Perspective.

I watched a video today about a severely autistic girl who was unable to speak. For the first 11 years of her life she was labelled as developmentally delayed as well as autistic. (the actual diagnoses was "mentally retarded" but I will use the current term here) When she was eleven, they sat her in front of a computer for the first time and since then she has gone on to write a blog and started a novel. She answers questions not only coherently but more intelligently than most "average" kids. WOW.

Why is this relevant?

Enter Oli. My beautiful, energetic, highly intelligent son.

Though he is not even close to having the same symptoms as this lovely girl, my husband and I have tossed the "autism" ball around for some time. He has moderate social anxieties, including separation fears. These symptoms worsen when change to routine or environment occur. We struggle to bring him anywhere or have people over to visit without feeling severe embarrassment over his angry, and sometimes violent behaviour. I found myself constantly apologizing for him and "explaining" Oli to the people around him.

Enter a very special auntie and who I look to as a wonderful parenting figure. She found herself doing the same thing with her son. Always "explaining" how his brain works or why he was behaving a certain way. Right in front of her son. She encouraged me not to do this. Don't display for them that they are "defective" by explaining away what you perceive as faults. Hadn't thought of it that way.

I thought about what it would be like if my parents had always done this for me......

"My apologies. We've tried to get her to stop chewing on everything but she just seems to need the calories." (This is COMPLETELY untrue!)

"Sorry about her. She refuses to wear jeans so inappropriate leggings in a myriad of colours is all I can get on her body." (This one may be true...)

"Aw man! Sorry, we've tried to get her to talk slower, but her brain must work faster than most..." (Can't deny this one.)

Ok. So who am I kidding, they are all true.... (But I don't remember my parents ever saying things like this.)

Moral of the story?

I'm done apologizing for who my son is. That doesn't mean I am done teaching. In a private, safe place, I will still instruct and try to lead him in finding his way to more appropriate responses and behaviours. But the public displays of shame and dismay (which sounds harsh but let's face it, that's what it is!) are over!!

So if you see me do this, please remind me....I DO run on a "mom-brain" afterall...

A Good Man was Easy to find.

Yesterday I tried to figure out how my husband manages to balance all the amazing things he does for me. He would like to be in constant physical contact...but still wants to know about me as a person. His every action is designed to make my life easier. He wishes he were home while he's at work, and I think he actually ENJOYS taking 3 toddlers and his town-raised wife along on farm errands. The only solution I can come up with is that he actually loves us THAT much. He just does. He firmly believes me to be the most beautiful woman on our fair planet, (God bless his ignorance!) and he desires for my happiness above all else. He is always trying to better himself as a parent and takes the time to explain things he is doing to the kids. I am hopelessly attached to this man.

Haven't changed at all in 9 years! ;)

This is my joy today. And my sorrow. Tomorrow we will bury a vibrant wife and daughter. My thoughts these last few days have been wrapped up in trying to imagine how life will continue for her husband. It scares me. Almost enough to make me want to withdraw. Try to keep from losing myself in him. Here's the rub. I like enjoying the blissful happiness I live in right now. And, after all the energy I've spent imagining my life without him, I forgot the reverse. I hope if I go first, he will know how much I loved him. I vow to spend whatever time I have left telling, and showing him and others how much I love him.

I win!

I did it! Take that, you stinky nightstand! You done been reconditioned! After sanding, puttying, bleaching (twice!), priming every single inch of that blasted thing, and two coats of paint, I have won. No longer smelly, and exceedingly gorgeous, this piece now rests in my bedroom. Stay tuned for the rest of the bedroom makeover. Some teasers? Eggplant, wainscotting, vintage green damask, and pillows.

Reminder of where we started.

Oh how far we've come.

DIY FYI

My creative juices have brought me to home decor as of late. I have a door in my porch waiting to become a head board, a pile of ancient curtains in the basement waiting to become dramatic new ones, and a night stand in the shed waiting to become a brighter-coloured nightstand.

All of the above was acquired for a grand total of $13, thanks to generous friends, building centre sales, and our neighbourhood thrift store. Now, usually you can trust your friends will not give you anything ridiculously disgusting, (Depending on your friends, I guess!) and the building centre should be trusted to sell only quality controlled items......but the thrift store? I've never had a problem. UNTIL NOW!!!

I purchased the most beautiful of night stands the other day for a whopping $8. What a find! What exactly did I find?

I'm pretty sure this night stand served as the birth place, home, and final resting place for an entire family of rodents as well as the fire-hydrant-esque powder room for an entire pack of dogs.

The smell was not immediately apparent in the store. It IS a thrift store, after all. I DID find an unusually large amount of small rodent excrement in it for being indoors, but I figured that was a quick clean up. Without much further examination, I paid the man and proceeded to carry out my newest treasure. Upon moving the piece away from the neighbouring ones, I noticed the dried on, orangish drips in years of layers down the hidden side. Oh well! Another easy wipe down.

I proudly unloaded my invaluable treasure and placed it on the grass to wipe it down. This went well, aside from the overwhelming men's-bathroom-at-a-truckstop smell as I wiped the canine bathroom side.

Luckily, there was no project space available in the house, so I placed the piece in the porch to await sanding and painting. When my husband left for work the following morning he was assaulted (and I mean completely slapped in the face) by the smell of death, urine, and general old furniture that had taken up residence in our porch. He was ready to throw it out, right then and there. But I am me. NO WAY! I am going to win this battle.

Well. The thing has been sanded, puttied, bleached twice, and the smell remains. It is fainter and mixed with the smell of bleach and Febreeze. (not the best idea.) And still, I am not ready to give up! I will use an odour and stain blocking primer and I WILL beat this thing.

