Why don't they give mom's a handbook for this kind of stuff?

All three kids packed in the van and we’re off to the high school to pick up a special boy I’ve known for 13 years, since he was 3. Someone we consider part of our family and that the boys have known since the day they were born, who , to honour the family’s privacy (not that they would mind either way) I will refer to as “Marvin” in borrowing of one of his moms’ many nicknames for him, “Messy Marvin”.

We've arrived.

I hop out at the high school and after bugging him until he finally gives me a hello, we load him and his things into the van where we continue the rest of our conversation.

“How was school today”

“School!”

“Yes, how was school?”

“School. Bus!”

“Oh yes, you went on the bus. What did you do at school?”

“School!”

“Yes, but what did you do AT school?”

“School. Gym!” Even if he has not had gym that day, he will respond “gym” because that’s what he’s done every day, that’s what gets him out of answering any more questions, and because that’s his favourite class in school. I believe that in his mind, even if he didn’t have gym, he thinks he should’ve, which therefore makes it worth mentioning, which is why I let it slide, every time.

He’s excited today! We’re in for a fun afternoon! As we pull out of the school parking lot he twists his hands in the air above his head, jerking his body back and forth in a dance all his own, letting out a few jibber jabber noises and high pitched “eeeeeee’s”.

“Oooooh, you had a good day today, didn’t you! Did you have a good walk?” It was sunny and I saw his T.A. come back with him from outside, so I know they would’ve taken him for a walk, just as I know he hears me, even though he gives no acknowledgment. Our conversations are based on a lot of assumptions.

“Did you have a good walk Marvin? Say ‘yes, I had a good walk’”.

He complies quietly and continues his dance.

I noticed Kiefer watching our exchange quite closely. It’s been alot quieter than normal in the back seat. Normally the boys would be going crazy right now with Marvin being this animated! They love to run around the house waving their hands in the air and yelling “eeeeeeeeee!”, or collapse into fits of giggles at how funny Marvin is, or ask me “supper, supper, supper, supper, supper, supper, supper?”, just like Marvin does. To them, he is the funniest teenager they have ever met!

So why the silence now?

Finally I hear Kiefer quietly ask, “Mom, Marvin’s not like us, is he?” I felt my eyes immediately start to fill up with tears. It could have been an over-tired-up-half-the-night-with-baby reaction, but when did my baby boy grow up? Did I miss it? In that quick moment, he seemed older than his 5 year.

A long pause. “That’s right Kiefer, he’s different than us.” How do you explain autism to a 5 and 3 year old? How do you make it simple enough, yet answer enough questions that they don’t ask 100 more?

So I taught them a new word...“Autism”. And tried to explain it as simply as I could. How Marvin’s brain works a little different than ours. How his body sometimes doesn’t listen to his brain or will tell him different things than ours would. How different things excite him than excite the boys. Like wind. Flashing lights. Noises. I taught them that even though Marvin acts different, he’s still the same as they are. We talked about things that excite the boys – swimming, new toys, going to the park…

“And what do you do when you’re excited?” I asked.

“Jump up and down!” they tell me. “Clap!”

“Flap my arms!” Keyon yells.

“That’s right,” I said, “and what does Marvin do when he’s excited?”

“Go EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE and wave his hands!”

I think they got it. Though they are the same as Marvin, their brains tell them to do different things than his does. That kids with autism are made a little bit different than we. That though they may want to say something, their mouth won’t always let them. How their bodies feel things different than ours do. Like how wind gets Marvin so excited, it’s like he wants to fly with his hands and yell “eeeeeee” with excitement.

And as they sat in silence to contemplate these things, Marvin danced away.

Keyon couldn’t contain it anymore and let a giggle escape.

Kiefer cried out defensively, “Don’t laugh Keyon, he’s just different.”

Some more silence.

Another giggle escaped. The innocence of a 3 year old who’s eyes only see Marvin as a funny teenager.

“Don’t laugh! His brain is just different than ours, Keyon.” Kiefer tries to explain again.

Tears again. A little overtired, a little bit of sorrow at seeing a little of my 5 year olds’ innocence disappear, mixed in with a little bit of pride of my boy defending someone who needs defending.

I will explain to them later the difference between laughing with Marvin and having fun, or laughing at someone and making fun of them. For now, I will just hold this strange moment of pride and sorrow and let it be.

I watch Kiefer try his best to engage in conversation with Marvin. “How was your day?” “What did you do?” “What’s your favourite class?” “What food do you like?” And when Marvin responded “Pizza!”

I watched Kiefer’s delight as he exclaimed “PIZZA!!! That’s the same as me Mom! We like the same food!”

A proud moment to realize that at least some of what I said had sunk in. A proud moment to see my boy show such compassion and consideration.

