motherhood
-
The Sound of Music
After the choir concert Thursday night, it was J’s special education teacher that reminded us how far J has come. I needed that reminder, because I came out of that auditorium with a knot of embarrassment in my stomach. I wanted to pull J aside, scold for chewing his mouth raw while standing on stage while the rest of his peers sang all the songs he’d practiced at home and sang with such gusto. I wanted to scold him on the way home in the car for suddenly getting obsessed with his hair onstage, picking at it and combing it with his fingers while the rest of the group stood…
-
Real Life Instagram
W is the kid that doesn’t want to miss out on anything. She’s a feisty, spunky, little fighter. She’s competitive, she hates losing or getting bad marks in school. She’s an equal opportunist–that goes from anything like women’s right to making sure everyone in the has the exact same amount cinnamon rolls, slice of cake, etc. (Those cinnamon rolls or slices of cake also have to be exactly equal in size, because if someone gets a slightly bigger share, W’s quick to point it out.) I really can’t tell if she’s naturally inclined to be that way, or it’s her birth circumstances–being the second child (and being the second child…
-
The “holiday” thing
I’m not very good at the “holiday” thing. Autism doesn’t allow me to take many holidays. If I’m going to take a break from life (for a few hours or days) the number one requirement has to be that I’m by myself. Maybe with another adult like Steve or a good friend. Far away from home. With no kids. Family holidays are never holidays for parents—moms especially. Family holidays for autism families are never, NEVER, holidays for anyone—parents or kids. A lot of times you’re in a place away from home, with lots of other people who are unfamiliar with your needs or schedule, who are all off of their…
-
Why I’m thankful for autism
As we head into the American Thanksgiving weekend, I’ve been thinking about all of the things in my life I’ve been grateful for. And I’ll be honest. Autism doesn’t rank on the top of my list. But I made myself sit down and really think about the things that autism has made me grateful for, and there really are so many things that I appreciate about it. So here are 10 thing’s I’ve come up with–and accompanying pictures. It always has me thinking outside of the box. When J was born, I knew I wanted to be a stay-at-home mom until my kids went to school because I wanted to…
-
Some weeks…
Funny not funny story. Last week and a half has been a little rough. And as I started to write this blog post, I started thinking, hey…last year–at this exact very time–was rough. Last year J had an epic meltdown the day after election day. In fact, he got kicked out of school and I had to bring him home early. And then I remembered, hey…when did I write that post about being in the mid-semester slump? 2 years ago at around this exact time. Guess what happened this week? any guesses? J got kicked out of school for behaviour this Thursday. At this point, I’ve determined he’s an unpredictable predictable…
-
Reinventing Halloween
Last year was J’s last year as a trick-or-treater. It was kind of a rough realization, at least for me, because after all the years of J struggling with Halloween (because of his autism), all of those years to try to get him to learn all of the social rules and nuances of going to a stranger’s house and saying a random, empty phrase (who ever does a trick for their candy?–and since when is it socially acceptable for a kid to demand candy from a stranger?), all those years of learning that some strangers will let you pick out of the bowl and others will think you’re rude if…
-
The helpers
Every time there’s some sort of tragedy or catastrophe happening in the world, I see that Mr. Rodgers meme pop up on the Internet. I’m sure you’ve seen it too: Mr. Rogers in a shirt and tie, with his classic Mr. Rodgers sweater and smile with the words: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” It’s got me thinking that we must be living in some sort of catastrophic lifestyle, because our family is the recipient of great generosity from so many helpers every single…
-
Deception, Manipulation, and Bribery
Willmar. We’ve avoided talking about this race all season. When J first saw the race schedule for the year, he immediately had a meltdown when he saw Willmar, MN listed. “I’m not going there! I am NOT running in Willmar!” The anxiety runs strong in this one. I knew what this full-on panic attack in my living room was about–or at least I had a hunch. He couldn’t articulate it exactly to me–he was that worked up–but I knew it had to do with a number phobia. Specifically an exit number or mile marker. J has catalogued every exit number in every single state we’ve driven through and locked that…
-
No, he’s not like Sheldon, Max, or Sam
In some ways, I think immigrating to the United States as a 16 years old prepared for being a parent of a child with autism. Being an immigrant was one of the hardest adjustments of my life. I had a complete identity crisis. I didn’t know where I fit in at my new school and home and I felt so different from everyone else. Suddenly, I was living in a place where people didn’t have the same background or shared cultural experiences as me (you might be thinking “Canadians are practically Americans though”–and there are some similarities. But they’re a lot of differences) and I missed those little comforts like…
-
Back in the saddle
Our first full week of school is sandwiched between a two day week and a three day week. It used to drive my crazy–this short start, full start, short start schedule. Why couldn’t we just start the school year after Labour Day, like our friends across the river in Minnesota? When J was younger, the spotty school days at the beginning of the year would mess with his poor little routine-seeking autism/anxiety nervous brain. Having just a taste of the new routine only for it to be taken away again for a few days, only then to have a full week, and then a short week when transitions were hard…