What did I learn?

If it is $8 in a room full of $40, there is a reason. Find it.

Honesty

My friend said something yesterday that is rattling around in my brain and won't leave me alone. I finally figured out why.

She said, "I'm exercising to be healthier, the weight loss is just an added bonus."

I couldn't figure out why this would stick so prominently in my brain, until now.

I can't honestly say this.

I lost 25 pounds last year and got myself down to a size.....well lets just say a much smaller size! I exercised my butt off (literally) and worked hard. I'm sure I am much healthier today than I was before I started. So.....what's the problem?

My quote would read:

"I'm exercising to lose weight and look amazing in jeans, the health benefits are really of no consequence."

Am I too young to care about health and therefore allowed to have this shallow viewpoint?

Not really. I'm almost 30, have 3 kids, one crazy loving husband, and plenty to live for. So.....great! Now I just feel guilty for wanting to confidently wear a swimsuit......!

Here's my opinion. Does it matter? I am motivated by the compliments and looks I have received, both good and bad. Is this wrong? NOPE. I am extrinsically motivated. (There's that big word again!) It's ok. I know that I need some reason outside of myself in order to accomplish something. I found it in the beautiful joy of buying a new wardrobe and not hating it. I'm ok with that.

Thanks, Mom!

So, it's official, I'm becoming my mother.

But I hope in all the right ways.

On Good Friday, I decided my little girl needed a one of a kind Easter dress for Sunday morning. No problem, you say. There are lots of unique shops around. 2 days to shop. Should be fun.

Sorry, that's not how we roll. I designed, created a pattern for, and sewed her new dress before Sunday morning. THAT'S how we roll.

Thanks, Mom. (With a ring of truth but dripping with sarcasm.) This idea that I can, and should, do anything I want is met with frustration from my husband as well as myself when projects go way longer than expected (cabinets) or end up not being as "cost-effective" as I thought.

I learned early on that I could do anything. Whenever. Not because she ever really said this. She just did it. We rearranged our bedroom furniture almost monthly with no comment from her. (Except maybe, "As long as you do it yourself.") We repainted, recovered, and built whatever we wanted. I do believe I was even allowed to skip school to go fabric shopping on occasion. One day, my sister and I decided to switch bedrooms and we just did it. I don't think we even felt the need to ask. We knew that if we could accomplish it on our own....she wouldn't mind. As long as she knew where to deliver the clean laundry.

I never thought much of this until I got married. My mom has helped me to realize that she doesn't actually know how to do everything. She just does it. With common sense, some creativity, you can figure anything out. This mentality DID get me royally electrocuted at a young age as my small arms were needed to help put a belt back on the dryer!

Re-carpet my own stairs?      Why not?
Lay my own flooring?      Awesome!
Refinish my own cabinets?     Easy.
Tile my backsplash?      Still waiting to find the right tile.
Design and create a dress from scratch in 6 hours of work?      Done and done.

I'm trying to treat my children the same way. With a quiet expectation that if you want to do something, you will. Not "You can do it if you try!" or "I'm sure you will figure it out." (Not that these are bad!) Just a calm assurance that my children will accomplish what they set out to do......because they are my mother's grandchildren!

Drug abuse

Anyone who has ever had to give their children Azithromycin will understand this blog post. If you have not....don't judge.

My lovely children are blessed with penicillin allergies (including the entire "cillin" family) so they are restricted in what antibiotics they can have. The best invention ever?...

Azithromycin.

Where amoxicillin (or Penicillin) would require a 2-year-old to take a large dose of disgusting liquid 4 times a day for 11 days, Zithro requires one tiny dose every day for 4 days. A miracle, you say?

Hold on. Where amoxicillin tastes bad but palatable, Zithro induces vomiting in everyone I have had the privilege to share it with. Not the "stomach-ache" kind of vomiting but the "touch-my-lips-and-my-whole-body-reacts-to-get-it-as-far-away-as-possible" kind. Unpleasant. And immediate.

So. Here we were. I picked up the prescription and needed to get the first (and largest) dose into him as soon as possible. What to do?

The last time we were here, he puked all over my van and clothing. We don't want to repeat this incident so I pick up some cupcakes for incentive, a smoothie to get the taste out, and head for the nearest park.

This would be a good time to note that you cannot mix this medication with anything to make it easier. Mixing this with anything short of a gallon of kool-aid only serves to destroy the host mixture and make the medicine as good as garbage cause no one can stomach that much foul tasting Kool-aid.

There in the park we tried coaxing, pleading and, me being on 4 minutes of sleep in what feels like 3 weeks, a few tears. Nothing worked. He was clamped shut. Here's where the "no judging" comes in.

There on the floor of my van, with the door wide open for the inevitable quick escape; I pinned my little boy down on the floor and tenderly place 3 ml of foul liquid into his less-than-willing mouth. He swallowed and I gave him his smoothie in time to keep most of the stuff inside. Try to picture the blood curdling screams of a child nearing death through it all.

That's when I looked over and saw a lovely woman and her two children playing maybe 50 feet away in the park. Easily within earshot of the torture I had been giving out, but completely blocked by the van. As I allowed my children to play in the park while they ate their reward cupcakes and smoothies, she continually eyed me suspiciously. I smiled and had the nerve to ask if she had a kleenex to wipe my poor child's nose. She obliged but handed it to me like she was approaching a rabid animal.

I wonder what she thought I was doing?

At this point I guess all I can do is be thankful he kept the dose down, that my kids played wonderfully in the park, and the woman didn't have a cell phone.

Here's to a full recovery in 4 days!