that she would like the world to lick it between the pockets. I just about fell off my chair laughing. That is perfect. That is concise. It gives clear direction. It succinctly describes the sentiment of this day. Crude, crass but oh so true.

While I do have things to be grateful for and have said the appropriate thank you's to my higher power, I have to say this: to all the people who have screwed with me for the past month - Lick it between the pockets !

Another day I will practice positivity - not today.

The Life I've Lived

2007-12-05T22:00:00.001-05:00

Well...

When this life ends and I go to whereever I'm to go, I will know that I did it with love and I fought for what I believed in.

Sounds deep huh ? I was watching TV tonight which is my guilty pleasure. I don't drink. I don't smoke anything. I can't eat chocolate anymore. I don't take anything prescription. TV is my drug. Those 7 pulses per second put me in to a lovely coma that let's me escape from my brain. Occasionally I learn something. Tonight I learned two things and one didn't even involve TV.

I was watching Private Practice which I greatly enjoy. Towards the end a gentleman sits in hospital and while I didn't catch the beginning, the ending involved him espousing a life lesson. Fight the good fight. If you need something in this life, if you want something in this life, fight for it. If it is important enough to you, make it worth the fight. This is what I have done for my son. I have pulled on my steel toes every day and fought for him. This is what I have done for any battle that I feel is worthy. I have had lawyers disbarred. I have won lawsuits. I have beaten employers at the sexual harrassment game. Lately, I have had car repairs covered. If someone is doing something wrong to me or my family, I fight. They are worth it and I am worth it. I will go the end of my days and look back and know that I have fought the good fight.

Then I got a phone call. This is precipitated by an old acquaintance from highschool whom I haven't seen in 20 years ordering a cake from me. She had seen my cakes on Facebook and ordered one for her daughter. I was a bit stumped but was quite pleased by the request and so I've been baking and making icing and fondant. I will make the very first birthday cake for her very first child. This is quite an honor. The phone call tonight was from the acquaintance who wanted to touch base. As we chatted we got around to the cake. She said to me, "When I saw those pictures I knew the cakes had been baked with love." I was stunned. I greatly enjoy baking. I love that I use quality ingredients and that people are not going to be eating loads of chemicals and junk. I love that they smile and that I am chosen to be a part of their special day. I love how the eyes light up in the children whose day I've helped to make happy. I do bake with love but never realized that it showed.

So what did I learn you ask ? I've learned that fighting for what is right is worth fighting for. I've learned that had I not fought the good fight, I would have looked back on my life and regretted it every day. I can take pride that I am small part of the wonder that are my children. I will own that accomplishment. And I will know that I did it with love and that it showed. My beautiful children, my loving husband, my cared for mother, my clear conscience - all are because I choose to fight the good fight and I do it with love.

Time

2007-12-03T12:12:00.000-05:00

Well...

Time is an interesting thing. Some days it tends to pass incredibly slow and others it just whizzes by. Some years seem to take forever to end and others are over before you know it.

The same can be said for kids. I always believed I would have a hard time conceiving. After a couple of accidents where there is no way I should have escaped un-pregnant and the fact that my husband was bodybuilder, I believed it would take a while. Flash forward to one year wedding anniversary and bam - bun in the oven. Flash forward five months after Thomas was born and bam - another bun in the oven. Now I like to bake but this was getting ridiculous.

I remember alot of when Thomas was baby. I remember holding him and having a quiet tear as I thought of what my dad was missing. I remember saying to him, "Grandpa David would be so proud of you." I still choke up when I think of what a good grandad my dad would have been. He never scored high marks in the parenting department but neither did his dad. As a grandad, my Grandpa Barrass was one of my favorite people in the world.

I remember the first time Thomas rolled over - it was in his playpen outside and I remember cheering like a mad woman when he finally made it. I remember when the sky turned green and I quietly pulled his bassinet out of his bedroom in case the window crashed in. There are happy memories and there are some scary memories.

Vanessa's babyhood is a little more of a blur. I have some distinct memories like when I was breastfeeding her. One time she burped up something black - ick. I remember placing her ever so gently against my knees, cooing to her and have a nice chat as I called the doctor's office and spoke to the nurse. I remember her snuggling in to me. I remember her brother pushing her lovingly in the swing and she looking at him like no one else existed. Even at that age they adored one another.

Flash forward and we are in the midst of assessments, appointments, hospitalizations, asthma attacks, and steroid creams. Toddler hood for both my kids is a blur. I was constantly on the run to various doctors and naturopaths and osteopaths and chiropractors. Anything to help my son. My daughter doesn't know any other life than what Thomas needs and who I am speaking to next about him. She doesn't know that most kids don't have to spend their lives visiting their brother in the hospital or being bribed with juice and cookies to sit quietly while Mommy talks to the doctor - again. I sometimes wish I had had more time to enjoy them at that age. All the time was consumed keeping Thomas alive and hoping Vanessa would forgive me for the time I couldn't give her.

She doesn't know her brother any other way than how he is. There was a time when I knew him before we realized something was wrong. I knew him when he was shiny new and nothing was more pressing than watching him sleep. I knew him before the dreams I had for him had to change. I knew him when the world lay at his feet and his future was wide open. Then time passed.

Now we are in the present and time still slips by. I remember holding my babies for the first time. I remember watching Thomas walk and having to hear about it on the phone at work for Vanessa. I remember taking them apple picking for the first time. First days of schools, first bike rides, first time on a roller coaster... I remember so many firsts and I am grateful. I am grateful that I have had the time to experience those firsts. I am grateful God did not see fit to take my son away the first time he had peanuts. I am grateful for every day that I get to know my son and see the gift that he is. I am grateful for friends that point out to me those gifts and remind me that the time will come when he will find his own way in the world. I am grateful God granted me my daughter so that I can see myself as I was and know that she in time will find her way as I did. I make the time to be grateful every day even when I don't want to. That is time I will always need.

Time. It gives us so many things even when we think things are being taken away. It gives us a chance to reflect on the past. It gives us time to live our life and be grateful for the time we've had. It lets us contemplate our future and see what we can do with the opportunities ahead. I look forward to seeing my kids grow and knowing that I've had the time to be there.

Race cars and dolls

2007-11-26T21:28:00.000-05:00

Well...

I am back from a long weekend camping with my Brownies. We hiked, we crafted, we sang, we played, we froze... a good time was had by all. The good thing about this also is that it gives me time with just my daughter. She has to attend most of Thomas' appointments and hears about his medication and the meetings, etc. Overall she is quite good about the attention he gets but I know she feels shunted occasionally. This time away also provides time for my husband and my son to bond and find out about each other. This is the story of what they discovered this weekend.

My son has always perseverated on babies. They are his thing. He desperately wants to be a dad and so he practices. He plays with dolls. He talks to people who have babies. He talks to people about babies. He asks me to have another baby. Now while I will do just about anything for my son, having my husband's vasectomy reversed is not on the list. Thomas has owned dolls. Thomas has had his dolls taken away. Thomas talks about dolls. Thomas has had his talking time limited to certain times as kids were getting a titch annoyed. Thomas has played with real babies, fake babies, imaginary babies and now it is paper babies. He is now into making paper babies. He will draw them. Cut them out. Hinge them together and introduce them as his new little brothers. He has designed diapers for them. Diaper bags. Bottles. The whole shebang. Needless to say, while we appreciate his artistic bent the medium is a little odd for an almost 10 year old boy. I don't want to make him ashamed. We try very hard to explain in a non-judgemental manner when and how he can express his baby-ism. I fear that we have not been as successful as we could have but we also can't stand by while he retreats further in to fantasy and in to being bullied or beat up.

Needless to say this is also hard for my husband to handle. I think it is a compliment to his parenting skills. He just rubs his forehead. My main concern is that someday Thomas will convince some little 16 year old that making a baby would be a good idea. I can just picture him walking in the door and saying - Hey Ma, look what I did. Yikes.

What we also know about Thomas is that he loves cars. He likes to collect them. He likes to race them. He likes HotWheels. He likes remote control. He likes to build them tracks. He likes to drive them. Michael chose to expose Thomas to go-karts this weekend. The kid is a natural. My husband beamed as he described how well Thomas did. He said he was so proud - he gave him hugs and kisses and just effused with praise. Now don't get me wrong, my husband does all of these things on a regular basis but this was new. His face shone as he described how surprised and pleased he was that Thomas not only enjoyed himself but really excelled. Thomas was equally proud of himself and loved every minute of it. I think we might have the beginning of a new hobby that might serve to steer him away from dolls - just a bit anyway.

So that is my son. Race cars and dolls. Two completely opposite ends of the boy spectrum. He is a daredevil and a wanna be dad. He is nurturing. He is brave. He is a conundrum. He is my boy and my heart. Hopefully the two ends of Thomas will come together and form one amazing person that can live a healthy and happy life.

Upsie, Downsie, All aroundsie

2007-11-20T22:29:00.001-05:00

Well...

I have a friend. We share alot of things in common. We are both strong willed. We both believe we are mostly right most of the time. We both have children with challenges. We both have the need to "complain". I take umbrage at this word. I like to call it constructive catharsis. Women overall need to vent. We need to share. We need to GET IT OUT. When you find someone to whom you can GET IT OUT and that person doesn't think you are completely damn mental - you hang on to that person for dear life. And you share moments of constructive catharsis together.

Sometimes I feel like I should join a club like AA - Hi My name is Elizabeth and my son has challenges. I wonder how that would feel. To have a group dedicated to constructive catharsis but maybe with drinking games or something to shake things up. I don't share easily. When my dad died, I went to Bereaved Families of Ontario. My therapist at the time said I had "anger issues" I needed to deal with. Well duh. I refused to share at this group. I refused to cry at this group. The one time I did cry, I left and went to the bathroom to do it. These people did not believe in constructive catharsis - they believed in wallowing in pity and despair. Forget it - not my bag. Myself and another participant kept looking at each other like what the hell are we doing here ?? Hence my fear of support groups. If I want to feel worse than when I started my day - I'll stay home.

I like discussions where constructive catharsis takes place and I get to hear how someone is handling their issue. I get to learn. I get to feel empathy and empowered. I get to share my woes and issues and how I have dealt with them. I like leaving a conversation knowing I am not alone and that other mother's will go the mat for their children even if it does include dribbling spit down their shirt. That I respect. That I get. That is the kind of person I like to share with.

The last couple of weeks have been like no other. It's been a long time since I've wanted to crawl in to my bed and never come out. The stress has been killer - the kick ? My son is doing better and better. At a time when my stress from outside sources is at an all time high, my son is making progress. I see hints of maturity. I see him trying to take charge of his stuff. I see him remembering things that I have forgotten. I see him taking his medication without being reminded. I see him keeping his room tidy - although I fear to look in his closet. I see him doing better in school even though he still doesn't like it. I see him growing and changing. He still drives me mental but even when my life is upsie, downsie, all aroundsie thanks to the gift of constructive catharsis, I can take a step back and appreciate my boy. Because I have been able to vent out all that crap that is going around in my head, I am able to read quietly with my kids. I am able to remember to count to 10 before asking Thomas to do something again. I am able to lower my voice and not immediately go for the shout when I'm asking for the third time. Because of constructive catharsis I know I am not alone. I know that others share my fears and aggravations. I am not so hard on myself because of constructive catharsis. I am not so hard on others as I see their life is all upsie, downsie, all aroundsie too.

So thank you my friend for sharing your constructive catharsis. Thank you for listening when I need to share mine. Know that I will never tire of listening to you. Know that I will always lend an ear, a shoulder, a hug if you need it. Know that I value you and all your stuff you need to let go of. Know that I can empathize and sympathize although I will never truly understand. Know that I care from the bottom of my heart. If you need to call me for some old fashioned bitching - that works too.

Steel Toed Boots

2007-11-17T22:32:00.000-05:00

Well...

