"That Mom"

I heard someone refer to me as "that mom" today, like it was a bad thing.

Yup, I'm "that mom". Go ahead roll your eyes, I'm used to it. I'm nice about it, I try to be anyways, I am always respectful of the process. It's necessary to be respectful because I expect the same and when we show up with a need, I need all the parties on board. I chose to be "that mom" because my boys need school. They need the social experience, they need the friends, they need time away from me, time to not be completely dependent on me. School for us is a great place to test everything we work so hard on. Problem solving, socially acceptable behavior, friendship, respect, emotional regulation, self advocacy, team work. I often feel more like a moderator than anything. They have a hard situation, I work with them to find resolution, I work with the school to find more understanding, then go back to the boys with solutions. I'm so thankful for our school for being so amazing with this process and our teachers have been so understanding.

But, what I really hate about being "that mom" is the fact that many people don't realize what it means to be "that mom". Really, I'm not just a busy body, I have plenty of other things to do, but I'm advocating for my children, and nothing is more important. I'm helping them by working with the system to facilitate an environment that they need to thrive at school. I am making sure that my special needs children are not lost in the system. I don't need everything changed for my child, I don't need anyone tiptoeing around them, I don't ask for anything that is contradictory to what is outlined in the Alberta Education Act or Inclusive Education Policy and I certainly have no illusion that anyone can "fix" them, absolutely not. I need little things that make a huge difference that will help my children to function well in an inclusive setting. Sometimes that takes tweaking, which I have been doing this week, not just at the school level, but at home as well. We have done a lot of work and had many many conversations at home this week, on how to deal with situations they have encountered already and what expectations look like, not just education expectations, but social and emotional as well. As the years pass, I need to advocate less and less as my boys are learning, through a lot of hard work, to advocate for themselves and their needs change as they learn to find their way through different situations. I'm so proud of that.

I'd much rather hide them away from anything that could ever hurt them, but they have so much purpose in their lives and they are showing me, even in their struggles that they have so much to give to the world.

Trust me, the eye rolls about being "that mom" don't really add much to the already self inflicted feeling that I'm being a bother, even though I've always been reassured that I'm not. My children are vulnerable and they carry things with them for a long time and it scares the piss out of me. It's embedded at this point in our journey that I can't trust that every day will be a great day and that they may run into a person or situation that will imprint a negative message that will take a lot of work to unravel. They can't just shake it off. I have to be very diligent to make sure plans get followed, ILP's are in place, everything is going well. I've had several impromptu meetings already this week and I do have to say that I so love our school and teachers that I am always greeted with a smile and genuine understanding. What a blessing. But I still feel like I have to always be up everyone's ass and it's exhausting. I know it's fear based, I worry about my boys all the time, my heart literally aches all day. When one of them walks out of the school with a smile, it's like I've won the lottery. It's one step closer to knowing that they will be okay in this world on their own. That's our end goal all the time, helping them to function well, on their own. It's been the goal since the moments they were diagnosed, and it needed to be the goal, it's been the fire that has kept us on track. I would literally find a way to flip the world upside down if it would make things easier for them.

I know that got some eye rolls, probably by people who know my boys or have at least met them. It's called invisible disabilities. For the most part, you wouldn't really be able to tell that much that they both struggle with aspergers and you probably think I'm overdoing it by being "that mom". "They look normal". Yup, they are normal has become one of my responses to this statement. But just because someone looks normal doesn't mean there is not a struggle happening. This makes it difficult to get the help they need. Many would even say they 'act normal'. Good for them, that they have come this far, that when they are in a social situation, without me there to police them, they are able to mostly control their actions or at least articulate their needs by words or actions. That's so promising. That's a lot of hard work. That is many many hours, years of hours, of hard work and commitment.
That's night terrors, cuddles, medication trials, head banging, stimming, holes in walls, suicidal thoughts, anxiety, fidgets, doctors, deep deep conversations that would blow your mind, honesty, patience, reassurance and love. Most of the time for them at this point, it's just a matter of them stifling that anxiety until they are in a place they feel safe and they can let it out ~ home. And that's okay.

