Mischieviously Obtained Video

Were it not for sheer necessity my darling children would never have accompanied me to a recent physio therapy appointment.  But the kids were out of school, my husband was working and all of my reliable babysitters were busy being teenagers.  I simply had no choice.

Like any good mother would I devised a plan; a well thought-out attempt at making the outing as painless as possible.  I knew that three things needed to happen before anyone left the house:  1. the kids needed to eat 2. the kids needed to use the washroom and 3. two iPads needed to be fully charged and ready to go.  More importantly, though, I needed the kids to be clear on my expectations of their behavior.

Once we were packed into the truck and on our way, I reiterated how important this appointment was.  I told the kids that I would find a place for them to sit; a place where they could watch me and play on their iPads. I also stressed that they needed to be quiet and respectful of the other clients who would also be there receiving treatments.  It really was the best-laid plan.

Upon arrival at our destination I located my treatment coordinator who said that the kids were more than welcomed to hang out while I worked through my exercises.  So I set the kids up on a workout bench in plain view of me, handed them their electronic devices and stated my expectations AGAIN.  And then I headed for the treadmill.

I only had to put in 10 minutes.  Every 30 seconds, though, I found myself turning around to check that the kids were alright.  And two minutes was all it took for the kids to start ...

“Mom, we’re thirsty.”

“No you’re not,” I said calmly over one shoulder, “you had plenty to drink at home before we left.  If you’re still thirsty your water bottle is beside you.”

“Mom, we’re hungry.”

“No you’re not,” I said, this time in more of a sing-song voice, “you just ate at home before we left.  If you’re still hungry there’s snacks in the bag beside you.”

“Mom, we’re bored.”

Good Lord!  Was this really happening?  And in front of a room full of strangers?  Of course it was!

 

“You’re not bored,” I managed through clenched teeth, “you have your iPads.”

I felt it in my bones – this would be the longest one hour physio session ever! I managed to finish my time on the treadmill and then it was over to the weights.  And just like that it seemed as though the kids had settled in.  When I next turned around to check on them my daughter was holding up her iPad smiling at me and my son’s attention was focused on the man with the prosthetic leg.

I was crouched down adjusting the weights when from behind me I heard someone say, “Excuse me, but your daughter …”

I stood up and looked into the eyes of a woman I knew only as ‘Donna’.  I’d seen her around a few times.  Having heard her speak to others I knew that she was a professional wrestler of sorts.  Her ring name was ‘Donna-Do-You-Wanna?’  Her neatly braided rat’s tail hung mid-way down her back, her body was adorned with tattoos and piercings, and when she smiled I saw teeth the color of my first morning pee.

What could Donna possibly have to say to me about my daughter?  Was she going to say how pretty she was, or that she looked just like me – comments we had heard repeatedly since we’d entered the facility?  No.  Instead what she said was, “Excuse me, but your daughter is videotaping me with her iPad while I’m exercising and it’s really creeping me out.”

Okay – not what I had expected.  It quickly dawned on me, though, that when my daughter had been holding up her iPad and smiling it had not been because of me.  Instead it had been because she was filming!

“Oh that,” I responded casually, “she does that all of the time for her dad.  She’s only supposed to tape the attractive ones, though.  Obviously she made a mistake.  We’ll be sure and delete that immediately.”

Now, do you believe that that is what this mommy really said?  Well, I did not!  Although later that evening when I recounted the incident to my husband, that’s what he said I should have said!

The wisdom that comes with age, and hours of therapy, had taught me that how I responded to my child’s actions was far more important than how I responded to Donna’s reaction and words.  Once-upon-a-time this mommy would have responded out of anger and embarrassment.  I would have fallen over myself to apologize to this stranger and undoubtedly reprimanded my child harshly in a very public forum.  But to what end?  To appease someone who was a stranger to me and in so doing crush my child’s spirit?

“I’m sorry my child’s actions upset you,” was all I said.  “Although her intent was harmless we’ll delete that video immediately.”

On the ride home later that morning I addressed the inappropriateness of using our iPads to tape people we do not know.  And although I would never have given voice to my thoughts, the idea did cross this mommy’s mind that there were far worse ways a girl could make a living than selling mischievously obtained video!