I have begun to search out other bloggers. I have run in to some odd ones in the past so I steared away for a while. I read one today and she posted the awful things people said about her generating a thank you. That kind of language just makes me ill. I cuss. I could make a trucker blush kind of cuss. But some words just shouldn't be said and others don't need to be used to make a point. Ick.

However, on my journey today I met Wacky Mom. She has been blogging for a bit. While I haven't been able to delve too far into her history, she reminds me of me. A fighter. Strong willed. Fierce. Someone who will go the mat for her kids and take whomever is in the way down with them. I am glad to know that there are other mothers out there like me. I am sad to know we even need to fight this hard. I commented to her that when I was born, God gave me permanent steel toed boots. Of course upon my entry into this world I never realized I would have to spend the rest of my life kicking and screaming. I guess He knew what I would need in this life and started me off with the right equipment to do the job.

I need them to kick the butts of all the doctors who told me my son's skin would never get better. I need them to kick the butts of all the doctors who told me to let it go and just drug him up. I need them to kick the butts of all the people who didn't do their job for my son. I need them to kick the butts of all the people who stood in my way and told me it couldn't be done. I need them to kick the butts of the parents who still send peanut products to my son's school and endanger his life. I need them to kick the butts of all the school board officials who fight me every year about what my son needs. I need them to kick the butts of anyone who tells me what I don't want to hear.

Some days I just want to take the damn boots off and rest. Some days I just want to kick back and not have to fight. Some days I just want to lay like broccoli. To have peace from worry and fear. To pass a day where my son is not taking up most of the room in my head. He can have my heart. He had it shortly after he was born. He will have it for the rest of his life. But my head is my private space. My thinking space. My dealing with it space. Sometimes it gets very crowded in there as my emailing at 2am this morning will attest.

I will fight for my son for the rest of his life. I will wake up every day and take up my steel toed boots to battle the world. He knows this. He has said to me when we discuss about strangers - I don't worry Mama. You would find me. You know what - I would. And they had better watch out because I will have my steel toes on. And I will take them down kicking and fighting.

My son causes large emotions in me. He frustrates me. He scares me. He fills my heart. He squeezes tears from my eyes. He makes me laugh. He makes me shout. He makes me proud. He makes me think. He makes me ponder my place in this world. I guess my place in this world is right where it should be. Right here. Right now. Putting down the steel toes for a good night's rest so I can be ready to pick them up again tomorrow and fight the good fight.

Thank you Wacky mom. I look forward to getting to know another mother who proudly wears her steel toes.

All About Her

2007-11-14T19:51:00.000-05:00

Well....

Sometimes in my musings about my son, I forget about my daughter. Not for long mind you but she does get shunted to the back of the chaos which is my mind. She is doing well in school. She makes friends easily. She has no behavioral issues other than attitude which she comes by honestly. So I don't fret about her much unless she is attached to my leg for something.

Last Friday was a very special day for my daughter. She had been chosen to be in the color guard party for the Remembrance Day ceremony at school. I knew about this. I had seen the notice briefly but my husband had signed it so I didn't pay attention. I didn't realize parents could go. Friday morning arrives, she is all spiffed out in her Brownie uniform and at 8:00am asks what time I will be arriving. Arriving for what I ask ? At this point a little alarm bell goes off and I sense what is coming - parents are allowed. Dang it. I let her know that I probably won't be able to make it on such short notice from work. She is greatly disappointed and I immediately decide I will be there - but I don't tell her.

I get to work and we are immediately in to a staff meeting which lasts until 945. I have no chance to ask my boss if I can take my lunch to go and see my daughter. I tell her as I am running out the door and thanks be to God she understands.

I arrive at the school and park myself in the very back of the gym where I know she will be coming in. At this point, she still has no clue that I am there. I turn. I see her. She does not see me. She looks around. She looks sad. So me being me pops out from behind the flag and shout/whispers - Hey Booboo ! The smile could have lit the planet for years. Immediately she becomes bright and shiny and proud. Gone is the sad face and gloomy expression. Mama has arrived. She now walks proudly with a shy smile on her face as she accompanies the United Nations Flag to the front of the gym. I took pictures of her going up the aisle, down the aisle, all over the aisle. I teared up for the next hour as we remembered our veterans and those we lost in war.

For the next two days, Vanessa reminded me of how I'd shown up. She smiled every time. I always worry about making happy memories for my children. I wonder if they will remember the day trips, the trips to the library, the movies, the stories, the presents, baking together or some of the other sundry things we do. I know she will remember this. Her mama arrived and was very proud of her.

Through Someone Else's Eyes

2007-11-11T19:58:00.000-05:00

Well...

I wonder to myself how people see my life. I wonder if they judge me as a parent. As a human being. I simultaneously wonder and I don't care. Those who know me don't judge they just let me be me. Thank God.

But what I also wonder is if people judge their own lives through the eyes of others. I wonder if they take a look at the choices they make and are influenced by what they see others do. I see people making choices that I would never make and I do judge them. I wonder what the heck are they thinking ? Can't they see what they are doing is a bad choice ? Then I chastise myself as being judgemental but still the thought persists... how do they see themselves ? How do they judge their own actions?

I occasionally try to look at my life through someone else's eyes. I try to see what someone else might see if they looked at how I parent, how I live, the choices that I make. I compare what I have done for my son to what I could have done and what someone else has been able to do. I minimize what I have done for my son and think only of what I could have done or should have done. I don't see what I have done as other people's eyes might do. Occasionally I wish for someone else's eyes so that I could truly see me. So that I could truly appreciate the skills that I have, the things that I have accomplished, the strides I have helped my son take and the life that I have chosen to lead.

We spent time today with friends and learned things about people we know that were shocking. Things I never would have suspected given that they have children. Things I never would even consider doing as I have children. I wonder if they could see their life through someone else's eyes, would they make the same choices. If they had that chance to see what they are doing, would they change ?

Reality TV is a chance to look at life through someone else's eyes. Not Survivor or that stupid Paris Hilton crap but things like Jon and Kate make 8 or Little People Big World. I've recently begun to watch You are What you Eat and Looking Good Naked. All of these shows provide an insight in to how people live their lives. They have all kinds of eyes watching them. It gives me a chance to evaluate how I see myself and how my choices may affect the way my life might turn out. I find it very interesting to get this voyeuristic opportunity. I alternately get to feel better about myself and judge myself more harshly. Overall I find it comforting to know that we are all trying to do the best we can with what we've got. After all, when we look in the mirror it is our own eyes looking back to judge us. And that can be the most challenging type of reality of all.

Getting Some Perspective

2007-11-09T22:38:00.000-05:00

Well...

I've been fiddling with my blog. Having a look around. Cruising past posts. You see I've opened myself up to the MyBlog phenomenon. I think I'm ok now with letting people have a look. After all they are strangers and won't know who I really am anyway. That started me thinking about perspective.

Trippy thing perspective. It's all relative to your current state of mind. Right now I am feeling good. I had a good day at work. I've got money in the bank - for today anyway. My son had a good day. I gave my daughter a nice suprise by being at her assembly. It was a good day. So today my perspective on the world is relatively bright and shiny. I can see clearly now, if you will. But looking back on my blog, I see where and when my perspective was skewed. Not nearly as shiny and bright as today.

I see the days when the world was dark. When I was the worst parent on the planet. When I felt like a bad daughter, a worse mother and passable wife. I was seeing the world and my life from the bottom of a very large, very dark, very awful hole that seemed to get deeper as the day wore on. I saw the future of my son having to include that God awful clown with a big shiny yellow M stamped on his butt. I saw my future without my mother and felt a touch of the pain that will exist when that future comes to fruition. I saw my future as a place that I didn't want to be in. That I wanted to run from. That I wanted to just go away.

Perspective can mess you around. It can give you a dysmorphic image of yourself. It can make you faulter as a parent. It can make you question your worth as an employee and indeed as a card carrying member of the human race. Trippy.

Perspective can pick you up. It can make you feel happy. It can help you see things in a way as to make you feel positive and light inside. It can make those pair of pants you just bought look damn good. Even trippier.

I like to think that overall I have a good sense of perspective. That I am able to balance the days of darkness and light. I like to think that I can see my son as he is rather than what I thought he should be. I like to think that I see my daughter as younger version of myself and am able to not cringe at the thought. I like to think that my life is pretty darn good right now and things are looking up. But it's all a matter of persepctive isn't it ?

Slippery Slope

2007-11-05T23:14:00.000-05:00

Well...

I can feel it. I am standing at the edge of a very steep precipice with my son and we are deciding what to do. We could turn back and walk calmly towards safer ground or we could jump and slide right down that steep slope. I am hoping for the safe walk but that remains to be seen.

He is at the edge of developing an anxiety disorder. I have seen in the past two weeks at least two meltdowns including calling himself stupid, tears, anxiety and frustration. I believe that he is finally starting to recognize that the other kids don't have the same struggles as he does in school. He is now able to look around and see that other kids write better, read better and grasp the classroom thing much easier. I think.... but as Thomas can't vocalize abstract feelings very well I could also be blowing smoke. I realize in the grand scheme that two meltdowns in an Aspserger kid is very good. I have read of kids where this is a daily if not hourly occurence if there is rigidity and routine involved. Why this concerns me so is that we have not had that so far. Thomas has been quite flexible. He needs help with transition but can manage it. This is more.

I found out today that my son had a meltdown in class and called himself stupid repeatedly. He could not keep what was going on in the class straight. He could not accept that he was being taught how to study, not that he was having a test. He could not hold it together any longer and let it go. I've also discovered that his teacher, as per an earlier agreement, is not allowing him to take breaks. Teacher has now been told off politely via email. Teacher will be told off in person not so politely if my son does not get his breaks. Insert previous reference to Holy Hobs of Hell here. Teacher obviously does not know me well enough yet or he wouldn't try this I'll do what I think is best crap. DO WHAT I TELL YOU - I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS A LONG DAMN TIME. End quote.

My son. What to do ?? Well, Mama is going to have to go to battle again. Politely, constructively, being a strong advocate, being nice. Mama is going to have to go in and make sure that we don't get pushed over the precipice by people not getting my son. It is imperative that you get my son. It is imperative that you fear me in a healthy way. It is imperative that you listen to that little voice in your head which advises you not to piss this mother off. I will take you down to sit with the nice doctors who don't treat my mother properly in the Holy Hobs of Hell at Satan's feet to be his whipping toy if you don't at least try to get my son.

Many who know me have seen me in action for my boy. I have been told I get a little scary. I like that. I like knowing that I exude something that makes people want to get me out of their office so they will do what my boy needs. I have no issue being known as "that mother" if it gets my boy what he needs. I will strike up a personal relationship with the guardian of the gate to the Holy Hobs of Hell if that is what it takes to get my boy what he needs. I pray every night to the Good Lord above to help me get what my boy needs but people tend to be more afraid of the Hobs of Hell.

So back to that slippery slope. Some days I want to jump off and fly free. Some days I want to run right up to the edge and then hang on for the thrill of it. Some days I want to crawl back to safety and keep a very long distance between me and that edge. Always I will protect my son from the precipice. Always I will fight, bite, kick and scratch to get my boy what he needs. Right now, he needs to be away from that edge. He needs to feel safe and protected. He needs to have confidence that he can succeed.

Apparently I am going to have to grease the palm of the guardian to the Holy Hobs of Hell once again. I think I can stand the heat. That which does not kill us makes us stronger. By now I'd make a pretty good diamond.

When the Parent Becomes the Child

2007-11-04T22:04:00.000-05:00

Well...

Most days I want to write about my son and the adventure that is our life together. Occasionally I want to write about my husband and daughter who are along for the ride and add great moments to the adventure. Today I want to write about my mom.