So, as I wrap up writing this Adam, who has been screaming for almost 2 hours now, is getting a little quieter now, that's my que that he's ready to talk. I'll continue to be "that mom" and my children will thrive because of it and I'll ignore the eye rolling, but shame on anyone who does it anyways. I'll likely continue to feel like a bother, even roses have thorns for a reason, and I'll continue to volunteer as much as I can to show in my own way that I appreciate the extra effort. My boys will continue to grow and become amazing men and the world will be better for it.

Oh, added bonus, when I'm advocating for my child, I'm actually advocating for all children. All children benefit from inclusiveness and understanding. You're welcome. I'll be "that mom" and I'll wear it like a badge of honor. I've already been rewarded by having these two amazing sons.

World Autism Day

It's World Autism Day today. I'm generally happy that this day exists, it is a good reminder to many people that autism is real and affects a lot of people and families. Awareness is always good right? I'm happy that awareness has come far enough to devote a day to the cause...but...

Please don't only acknowledge autism today. Understand that for some families it is Autism Day every day. My family included. My boys both have aspergers. I have heard from so many people about how I should not "label" my children. I have two words for those people, today they will be 'shut up'. You are not helping erase the stigma, that kind of thinking is part of the reason there is stigma, that kind of thinking deters parents from getting their kids the help they need. You are essentially saying don't dare say they have autism, I am saying they should not be ashamed if they do. To me not getting an accurate diagnosis means I can't effectively help my kids because I don't know what is going on with them. Is it because they don't "look autistic"? Well then tell me what autism looks like. Oh, sorry, autism in many instances is an invisible disability. I guess we will just have to treat each other with respect not knowing what any of us are struggling with. What a concept.

I've never kept the diagnosis away from my boys, they have known as long as I have known. I am always honest and upfront with them, about everything. Instead I have taught them what autism is and that we all have our own story and it's okay. I hope they always embrace their autism as part of them. It is their story, I have no right to keep that from them. That being said, when it comes to their peers, I have left it up to them to tell whomever they want, whenever they have wanted to, with the option that I can help them and we can make it as grand or as simple as they chose. They have on their own, in their time told different peer groups and it was a non-issue. As insignificant as anyone's knowledge that Susie is allergic to peanuts and Tommy has red hair. Their peers have accepted it and not given it a second thought but gained a little knowledge that "hey now I know why Adam is bothered sometimes" and "yes it is okay if Aaron has a walk about when he needs it." Oh if the world would be so accepting as a child. Somewhere as we have grown up we have let cynicism and fear in and it has molded our beliefs.

I've have always been fiercely proud of my boys, they are amazing. They are so smart, creative, handsome and funny. They also know how to make me smile. I've never been nervous or shy to tell anyone they have aspergers, although I could do without the pity I get sometimes. I don't need anyone to say sorry when they learn this. I'm not sorry. This is who they are and I wouldn't change that, although of course I would change some of their trials, I don't want life to ever be difficult for them. I actively post on facebook about their struggles and their triumphs, probably more than some would like, because we are not ashamed or afraid of the diagnosis, and no one should be. I hope that I present myself as an open and informed enough advocate that if someone is curious they can ask me anything without fear of offending me and I will give the best answer I can. I get many many messages from people just asking for some guidance for themselves or if they can connect me with a friend of theirs. That thrills me. I wish I had more of that while we were weaving our way through the unbelievable maze of diagnosis, the health care and mental health care system, school, home, blah blah blah. What a journey then, what a journey now. It doesn't necessarily get easier as they get older, it just changes. I feel my boys have come a long way from early diagnosis until now but even though we have our routine, we deal with new things all the time and it's a challenge for us as parents to figure out a way to help them make transition to any change easier. That includes changes their bodies make as they grow, I won't even get started on puberty, which yay for us generally comes earlier to autistic kids. I know I know, routine works, but only until the routine doesn't work anymore.