Just sayin’ …

Traveling Troubles

For this mommy travelling with her two young children in a vehicle over any sort of distance ranks right up there with teeth extractions and pap smears.  It is both unwelcomed and uncomfortable!  Short of having strapped the kids to the roof, I have done everything within my power to make a long drive as pain-free as possible for all parties involved.  

Both iPads are fully charged and strategically placed within the vehicle to ensure easy access at all times.  Snacks and drinks are prepared and packed, as are coloring books and crayons, books for reading, playing cards and action figures.  Neck pillows, blankets and stuffies await each child on their seat should they desire comfort and warmth.  Child-friendly music is piped through the rear speakers and, on more than one occasion, this mommy has extended an arm out behind her to hold the hand of a child in the backseat who would not have stopped crying otherwise.  I have done it all and still it is never enough!  And it is never very long into any of our journeys before the murmurings from the backseat begin to make their way up to the front.

“Are we still in Canada?  Do we have to go on the highway?  I don’t like to go on the highway?  How long until we get there?  How many cut-offs until we get there?  I’m hungry.  I’m thirsty.   I don’t like what you packed for a snack.  I have to pee.  No, make that poop – I have to poop.  I’m bored.  Why can’t I get YouTube in the truck?  I’m hot.  I’m cold.  I don’t want to go to sleep.  She undid my seatbelt!  He pinched me!  Are we still in Canada?”

So this mommy has taken to singing!  When it all just gets to be too much – when I’m ready to open the door and throw myself into traffic – I sing.  My husband - a self-proclaimed horrendous singer who swore he would never sing to, or in front of, his kids – accompanies.  Usually I let loose with a series of operatic ‘AHHHHHHHHHs’, which is my way of summoning a higher power to help keep me from losing my mind.  Other times I belt out my best version of The Wheels on the Bus.  That “baby music” drives the kids b-a-n-a-n-a-s.  On occasion the kids and I would agree on a song to sing together; a song that made the miles pass by more quickly and more pleasantly.

My family was recently on our way home from cottage-country.  On a good day that trek took a minimum of four hours.  As anticipated we were not far into the drive when the murmurings from the backseat began to make their way up to the front.  It was time to sing!  Within no time the kids and I had decided on Down by the Bay.  We all agreed it was a catchy little tune, had a good beat and was easy to dance to.  Not only was Raffi’s song a good-kid-memory for me, it had an educational component; aiding my four-year-old son to learn rhyming sounds and words.  Moving in a clockwise direction around the vehicle, it was my turn to rhyme the first verse. 

“Down by the bay where the watermelons grow,” … and as the kids’ voices faded into the background I finished with my favorite “have you ever seen a bear combing his hair?”

Next up was my daughter.  In between giggles she finished her verse with “have you ever seen a goose kissing a moose?”  No surprise there.  Everything with her as-of-late revolved around kissing.

And then it was my son’s turn.  Born full of pee and vinegar, I knew that he would throw down a rhyme as unique as himself.  “Have you ever seen nuts on butts?” he belted out at the top of his lungs.  “Down by the bay.”

I don’t know if it was the heat.  Perhaps it was having lived and breathed my children for the past 24-7.  Or maybe I just needed to get out more!  Whatever it was, it made me laugh.  And the more I laughed so did everyone else.  Nuts on butts – I thought that was hysterical!

When everyone but me had stopped laughing my son asked, “What?  Nuts to butts.  It rhymes, doesn’t it?”

I was quick to answer, wanting to assure him that I was not laughing at him.  “Yes my son, it rhymes.”

Well, what more can this mommy say except that she will neither confirm nor deny that she has ever seen, heard, or felt nuts on her butt!  But as I always say, truth is funnier than fiction so you can never be too sure … Down by the Bay!

ACCEPTANCE

Late one afternoon in the summer of 2013 my husband and I sat anxiously awaiting the results of a series of psychological tests that our six-year-old daughter, Bronwyn, had taken during the previous weeks.  Until that point in time our experience with the medical community had been less than ideal.  No one, thus far, had been able to provide us with a satisfactory explanation for our daughter’s cognitive, developmental, and social delays.  We simply wanted an answer; a definitive reason ‘why’?  Neither one of us, however, was prepared for when the psychologist said simply, “Bronwyn has Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD).”