Mom. I waited so long to hear my kids say that word and now sometimes it makes me cringe. That is usually because it is followed by a May I have ? or He's bugging me. Other than that I love it. Beats the heck out of hey you. As my kids age, I look back at my past and my relationship with my mother. It has had it's ups and downs as all relationships do. She has been my most avid supporter and my worst detractor. She has helped me financially, emotionally and many other ways. My kids adore her. I mean running up the stairs, big hug, Hi Nana ! adore her. And I love that. I love that my kids love my mom as much as I do. I love that she loves them right back. I love that I can prevent her from doing the same things to them that she did to me - a revenge of sorts. I love that I have learned from her what to do and what not to do. I love that from some of things I've chosen not to do, new traditions or ways of parenting have grown. I explain to my kids. I apologize to my kids. I tell my kids more often than they want to hear that I love them. I act silly with my kids. I take them to all kinds of places that sometimes I enjoy, sometimes they enjoy and sometimes we enjoy it all together. The flip side of that is that I yell at my kids, I snap at my kids and I sometimes am not as selfless as I'd like to be. I get that from my dad but that's another blog. My mom did not have the support that I do in a husband. She did the raising for better or for worse essentially on her own. I haven't had to pay a lot for therapy so I can safely say she did a pretty good job. She questions herself when she sees the state of my house but I think mess can be a good thing. Unless it moves on it's own and then it's time to tidy. So far we have no errant piles of unknown origin running around the house so I can live with that.

I am far more like my father than I like to admit but it has also served me well. While my mother is an extremely intelligent woman, she is low on guts and confidence. I like to think I am intelligent and have guts to spare. I am working on the confidence. I do not back down from a fight. I say what I mean and mean what I say. I take on a challenge and generally succeed. I like a good fight and generally win. I like for someone to say no so I can say why ? I like things done my way - it's better and easier anyway. I'll just do it over my way so you might as well. This type of personality has served me well on many levels and it has helped me with my mom. God love her she can drive me bendy. She did not stand up to her mother. She allowed Grandma to speak to us anyway she wanted. She allowed Grandma to discipline us. She allowed Grandma to be critical and unfair. I do not. If my mother steps out of line I show her to the front of said line. This is my house, these are my kids and this is my marriage - thank you for the advice anyway. She gets that which is also good. Over the past 15 years my husband has come to love her as much as I do which says alot. This brings us to time...

As I've grown up, my mother has aged. Goes with the territory I guess. It has creeped up. What has slowly happened is that our roles are starting to reverse. I think she sees it. I fight for her. I advocate for her. I protect her. I guard her. I support her. All the things she did for me. I don't think I gave her much cause to have to fight, etc. but she stepped up when she needed to. She sent the Daytona police a nasty letter when I got arrested and paid my fine. She lent me money to buy my house. She was there for the birth of my son. She is there when it counts.

Lately my mom's health has been troublesome. When I say lately, it's been for the past 15 years. My mom fought the great fight and beat alcohol. I will respect her for the rest of my life for that. She has had fallout from her alcohol abuse and cigarette habit. She affected her gross motor coordination with her drinking. She has essential hypertension which is exacerbated by her smoking. She has high cholesterol which is exacerbated by her crappy diet and lack of exercise. This has precipitated numerous late night visits to the ER, specialist appointments, hospitalizations and doctors appointments. For her last hospital stay, I got my knickers in a knot. Her first meal for a suspected heart attack was mac and cheese. What the hell ???? I went down to the dieticians office after having been in the hospital until 3am that morning and said to them - What the hell ??? I then spent the next 1/2 hour personally picking her menu for the next two days. This is what I do. I fight for my mom as I fight for my son. I take my fighting spirit and say to these doctors - you will take care of her. You will protect her. You will do your job or by God I will drag you down to the hobs of Hell and personally lay you at Satan's feet with a bow on your kicked ass. You will not force me to lose her before I am ready or hell will look good from where you will be standing.

Her health scares me. Losing her terrifies me. It can send me to tears when I think of my life without her. I speak to my mom just about every day. She babysits my kids two or three days a week. She is such a large part of my life that I alternate between parent and child relationship on a regular basis. I fight for her and fight against her. I support her and stand supported by her. She makes my life work. I can't even contemplate a moment in my children's lives that has not had Nana in it.

I see my role changing and I look at it two ways. My mom has had to struggle her whole life. Things have not been easy for her. My life's wish is to win the lottery and make her happy. She is at the top of the list for myself and my husband when we discuss our winnings. We are looking at buying a house that is renovation friendly for my mom to live with us. I alternate between feeling 12 when she is around to feeling 100 when I'm at the hospital again with her. Yet I relish the chance to develop this relationship. I am thankful that I get the chance to spend so much time with her. And I will be devastated and inconsolable when I can no longer call her every time I want to. I see my role now as a chance to give her happiness. I want to make her proud and I want her to feel safe. I want her to know she is loved deeply and I want her to know she loved me enough.

I hope that as she continues to age that I continue to benefit from our relationship in whatever form it takes. Mother to child, child to Mother. I'm just glad to call her Mom.

What Can We Learn ?

2007-10-31T07:22:00.000-04:00

Well...

I just linked to a blog called ryestar. Very interesting man this Ryan. I thought I had deep thoughts and a fairly diverse and extensive vocabulary until I read this gentleman's blog. I suffer from periodic bouts of self doubt and self deprecation in case no one has noticed.

What I found interesting about this man's blog is that he wrote. Not about boobs and farts and whatever else men think about. I don't mean to be shortsighted but most male conversation does revolve around balls - either theirs being scratched or one that is being kicked around a field, carried under the arm or wacked with a little stick. This man was quite deep and he actually showed emotion. He showed admiration and respect for his fiancee. He showed the ability to observe the power of nature that most seem to ignore or be oblivious to. He showed tenderness and wonder about a small child and the new eyes with which they see the world. In short, he blew my perspective about straight men right out of the water.

God love my husband - he can carry a decent conversation about anything from golf, to politics, to home repairs. I can lose him for hours at a party and he's had five completely different conversations with 10 different people. But emotional things, not so much. He is not distant or unemotional he is just able to feel it, experience it and let it go. He doesn't brood or let things fester. Not nearly long enough as far as I'm concerned so that way I don't feel bad when I bring something up over and over and over. He does cry. He does vent. He does get blue. Most importantly, he supports me when I do. But I think overall he'd rather discuss balls.

So thank you ryestar. You've opened my eyes to what men are capable of. You've shown me that men can blog in a reasonable manner with thought and feeling. It's always nice to start the day by learning something.

Go Get Your Boy

2007-10-28T09:25:00.000-04:00

Well...

Late last year, we had a bad day. A VERY BAD damn day. It was one of those days that you wish the world would open wide, swallow you up and put you in the pit of hell that you belong in for being such a bad parent. I lost it with my son. Lost it so far I almost forgot where I put it. I did not beat my son physically but I did with words. I yelled. I screamed. I did things that made it not a proud day in my parenting history. I took him to school and that is how I started his day. With angry words, recriminations, admonitions - angry, hurting words. I felt horrible. He felt horrible.

I came home and sobbed. I called Jess and sobbed more. I confessed what I had done and was beside myself. I wanted my son so badly. I wanted to hold him and console him and beg forgiveness. I wanted to take away that bad morning. In her quiet way she said, Go get your boy. So I did. I went out the door, drove to his school, knocked on the portable door and said to his teacher - I need my son. I told him to leave his things and come with me. He was confused but excited.

We didn't get ten feet from the portable and I broke down crying. I apologized over and over. My son, my sunshine, my heart - he came over to me, hugged me and said it's okay Momma. After I dried my tears, we went down to the lake and skipped stones and played and talked. We talked about what each of us needs to do so we don't have another bad day like that. I asked him what he would change about our family. He said the yelling and Vanessa's attitude. I confess I giggled at that one. I agreed about the yelling. I asked him how did he think we could change the yelling. I explained why I yelled and why his behavior made me angry. He seemed to understand and we agreed that he would try harder to listen and I would try harder to keep a lid on it.

After we played some more and talked some more, I took Thomas back to school. I never offered an explanation and the teacher never asked. I am hopeful that in the years to come, my son remembers the trip to the lake far more than the bad way I parented that morning. I hope he sees that adults need to apologize, need to work on themselves, need to try to respect their kids and need to try to make things right when we've made a mistake. I hope out of all the things I would have liked to have done for my son that this one step I did take makes an impact. That he remembers the good and the bad.

Go get your boy - damn good piece of advice. Thanks Jess.

He Remembers

2007-10-28T09:05:00.000-04:00

Well....

So I've started to re-read the OASIS Guide to Aspergers. I figure it's been a while and I'm in a much better place to receive the information that they have to give. I did try to read it when we first got the diagnosis but was in no way ready to accept what anyone had to say. I was still too angry, too disappointed, too ashamed, too hurt. I had too much to deal with so I got by on other smaller books. This one is a bit of a tome but it will be worthwhile. I don't have to fight so much now and can step back and learn more about the what and not worry about the why.

As I'm sitting there, I'm reading the chapter on the stages we go through once we receive the diagnosis and am relieved to discover that I am not "monster" parent and what I have been feeling is normal. The chapter goes on to discuss how a parent of an AS child does in fact routinely question their parenting skills, their value as a parent, the decisions that they've made and if they are doing right by any other children. It also addresses the guilt we might feel about not being able to afford services for our child that they might benefit from.

Now overall I think I have been a good advocate for my child. I spent the first 7 years of his life running around trying to fix his skin, trying to sort out his behaviors, trying to fight the school for what he needed all while working full time for at least 4 of those years. On my good days, I know I haven't done too badly. On my bad days - I am the worst parent in the world who has not done nearly enough, has let too much time slip by without intensive therapy (that really he doesn't need as he's quite mild), has not spent enough time drilling him for homework, etc. Those bad days are mighty long let me tell you.

So as I am sitting there realizing that maybe I am not doing such a bad job after all, I get the urge to hug my son. A good friend once said, if you need to - go get your boy. So I went and got my boy. He was putting away his laundry, or supposed to be anyway, and I asked him to give me a hug. As we swayed for a moment, he says to me, "Do you remember when you used to hold me and do that little song ?" We continued to sway and I hummed the song from so long ago. It was just a little tune that my dad used to "da de da" to as we took a spin around the living room. I started doing that with my kids as babies to soothe them. We would waltz around the living room quite often and continued until they were too big to pick up. And Thomas remembers. He remembers we used to dance together. He remembers the tune and the time we spent waltzing around.

I don't have too many good memories of my dad. He wasn't a bad parent, he just wasn't around much. But I do remember the waltz and thanks to my dad, my son does too. So maybe the title of this blog should include, he is remembered. My son happens to look a lot like my dad and as my dad was quite handsome, this is good. My son aspires to be a great father some day and hopefully by giving him memories of our dance, he will have what he needs to achieve that goal.

He remembers. I must not be doing a bad job after all. And in his own way, maybe my dad wasn't so bad after all either. I remember too.

The Daddy

2007-10-23T19:07:00.001-04:00

Well...

It's not often that fathers get discussed in blogs unless they are getting cussed out or we've just had enough. It's not often that dad's get the recognition that they deserve for being heroes in their own right. Mother's are usually the ones to take the accolades and sympathies. Men just don't usually garner that kind of attention. I would like to say that my son's father, my husband, my hunky man - deserves some praise.

My hunky man is just that - he is a big fella. He used to be bigger. Heck, I used to be smaller. He walked in to a room and people would stop and look. He was big. Sometimes that's all they would see. Depending on which end of the bouncer you were on, there wasn't really much of a chance to see much else. As we matured, he lost some of that bulk - that big guy wow factor. Which was great for me as clothes were so much easier to buy for. But he never lost that big guy feeling. People still know when they look at him, that he is not one to be messed with. Except me of course - I mess with him all the time. But then again I give perks.