Parenting autism has certainly changed who I am as a person. I'm more open, more honest, more real. I call things as I see it. I jokingly say to my fellow warrior moms that it surely must be contagious because I think I caught it from my kids. Meaning I see the world, for the most part, the way they see the world. I am always on high alert to situations that might not go well. I hear the lights buzzing, I feel the itchy clothes, I feel the struggle, which some days terrifies me. I don't necessarily divert from those situations, they need to learn to live in this world, but I do try to teach them to be alert to situations and to prepare themselves accordingly. I also sit in awe of their amazing minds, I burst watching them overcome obstacles no matter the size. I don't expect the world to have the empathy of a special needs mom. It's a strange space to sit in, seeing and feeling the the workings of autism as intimately as we tend to as ASD moms, but at the same time being typical ourselves. It causes anxiety, extreme exhaustion and very low self worth. I've often referred to myself as the sacrificial lamb, although those words physically hurt me to say, some bad days I literally lay myself down to serve the demands of autism and what sometimes feels like unconscious abuse from my boys just to get them through unscathed. The end of those day when there has been no little to no empathy or apology, it feels very sacrificial. And when you are crying in the dark reflecting on a day that logically makes no sense and you are only happy you all survived, those days, when routine didn't help and you are really just surviving in hopes that tomorrow is in fact a new day, those are also Autism Days. I sit there in the dark and try to breathe hoping the next breath doesn't bring on that long overdue anxiety attack. I contemplate having a glass of wine, which seems to be the remedy for so many moms having a "hard day" but I don't do it because man oh man if that is the answer to a hard day, I will surely become an alcoholic very quickly. It's the reason I never drink honestly. I really don't do much, wish I could write in this blog more, but damn for a lady that does nothing, I am one busy bitch. Ah, wait, I don't do much for me. Keeping my kids afloat is going to have to be considered what I do for me for now. I have lost several friends because they don't "get" my kids, I don't have enough time for them, my schedule can change completely at the drop of a hat. That burns. I see them post about World Autism Day and I really just think they don't get it.

As luck would have it, this day finds me sitting at my desk filling out a form, another form, this one for genetic testing to try and figure out Adam just a bit more. His anxiety is just so extreme, it's scary. But damn, this form is expecting me to remember ailments I had during pregnancy, when and for how long, including things like headaches. What's that? Oh yes I forgot, this is the process, sadly a huge reason parents give up. This form has been taking forever to get done, partially because it's just another reminder that my children will always have some struggles and that is an emotion that rears it's head with every appointment, every form, every assessment, big sigh. Okay, enough for this facebook post turned blog for today, Jake is calling around to get information from his siblings now, yes it's that in-depth, Aaron is you-tubing and building a model and Adam is beating the hell out of his drums in a very rhythmic math, the different drums are like numbers in a pattern. Thanks for taking the time to read this far. Now you know even more about me and us, I hope this wasn't all babbling.

Please support autism awareness by being inclusive with kids and their families, please don't judge when you see someone with a "difficult child" in the store, offer a hand instead, don't pretend you know how you would do it differently, just be kind, be like a child. Please help eliminate stigma, it scares people into not getting help.

And my message to anyone suffering with anything, share your story, the only way to eliminate stigma is to add awareness. Stigma comes from fear. There is power and healing in owning your own story and I commend anyone brave enough to do that.

Today...

I've been struggling with the idea of blogging about my boys as they get older, which is why I haven't in so long. I have several people asking me to continue but I don't want to cause them any social anxiety so it's been a bit of a struggle, which is why I haven't posted any in a while. I've surely written them, it's cathartic for me. Here I am at the computer and ...

Today I'm looking for strength so here I sit with a heavy heart remembering inspirational words attempting to find some peace with a bad morning.

"My child is not giving me a hard time, my child is having a hard time." And this was my morning.
It's hard to remember that there is a vast difference between a meltdown and a tantrum, especially in the midst of it. Tantrum & meltdown, two descriptors people use so randomly describing their typical children and don't really understand the difference in the autistic world.