All I remember about the rest of that meeting is that I held my husband’s hand a little too tightly and tried a little too fiercely not to blink, lest the tears spill over.  During the drive home I struggled to accept that a professional had just formally diagnosed my child as having special needs.  In so little time so much had changed – Bronwyn had ASD.  And yet nothing had changed – Bronwyn would only ever know what she and all children are deserving of – acceptance.

It has always been my belief that ‘knowledge is power’ and so I took to the internet in search of help. I was determined to learn all that I could about ASD to ensure that my child be given every opportunity to live her best possible life.  I was fortunate enough to find a group of phenomenal women – all of whom were mothers of children with ASD.  Although I was scared and apprehensive I willed myself to attend one of their weekly meetings.  And the truth of the matter is that I cried throughout that entire first meeting.  Yes, I felt sad and yes, I felt extremely overwhelmed.  I realized, however, that I was not alone.  In each and every one of those extraordinary women I found encouragement and support, compassion and understanding.  I felt reassured knowing that I would never again have to walk the journey alone.  That group of women showed Bronwyn and I what I had promised myself she would only ever know in this lifetime – acceptance.  Acceptance for the amazing girl that she was.

What I learned about ASD is that it effects all whom it touches differently.  That is why persons with ASD are referred to as being ‘on the ‘spectrum’.  Each persons’ symptoms and severity, thereof, differ.  Sometimes the difference is mild, other times vast.  Although persons with ASD are regarded as ‘different’ from what is defined as neurotypical, they are not less and should only ever know acceptance.

Bronwyn understands that ASD causes her brain and body to sometimes think and act differently than other people’s brains and bodies.  As she matures she may come to understand that, in more technical terms, ASD impairs her neurological development, her social interactions, and her verbal and non-verbal communication.  That time is not now.  Now is the time for Bronwyn to know, as should all children, acceptance for who she is. 

My daughter is absolutely beautiful in the way that matters most - on the inside.  Her smile is infectious and she is kind and compassionate.  Although Bronwyn has all of these remarkable qualities, ASD interferes in her social interactions with others.  Interpreting social cues and non-verbal communication are daily challenges for her, and expressing her thoughts clearly and understandably can be difficult.  As her mother I have cried many tears on Bronwyn’s behalf.  I have stood at a distance and watched proudly as she has tried so hard to put into practice the many skills that she has been taught at her therapy groups.  I have watched her attempt to make friends, to engage peers in conversation and to sustain play with them.  And I have also watched heartbrokenly as those same peers have ignored her, run away from her, and laughed at her.  In spite of how those children have treated her, though, Bronwyn’s beautiful spirit soars.  Even more incredible is that she harbors no ill-will towards those children.  Bronwyn has only ever shown them what they, like her, are deserving of – acceptance.

This past winter my daughter played Novice Girls hockey.  Her position was right-wing and throughout the season that never changed.  The coaching staff understood that in order for Bronwyn to thrive within that environment familiarity, consistency and routine were essential for her.  Before each practice and game my family would ask Bronwyn what it was she was supposed to do once she got on the ice.  By the season’s end she had learned that she needed to ‘skate hard’ and ‘chase the puck’; two simple concepts.  During her time as a Wilmot Wolverine Bronwyn’s teammates showed her patience, kindness and respect.  They only ever showed Bronwyn what she and all children are deserving of – acceptance. 

The concept of “acceptance” (not to be confused with “approval”) has been at the forefront of most of my life.  In my late teens I made a decision that my family would not accept.  Having been on the other side of scathing rejection myself, I vowed that should I ever become a mother there were very few choices my child could make that I would not accept.  I naively believed that the question of “acceptance” would arise when my children were older.  I had thought that it would concern issues such as who they would love, what political party they would support or what religious faith they would join.  

I never imagined that the question of “acceptance” would present itself to me in the form of a beautiful little girl with special needs.

