Mediocrity versus Pride...

We did it!! We made it!! We survived our first year of school!

Both of my kids started school this year. Two different schools. It's been quite a challenge shuffling between the two, juggling all the excursions, notes, volunteering etc etc. But... we did it!!

The hardest part has been surviving all the end of year "stuff". Parent teacher wrap ups, Christmas concerts, Christmas parties, Presentation Assembly and "Graduation".

"Graduation"... from kindergarten.

I used to have such an attitude about this sort of thing. Before my kids were in school, I was totally with Mr. Incredible when he commented on his super-hero son moving from the fourth to fifth grade...

"It's psychotic! They keep creating new ways to celebrate mediocrity, but if someone is genuinely exceptional..."

That was me, so cynical.

Now I'm so happy! Giddy-emotional happy! I have such a sense of achievement. It feels disproportionate. Totally over the top.

I'm perplexed... is this what my life will be made up of now? Living my life through my children. Chatting with the other Mums at the copious events it seems this isn't just me, we're all feeling it. Is this the part I should be worried about? The part where there is a big flashing neon sign warning me that I could lose "myself" in all of this and one day wake up in an "empty nest" totally disconnected with "me".

I think if I was left to my own devices, in amongst the juggle I would miss the "signs" but I have a husband who is determined to keep the "me" in our lives.

So the truth is I wasn't actually at the graduation...I was at a FOO FIGHTERS concert. Very Rock 'n' Roll of me I know and not at all like the mid-30s mother of two "Soccer Mom" image I just portrayed!

Once my ears adjusted to hearing the F-bomb every 15 seconds (BIG adjustment after mostly only hearing Strawberry Shortcake and Thomas the Tank Engine for the last six years) I was there in the zone... jumping, arms raised, screaming "There goes my hero..." with the rest of them!

In amongst the "proud Mumma" moments and the guilt of missing the graduation it was nice to re-connect with the old me. Although my ringing ears and mega-tired hangover the next day brought me back to mid-30s mother of two reality with a thud, it was worth it.

The guilt of missing the graduation was short-lived too as the compensation of a celebratory breakfast the next morning was enough for Miss 6.

And the fact is... it's all "me". These things are "me"...the elements that make me and shape me and change me.

When there are no words...

School went back this week. There was meant to be a return to routine and therefore calm in our house.

Conjunctivitis and an ear infection had another plan. Our son started the trend on Monday morning and our daughter followed on Wednesday. Without sounding melodramatic this has been one of the hardest weeks I've ever lived through...

When our daughter gets sick there is a process of exchange in which she expresses to us where she is hurting and how much she is hurting. We talk with her and reassure her as we care for her. She tells the doctor what she is feeling and understands the doctor through the examination. We reward her with a lolly after taking some foul tasting medicine. We engage with her and she knows that we are with her every step of the way. She puts her trust in us.

When our son gets sick the process is vastly different. We go through a list of questions and get no answers. Is he pressing his hands to his head? Does that mean a headache? Are his cheeks flushed? Is he hot? How much has he eaten today? Why is he writhing in pain? We become experts at reading the subtle nuances of his body language. Colombo would be proud. The whole time he is avoiding us. Unaware that we are there to help. Then we take him to see some other random person who pokes and prods, none of it makes sense to him. He runs when we come at him with medicine. No lolly is worth that! The eye drops this week required the two of us. One to hold him down while the other put the drops in. The ear infection was the most pain we've ever seen him in. Trying to get the pain killer in was nothing short of hell. He had no idea what was happening. The two people he trusts most in the world had turned on him.  My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. My husband's usual steady and strong spirit was broken.

Words... no words could make it better. Our words were futile. His words lie so deeply within him we only hear them when he is beyond frustrated... medicine coming..."No, no"... pain..."Ma, ma" Even then they are so quiet, so foreign you question if you've heard them.

When words don't come frustration remains. Our placid, gentle boy is replaced with a boy desperate to be heard, desperate to be understood.  A boy on the edge all the time. It's like living with a ticking bomb.  I resent that he is in this position. I resent that we haven't yet found a way to make it easier for him. I resent that it all takes so long. I resent that these moments starkly remind you that you still have so far to go.

I find myself caught rudderless. I resent that. It renders me stuck for a day or so until I shake it off. Snap out of it and regain control. A plan, a direction.

One day those words will come without the frustration.

I would walk 500 miles...

When you hear the words "Autistic Disorder, with profound developmental delay" you have NO idea what that really means.

Your boy, your little man, your son. It impacts your heart and soul in ways words can't give justice to. You are suddenly not who you thought you were or were going to be. Everything you do from that moment is always enclosed in those parameters. If you let it, those words can honestly crush you to the point of being unrecognisable.

Enter Autism and Aspergers Support Group Sydney.

In this group of inspirational and motivated parents I have found people who "get it". They have provided me with comfort and knowledge. They have recognised me and see no obstacle in the parameters. They have taken the time to understand and listen. They will do EVERYTHING they can to hold back the tide so those words are rendered powerless.

Tomorrow five of us (plus others who like to run not walk!) will be pounding the pavement for 14kms in the City to Surf to raise funds for this AMAZING group. We will be laughing all the way, hauling each other up "Heartbreak Hill" because amongst us we don't give in to heartbreak. We only see the other side and our hearts are full.

www.autismsupport.org.au

Isn't she lovely...