This morning my bucket filling, loving, kind, helpful Adam was instead the screaming, kicking, crying, upset Adam. He was having a meltdown not a tantrum. Why? I have no idea, neither does he. He will have little easily averted meltdowns randomly almost everyday, but these bigger ones seem to build up in him until he bursts. In his sensory overload exhaustion this morning, he could't find his words, he could only scream. He couldn't accept comfort, he could only hit. He could not find empathy, he just didn't care. He couldn't understand why I couldn't read his mind and fix it. It's so unbelievably difficult to stay calm and collected and try to remember that he is not "wanting to give me a hard time, he is having a hard time." His meltdowns are getting better and less often and if we can catch it at the right moment, we can work through them. This morning, we could not. Today he stayed home from school. I don't like to set him up to fail and the outcome of school today would not be positive.

His meltdown lasted for a few hours but he's calmer now and we have decompressed. With the calm came immense regret and sadness on his part, that he treated me that way, that he missed school and that it happened. He hates aspergers right now. He wants to be typical. He wants to fly under the radar. I want him to be happy. I'd like to just snuggle him now and ignore that we had a bad start to the day, but no, today is a mental health day. Not the stay in bed, drinking tea, watching Netflix kind unfortunately. Today is a learning day, but not at a school desk. Today's lessons are calming techniques, self regulation, empathy and emotional processing. You know, the stuff we should all know how to do as adults but are vital for my son to know as a child. Lessons I pray he will learn and use as an adult to help him navigate this world with more ease than he has had thus far. This is when so much work is done. We talk about what led him to his meltdown today and how it felt and how it could be different next time and how he feels now and is this a feeling you prefer and how do we get back to calm and what would he do if he felt that way and he wasn't at home and what would he do if he was home but I wasn't and what ques were there and could he change things at that point to get a different outcome and and and and ??? I convince him again, and I truly know he believes it in the moment, that he is stronger than aspergers and he has worth. This is how we handle these situations, this is how we reframe and take advantage of these horrible meltdowns and turn them into teaching moments. At this point, I would rather just tuck him into my pocket, steal him away from the world and keep him safe, my little secret treasure. But alas, we do the work, it's exhausting for him and it's exhausting for us but this is what we feel will help teach him how to regulate how he is feeling and how he will react. This usually opens up a day of very intense long conversations that I'm so blessed to have with him. He lets me have a glimpse of both his greatness and his struggle and he amazes me that he can handle it all as well as he does.

Now that he has processed, the adrenaline wash is over, he's happy again. I hear him talking to his video game, pretending he's filming a youtube video. Thankfully, he'll go to sleep tonight feeling lighter having dumped all his stresses and internal conversations on me. I'll watch him sleep for a bit and marvel at the progress he's made over the years and pray for a future that has compassion and understanding for him. Then I'll take a hot bath and cry because it's hard and it's traumatic and it takes a toll. Gutt-wrenching is not a strong enough word to describe how it feels to watch your child struggle with something you can't fix for them. I worry. I stress. I do the best I can with what I know. I'm immensely proud of his bravery and his progress and I'm in absolute awe of his powerful mind. I feel like I fought a battle today.

Sending strength to all autism warriors today. Kids, parents, siblings.

**disclaimer: How we deal with meltdowns may be different than how others with autistic children deal with them, that does not make us or them right or wrong. Every child with autism is different.

My aha Moment

Been a while since I've blogged publicly. I've blogged a lot but they all seemed to get too deep for me to share at the moment. Lately I've done a lot of soul searching and revelation. It's healthy work, but it's hard work.

It's World Autism Awareness Day today. Likely what prompted this blog entry. I was browsing through video clips of "what autism feels like". I cried. It's hard. Most of the videos show the light and sound sensitivities, the obsessiveness and the social awkwardness. Most of them don't touch on the temper, the texture sensitivities to clothing, foods, etc etc. None of them show the toll it takes on the families. None of them are all encompassing and every single autistic person is so very different. The spectrum is so vast.

One video said that autism affects many more people than many disorders that get much more awareness. 1 in 88 people, last I read, I'm sure it has changed but it's still a lot. So be conscious in your actions, be understanding with how you treat people and be compassionate when you don't understand. You could be encountering someone with autism. (Good idea to be kind to everyone anyway.)

