Territory Unknown - Running for my life

My son, Carson had a class trip to a friendly, yet competitive event with Run For Life against other schools in the Cambridge area. I was excited I was able to make it, albeit in yoga pants and running shoes, oddly enough I fit in. I pinned on a runner's number on as many students with my son's class as I could, feeling envious of what? Who knows? Being the kind of parent I am, I have no qualms about making a fool out of myself to better the needs of my children. I promised my son if he ran the first two laps of Dickson park, I would run the last with him. Parents and teachers are encouraged to participate any way they can, which is awesome! I jogged along side my son, for once, not caring what anyone thought of my jiggling back side. I patted my sons butt on the straight away, knowing that at some point I have to let him go. Holding back the tears, cheering and whistling as loud as I could, I watched as my eldest child hustled off ahead of me, trying his best to finish his race - which is all I ever ask of my kids. My son was not first place in that race, but he overcame his fear of not winning first place. In that moment I realized perhaps I have not been practicing my own ways of life. I wanted to show him, I wasn't afraid of trying as well. I ran in the last race of the day with teachers and other parents. One lap around Dickson park. Quickly after the race started, I realized my choice of bras that day did not reflect my activity! Also, losing 40 pounds recently, my XL yoga pants began falling....and falling. My concentration was shot. I looked ahead, and back and saw that I was in the middle. Not bad! My inner voice pushed on, and I finished. There were no high fives for me, and although I was initially peeved that no one knew what I had just accomplished, in that same thought, I didn't really care. I didn't lose weight for anyone but myself, and if my son didn't see me run, I could tell him I tried my best. I felt great. I felt accomplished. I felt I needed to shop for a new bra, STAT! A few days later, my friend Mike simply asked me if I was entering into the Classic Mile race at GCI's clay track. UMMMMM...I'm not a runner. *My inner chubby girl quickly asks WTF are you thinking?* I decide to properly time myself on a clay track (Glenview High School). I brought my children with me, which was a mistake. I ended up losing my concentration and encouraging them to run along side of me. My time was under 10 minutes for that mile. Not good. I pulled my groin pretty bad, and of course didn't need any more reasons to cop out. I timed myself (sans children) on Monsignor Doyle's recycled tire track (not sure of the proper name for it...as "I'm not a runner"). I ran with a friend (a runner) and she was half a lap ahead of me at the finish line. Really? I timed myself at 9:11. An improvement. After discussing with Mike about not concentrating on my times or places, "just come out and run". I realized he was right. It is after all, what I tell my own kids. How are they ever to believe me if I don't do it myself? I spend the next 3 days allowing my groin to repair itself, and mentally getting over this hurtle that the chubby girl inside of me kept building. I know I can physically do it, but in front of so many other runners? This is the apitome of personal stress. Arriving with my supportive husband, and children that just wanted to go to Dairy Queen, I am met with a scattered group of stretchers, joggers, runners, announcers, perfect bums, great flashy shoes, drums pounding and then there's me. I feel like I'm sticking out like a sore thumb. A sign above my head that states "CHUBBY GIRL THINKS SHE CAN RUN". I'm flashing back to movies I've seen where clowns are laughing and faces zoom in pointing, mocking me. I go to registration and get my number. My number. I get to wear a number. Numbers are for people whom are committed to their body, whom know technique, and know their competitors. Pinning it on without even running felt like a hurtle. The frog in my throat made me want to hurl.

I meet up with friends whom too, have come to challenge themselves like me, which actually made me feel better. I'm not as alone as I thought I was. Time stood still for about an hour before the race, which allowed me time to warm up. Stretching, breathing, watching people racing around this clay track. My thoughts immediately go to how falling face first would really be great (enter sarcasm).

Photo Credit to K Jacobson. My group of runners are asked to come to the start line. Gulp. The thought had never crossed my mind if I'm supposed to just start, or lunge start, or whatever. I'm pretending to know what I'm doing, and not pee in my pants. I hear the gun fire. Immediately I say to myself "SHIT, this is really happening". After the first turn, I see the others in my group ahead of me. "That's ok" I say, "...they wont have to look at my bum jiggle". Which then lead me to my next thought: "I'm really glad I bought runners shorts to go over my 3/4 length yoga pants, and boy, this sports bra is great!" *shakes head* "FOCUS!". I come around to my family, and a friend, cheering for me to keep going and hang in there. "Oh yeah, I haven't even finished a lap yet". My husband is taking many pictures, knowing I requested to make sure he snapped shots on my up jog. Members of the crowd are yelling "GO 86!" I think, "Oh yeah, that's me! Keep going! They are watching you!" Second lap I have a good momentum, steady and sustainable. I'm just concentrating on my breathing. Reminds me of being in labor, anyways. Third lap, and I can hear them....my group. I'm suddenly realizing I could be responsible for tripping them. I have this lovely way of waving my feet out while I jog, which is fairly attractive (enter sarcasm). I concentrate on coming out of the track a bit to give the leaders the inside. I hope this is the right thing to do! They've all finished the race, and I still have one more lap to go. I chug on. As I come around the 4th and last lap, I notice a rather large group of elite runners on the track. They don't know I'm coming. My initial self (and my apologies for thinking this) was "HEY! How RUDE! GET OFF THE TRACK!". Then again, I'd never be 3/4 of the way on a track during their race. That's just me. I'm almost at the finish line. I feel the burn, but I let go. It's ok that I push hard now, and I did.