This big man, this hunky fella - he is the father of my children and I doubt I could have chosen better if I tried. When our children were born, this big man would take these wee babies and cuddle them, coo to them, soothe them. He rocked them and changed them and marvelled over anything they did. He was wrapped. Babies just go to him and instantly calm down and feel safe. It must be where our son gets one of his many gifts which is how children are drawn to Thomas. No fear, no worry just play with me and I know you won't hurt me.

As our children grew, my hunky fella got a bit smaller. Still big enough for people to go - hey you need to move that ? Ask Mikey. Hey you need that knocked down ? Ask Mikey. But as a father he got better and better. He grew leaps and bounds in the dad department. He played and he read stories and he taught them to swim and he taught them how to ride a bike. He showed them stars and bugs and all kinds of things. I often thanked him then for being the father of my children. Most days I still do. He gave me the best piece of advice of anyone when people would offer suggestions and I thought I was doing it all wrong. "You are the mother of this child and you know your baby better than anyone." God love him for that. I know I do.

When Thomas was a baby and toddler, he got sicker and sicker. Races to the hospital for asthma attacks and colds. Running to specialists for appointments and evaluations for allergies and weeping skin. Being at home, I did alot of them alone but my hunky fella was right there when he could be. They said, You can't fix his skin Mrs. Plouffe - just accept it. Hell no. Now my hunky fella didn't always agree with my choices but he backed me up. Not always graciously but he tried. They said Thomas' skin might get better by the time he was 7 or 8. I had him cleared up by 3 1/2. Don't tell me no ! Well didn't my hunky fella tell all who would listen about his wife who wouldn't take no for an answer.

As he grew, it became apparent that Thomas wasn't functioning quite "normally". He started getting help thanks to Mary Heathcote his nursery school teacher. The centre said after some skills assessments, let the school handle it. He'll get evaluated eventually. It will sort itself out. Hell no. My child needs help and you will give it to him if I have to take it by force. I got his psycoeducational evaluation over two years before the school would have done it. My hunky fella took Thomas for most of the appointments. When we started seeing Dr. Weaver at ErinOak, my hunky fella was right there. When we got the diagnosis of Aspergers, my hunky fellas sat there holding my hand as I cried. Dr. Weaver said - it's ok. He will grow up. He will have relationships. He will be able to hold a job. My response ? If my son grows up to be half the man his father is, then I will be happy.

Most people would think, what's the big deal ? This is what dad's should do. My husband, my hunky fella, the father of my children did all of this while working two and sometimes three jobs so I could stay home. He did this while working on our house, repairing foundations, fixing problems inside and single handedly re-roofing our house. He did this while helping friends move, helping friends with their houses, helping my mom and his mom. He would put in a full work week plus overtime and come home and take the kids to the park so I could have a break. He would take care of his own laundry (which he prefers thank God), help around the house, mow the lawn and trim the hedges. He would take them swimming because I don't like public pools. He took them skating because I have a hard time with crowds and I don't skate well. That is why he is a big deal.

I got inspired to write this by my friend Jessica's title of her blog - Sometimes Heroes Come in Small Packages. Sometimes they come in big, quiet, fun loving, hunky, helpful and fabulous packages too. My hunky fella - am I lucky or what ?

Keeping up with the Jones'

2007-10-22T23:33:00.001-04:00

Well...

So my friend says to me she says - well you must see my new blog. I says to myself I says - ok I must. Well it's so darn pretty I immediately think - I must keep up. So off I trot to keep up and of course I can't pick the damn available templates, I have to go in search of "the" template. It's now been over an hour and after wiping out my previous blog but not quite, I found my new template and set it up. And quite frankly I like it - it's kind of weird like me and my boy. Colorful, quirky, fun, different - there are worse things to be called.

It's funny how I'm funny about change. I like it and loathe it. I want to keep up and I don't. What I fail to realise is that I have a choice and my son doesn't. It strikes me sometimes as I write the challenges he will face and he doesn't even know it. I don't think it enters his conciousness - thank God. If he knew what he faced he'd start drinking. God knows I've often thought of that particular coping method. But I think my son has the right idea. He deals in the here and now with a little foray into the past every now and again. He doesn't worry about the next day, never mind next year. He just is. He just goes along his merry way and doesn't worry about the small stuff.

One then has to examine the small stuff. What is small stuff really ? Does it matter that he wanted to wear his long johns under his pants in 26 degree heat today? Yes and no as he was going on a field trip to the RBG. Can you say hot and itchy ? Does it matter that he relates all things according to how old he was at the time ? Not really. That's just how he puts things in place for him. Does it matter that his ears are for decoration only ? Yes and no depending on which side of the desk you are sitting on. God Bless you Mr. Highley - you had no idea did you ? Does it matter that he talks about babies ? Hell, at least it isn't fire he perseverates on. Does it matter that my heart breaks when I think of what lies in store for him ? Yes and no - it's my problem not his. It only matters when I let it out in front of him - the worry and the fear. It can manifest itself as frustration and bad temper. Then I make the small stuff into big stuff which is kind of dumb of me.

My son has the right idea. Why sweat the small stuff ? Why indeed.

To His Success

2007-10-18T07:23:00.000-04:00

Well...

So as per my last blog, my son was at camp and I was sitting here quivering with the need to go and get him. I controlled my quiver and remained home with my daughter. Focusing on her for a day was nice and I think she enjoyed it as well. Suprisingly, I really missed my son. When you have a special needs child and don't get a break, a couple of days apart are a dream. My husband and I have had one weekend together, child free in 9 years. Not a ton of time to focus on being Michael and Elizabeth and not just Mom and Dad. Thank God for Cubs and camping trips.

The Cubs and camping trips have given my son many things. He comes home proud of his new skills. He gets the chance to work on group skills and social skills. He is able to demonstrate his growing maturity. He is able to find some independence in a safe environment that doesn't freak me out. He is able to make friends who get to see him as more like them than they may have thought. Because I work full time, I am not able to give Thomas everything I think he needs. Sounds odd, but I can't run him around to groups which he would probably benefit by and I feel bad about that. I'm sure I'm short changing him somewhere. Cubs gives him some of what I can't and I hope to keep him in it for life.

As the story continues, I am still sitting at home all a quiver with anxiety. Slowly that fades and after no phone calls, I know he is ok. Turns out he was better than ok. Despite one small impulse accident, we are advised that he was one of the best behaved kids all weekend. He helped out, he went fishing, he paid attention. All without Ritalin I might add, which I had sent for him. Both Michael and I lavished him with praise and told him how proud we were. You could see he was too ! Something that is hard for Thomas is to be proud of himself. He doesn't seem to think about it all that much and might not really understand what it means, but when it happens it shows. I don't think it's a need for him like typical children. If it happens, great. If not, life goes on. What a great philosophy. The downside is, it doesn't really give him any ambition. We'll work on that.

So after all my quivering and worry my son scores another notch on the belt of life. He shows that he is maturing. He showed that he is changing and growing. When it happens right in front of you, sometimes it's hard to see. These times away from him give us that chance to see him in a new light. They give him the chance to grow and learn which is what he really needs. It benefits not only him but our family which is fabulous.

So let's raise a glass and give a cheer. To Thomas and all his successes. May you grow strong and proud and know that we love you just the way you are.

Necessity is the mother of Invention

2007-10-14T09:27:00.001-04:00

Well...

As I am walking the dog this morning pondering our financial state, it was one of the few times I was able to see the benefits of being "financially challenged". We are not poor by any stretch but things have been tight for a few years. My husband is an apprentice and I've never been in a position to make loads of coin. I'm not high powered executive material.

I started thinking about what we've had to do in order to make ends meet. Over the years, I've dragged my kids in to fields to gather field stone for the garden. I've called my husband very excited about piles of patio stones on the side of the road. Heck, my daughter's chest of drawers came off the side of the road. I buy things on sale. I comb Value Village. I cruise Goodwill. These things never would have happened a few years ago.

I was raised upper middle class. Everything for my father was about how it looked, how much it cost and what name was attached to this. It gave me a superiority complex which was not a nice thing. I thought I was better than everyone else because my family could afford these "things". What we never had was time together. We never had movie night. We never went to the park. We never went on hikes or walks by the lake. Things that have been borne by our financial situation. We've had to improvise in order to spend quality time together. Some of the things we have experienced might never have happened if we were more financially affluent. We might be running around to all kinds of activities. We might be trying to keep up with the Jones rather than each other.

By being honest with our kids about our financial situation, they are learning some valuable lessons. They are learning that important things in life are not measured by how much they cost. They are learning not to judge people by what they wear or drive. Believe me, my husband has driven some doozies. They are learning to think outside the box in order to achieve things that they want. They've watched us scavenge. They've helped us scavenge. They've watched their father repair the foundation to the house, redo the entire house roof himself, dig out a driveway extension, build garden beds and renovate the basement all by himself. That is the short list. They've watched their mother shop frugally, bake endlessly, recyle tirelessly and donate constantly.

I'm hoping that they are learning the lessons far faster than I did. Learning to be independant. Learning not to judge. Learning not to value things over people. Learning to cherish time with each other. Learning that we are here to help one another.

My Uncle Alan, ironically my dad's older brother, has done a lot for me in this life lesson thing. The life I live now is far more like him than my dad. I sent him and my aunt a thank you letter a couple of years ago. I wanted them to know what kind of impact they've had on my life and in turn my children. My aunt called me and sounded quite choked up so I know they were suprised and appreciative. That wasn't the goal but it was nice none the less.

So maybe the point of all of this is that money is not everything. Would I like to do more for my kids ? Yes. When Thomas was little I spent thousands trying to fix his skin. Since then, I've spent thousands again trying to help with his Aspergers and other issues. I'd love to be able to afford tutoring and other things like that. Can I afford a new car ? No. Can I buy expensive clothes ? No. Do I care ? No. My kids have lived a life far richer than what money can buy. They've learned that they are valued. That they are important. That they are worth spending time with. The value on that - priceless.

Lessons Learned

2007-10-13T07:40:00.000-04:00

Well...

For the longest time I gathered life experience not knowing why. Sounds odd but here's what I mean.

We go through life and we experience things. Some people continue to live the life they are leading and some choose to embrace the experience and change. Some people don't think anything of the experience and some analyze it and put it to use. Some people don't realize that they are experiencing anything and others put meaning to everything that happens. I happen to fall in to the latter category.

I tend to keep experiences very close. I tend to analyze them, look for the meaning and see what I can do with it. Mostly I use them to become a better human being. I've managed to learn to control my mouth - some would disagree. I've managed to become a better wife - I hope he would agree. I've managed to become a better mom - the therapy bills will tell the truth on that one. I've managed to become a better daughter - a long time coming I can tell you.

My friend Stefanie once commented that there are several qualities about me she really likes. This is good as we've been friends over 25 years. I'd hate to think she'd waste all that time on someone whose qualities she abhorred ! Anyway - what suprised me was that the qualities she liked were my penchant for introspection and my ability to change my mind. These things have been developed over time in response to ticking people off. Not that I would change myself for others but I don't want to walk around having people plot my demise either.

I've chosen to do this for a lot of reasons and have found it quite successful. One other conclusion that I've come to is I am meant to experience all these things so that I can share it with others. I came to that conclusion a long time ago and for several reasons as well. One - things kept happening to me. Big, life altering things. And two - people kept talking to me. Friends, strangers, acquaintances. They all kept coming and still come to talk to me about their problems. Sometimes to vent and sometimes to help solve said problem. My mom even made me business cards to hand out which said, "If you need a wedding planned, lawyer disbarred or something taken care of - call Elizabeth" complete with my picture and number. Odd, but true.

So while I search for the meaning in my life, I remember that helping others is part of it. I think I go through these things to learn from them, build on them and share what I've learned. I assumed for a long time that everyone did this. I assumed that if little old me did this, then all people must want to learn and grow and change. I've since been disabused of this assumption and have learned that 90% of the population have a hard time figuring out how to tie their shoes.