One of our biggest obstacles when helping our boys is that with their aspergers, they have an "invisible disability". I can't tell you how many people seem to have tried to convince me that "they are fine" and "are you sure" or "they are always great for me". LOL yes I'm sure they have aspergers. But, through the years, my boys have learned more and more what is socially acceptable behavior, what expectations are and how to self-calm. It's been a long road to get this far and there is still a lot further to go and wow we do have some days that are less than stellar...okay let me change that, we have moments every day that are less than stellar, some days more moments than others. There are still days of mood swings, poo on the floor, no eating, crankiness, stubbornness, no sleeping, I hate you mom, just to name a few. Yesterday, for example, I wanted to run away from home. April Fools Day, even when Adam clearly gave me signs that I should pull a prank on him and I picked a funny one, turned out to be a disaster. Even recently I did an ADHD rating scale for our doctor for Aaron. I also got several people who deal with him on a regular basis to do it. The three traits they measure I replied with markings of 9/9, 8/9 and 8/8. But the three other people individually marked on average 6/9, 1/9 and 1/8. What a difference. I did share the results with them. Yes, it's a victory that Aaron can regulate himself in a social setting quite well, but I wanted to make sure they know the cost to him. At home when he rates high, he is safe to be and feel whatever he feels. It's bottled all day. Still working on finding the right venue for him to release that without it wrecking so much havoc at home.

We try to teach our boys how to regulate their emotions and be conscious of what they are feeling. I often joke that we are teaching them skills that most adults don't even know. But it's essential for their futures. Obviously along the way, we have learned a few things about ourselves as well. I think I've finally come to the place where I can say that this struggle has made me a better person. Given me new eyes and a completely different insight into most things. (FYI I changed the title of this blog entry after I typed this paragraph. This was the aha moment and typing it brought life to something I hadn't admitted until right now.) I've gone through many days, and I know I still will, where I wish it was different, easier, but I can't imagine my life without these two brilliant, challenging, amazing and kind souls. In those moments of despair, amidst those tears, it is mostly for the struggle they will still face in their lives. The acceptance from other people, the acceptance from themselves. It won't be as easy for them. It's constantly on my mind....

...which leads me to this. I know I'm doing the best I can do with what I know. (A phrase that is illusive for so many moms and even in the height of the storm seems so far away. Tomorrow I may not be able to say this, heck an hour from now I may not be able to say this.) That applies to what I do inside my home to help my children. The other part of the acceptance will come from outside my home. How can I do what I can to help the world accept them and other children with different needs? It's part of the answer. It's awareness. It's inclusion. It's the reason I accepted the position of Board President for Foothills Special Needs Association for Parents and Siblings (SNAPS). I don't think for a minute I'll change the world, but if I can help in any way to make the world a little better, is it not my moral obligation to do it? I'm terrified. I want to do a great job. My role is small in comparison to the work they do at SNAPS, but I'm passionate about what they do as an organization. It's inspiring the amount of help they have given to families who are making their way through the maze. I'm a busy lady, no lie or shocker there, but this matters. Not just for my kids but for so many. Before I accepted the position, I told a few friends I was considering it and I didn't get the response I expected. I expected full support, but I got questions on the time commitment. I have to admit I choked back some tears. I thought my heart was obvious, I do wear it on my sleeve. But I get it, no harm, no hard feelings, just different perspective. I'm thankful for the reminder that I do stretch myself thin with my volunteer commitments, my business and my family. I'm thankful for the reminder honestly. It caused me to think a bit deeper to make sure I wanted to do this for the right reasons. My heart is the reason. My heart that I send with my boys wherever they go in life. My heart that stands at their bedside at night and marvels in how calm they look while they sleep, while their aspergers sleeps. My heart that expects the world to provide a place for them.

I have always loved and have taken some refuge in one of my favorite quotes. If we all do what we can...

So that's what I am going to do. Whatever I can do. I hope it helps. I will give it my all. I am inspired by people who find what motivates them and put themselves in a position of service. It is what makes the world go around.

After coming home from our SNAPS AGM meeting the other night, I told the boys that I was going to be President at SNAPS and I doubt they knew what it meant but Aaron was instantly excited. I think he could feel how much it meant to me. Adam was a bit upset and questioned me that I was going to go to work, which scared him because it would be a change. I assured him that no, it was a volunteer position but it helps SNAPS do what they do. He took off to his room and came back with this little handful of change, plopped it on the table and said I should do it and he would pay. What a heart! Validation!