A strange moment of pride and sorrow indeed.

*Note:

This was a day from last month, but I was reminded of it again as "Marvin" was over again today and Kiefer asked if we could take him outside "so he can feel the wind".

Adventures at 2 a.m.

Another blog post written back in the fall, which I forgot to actually post!

Scooping up the crying babe from the bassinet, we stagger towards the door. In my haze of sleep, I walk smack into the edge of the door, back up, rev my engine and attempt to get through again, like a bumper car repeatedly hitting the same obstacle, knowing that eventually, it will make it’s way through. After several more attempts, we finally make it through the door, into her room, and settle down in the rocker where she stops screaming. Through the haze of sleep and with my head drooping on and off, I stuff Winnie-the-Pooh beneath her and my arm so she doesn’t fall while she nurses. Finally, a use for all parents’ worse nightmares – those stupid stuffed animals. That useless toy that takes up precious space, the reason my kids needed a bigger bed, that annoying slobbered on animal that comes to “lick” you in the face and you just want to slug it across the room, then jump on it, and throw a temper tantrum fit for a 2 year old…

With that thought I jerk awake to kiss my little girls sweet head, only to realize she’s still nursing and nowhere near the vicinity of my kiss. Time to change the diaper and wake us both up – we’re nearing the danger zone of sleeping in the rocker. At least when changing a girl while half asleep, you don’t have to keep an eye on shooting geysers that always seem to strike when you least expect it – unlike changing a boy’s, whose aim seems immaculate for a dim lit room.

Back in our chair, I pick up my latest magazine. I have a whole stack of them now – finishing one every few nights, soaking up every single word, every single article, inspecting every single picture. I’m not normally this attentive to magazines, and since I have all the time in the world at 2 a.m., I pause to wonder why…Ah yes – it dates back to that one specific time, during the last few weeks to my 7 months of nauseas hell (which is 150 stories for another time), where I learned about my pathetic amount of/lack of knowledge of ANYthing, while attempting to make conversation with my brothers’ cool and young girlfriend. 22 is young, right? Well, I was definitely NOT cool and not young. I had nothing to talk about, nothing to offer, nothing to share that would interest anyone - unless it was the latest ways to waste your money on remedies for morning sickness that don’t work, or the best position for puking, or the latest stupid & mindless games on facebook that could distract you from misery.

So now, here I was, soaking up every little piece of information I possibly could. Reveling at the stories of other people, what they have done, how they have done it, their photos, their experiences…for instance, did you know that there was a breast cancer survivor 5 years ago who started a mobile mammogram unit, who went door to door providing breast health awareness and tools to perform breast self examinations and to provide these services to low income and uninsured woman at low or no cost? http://www.flbreasthealth.com/index.html Amazing! Stories of women who do something with the pain they’ve been given! And at 2 a.m. I think to myself, well, I probably won’t get breast cancer…since I’d be too miserable and whiney to be an inspiration to others

And with that thought, I decided I should start a blog. Afterall, no one can beat 2 a.m. musings like THAT! Then, as I wonder if maybe I should save all these magazines to re-read at a time where I’m not so sleep deprived that I’d be lucky to remember a word I read once morning comes, I notice my new daughter has finished and fallen asleep, and a wrap that bunny up tight like a burrito and head off to bed, where I will be woken again in a few hours for some more early morning musings.

A twitch and a poop. (Yes, you read that right.)

Sometimes I write blogs, but then run out of time to edit them and post them. Here is one of them. They end up really really really long.

September 30th, 2010

Sitting in the van, we eagerly wait for the clock to strike 9, which commenced the opening of Zellers, which in Keyon’s mind, is the only true meaning to the word “shopping”.

Last night was Keyon’s award winning performance – his first B.M. on the potty. That’s right – the much anticipated event in the Hawkins house. It is talked about day after day - we pump up this event so much, it’s almost as good as Christmas! You see, that first little turd in the can is an event we celebrate. We shamelessly offer bribery of the biggest proportion…a (affordable) toy of your choice. Any (affordable) toy you could possibly want. Saturating them with every toy we can find on the internet, we show them every toy on the Toys’R’Us website and dangle it there with the possibility that this too could be your very own toy for the small price of one solitary marble sized poop in the toilet.

It all started with Kiefer’s refusal to evacuate himself in the proper porcelain receiver. We kept upping the anti until it finally ended at a “Hot Wheels Loopiy Loop” track – that glorious moment when he finally succeeded and we raced to Abbotsford in search of this particular toy! Lucky for us it happened before the anti became a computer!So when Keyon’s turn came around, we wasted no time at all in bombarding our child with every popular toy on the market, spending hours looking at toys in stores and on our computer.