I finished, crossing the second white line at 8:42.23 seconds I see Mike with open arms, who encouraged me and believed I could do it.

My husband was there, so proud of me, and my kids all welcoming me. I'll finish by saying how afterwards, my husband told me that my son was very concerned that I was not first. He knew I was not going to win, and didn't want me to be hurt. My husband told him that I already won the race. "How?" my son asked. She won because it's a race against herself, and she tried really hard. I suppose that's all I really want out of life. For not only my loved ones to know that I try really hard, but also for me to know as well.

AUTISM, Its Everyone's Frustration

Autism, It’s Everyone’s Frustration

As today marks the end of Autism Awareness month, I find myself feeling like I didn’t accomplish as much as I originally set out to do.

I wanted to inform as many people I could about not just my own son’s issues with his Autism, but also to inform what people need to know about the public school system (and other school systems) and its lack of support for children with special needs in general.

For the most part, teachers, principals and its supports want our children to succeed. This will not be argued. Unfortunately lack of funding is in translation, commencing a “race” for all parents that require special attention for their child or children in school.

In short, you have to make your child need the support more than other children. We have to take away support from another human, in order to receive the help and assistance for our own child. It tears parents apart.

It’s a constant battle, and the worst part is, we don’t know whom to trust. Parents hand over their children to strangers whom all say they want to help. Every parent does this, yet a child with little ability to communicate may go hungry at lunch time due a gluten/casein free diet and due to lack of simple communication (a phone call).

Some children with Autism in particular are physical in their communication. This means they can react to a command by simply throwing anything, like a chair, or punching anything or anyone in their path. I ask, what are they “reacting” to?

Is it possible by removing them from an integrated class, into a small enclosed room with one or two EA’s, we are compounding the pressure for these children to flourish? How would YOU react to being forced into a small room, and spoken to like you are a baby (in some cases), and asked question after question after question. How would YOU react to someone asking you to perform a task over, and over and over again?

One thing will remain true. Children with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) have one thing in common. They are SUPER intelligent human beings. Our educational system considers them to be a nuisance in my opinion. What the government fails to acknowledge is that every one of these children grow to be adults. As adults, they will require care – and make no mistake these parents who care for them will die. Their current care is now on the hands of not just the parent of the child with Autism, but on the hands of every person with or without money in their pocket.

Do we wait for the child to grow into an adult, then say “OH, he/she needs assistance!”, OR, we can provide the necessary therapies TO ALL diagnosed children while they are children. When they grow into beautiful intelligent loving adults, we, as parents can set them free to LIVE. Our every day that passes depends on EVERYONE knowing what is happening, and what we can do about it now.

As a parent of a neuro typical child, do you want your child in a classroom with an unassisted ASD child? If the ASD child reacts, this becomes YOUR issue too.

I urge you and everyone you know to ask your children’s teacher if there is a child with ASD in their class. Now ask them if that ASD child is receiving sufficient support.

In conclusion, I will be asking my son’s school AGAIN if they will prepare a document which recognizes that he has a diagnosis. I will then ask they prepare another document which outlines his triggers to outbursts, and successful means to achieve his goals (an IEP). This will be the third time I have to ask for it, and most likely the third time they will try to talk me out of it.

The race is on.

Ahh, it's not so bad...

It's amazing when the sun comes out how one's life isn't so bad afterall. After the last few days of sunshine, even the kids are enlightened and sunny themselves. Julia has even been helping me around the house - WITH A SMILE!

Gord and I are excited about our trip to Cuba too. He and I have never been away alone together - ever! It's not something we can ever really afford as we like to put our money towards the house and the kids, but what good is all that if Mom and Dad are not happy or just working to get by? I think it's very important to pay yourself first. The kids are young, but old enough to leave home. I'm excited and ready to relax!

On another good note, Carson and Julia both started gymnastics this week and did quite well. I was laughing hysterically when Carson was on the trampoline and was asked to jump off and onto the matt and land on his feet, but every time he would do a superman and fly on his stomach. The coach had a hard time not smiling and laughing, but we cheered when he finally got it.