If you feel so inclined, SNAPS is a non-profit, I can personally tell you with all certainty that any and all donations go to help families find their way. We even have a "donate now" button on our website. www.foothillssnaps.org

A True Mental Health Day

I almost started updating my facebook status with this, but some people just aren't interested and don't want to be bothered, plus I knew it would start to get too long. So here is my thoughts for today...

Boys aren't in school today. They aren't physically ill, they rarely ever are, we've been blessed with that. But, the pharmacy didn't get Aaron's refill request that I sent in a week before he ran out. He takes intuniv. It takes the edge off his mood swings and calms his tourettes down a bit. Shouldn't be a problem but it's a fairly new medication in Canada and more difficult to get, so they couldn't get any until today. They generally keep a supply for him but another kid has started taking it in town and they gave his away. We weren't too upset, we figured we would test out how he was doing without medication anyways, afterall, it's only 1mg dose. Shouldn't be too difficult right? HA! He's been three days without and OMG it's been a horrible weekend. He's been exceptionally angry and moody. Last night he couldn't sleep at all. Kept worrying about life and growing up. Holding my 9 year old son at 3am as he sobs that he is scared and he doesn't want to grow up is beyond heartbreaking when all I want to tell him is that he doesn't have to. I don't want him to grow, I want to keep him here with me forever where I know he is safe and cared for. I was able to eventually convince him that he won't leave our home until he is ready and that we always work together to learn tools to help him be successful in his own life. He finally went to sleep at 5:45am. Subsequently, Adam has had a rough weekend feeding off his brother and trying to keep his own aspergers in check. So they are both having a mental health day, in it's truest form.

I feel a bit rattled by this weekend, for a couple of reasons...

First, I hate that my child is so relient on medication. I worry that if that continues and he decides one day not to take his medication, he won't have the tools in place to deal with his disabilities. It's terrifying. *This is not an invitation for herbal remedies, courses, snake oils or potions, although I completely respect and am thrilled for anyone with positive experiences with them. There is no vitamin, diet or parenting strategy that will erase the fact that Aaron has aspergers and tourettes and Adam has aspergers. Believe me, if there was a way to "cure" it, we would have already done it.* The only thing that has helped, is teaching them about themselves. Sounds easy? Nope! Trying to teach a 7 & 9 year olds to be self aware and regulate their emotions is not easy. Dare I say, it's a task that most adults have difficulty with, if they are ever able to control it. Not easy. Definitely not easy to teach it and keep my own emtions in tact. But this is the only steadfast remedy to high functioning autism that has somewhat of a chance in our house.

Secondly, I hate that my children have a long battle uphill their entire lives. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. But I have accepted it. Doesn't mean I have to like it. Doesn't mean I have to understand it. We do try to make it the best life possible. I try to be positive with them. I've licked my wounds and still do sometimes. There are hard days. Days I never thought I would experience as a parent. Days I question why I was chosen for them. My vision of constant happiness, love and joy as a family, isn't the way I imagined it. We have moments of pure bliss. So much love that our hearts can hardly hold it. Aaron told me the other day, "Sometimes I want to say something to you but I can't even find the words so I just tell you I love you because that is all I know." My boys know unconditional love. They know we would spin the world for them if it would make theirs right. They know we are their soft spot. We don't always know we are their soft spot. We know that sometimes, they are just mean and unreasonable and those times are so....I can't even say difficult because it's beyond that. It's a hard life.