So here I am with my A child, my life experiences and my thoughts and feelings. I decided that somebody needed to hear what I had to say. They keep coming and asking me anyway.

Can I protect him ?

2007-10-13T07:09:00.000-04:00

Well....

My son has gone camping with Cubs. Not your girly in a lodge camping, but on the ground in a tent with wild things around camping. He has done this before and had great success. Right now, with every fibre of my being I want to run up there, snatch him up and bring him home. I worry that he is cold, I worry that I didn't send enough clothes, I worry, I worry, I worry.

I realize that parents of children without challenges worry but as a parent of one of each, I can honestly say it is different. I'll tell you a story - once upon a time, I had a dad. One day when I was 20, he died and I no longer had a dad in the physical sense. Shortly before this time, I had "lost" my dad to divorce. There were hard feelings, bad circumstances, etc. But he remained on this earth and was there to be reached out to when I was ready. Apparently it wasn't going to be for long, so several life lessons were learned during this time. I had experienced losing him in two ways which were distinctly different. I had a friend whose parents had divorced tell me that losing your dad to divorce and death was the same thing. As her dad was still walking the earth, I vehemently disagreed having experienced both and greatly preferring the loss to divorce. So when I say that I see things from both sides, I honestly mean it. I tend to look at things from as many angles as possible so I can have a real picture of the situation. Then I store that information for future references as hopefully most people do.

I look at both my kids as distinct individuals. While I have compared my son to other boys, I don't tend to compare him to my daughter. They are as unique to one another as siblings as they would be as strangers. I do worry about my daughter but I don't tend to get as shirty about her. Right now she is sleeping safely upstairs and I have no doubt in about half an hour she'll come tripping down the stairs with a Hello Momma. I still worry that my son will wake up. I still worry that he will be able to see a new day. I still wonder if his allergies will get him in the night or if his asthma will kill him quietly while we sleep. Up until a month or two ago, I still checked on both of them while they were sleeping. I still went in and put my hand on their backs to make sure they were breathing. I've even gone so far as to put my hand in front of Thomas' mouth to make sure the air was making it's way out.

Now I've sent him out in to the woods, in a tent, in a bag to keep him warm with men who will teach him how to survive in said woods for two nights and two and a half days. I've piled him up with sweaters, socks, hat and mitts, long johns, medications and warm blankets. I've sent snacks and a fishing pole and rubber boots. And all I want to do right now is get in the car, drive the 40 minutes just to put my hand on his back and make sure he is breathing. That he has awoken to see this new day. That I still have my son, my heart, my all.

Having said all of that, I know he is fine. We have camped as a family in this kind of weather and he was just fine. He is gathering skills, he is having accomplishments, he is making friends and building up his confidence. He routinely gets very positive feed back on camp outs. He loves it. He loves the fishing and the fire making and the hiking. He comes home dirty and smelly and proud. I will go in to hock to give him that feeling. I will keep him in Scouting as long as he will stay to give him that feeling. His Aspergers makes it hard for him to get that feeling. He routinely feels bad about himself for whatever reason. I am usually not to blame but have on occasion contributed to these bad feelings via frustration and irritation. Mild Aspergers kids are notoriously hard on themselves and he is no exception. Experiences away from us helps to give him the memories he needs to get over the bad feelings. It gives us field of reference to say - Look what you did buddy ! You did that so yes, you can do this ! He remembers, he smiles and he tries whatever it is we need to do.

So I will control my fibers. I will stay out of my car. I will sit at home and continue to send him positive loving thoughts as I've been doing for the past hour or so. This is one occasion where being psychic comes in handy. I can tune in to my son and know that he is fine. I can visualize my son and know that he is fine. I can send my love and hugs to him and know that he feels it. And I will wait to see him Sunday and see how much he has grown. And he's not going to be the only one who is proud.

What Could I Do ?

2007-10-09T10:52:00.000-04:00

Well....

So I've come to the conclusion that I am not a good parent. It has come on slowly but gradually and I've come to accept it. I don't mean I beat my kids. I don't mean I neglect them but I see now what I could be doing and am disappointed to discover that I have not. I do not have it in me to play games, to listen endlessly to odd stories, etc. Lucky me: that is one of the characteristics my father has passed on to me. I love spending time with my kids but I need to be interested to enjoy it. I hate sitting around. I hate building lego's. I love taking my kids to the movies. I love taking them to museums. I love taking them to the theatre. I love taking them to the library. I love watching movies with them. But it's all on my terms which is sad. I do alot with my kids but if I don't want to do it, I don't which is also sad. I am not one of those self-sacrificing moms who will give up all of her time and energy to endlessly amuse her kids. I just can't. And this is biting me in the ass huge.

My kids have very good imaginations. They play well together. They are relatively computer savvy. They are learning to read, etc. but I'm not sure how much of that is to do with me. I look back now and realize the amount of time that I have wasted not drilling them about school work. How much time I have wasted not practicing math facts and reading out loud and everything else a good parent should do. I did read to them at night but listening to them read is like needles in my eyes. Homework is like torture because I don't understand why they can't get it and I don't know how to help them do that. This is my big failing as a parent - no patience. Yeesh.

My son cannot play board games. He gets frustrated, bored, jumpy, etc. It drives me nuts. But again, part of that is my fault. I have relied too much on TV for a distraction. I tell myself it's a treat for them. I carefully screen what they watch and expose them to Discovery channel, Learning Channel, etc. but still it's not for them, it's for me. It's for the lazy parent in me that needs a break after working all day, that needs a break from cleaning, etc. It's an easy out which again is biting me in the ass. As a result, he has developed no patience. He has not developed good skills at sticking with something which doesn't interest him. Part might be who he is given his mother's disposition but I wonder if I could have done more to build up those skills. I like to blame his Aspergers to exonerate myself but that is a cop out as well.

I need to start looking for other ways to have a break. I don't want to look back in 10 years and realize that while I recognized the problem, I didn't do anything about it. I have made changes but certainly none which have stuck as well as I would have liked. I have cut back TV for my kids but on rainy days we are stuck. It struck me this weekend. We are tight on money and couldn't really go anywhere. I could not bring myself to amuse my kids. I had to cook and clean and whatever else mom's do to get ready for Thanksgiving. I thought, heck, I'm doing all this and you want me to amuse you too ? Sheesh. What an idiot I am.

My kids still want to spend time with me. They still want to share their dreams and show me their accomplishments. They still want to go out with me and be seen in public. So in light of that, maybe I haven't done too bad a job. I've obviously somehow established a fairly decent relationship with them. They come to me with questions and ask me to help them. But do I help them emough ? I bark and I bite and I growl. I shush and I shoo. Help is on my schedule and kids don't work that way.

What could I do ? Well I could start by opening my mind and keeping it open. I could start by remembering that there will be a when they won't want me to help them but I will want to help. I could start by remembering that I will be running after them to spend time with them soon and they won't want to anymore. I could start by remembering that one day they won't have any more questions for me but I will have answers that I want to share. I could start by accepting the fact that my son does things differently and to stop placing unrealistic expectations upon him.

What could I do ? I could accept the fact that he won't be what I expected him to be and to stop blaming him for that. I could accept the fact that I need to find a way to relate to my son and my daughter before they won't care if I do or don't. I could accept the fact that I need to keep trying to be a better parent and not be so hard on myself when I mess up.

What could I do ? Love myself as much as I love my kids. Remember that saying I love you doesn't mean as much as showing that love every day. Find ways to have fun with my kids that don't involve a screen. Have realistic expectations on all of us and follow through on ways to improve my parenting.

What could I do ? See the chance to change and take it. I don't want to let life go by and keep missing it. I have two valuable, loving kids who think I am great. Maybe I should start deserving that opinion it a little more.

Just one more thing...

2007-10-06T22:01:00.001-04:00

Well...

So we go to the developmental pediatrician for a check up. Just to see whas' up and check meds and all that good stuff. After a brief discussion, we get on to some concerns. Concerns lead to a small test. The small test leads to just one more thing. That one more thing is now called a fine motor visual integration disorder. But to the doctor it really isn't one more thing because it was probably always there but is just surfacing now so really it isn't anything new per se but ... it's just one more damn thing.

She reveals the concrete evidence to me in the middle of the lobby. I start laughing hysterically and she looks at me like I'm about to go postal, which unbeknowst to her I probably am. To her it's nothing, it's minor, it's no big deal. To me, it's one more thing. I look at her and I say, "I really was hoping not to hear the phrase - Would you like fries with that ? in relation to my son's career choices." She laughs. Haha - very damn funny. I point out to her that while it may have been there it is one more damn thing. This boy is anaphylactic, allergic, atoptic dermatitis, asthmatic, aspergers, add and now his brain doesn't want to talk to his hands. Well hell. Who does his brain want to talk to ? It doesn't want to tell him how to behave. It doesn't want to not kill him if he eats peanuts or nuts. It doesn't want to tell him how to make friends. It doesn't want to help him read properly. It doesn't want to help him breathe properly. So what may I ask is his brain supposed to actually do ? It appears to be going on strike on a regular basis and quite frankly I wasn't aware of a union. We also discover that he has been holding his pencil wrong for five years and at this late stage may not be correctable. Well hot damn - let's add just one more thing to the other thing that we've added today. Why not ? There seems to be a special on disorders and dysfunction today and apparently we are in the two 'fer line. Hot diggity.

So the day continues.

At one point I am on the phone crying hysterically and wondering what the heck is going on ? Much stronger language was used but who knows who might read this. God forbid I offend. The hysterical laughter soon follows and I commence high pitched what the f#!%'s in order to relieve my mounting hysteria. Thank God for my friend with an A child. She gets it which is what I really need to hear at that time.

So the day continues.

I get home and the husband does not get it at all. He does not see the port hole to my son's future shrinking. He does not see the added stress and added anxiety. He does not see the need for any of this. He does not see the need for me to have a moment. He believes he has it in perspective. I believe he is delusional but that is another story. My husband comes at this from a unique perspective because he himself is learning disabled. While not Wile E. Coyote, I am fairly bright and find reading and writing as easy as breathing. He does not, never has, never will found either of those skills easy.

It has taken me a long time to separate the ability to read and write from intelligence. My husband helped me with that. It has taken me a long time not to judge a person based on what they read or how they write. What I need right now is someone to throw me a freaking bone and tell me that my son's future is not mandated to include McDonald's as his only career choice. What I need is someone to show me that he can learn but needs to learn differently. What I need is all those people who told me he was bright all those years ago to go soak their head because they set me up for this fall. The "professionals" who over and over again said he was bright - he had problems, but he was bright. Well if his future career includes being a light bulb then we are on the right track.

Like it or not, this is just one more thing for Thomas and I to deal with. I guess I had hoped all his other issues would exempt him from any more things. A get out of hell free card if you will. This may turn in to a gift. There will be a positive from this I'm sure. But for right now, it's just one more damn thing.

Power of Friendship

2007-10-03T22:38:00.000-04:00

Well....

It seems to me that I have been undervaluing blogging. My computer died a sad and horribly slow death. It would heave to life and then quit. Sort of like my new favorite show Pushing Daisies. It just didn't matter how many times we pushed the darn on button, the computer stubbornly refused to cooperate.

I went through blog withdrawal. Granted unknowingly but I did.

I've just read Jess' blog and I have to say I was revived. I missed that glimpse in to her funny mind. I missed that private feeling of camaraderie. I am not one to share certain feelings and I missed the release of the blog. When I start to discuss certain things, my husbands eyes glaze over and he looks at me a bit funny. Sort of like when I do Tarot or give a reading to someone. He believes it but doesn't want to believe it. If I try to read my blog to him, I start to cry. Not helpful in the least but at least he isn't one of those guys who wigs out over it. While my husband is my best friend he doesn't have a vagina and that puts him in a different class of best friend. He doesn't get certain things, which I don't expect him to but sometimes need someone too.