So now, here we are, entering Zellers’ toy aisle. It must be stocking day, because there are about 15 carts and 7 flats of toys parked in all the aisles, blocking all access for easily viewability of the toys. I thought this would be an easy toy picking session, seeing as Keyon didn’t seem to have a particular toy on his mind…45 minutes later, I realized I was wrong. He had a toy he’d had his eye on…guess what it was! A “mushy grasshopper”. A What?!? Yes, a mushy grasshopper. At his insistence, it was at Zellers. He mentioned Toy Story at one point, which I dismissed because there’s no grasshopper there. I ask the 3 stocking clerks about a possible “mushy grasshopper” toy, who then pull out every mushy squishy toy available! But to no avail. This boy knows exactly what he wants.

After convincing him to check London Drugs and WalMart, we pick up Kiefer from school (after shopping for 2 hours!) and seek out the almighty Dad & Kiefer memory…a mushy grasshopper. They have no idea. I ask if there could possibly be one in Toy Story. 10 minutes later, they have a revelation. There IS an insect man in Toy Story 3! Success! There is hope! This amazing pooper shall have his dreamed of toy! We shall now search the aisles no longer in vain! This grasshopper has a name and his name is “Twitch” from Toy Story 3! Oh stores, do not let us down. My son has pooped and he has pooped well. Let us reward him! After naptime, it’s on with the Twitch search!

Nov 23^rd UPDATE:

We did not find Twitch that day. Keyon finally settled for Buzz, as he didn’t want to wait a day to drive to Toys R Us. So the search for Twitch for Christmas was on. I found a tiny one left in Abbotsford, so I bought it. A month later, I found a bigger one in Langley, so I bought it too. This guy was hard to find! And oh joy of joys – I found the right one last week, in Shoppers Drugmart. The last one!!! So what if I had 3 by now, I had found the perfect and ever so scarce Twitch! A few days later, I saw five of them in one store. The only toys left. This past weekend in Walmart across the border, I found an entire shelf of him. Apparently, he’s not so scarce. No one wanted him. He was the only Toy Story 3 toy left. I call curses upon him now.

*The photo above is Twitch. This is the exact instant which made Keyon refer to him as a "mushy grasshopper". Something to do with Mrs. Potato Head squeezing Twitch's muscles.

Sears Wishbook

The other day we were able to stop in at Sears. Though they were all out of the Wishbook, they did have the toy wishbook available, which was all I needed for these boys! I managed to keep it hidden for a whole day before they discovered it. My reasoning behind hiding it - so it could be viewed only when I wasn't incredibly busy to stop any of the fights that would break out over it... I also wanted to be there to listen in on the discussion of this book, as I have no idea what to get Kiefer this year...any ideas for a 5 year old? But the best conversation that took place over the wishbook, or more specifically, the Buzz Lightyear tunnel/tent play thing, went something like this...

Kiefer, "Hey mom, I love this, can we get it?"
Me, "No, we have something like it and you guys never get to play with it because you always fight over it."
Kiefer, "Well I want to try it first."
Keyon "No, I want to try it first."
Kiefer, "NO, IIIII want to try it first."
Keyon, "NO I WANT TO TRY IT FIRST!"
Kiefer, "NO, IIIIIIII WANT TO TRY IT FIRST!"
Me, "See? You guys don't even own it, and you're still fighting over it!"

Maybe I should just start with crossing things off on the wishbook, and see what I'm left with at the end...

It's about time...

It is my official goal to start blogging about my crazy life - which would be, more specifically, about my now THREE children! I am constantly told that I need to write a book, which makes me wonder what it is that people find so humorous about my life! But then as I look back at my day and recall simple events and see it through the eyes of someone else NOT frustrated with screaming children or puke or spit-up on them or poo on the floor, I can find the amusement in it...somewhere deep inside it...

Originally, it was my goal to post once a week. Then I thought maybe every other week would be more realistic. Or maybe once a month. However, with all the nightly feedings I now have, I have a bit of extra time to think, so it just might be sporadic and random. Like my life.

The Thomas Catastrophe

What a great start to a Monday morning – the boys slept in which was great for my sleepless night! I got the bed made, the bathroom cleaned, Kiefer & I dressed and fed…I was on a roll! In my generous mood I told Kiefer we were going swimming today – my goal, 9:30 a.m.! (Anything before 10 is a huge accomplishment for us)!