I get told so often, from so many people, how sweet and kind and brilliant both the boys are and it's true. They show those things and it is truly them. I don't think people realize how difficult it is for them to be "on". By the time they get home at the end of the day, they are utterly exhausted. That's where the soft spot comes in. It sounds glamorous doesn't it? Yeah, not so! Every single horrible thing they have felt during the day comes out at home, more so with Aaron than Adam. Adam is committed to how he feels. He comes home and if something bothers him, he just assumes that I know what it is and how to fix it. A lot of conversation and a lot of frustratoin on both our parts comes in to play then. With Aaron, it's just anger and hurt. Many days we are able to talk through whatever may have bothered him and come to a solution, many days he just bottles it up. At the end of every day, each of them come to me with apologies and love. They know that I forgive them before any of it even happens. I'm thankful that they have heard the many times I've told them "just because you have aspergers does not mean that you get to be mean to anyone" or "yes you have aspergers, but you still have to live in this world and find a way to do that". It's sinking in and we continue to work on it.

Now that they are more conscious in their conversations, I often hear "why do I have aspergers" or "I hate my aspergers". We focus on the positives that come with aspergers. They are unique and I wouldn't change them. I would change how difficult life is for our family, but I wouldn't change that they have brilliant minds, caring spirits and loving hearts. They are socially conscious and self aware. They are forward thinkers and will change the world. I have no doubt. I had a friend say that she always felt that aspergers was the next level of consciousness, I believe it's true. I believe it's so difficult for them because this world isn't ready for them. They don't understand when people don't use common sense. They get stuck somewhere between being socially awkward and being misunderstood. That's the part that we are working on....being themselves.

So yes, this mental health day was necessary and they are now sitting in front of a video game in their underwear snacking on chips, resting their minds and spirits and knowing that when the world is too much, it is okay to take a break and breathe. It's okay for all of us.

(Yup that would have been way too long for a facebook status).

For the Love of Mercy

My friend asked me to write a story about Mercy for a Shelter Challenge. How could I say no, she's been such a huge part of our emotional recovery from this flood. Cross your fingers Boston Terrier Rescue Canada wins a prize. I thought since I already shed the tears required, why not post the story on my blog as well. Here it is...

For the Love of Mercy

I hardly know where to start this story, but here goes...

We are a family of four, my husband Jake and I, and our two sons, Aaron 8 and Adam 7. Jake is a millwright, I am an accounting technician. I volunteer in the community and for Boxer Rescue Canada, not as often as I would like, but whenever I can. We have two rescue boxers, Gunner and Velvet, and at the time of this story, we had just lost our beloved pug DeJa at the age of 13. We are just your semi-ordinary family, working hard, plugging along, making the best life we can for our kids.

Then June 20, 2013 came. We live on a small acreage just west of a beautiful little Alberta town called High River. That day our town got swallowed up by the Highwood River. It was devastating, still is. Our home got flooded while the river moved toward town and we thankfully, but harrowingly evacuated our home with our skin and fur babies in tow. I can't even describe in words how horrific that day was and how it has changed our lives.

Now 7 months later, our home and our life is well on it's way to recovery. But there is one thing that makes this story a bit more unique and the reason I called us a semi-ordinary family. Our sons both have aspergers syndrome. It's a high functioning autism, lots of social awkwardness, gifted IQ's, anger, frustration, uniqueness, anxiety. Honestly, it's a constant roller coaster, but we manage and our boys are beyond amazing.

All that being said, the hardest part of this flood for our family has been getting our boys through it. With their aspergers, they absorb so much of everyone's emotions, not just ours and people they know, but everyone and let me tell you, the emotion in our town during and after the flood, and even now, is thick and ugly. All that emotion kind of gets trapped in them because they have such a hard time processing and releasing it. It just builds up and then comes out in behaviour, anxiety, rage, depression, it's not pretty. We were also dealing with our own emotions including post tramatic stress, as you can imagine. Our family needed something to help us get through.

We are avid dog lovers and I have always accredited our amazing dogs in helping our boys deal with the stress they feel. It's amazing to watch really. But there was a gap that our pug had left that we were all feeling before the flood but only seemed to had grown through the ordeal. We had thought that maybe we would stick to two dogs for a while, but I had fallen in love with a picture of "Pyper". A Boston Terrier Rescue Canada foster that was in my friend Carolyn's care. Her crazy blue eyes, long tongue that always hangs out, and way too large ears spoke to me every time I saw a picture of her, plus she was white, just like our boxers, a matched set. She was just semi-ordinary enough for our home. But I figured someone else would snatch her up really quick. But they didn't...