This is where the power of my female friends come in. I can discuss shaving. I can discuss ghosts. I can discuss the emotional toll of my son on my life. I can discuss me and not feel like I should grow a penis and get over it. Sometimes I need to hash, beat that dead horse, rehash and then shoot the horse - whatever it takes to get it out so I don't feel it crawling under my skin. Toby Keith has written a great song called I Wanna Talk About Me. LOVE IT. Quite frankly, I wouldn't kick Toby Keith out of the bed for eating crackers which makes it even better but the song says it all. Some days I want to talk about me and not feel like I shouldn't. I'll give my husband his dues - he does listen and has learned I don't want him to fix it. But some days vagina to penis just doesn't work. Maybe it's the two friends that dangle along for the ride but talking to someone with the right genitalia can make all the difference in the world.

So I thank my female friends. Thank you for talking about breast hair. Thank you for talking about period poops. Thank you for talking about clothes. Thank you for talking about kids. Thank you for being the history keepers. Thank you for being the story tellers. Thank you for believing in ghosts and psychics. Thank you for listening. Thank you for that release that can only come from talking to someone without a penis who doesn't expect you to understand what a drive shaft is and why it's important. Thank you for the laughter. Thank you for helping me get over crises. Thank you for helping me to see that maybe there is a purpose in my life after all and remembering that I am important. Thank you for being my friend and giving me the power to be yours.

Life is good. My name is Elizabeth and I have a vagina - Thank God !

Laugh until I cried

2007-10-03T22:30:00.000-04:00

Well....

As the parent of an A child you have many moments where the floor does not conveniently swallow you up and you are left to deal with whatever has just popped out of your ever lovin' childs mouth. Most times the other party laughs it off - some times they don't. I just read Jess' blog about sexy Spencer and have to share my story. Thanks for the laugh Jess - I needed that.

So we're in the doctors office - again. Thomas is about 3 and has learnt the power of frustration. We are helping him deal with that as best we can. Apparently there are those in our house who are not dealing as well as they should as I am about to discover. My son is happily playing with those dirty, nasty, make you cringe doctor's office toys. He is getting frustrated and I mention that calming down might be a good choice. In a stellar moment of childhood my son stands up, puts his hands on his hips and says none too quietly - Oh for F#!ks sake ! Hmmmm, say I. I guess someone has been cussing in the house and I guess Thomas' hearing is not as bad as we thought. We didn't know at this point that he actually has hyperacuity. So I say to myself, Self - whose fault is this really ? And myself says - yours you potty mouth. So I call my son over and congratulate him on the proper use of the term, remind him that we need to speak to Daddy when we get home and calmly advise him not to use that phrase again.

Damn that Daddy ! Can't he learn to control his f#!$ing mouth ?

But serioulsy...

2007-10-02T23:19:00.000-04:00

Well...

Suprising thing about blooging. You can start out bummed and then vent to no one and feel much better.

I still think life is about whatever gets you through the day. And I still think that it sucks that you collect all these experiences, friends and memories and then you are worm food. But I also think that God has a purpose for me and if it means sticking around to find out then so be it.

I do have to say that with all God's wisdom - why the heck would he invent fruit flies ? My damn house is full of them and the lizard doesn't seem to be interested. Just like a man - cute but useless. Always up to the woman to kill the bugs. Sheesh.

To all my friends - I love you. I'm glad you are part of my memory making experience on this earth. If I have to spend time here, at least I get to meet nice people on the way !

Not so sure

2007-10-02T22:35:00.000-04:00

Well....

Finally I am back. My computer died a slow and agonizing death and we have moved on. Damnit.

We've had lots of hoopla in the last week or so. I herniated a disk and have been in various levels of discomfort for the past two weeks. My mom ended up in hospital for three days with we still don't know what. Thank God on my knees she is ok. Tears, yelling, the usual. I love that woman far too much. I got an excellent job review which has made my not so sure in to another Thank God my guardian angel steered me to this job. Last but not least my husband has changed jobs again for what we hope is the last time. My A friend's husband gave Michael a chance which we will always appreciate. Michael has said that this man has spoiled him for any other boss but that career path was not to be. He was not so sure as we can all be when we take a different path. He is still not so sure but feels good about the change. His only reserve was hurting this gentleman which I don't think has happened. Thank God for friends who understand.

I'm not so sure about many things lately. My son is starting to shake what I thought I knew about him. He is surprising me alot lately which I find exciting and nerve wracking at the same time. He is grasping things I didn't think he could. He is trying to act cool which never seemed to matter before. He is getting taller and taller and taller which I never thought would happen. I'm not so sure that I'm ready for him to change so much yet I can't wait for it to happen. We shall see.

I'm not so sure about life lately. I have questioned for some years the purpose of life. We come in to this world of mayhem and strife, fight to live and then die. Sounds like a rip off to me. We spend our time making memories, having experiences, getting through the day and for what ? When the time comes those memories go with us and none are the wiser. Our kids may chuckle now and again. Our spouses may reminisce about the time when such and such happened but really, what does it all matter ? I get very frustrated by the idea that I am fighting this fight for my son and in the end he will die. In the end I will die. And what will it have mattered ? We've had to fight this fight to get through a life that will end. I've often heard that believing in God will make this life worth living. I do believe in God. I believe in a higher power. But for some reason this question of the reason for life plagues me. I'm not so sure that it's always worth the fight. I get fed up with fighting.

I'm not so sure about many things. Today, I'm not so sure I want to write anymore. I've had so many good ideas over the past week and not been able to get them out. As therapeutic as it is - I'm not so sure it matters.

How's that for a happy thought ?

More change...

2007-09-16T14:21:00.000-04:00

Well...

For the first time EVER, Thomas threatened violence against a doll. For anyone who knows Thomas - this is monumental. His Asperger's fixation has been babies and dolls since he was 2. Loved them, rocked them, stared longingly at them in stores, owned one, lost one; you get the idea.

At the Medieval Faire yesterday, he says to me, " Mom, can I have a broad sword so I can chop the heads off of Vanessa's dolls ?" I was astounded. Not only becuase this was a violent act but because this was Thomas speaking. He who is still championing to get his own carriage for his sister's dolls !

I take this as a milestone for Thomas. A sign that he is indeed maturing and changing. He is loathe to give up his babyish readers. He is loathe to pass by the dolls in the store without looking. He is loathe to pass by a baby and not ask questions about it to the parents. BUT - he is now willing to cut off dolls heads or at least consider it. Some say future psychopath - I say ahhhh. My boy is growing up. Thank You God.

Different Views

2007-09-16T13:29:00.000-04:00

Well....

My husband continues to surprise me in enforcing how differently men and women see situations. I read him my last blog and he balked at the word "save" in reference to our son. He doesn't see my efforts on Thomas' behalf as a mission. He just sees it as how it is. Life.

It's funny that I have fought for my son for the past 7 years because that is what a parent should do. I've made it my mission in life to help my son. To protect him. To help him grow and learn. Again, what every parent should do. My husband just sees it as Thomas and no more than that. He doesn't attach the "mother bear" feelings that I do. He doesn't see every challenge as a fight as I do. He doesn't blow things out of proportion about Thomas as I do.

When it comes to Thomas, my reactions are larger than for Vanessa. Not because I love her less but I know that she is ok. She is strong. She is for want of a better word "normal". I feel pride for her and I feel enormous love for her. I would stand in front of a train for her. I would die for her with no questions asked. It's the every day things that are different. I don't hurt as much when she hurts. I don't get as angry when things happen to her. I don't react as largely when she ticks me off. I know she will get through this life and be whatever she wants to be. I know she will grow up and stand her ground and be a wonderful woman. There are no such certainties for Thomas. His whole life has been a struggle against the foods he eats, the clothes he wears, the chemicals I use to clean, the school work that over whelms him, the asthma that takes his breath away, the anaphylaxis that could kill him and the skin he used to rip open. He has never had it easy.

I think that is why I see my mission for Thomas in terms of saving him. I want to be forgiven for not getting him better quicker. I want to be forgiven for not putting in the time I could or should in helping his behaviours. I want to be forgiven for feeling resentful that these things have happened to my boy. So I crusade. I lash out. I fight. I want the world to know that my boy matters to me despite my failings of him. I want people to see how much I love him and to forgive me for not doing more. How odd of me.

I never looked at it in terms of me. I don't tend to be self centered that way. I do have the gift for introspection but usually about my behaviors for certain situations. I have always carried a load of guilt about my son. That I could have not eaten peanut butter while pregnant. That I should not have gone to Florida while pregnant and induced labor. That I wasn't taller for him to have more room and not squash his head. But I never thought in terms of forgiveness. Hmmm.

So once again, my husband inadvertently teaches me something about myself. He sees Thomas as Thomas. No more no less. He doesn't think all that much about Thomas' various diagnoses. He just accepts that Thomas is how Thomas is. I think about it all the time. I fight all the time. And now I see why. I have placed too much responsibility on my shoulders for the state of my son. I have placed too much importance on myself as for the state of my son. I have placed too little acceptance on the state of my son. Acceptance and forgiveness is what I need to fight for. Acceptance for what is and forgiveness for what I couldn't change.

Darn husbands. Making us think all the time. Maybe mothers everywhere should take a page out of the father of their children's books and stop over thinking it. Maybe look at it from their point of view. It does seem a much more simple way to be. Darn husbands. Who asked for their point of view anyway ?

The Laugh

2007-09-15T22:58:00.000-04:00

Well....

Kids laugh at the darndest things. Farts. Burps. The words fart and burp. Anything to do with poop. Cartoons. Animals. Basically anything that farts, burps or poops. Kind of strange if you think about it. I am a world class farter so my kids have plenty to laugh about.

What concerns me is how we lose the ability to laugh as we age. We worry if people are laughing at us and not with us. We worry if it is the right thing to do. We wonder if it really is funny and by the time we're done analyzing it, it ain't so funny no more. So gradually we laugh less. What a shame.

I want to belly laugh. I want to laugh until milk flies out my nose. I want to laugh until I fart. I want to laugh until my sides ache. I have done the milk thing before but it was water and good thing too as the friends I was playing Euchre with might have had an unpleasant experience as well. Good thing they laughed.

I have a friend who needs to laugh. She needs a good belly ripping, nose snorting, something coming out of an orifice somewhere kind of laugh. She needs to laugh with abandon. She needs to laugh with freedom. She needs to laugh without worrying about farting. She needs to laugh it all away.

I have made it my mission to help my friend and I laugh more. I'm not sure how but I think it is a worthy cause. Some days there is so little to laugh over. Having an A child can make the laughs hard to find. They can make you laugh because you are so hysterical but that usually ends in tears and is not the kind of laughter that I mean. I want to laugh my ass off literally and figuratively. I want to belly laugh for hours or at least 10 minutes.

I've had missions to get through my dad's cancer. I've had missions to get through my parent's divorce. I've had missions to get through my mom's alcoholism. I've had missions to get through my dad's death. I've had missions to punish lawyers. I am currently on a mission to save my son. I think I have forgotten that I am a worthy mission. My sanity and well being are a worthy mission. So my mission now is to laugh as much as possible. I plan to take my friend along for the mission as she is valuable to me as a friend and fellow A parent. She is valuable to me as someone I respect and admire. She is someone who won't be disgusted if I fart or snort while I laugh, which is very important.

So look out world, I am on a mission. I've been successful so far on my missions and I don't plan to fail now. There are two important people at stake here and I happen to be one of them. And I plan to LAUGH.

hahahahahahahahahahahah oooohhhhh hahahahahahahahah ooooohhhh fart hahahahahahahaha burp hahahahahahahah snort hahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!

Much better.

And the fight continues..

2007-09-13T23:20:00.000-04:00

Well...