Even when Keyon woke up and pooped in every which direction, I figured, “hey, his bedding and everything touching it probably needs washing anyway!” so we popped it all in the wash, used 50+ wipes to clean him up – didn’t bother with the bath – we were going to the pool anyway!
9:00 a.m…time to feed Keyon, do dishes, pack up the towels & gear and go swimming!...or not quite. Keyon, deciding to bring his sandwich into the living room, and me, putting him in his booster seat to prevent further such actions, had other things to say. And quite loudly too! I left the screaming tantrum child safe in his seat and continued my cleaning – only to come running back to the table at the sound of a giant “CRASH” as Keyon’s plate (why did I give him a glass plate anyway!) gets chucked across the table right into the fish bowl!! Thomas the fish is sliding across the table, water pouring every direction, glass everywhere, Kiefer standing there screaming and Keyon the Turd looking mildly smug and entertained at all the commotion he has created.

“Oh good, Thomas is still flapping around.” I thought as I ran to fill up a glass of water. “Save the fish, Save the fish”. If that fish died, I can only imagine the catastrophe I would have to deal with then! Running back with my cup of water, all I want to do is mop up my floor, thinking, “never let water sit on a wood floor…no, the fish, get the fish, oh no, he’s not moving…” as I attempt to scoop him up with my hands, “Oh good he IS moving…oh no, now he’s on the floor…and not moving…” Kiefer is getting hysterical now “MY FISH! DON’T HURT HIM!” Keyon’s still a little dazed yet quite impressed with his handywork. We got Thomas in the glass, and yay, he is swimming around! He’s already a slightly handicapped before from the LAST time he jumped out of my hands, and he’s not looking any worse for wear. Only time will tell.

Now what…deal with the child or mess… Child. I take his sandwich away, chuck him in his sheetless/beddingless crib for “time out”. He’s got to know this is serious now, afterall, Mom didn’t wash his hands after eating! I run downstairs feeling slightly satisfied with his screams and wails of a punishment being served well.

Check on Thomas – he’s still moving. Grabbing my two remaining dish towels, I throw them onto the puddle on the floor. They don’t even make a dent in the ocean of a floor. “Oh well”, I remember that Thomas needs his water conditioned, so I pull out a vase and the water conditioner while Kiefer freaks out, not knowing where Thomas is. I get Thomas’s water ready and then pour the poor fish through the fishing net and dump him in his new home. Maybe I should feed him too. That always works with my boys.

“How on earth does this thing get so dirty and smelly!” I think as piece by piece I pick up the fish pebbles from the broken fish bowl I’d just cleaned 3 days ago, then sift through them all with my fingers, looking for any loose pieces of glass, and wondering if I will ever get a medal for sacrificing my fingers for the sake of a fish.

“Do we still have to go to the pool?” I consider as I run upstairs for a third towel. Now my whole kitchen smells like a stinkin’ sea. My floor has just moved up on the to-do list from “should wash the floor sometime” to “How bad will this smell in 3 hours?” Kiefer asks me “What happened?” What, you mean what happened! Like you don’t know? I check Thomas again. He’s not moving. Just laying on the bottom of the vase. Poor guy – I shake it around a bit to make him move. He’s good.

Keyon is now happily playing in his bed, calling for his puppy, for his soother…I’m not impressed that he has forgotten his crime and punishment, so I take him out and give him a serious talkin’ to, to remind him of the deed he has done and elicit some kind of remorse. He asks me for a sandwich. The one I took from his hand and threw on the table that is now sopping wet and in a bazillion pieces. I should’ve just let him keep it. “No” I tell him, “You’re in trouble”. He cries. “Good” I figure as I wring out my towels. Now he is playing happily and asking me for help. “NO!” I tell him again, “You’re still in big trouble!” He finds something else to play with. On my way upstairs to dig through the laundry and find a clean washcloth, I innocently mention that Daddy is working downstairs…and when the boys ask if they can go see him, I say nothing and am quite happy to hear their little feet pitter downstairs and Keyon say “Thomas! Smash!” and Kiefer, just to be sure Dad understands, chimes in “Keyon is in trouble!” I smile, secretly satisfied as Matt extracts the entire story and gives his idolizer another talking to, starting with “You don’t hit Thomas!” A child with no idea of consequences to his actions and multiple tantrums..maybe he will learn soon.

I feel justice is served as I finish picking the last of the glass off the table, wash it down, and then think of the extra load of laundry I have to do now. I sigh as I wipe the last puddle off the ground, noticing how dirty the felt floor savers are on the legs of the chairs, I wonder what else they have soaked up besides smelly fish water, and add that to my to-do list as well, along with “buy a new fish bowl”. Now I have to take out the garbage – I was hoping to get at least 3 more hours out of that bag, but that broken glass filled it up the rest of the way, so now I’m going to have to tie it up and bring it out to the garage. It’s now 9:45, and my to-do list is now longer than when I started, and I still have to find the energy to walk to the pool, and make it back in time for lunch and naps. Oh yeah, and feed my son a new breakfast.

Moments...

Pondering existence. Purpose is driven to endless derisions.