It's a wonderful feeling as a parent when other adults laugh at the moments that differenciate your child from others. After a while, I'm sure as a coach or a teacher, these kids are like cattle being pushed through a fence....all the same...all mooing.... all annoying. When a child shines, and it's your child - I believe it's a wonderful gift to share it. My boy sure does know how to spread that joy!

Julia on the other hand is very pretty, and she's starting to know it. I'm really pushing the fact that beauty means nothing without brains. I'm very careful to not disrespect myself in front of the mirror. Self confidence starts with intelligence and hopefully over the years I can teach her more about that. She's 3... I think I can take it easy for now!

So for now the sun is shining and I have to go admire it quickly before it goes away!

Elaine

I love my kids, but...

People love to tell me these are the best days of my life. Strangers DEMAND for me to soak up these great moments. I do appreciate when my kids use manners, appreciate and respect me. I do love when those great moments happen and I try to write them down before I forget them. So why do I feel like I just need to escape?

My son Carson even with autism doesn't trouble or stress me out as much as my neurotypical 3.5 year old daughter Julia does.

Julia, bless her lil' heart can really put the wrinkles on my face and grey on my head. She is ready for school, ready to socialize, ready to spread her wings. I'm ready for her to do it, but until then, she's stuck with me.

I try really hard to entertain her thoughts and needs. Just yesterday I was softening air dry clay for her to work with, yet she instisted on taking from the hard clay pile, then crying over the fact it wasn't working the way she wanted it to. This took the seal off the pressure cooker a.k.a. my head. I quickly put it all away, hence leading to more tears.

Last night, 1/2 an hour past their pajama time, I asked her to set aside her toys and go up for jammies....well.... she nearly took my ears off screaming "NOOOOOO NOOOOO NOOOO I HATE YOU MOM!!!" There are moments like that one, that take the words out of my head. I have to factor in that she's tired, yet no one should speak to anyone like that - ever!

I guess what I'm saying is, I'm ALWAYS disciplining. I'm always trying to take the time to explain proper behaviour, and trying to have fun at the same time. Right in the middle of my 'lessons' she starts to tell me how it is... totally erasing any explaination I made.

How is a mother supposed to enjoy these moments. The highs are so HIGH and the lows extremely LOW.

Is it wrong of me to announce that I just want her to grow up a little more? She can be downright ROTTEN to me, playing off of Gord... smirking at me, gaulking at the fact she got him wrapped around her finger... it's just not familiar territory to me.

Being that our firstborn has a disability, these were never issues I had to deal with before. Also being that I'm a very strict parent when it comes to manners and respect, I find this so much more difficult! I just know that if I don't nip it now, I'll be in trouble in 5-10 years. I feel guilty sometimes when I wish for things like this. I could have had a second child with a disorder - since the odds are more favorable for that (says the statistics when you have one child with a nerological disorder such as autism), so how dare I even think these things?

I suppose I validate my thoughts in my head because I live it every day. It's just not a big deal so maybe I'M the one that needs to grow up and accept responsibility for the children I have.

There are days when I feel like a car with a heavy load... and when Carson received his diagnosis, the back tire was replaced with a donut. With Julia, her highs and lows threw another donut on the back... and I feel like I'm going to pop.

I don't want to pop. I just want to be a good mom, who stands behind good values 100%. I may need a friend to help hold me up - even just for a minute or two now and again.

You Can't Even Notice

There are times, when I without a doubt convince myself my son is hardly autistic. I have been quoted to say "you can barely notice!". And then I will be driving from somewhere, and even with all the background noise of my daughter chanting the new toys she wants and the radio playing a great tune - it hits me. It's obvious, he's autistic.

I've never hid his diagnosis, and I've always talked about it openly. That is something I will always stay true to. There are great things about autistic children that other parents with typical children would never know of. If you've ever forgotten what you needed at the grocery store, Carson would remind me. Carson can sometimes tell me verbatim what somone has said to me (when I haven't heard). When Carson wraps his arms around me, and tells me I'm the best mom in the world, I cherish that moment because they don't happen every day. In the past, I have heard exactly how the teacher has spoken to the students in the class - which confirmed our instincts about the kind of teacher she was.

Make no mistake, autistic children are not "dumb, stupid or (and I detest this one) retarded". I have found that children with autism are colourful, charasmatic, passionate, spiritual, loving, daring and sometimes even a little cheeky at times.

So even though autism is a part of our everyday life, and it becomes our "normal", there are times when I am reminded that his diagnosis is real, and it's for life. When that happens, I'll remember all the great things that autism brings.