I am so damn tired of fighting the school system. I have enough to fight for that I don't need them as well. Once again, my son is being passed about. Now they have a peer in his class helping him rather than an EA or at least another adult. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ?????

Needless to say, I have emailed them to express my concerns in a constructive and meaninful manner.

AND IF THEY DON'T GET OFF THEIR COLLECTIVE ASSES AND HELP MY SON, I WILL RAISE HOLY CAIN UNTIL THEIR EARS BLEED !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I feel much better now. Thank you.

So Far Away....

2007-09-13T22:52:00.000-04:00

Well....

I never thought it would happen. I never thought I would be in that place where I could say to someone - It will get better.

Just yesterday I held my new son in my arms and looked at his face wondering who he was and what he would be. Just yesterday I helped him to walk, to talk, to sing. Just yesterday I rejoiced over his first steps, his first words, his first song. Just yesterday he was my little boy and we hadn't begun our journey yet.

Then our journey began and I wondered new things. Would he ever walk strong ? Would he ever talk strong ? Would he ever be able to learn like the other children ? Would anyone ever get him like I was trying to get him.

As we continued on our journey, time passed slowly and then sped by. Suddenly we were ready for school. Suddenly yesterday had been left behind and my boy was no longer my baby. Suddenly I wanted yesterday so badly that it hurt. I wanted that time before I knew what the answers to some of my questions were. I wanted that time before I knew how hard he would have to fight. Before I knew how hard I would have to fight for him. Yesterday seemed so nice.

Now we are at today and I can look back at yesterday and not want it so badly, not look at it so wistfully. Today he walks strong. Today he talks strong. Today people do get him as I do and sometimes better. Today he is my growing boy who no longer itches, no longer has to cry, no longer has to fight quite as hard. Today I have answers and I see hope. Today I see his future is not so bleak. Today I see the future full of promise. Today, yesterday is a pleasant memory. Tomorrow will be even better. I can see it now and it's not so far away.

My boy. My heart.

One to Another

2007-09-09T22:53:00.000-04:00

Well...

My boy. The subject of most of my blogs and most of my thoughts.

My boy is growing up. He actually talked back to me tonight - kind of cool.

Thomas has always been very aquiescent, very apologetic, very fearful of me. Not that I am proud of that per se, but it has made life easier. Not proud of that either. I was raised on a healthy dose of fear of my parents - mostly my dad but mom had a mean way with a slipper as well. Overall, Thomas has been easy to manage discipline wise. I think part of that is Aspergers and part is just who he is. We have tried as parents not to do some of the things that our parents did. We do not argue about our kids in front of them. We do not allow them to play us off one another. We do not allow them to see us divided. We support one another but also call each other on behaviour that might not have been a good choice. My kids have always seen that.

My parents never apologised if they were out of line. They never explained what the real problem was but just expected me to get it. My parents did not discuss my behaviour or why it was wrong, they just told me it was. My parents never explained things to me when I asked questions. Until I was an adult and the scars were healed, they never said they were sorry.
These are some of the things I have decided to change.

I explain to my kids why their behaviour is inappropriate. I explain to my kids why they are being punished or discuss it with them so they know why I am angry. My kids have to think things through if only for that moment. They have to take immediate and appropriate responsibility for their actions as I do as well. If I am out of line and reacting out of proportion dut to stress or being tired, I will say I am sorry and why. If they ask a question, I try to answer it. If they question why they are being punished, it is very rare they hear "Because I said so".

I see my growth as a parent and now I see the growth of my son. I changed some things about how I was raised and kept others. Some good, some not so much. My son has kept his sweetness. My son still gives me kisses and doesn't squawk when I give him hugs and cuddles. My son isn't embarrassed to call me Momma although I cringe when he does it at school. For him, not me. To me it is music. My boy. My heart.

We are both changing as he grows. I am trying to remember to cherish this time. Something I don't think my father ever did. He waited to get to know us when we became what he considered an adult never knowing that two years was all he was going to have left. I learned from that. I know the heartache of losing a parent young. I know the pain of wondering what could have been and why didn't he love me enough as a child. I remember this when I don't want to read a story. I remember this when I don't want to play a game. I remember this when my boy drives me bendy. I remember that I don't want my children to ever question how much they are loved. I remember that I don't want my children to ever have regrets that I didn't spend enough time with them. I have gone from one to another.

I see my son grown. I hear him start to test his limits. Late for some kids at 9. Right on time for him. I will remember this time. I will remember that it is a sign that he is maturing - something Aspergers kids do late. I will remember that he is growing from one to another and smile. My boy. My heart. Whatever will I do the day I realize he has become a man ? I will remember the day he started to talk back and smile. And I will thank God I was here to see it.

Shot to the heart

2007-09-02T22:34:00.001-04:00

Well...

We went to the park tonight. Something that millions of parents with millions of kids do every day. We hope at least. There were two boys there that know my son and not that they had to but they didn't play with him. They were kicking a ball around and didn't even give him a second glance. They knew he was there as I had said hello. My heart fell.

Now these are not kids that he plays with normally. Not kids he hangs out with at school. Had it been Jeffery or Michelle they would have said hi and played. I realize this. However, that "inner child", how I hate that term, reared it's insecure little head and said, Hey, why don't you want to play with my kid ? He's a cool kid. He's a fun kid. I felt hurt and they hadn't done anything wrong.

My A friend wrote about her fears in school for her A child. The same as mine. Will he cope ? Will he behave ? Will he manage to make friends ? I am five years ahead of her in this journey with an A child and the worries haven't changed. It does get easier. It doesn't hurt quite so much. But it's still there. Strange how after all these years away from the time I was going back to school and I still get that lurch for my kids. Will they have fun ? Will they get hurt ? Will they succeed ? Does their backpack look cool ?

My fears had kept their distance until today. I had been managing quite nicely but not thinking about it. I keep telling myself he has Jeffery. I keep telling myself that there are kids out there who like him and see past the weird. Then I wonder where they are.

Parents will say - Thomas is so sweet. Thomas is so polite. Thomas is so funny. Thomas is such a nice boy. And he is. I love that about him. He is inherently sweet and funny and lovable. All the characteristics he needs to get the crap kicked out of him in school. He is also emotionally behind his peers and immature, which makes it hard for them to relate to him. He is wildly imaginative which makes him hard to follow and understand but again, I love that about him. He frustrates me but I love his imagination. I love how he sees things and takes himself on amazing adventures. I love how he gets excited and wears his excitement on his sleeve. Again, great recipe for getting beat up.

He is growing up and he is changing. Part of me wants to get past all this time where I have to worry about his ability to make friends and hold on to a relationship. But this will mean he will have grown up and away from me, which I don't like either. Then I realize that I will always worry and while that might be comforting on some levels on others it is exhausting.

What I should do is listen to my husband:

Not everyone will like Thomas but most will on some level. Not everyone will want to play with him but most kids I don't want him to play with anyway. He will grow. He will make friends. He will get hurt. I will anguish over it. I hope he never knows how much. I hope he goes on in his life as he does now. Taking it one day at a time. Being himself. Getting on with his life.

Worry is wasted energy. Worry is wasted power. Worry is wasted time. One day I will learn how to control my worry. Unfortunately, today is not that day. Today, I feel the worry like a shot to the heart.

My Friends

2007-08-29T22:53:00.001-04:00

Well....

I've done it. I've told my friends my dirty little secret. I shared my blog. I wasn't going to share it with anyone but somehow it has become easier. They are my oldest friends in the world. If anyone "gets" me, they do.

Most of the time I don't give a rat's butt what people think of me. Like me, don't like me - eh. If you are stupid, I tell you. It might be subtle but you will know. If I like you, I tell you. Not so subtle but you will know. I am very black and white. My friends would say that about me. Here's what else I think they'd say:

She is crazy.
She is a great baker.
She shouts too much at her kids.
She is too hard on herself.
She loves large.
She has a big heart.
She hates being called Lizzie.
She is smart.
She is kind.
She can be mean.
She loves me.
She worries too much.
She thinks too much.
She bakes too much.
Well, they probably wouldn't say that as they do like my baking. But you never know.
She is creative.
She is negative.
She can be abrasive.
She can be witty.
She is funny.
She is my friend.

I have often wondered why my friends are my friends. It has always astounded me. I have never felt worthy. I have always been afraid that I will push them away or they will discover that I am not really worth hanging on to. My other dirty little secret. My friends were capable of crushing my heart. What a load to put on someone. What power I gave away.

As I age, I have taken some of the power back. I don't think they knew they had it but maybe they did and it's been their secret. I still love them. I still admire them. I still smile when I think of them. They are deep in my heart for always. But it doesn't crush me as it once did if they don't call. It doesn't hurt me as it once did if they go out without me. I used to take that all so personally and painfully. I felt like I wasn't worthy and they agreed. I don't think they ever knew or if they did, they kept it quiet. Just a part of being my friend - accepting my insecurities.

Friends that I have made as an adult - they don't have the same power and probably never will. I have made these friends when I was at a much better place in my life. They are based on different things and different needs. I can let people come and go now and accept it much easier. Change was never my friend.

I have grown so much as have my friends. We have grown up together. I visit them now and again as we were. I don't think I dwell in the past as some people do but I still like to hash out the old days sometimes. My friends were my escape. They are the only good memories that I have from growing up. They never shouted. Never hit. Never silenced me with a look. Never called me stupid. They accepted me as I was. I didn't have to worry as much around them. I could be free to be me.

My friends. They will never know what they have given me even if they do read this. My friends now have no idea what they have to measure up against.

If I love you, I will tell you. It might be subtle, but you will know.

The Child I Thought I Knew

2007-08-29T22:06:00.001-04:00

Well...

I've discovered many things since having my kids. I've discovered I am not a patient person, which I sort of knew. Many around me knew alot sooner. I've discovered that I like to be silly. Many knew that too. I've discovered I'm more like my father than I had hoped to be. He is not someone that I have admired much as a person. Granted he's no longer here to defend himself but still. I've discovered that I need to be selfish and not get mad when my kids are. That I learned this evening.

I think sometimes we place undue expectation on our kids. I know I do. I expect too much of them sometimes and then get mad when I set them up to fail. I figure that I have set clear guidelines about behaviour. I have modeled good manners. I have shown how to be patient (believe it or not I can be when the need arises). I have displayed how to be tolerant, understanding and empathetic. I have educated my kids on how to be frugal, earth conscious and globally aware. Well as much as you can with 8 and 9 year olds.

What I've discovered about all of this is that it doesn't really matter right now. Kids are inherantly selfish. They take narcissism to a new level. And that makes me angry. Completely and unreasonably so. I spend my days working hard for other people. For my job, for my husband, for my Brownies, for my kid's school, for my friends, for everyone. I believe in giving the most you are capable of when you commit to something. I believe that it is important to help others and have a glad heart about it. What I cannot stand is selfishness. It drives me bendy. I've discovered that I need to be selfish or I will go bendy permanently. I've discovered that giving of myself all the time to others is heading me down the path to bendy. While I like to be flexible, bendy is not a state of being that I am willing to embrace.

I've discovered that I am beginning to resent not being selfish. I have given my children my body, my heart, my time and most of my mind. I have spent over 7 years fighting for my A child and then compensating with my B child. I have sacrificed jobs, furniture, trips, expensive clothes, and all manner of treats because I thought wanting those things was selfish. My children needed things more than I did. My children needed good memories in case I died young like my father. My children needed the solid foundation of love and support and happiness that was shaky in my youth. My children, my children, my children.

I've discovered that my kids have no idea what I have done for them. They don't instinctively know and appreciate what I have had to give up to have them. They tra la la in their own world and have no idea the nights I have spent panicking about paying bills, affording activities, being able to buy groceries. They don't intuitively pick up that Mom has given so much of herself that she may need a moment to recoup. All they think of is them. It is both true and necessary. I don't want them to grown up tiptoeing around me like I did my parents. Worrying, watching, watiting for the smack in the back of the head for some unknown infraction.