I only needed to show Jake her picture once for him to know that this little Boston Terrier/French Bulldog would fill that gap we were feeling and help our boys release some of their anxiety. She had to be ours. We filled out the application, waited for the answer and wow when we told the boys that she was ours, they were happier than I had seen them all summer. Now all we needed to do was pick a name. We made lists and narrowed them down and started again and none of them felt right. Not until I said to Jake that I was so looking forward to a little bit of Mercy after such a long hard summer. I swear I can still hear our thoughts collide, Mercy would be her name. We needed Mercy.

As fate would have it, Mercy's story was unfolding in the hands of my friends. Follow along...
- She was rescued not from the flood, but during the flood, by a Boston Terrier Rescue volunteer, who is also my friend Wendy, who also lives in High River and was a flood victim
- She was transported to British Columbia by a Boxer Rescue and Boston Terrier Rescue volunteer and also my friend Kristen
- To be fostered by yet another friend and Boxer Rescue and Boston Terrier Rescue volunteer Carolyn
- Then transported back to Alberta a couple more of my friends and Boxer Rescue volunteers Holly & Sherryl who happened to be in BC on a rescue transport at the time.
- Lastly brought to me, having come full circle, by my friend, rescue volunteer and fellow flood victim Wendy

She was fated to be our girl. Our friends had facilitated her journey every step of the way. The first day Wendy brought her to our home for a short visit with our dogs, her and our male boxer Gunner played and played and played. They adored each other. It was a no-brainer that this was a perfect fit.

I'm thrilled to say that she most definitely belongs here, she owns our hearts, she has helped my sons deal with their anxiety, she makes the most adorable contend little sigh in her sleep, wrestles the boxers like she is one, is a toy hog, always needs a warm body to sleep on and she makes everyone smile, every where we go. Not only that, but her appearance is so unique, she draws people to her, which gives us an opportunity to talk about animal rescue and interestingly enough, diversity. Every single time I bring her to school to pick up my sons, at least one child will ask me or one of my boys, "why does her tongue do that" or "why are her eyes like that". Each one of us proudly replies that not everyone is the same, we are all different and it's wonderful.

Thank you for the chance to tell our Mercy story. I'm so privileged for the lessons she has taught us already. She's a blessing to us. She is love.

Back to our regularly scheduled program ???

So, I haven't blogged in too long and I don't know where to start recapping the past few months so I'll just start with today and touch on anything I want to later. And who knows, maybe no one reads this and I'm just telling myself this anyways. Blah blah blah. I started a facebook status with the following but then it started getting way too long, so here goes....

Yay! The painter started today. Floor starts possibly next Friday. Funny that a stupid girl can get more done in less time than a fancy ass contractor can. We may have our basement suitable for Christmas, not done but close enough to put up a tree and to keep the promise I made to the boys. Phew. Breaking a promise to my boys results in several months of rebuilding trust. After these past few months, we need to start the new year on a good foot. So today I am happy to see progress.

Our ex-contractor just happened to be in Smitty's this morning while the boys and I had breakfast with mom. It took everything in me to not rip him a new one. But I refrained. I've always felt that success is the best revenge. And since the insurance was here yesterday investigating his work (non-work as they put it), I figured I would let the bill they give him speak for itself. Not only will he barely get paid for the little bit that he did here, he will owe us money for the damage he caused to my house doing it. That there is karma.

So the lessons here are:
1. a mom to special needs kids is not to be messed with when it comes to keeping a promise to her children.
2. Know your limit. I overlooked many things in our agreement with the contractor to just hurry the job along, including accepting whatever materials they showed up with even though I didn't pick them in hopes we would be done for Christmas. (They figured Halloween). But once Christmas wasn't doable and he laughed at me, it was done. That was my line.
3. It seems to me I have reverted to this one quite often lately. Either I am being smug or people are really getting stupid. It is okay for smart people to think they are smart, but it is not okay for them to think that no one else is.

Anyways, that is all for now. I'll try to be more of a blogger soon. I'm starting to see a light at the end of this PTSD tunnel, perhaps I'll poke my head up and see if it's safe.