Not once have I questioned whether to accept my daughter for who she is.  As mothers I do not even believe that that is a choice that we are even given.  You just do.  I desperately wanted a child and I loved Bronwyn from the moment I realized that she was growing inside of me.  The fact that she was born with Autism Spectrum Disorder did not change that.  I am her mother.  She is my child.  And until the day that I draw my final breath, I will strive to ensure that in Bronwyn’s lifetime she only ever know what it is that she and all children are deserving of – acceptance!  

The Mom Quilt Project

As wonderful as motherhood is, it can be extremely challenging.  When I started blogging my motivation was to share my personal 'truths' about motherhood - good and bad - and where ever possible help others find the humor within their family lives.  The 'truth', however, is that sometimes there is no humor to be found.

In my quest to share my 'truths' with others, I came across an opportunity to support, uplift and encourage other women and mothers. There was a call for submissions from a remarkable group of women for articles concerning motherhood; articles that would allow mommys like myself to share their personal stories, and in so doing help other women and mothers who are not in a position to help themselves.

Over 60 women and bloggers were chosen as contributing authors to share their stories about motherhood in an E-book entitled 'The Mom Quilt'.   I am honored to have been one of them. My story - Acceptance - is a glimpse into the life of my beautiful daughter who lives with Autism Spectrum Disorder. 

During my life there have been several instances where the kindness, strength and support of other women - some of whom were strangers to me - is what helped me through when I was unable to help myself.  In sharing my family's story, I wanted to 'pay it forward'; to support and uplift women and help them see that even in the face of adversity and challenge, we can always find hope and beauty.

100% of the proceeds from the sale of this E-book will go towards building a water well for those women, mothers, and children in Kenya who call Mercy House home. This is a chance for us to help those mothers, and mothers-to-be, in circumstances beyond their control.  

Please take this opportunity to help those who are not in a position to help themselves.

Click here to buy this E-book

Why You Should Keep Things to Yourself

My son's little school friend was over having a play date.  In true boy-fashion they had torn the house apart.  They had run up the stairs, and down the stairs; under the stairs and around the stairs.  At some point one of them had taken a break to use the washroom.  I hadn't thought anything of it until the next day when my son mentioned it.  It was then that I remembered having seen both boys head in the general direction of the washroom at the same time.

"Mom?"

"Yes Brennen?"

"When Mattie was here for our play date we went pee together."

I wasn't surprised; I had figured as much.  I didn't see any reason to make a big fuss over it so I said, "That's fine Brennen, but next time take turns using the washroom."

A few more seconds passed and again I heard, "Mom?"

"Yes Brennen?"

"My penis is bigger than Mattie's."

What can this mommy say but that her son has confidence!  But seriously, how was I supposed to keep a straight face and respond to that?

"You shouldn't look at other people's penises," was all I could manage.  "And I hope you didn't tell Mattie that yours was bigger."  

Better to let my son believe that size didn't matter!  That sort of 'truth' could wreck havoc on a boy's self-esteem for years to come.

"Now,” I chuckled softly, “go tell your father."

Boobies

My sweet boy and I were having a “moment”. We lay snuggled together on the couch; his head nestled against my chest and my chin resting atop his head.

"Mommy," he said, "your boobies are like jubies."

I knew that he was referencing my favorite candies – Jujubes – but what could he possibly think my breasts had in common with them?

"Oh? Why is that?"

"Because,” he said, “they're soft and squishy."

Soft and squishy?! I’ll have you know, kid, that I used to have a set! They were big and round and solid. Okay, okay – maybe that was just when they were full of milk, which of course was for your benefit. But they were firm! And little do you know, but the thanks I got for birthing and nursing you was that my “boobies” would now take first prize in categories designated Looks Most Like Grapes With the Centers Sucked Out and Looks Most Like Plastic Baggies Full of Pudding!

But of course that entire diatribe took place inside of this mommy’s head and my son never heard a word of it. I just chuckled softly to myself and took a minute to think about what it was I did want my son to hear.

"Well," I replied, ""soft and squishy" was a small price to pay for the gift of you.”  

Amen.