I've discovered that my A child is a gift. That he has taught me patience, tenacity, compassion, and endless love. Something I didn't think I had when he was born. Now I cry at the thought of him because of how much he has gone through and how much I desperately love him. I see that my A child is trying to find his way. He does not intentionally dawdle. He does not intentionally spill on the table. He does not intentionally try to drive me bendy. Well most days anyway.

I've discovered that my B child has strength and vulnerability. She is so sure that she is right all the time and she will fight to the end even when she knows she is wrong. She has taught me that girls are powerful, a force to be reckoned with. She has shown me what a mother and daughter can mean to each other when the parents aren't yelling all the time. She has shown me gifts about myself I didn't even know I had. She has shown me that it is ok to be vulnerable.

I've discovered myself in my kids. I see my oddities, my tastes, my strengths, my weaknesses. I see my gifts to them in the endless stories and cuddles and I love you always that they hear so much. I see myself as a child looking at the world just a little differently than most. I watch my daughter fight to the end and see myself having to show that I am right no matter what. I watch my son as he struggles to fit in and see myself on the fringe. I see them thinking outside themselves occasionally and know that is because they are growing up. I see the child I was and how fast I had to grow up.

I've discovered that I need to not mind so much that my kids are in a selfish phase. This means they are still kids. They have not be marked by tragedy and dysfunction. They have not had their hearts scarred so they feel guilty and unable to be selfish as adults. I don't mean selfish in a mean way but in the way that we should take care of ourselves as well. Say no once in a while without that pang of guilt. Maybe I am not such a bad parent after all.

I've also discovered something that is quite healing. I was a neat kid. I was unique and interesting. I was bright and talented and intelligent. I always wondered why I had friends - what did anyone see in me ? Now I see my kids and I know. I discover I was not the child I thought I knew, but better. Worthwhile knowing even.

Thank God for my selfish kids. May I go quietly in to the bendy night.

Bora Bora

2007-08-28T16:58:00.001-04:00

Well....

I have a friend. A very good friend it turns out. She has become my sista from another mista over time. She shared her happy place the other day. Apparently she visits Bora Bora when things are tough. I liked that idea so I've asked to join her on occasion. My friend - she has an A child as well. She is my sounding board. My cheering section. My shoulder when I need to lean. I hope I do the same for her. She has told me that I do.

My friend's A child is a bundle of sunshine. He is bright. He is funny. He is full of wonder. He has the most loving face you could ever want to see. He is caring. He is so much thanks to my friend. Her A child has different challenges than mine. She has had to fight harder. To love harder. To be harder to help her A child. She has taught me so much about my own A child. She helps me to see what I cannot sometimes. She helps me to see what a gift my A child is. What a wonder it is that he chose me to be his parent, that I have been allowed the gift of having him be all mine. She helps me to see past my resentment and to understand that it is ok. She helps me to feel good about myself again after not liking myself for so long.

I guess you could say she is my A friend. Amiable. Admirable. Appealing. Amazing. Amazonian. Articulate. Artistic. Ablaze. Amen. I like to think I am her B friend. I'll leave the adjectives to her.

I thank God routinely for my friends. They help me grow and learn and change. They help shape who I am and who my kids will become. I believe that God sends people in to our lives for a reason and that they are sent to help shape who we are. All I can say is - Thank God for that.

Bora Bora - it's a nice place to visit thanks to my A friend.

Admission

2007-08-25T23:28:00.000-04:00

Isn't it amazing the things we hold close ? The things we are not sure if we should share ? I learned a valuable lesson today about sharing and so share I did. I don't think I've ever told my husband my true feelings about our son's diagnosis. I have admitted being angry, etc. I have shared certain things. I don't think I've ever admitted about the extent of my disappointment of the dreams I felt I had lost. Very selfish of me, but my feelings none the less. I admitted that I was resentful. That I am ticked off that he won't get the chances I thought he should have. My husband's response - well then he wouldn't be the same kid would he ?

My husband doesn't worry as much. Most men don't I think. Thank God for that because women worry enough. We need someone to not worry although it can be nice to share the worry. He has his moments. His grey hair days. Overall, he is able to see the forest for the trees whereas as I stand around looking vainly for a sign pointing me in the right direction to get to the forest. I routinely lose sight of what I have and continue to mourn for what I might have lost. It takes up far too much room in my brain. Michael just sees Thomas. He sees his good boy who is helpful and kind. He sees the son who will learn from him what a good father should be. While I sometimes have my doubts as to the sureness of my sanity when I said Yes, I will marry you, it's moments like this that I thank God again that I did. My husband is one of the best father's you will ever see. He loves fiercely. He plays even more so. He takes his kids to the park, to the pool, to the beach, to go for sausages, to go for a bike ride, to go for a walk, to go wrestle on the bed and to his heart. He gives them cuddles and kisses and compliments. He gives them discipline and support and knowledge. My children will never have to question if their father loves them. It is in their skin. They will grow up and have so many happy memories to choose from they won't know where to begin. My children believe that babies choose their parents from Heaven. I guess they made a good choice.

Michael helps me to see the trees, the birds and the sky. He helps me climb down from the trees when I am clinging tightly to the top and can't look down. Occasionally he wants to throw the tree at me but takes his frustration out on a golf ball instead. He stands like a solid oak with a touch of bendy willow. Sometimes the trees are quiet and the forest lays still. It's those times we walk together hand in hand kicking up leaves and marvelling at the canopy above.

We both have an affinity for trees. Something about the way they are solid and true providing protection and shelter. We marvel at their size and their longevity. We are saddened when they are felled as though we had lost a friend. I wonder what a tree symbolizes ? Maybe that is something else we can share.

Will they see it ?

2007-08-21T22:27:00.000-04:00

When I started this blog it was to vent myself. It was to try this blogging thing as way to journal. I used to journal back when pen and paper was an acceptable way to communicate. Imgine people's shock when you write them a letter that requires a stamp !

I did wonder if people would look. Now I wonder why they don't ? I sit on the fence wanting to be noticed and wanting to stay private. Some days I can tell my story to the world. Other days I want eveyone to leave my story alone. Today is a day where I want to be alone but I at least want someone to look.

I think one of the reasons that I worry so much about my A child is that I was one of those kids who never felt like they fit in. I always felt on the outside. I had friends. I belonged to clubs. I did sports. I always felt on the fringe. I couldn't always tell if people were joking. Sometimes I still can't. I didn't know how to take a compliment. I still don't. I always felt like I had to make myself seem bigger. Now I want to get smaller.

I see my son on the edge. It bothers me far more than him. He is happy just being. It doesn't bother him all that much when people don't want to play with him. He doesn't seem to notice when he is left on the fringe on purpose. He has his couple of friends and he is happy. I cry inside. I mourn for the popular boy I thought he would become. Funny about that - they were the people that I thought were idiots. Now I want my son to at least have the chance to be an idiot.

Aspergers robbed me of the son I thought I would have. It took my dreams and my hopes and my plans for his future and smashed them. He was going to be my golden child. The one who would get along with people and be smart and everything I wasn't. I put all that on him the day he was born. What a load for a little boy to carry. I resent the fact that my dreams don't mean anything anymore. That I have to change them to suit this syndrome, this stealer of dreams, this crusher of the heart.

He is loving, creative, smart, funny, weird, perplexing, challenging, cuddly, sensitive, empathetic, annoying and mine. He makes my heart cry and sing. When he succeeds I cry. When he stumbles I cry. My emotions for him are larger than I have ever thought possible.

He has had to fight so hard. Doctors appointments for itchy skin that weeped, wheezy lungs that ache, eyes that refused to meet mine, foods that made him rash, rashes that made him itch, a brain that refuses to conform, ears that might not have worked, words that were hard to say: a mother that refuses to back down. He has put up with so much and is full of sunshine. Is he full of sunshine becuase of his pain or because that is just they way he was born ? Probably both.

I often wonder if I could have prevented all of this. Was it something I did or didn't do ? I didn't smoke, drink or do drugs. I took my vitamins, got my prenatal care, ate well. Aren't you supposed to have a healthy baby when you do the right thing ?

Anyway.

As I sit and write I am jealous becuase my friend started a blog and someone already read it. I don't get jealous very often at all but when I do it's over the silliest things. Does it really matter if someone reads my words ? No. and Yes.

2007-08-20T23:22:00.000-04:00

Well one can't leave out the other child can one ? The sibilng of The A Child - the B child if you will. My 8 year old ball of fire, slayer of dragons, keeper of the flame, kicker of the butt.

My daughter gives me hope that there are women out there who can kick butt. She is feisty, smart, daring, caring, loving, strong, stubborn and she takes up my heart as well. My poor husband is left with the dreggs but he got the good stuff first so he can suck it up. They take up his heart as well.

I will give my daugther all the guidance that I needed but never got. She will be given what she needs to be comfortable in her own skin. She will be given what she needs so she feels no guilt or shame in saying NO. She will grow up knowing that she is loved no matter what. She will know that her father and mother love her and support her even when she makes mistakes. She will be allowed to fail and make it her own.

I always say my daughter will either take over the world or kick the crap out of whomever is in charge. I believe that. I believe that my children were born to change the world.

As the sibling of an A child, she knows what challenges people can go through. She knows that kids can be mean. She knows that life is not always fair. She has learned how to compromise. She has learned that you stick up for your brother even when he is a goof and ticks you off. She has learned that her brother will stick up for her even when she is a goof and ticks him off.

She writes her brother letters telling him how much she loves him. She finds him during school to make sure he is ok. To get a hug if she needs it but no one is watching. She sends him little pictures she has drawn of her best brother and best friend. She also beats the heck out of him on a regular basis. She loves him fiercely.

My daughter. She is someone that I hope to be. She has the world at her feet and I hope I can be a positive part of the journey.

The B Child - what a wonderful thing for an A child to have.

The A Child Begins

2007-08-20T23:19:00.000-04:00

Well.. to blog or not to blog ? What does blog stand for anyway ? Are we just a bunch of malcontents looking for a place to share or intelligent people with a story to tell ? Probably a bit of both.

What takes up most of my heart and thoughts is my son. He has been in my heart and on my mind since the day he was born. Most kids are I would hope. Thomas ... well, he takes up a lot of space. My son is what some would call challlenging but only in a health sense. I thank God very often that we are not dealing with something that is a bigger fight but none the less, it has been an angst ridden nine years. I often feel guilty that I cannot take more pleasure in his successes. I am usually waiting for the but... We haven't had any buts for a while but school starts soon and the buts will start coming. They always do.

My son started life with allergies that became life threatening, asthma, and severe eczema. Apparenlty the worst case of eczema that Sick Kids Hospital had ever seen. This nightmare went on for 3 1/2 years. During that time he was also identified as being on the spectrum for autism. We've also since discovered that he has ADD. Now you see why he is The A Child - other than eczema but it's also known as atopic dermatitis so that fits too.

I begin this blog not only to vent my frustrations, to sort out my feelings and fears, to pour out how much I love this boy before my heart bursts and to see who else is out there that feels this way but to also try to let it go. I want to let the feelings of anger and disappointment go. I want to love my son and be proud of him without feeling resentful that he has to work so hard. Without resenting that I have had to work so hard to get him to a place where he can be proud of himself.

If you are out there and you have an A child, glad to meet you. I know we are all at different points in our lives. Some know it gets better. Some don't see the light at the end of the tunnel. Some have driven through the tunnel and want to keep on driving until they can't see the light anymore.

I am slowly coming to the realization that I have a fantastic kid. That he is the light in my tunnel. And that my journey through the tunnel will have been made better for having the privelege of being his mother. It's the days that I want to drive in to the tunnel wall that I hope get easier to bear.

Many thanks.
Elizabeth