I have a confession to make... I never saw myself as the mother of a daughter.

I was your typical tomboy growing up. I found the girly part of life tricky and awkward. Surprising considering I'm one of two girls and went to an all girl high school.

When I discovered I was pregnant, I resolved "it" would be a boy because that would be easier for me. I wouldn't have to negotiate my way through dance lessons, the heartbreaking politics of the playground, the intensity of feeling towards the opposite sex, the bombardment of words that fluster you into agreeing to things you're unaware you're nodding your head to, the hair styles and colours, the fashion "must-haves" etc etc. It was all too familiar to me and I honestly didn't think I was up for it.

Enter...Elayna Grace! My first born, my daughter!

At six years old she is proving to be a wonderful combination of tomboy and girly. There is dancing and lego. Alice in Wonderland and The Chronicles of Narnia. Dress ups and motorbike rides.

It seems nothing stops her. She honestly sucks the marrow out of life. I am constantly blown away by her beauty. She is such a light in our world. (Her name actually means "shining light")

Of course there are challenges. The ability to use words is strong in her (no idea where she gets that from!) and the politics of the playground have already started.

I am so grateful for the gift she is. Her soft heart and her tenacity inspire me. What a future we are in for and the best bit is I know I can do it. We are a good fit she and I. I am hers and she is mine and that's fine with me!

A gentleman says good-bye...

My Pa passed away this morning.

A gentleman in the truest sense of the word.

To tell the story of my Pa, I need to start with my Nan. My Nan is a survivor. Her first husband, my Mum's Dad, beat her from the first night of their marriage until the day she boldly walked away from him taking my Mum with her. My Mum was fourteen. Leaving your husband wasn't the "done thing" back then, but Nan did it anyway. She had to... she's a survivor. Her life and the life she wanted for her children was worth more than what people thought of her.

She was alone, without a companion, for the longest time....then she met Charles.

They were in their late sixties when they found each other. He honestly swept her off her feet! At first she didn't know what to do. Mum became her relationship consultant. It was a funny thing to witness as a teenager. We knew though that this man was special...that he was bringing more than himself as a companion for Nan. He was bringing a Dad for my Mum and a Pa for us. Something that we had been missing without even realising it.

When they married we were all so thrilled. It seemed healing had come to my Nan's battle scarred heart at long last. There was so much joy and so much laughter. He had a cheeky sense of humour and loved a good yarn. He pottered in the garden and took her on adventures. They were a match, a beautiful, beautiful match. They were determined to jam a life's worth of memories into the time they had left.

They made each day count until they couldn't anymore.

They stayed by each other's side right up until this morning...

The Alzheimer's worked really hard to take the gentleman away from us, but our memories haven't faded. I have so much more respect for memories now and the power in sharing them with others. The legacy of this fine gentleman will be passed to my children and they will know that for a brief time and angel touched our family.

I will miss you Pa. I will love you always and I know I will see you again. xo

Discounted humans...

One of the books currently on my bedside table is Half The Sky by Nicholas D Kristof & Sheryl Wudunn.

www.halftheskymovement.org

I have to say it's one of the most alarming, enlightening and inspiring books I've ever read. The power of people at its best and at its worst is highlighted. The book is about women. The key is education. The fight is for a fair, free life.

Something was said in the book that really got under my skin. It kept bouncing around in my mind. I had to stop and give it some more time than just a glance as I continued reading.

"People get away with enslaving village girls for the same reason that people got away with enslaving blacks two hundred years ago: The victims are perceived as discounted humans."

For me this quote goes to the very core of humanity.

How do I see or value my fellow human beings?   What do my actions reveal about my attitude?

My son has special needs. Does that discount him? Does that make him less than me? Less than his sister? Less than my nephew?

At the moment my son can't talk. He has no way of telling us if he understands what's going on. We don't know if he can read, if he knows what a computer does, what his favourite colour is. He is a mystery.

And he is not alone...

What do my actions reveal about my attitude? Do I value those who can't give me anything in return? Will I fight for them? Will I speak for those who can't?

Time to stop and give it some time I think...

Let me introduce myself...

Before I start to pour my heart out I thought it best to give a little of what makes me, me. Maybe some of the views I express in the future will make more sense! 


Here's a list of what makes me tick...


1. I am most grateful I have God in my life. He's my rudder. I wouldn't do a very good job of it on my own. 

2. I am married to Anthony for nine and a half years. He isn't a "Tony", he's Anthony. But I call him Mox.

3. My six year old daughter and my four year old son are my children and my teachers. Everyday I learn more about them and myself. We are a wonderful work in progress.  

4. I love all things Shakespeare. I secretly yearn to be on stage performing one of his plays. 

5. My hair is the shortest I’ve had it for six years. Yep... that was a mistake!

6. I hate going to the dentist. I get nervous, my hands sweat and everything tenses up, especially my jaw! 

7. My husband is my best friend. I’m amazed at his capacity to show grace under fire. 

8. I can’t read a map in a moving car; it makes me feel sick. 

9. People fascinate me. I love a good yarn.
 
10. I believe passionately in community and seeing people reach their full potential. 

11. My son has autism and I believe in him. 

12. If I could only eat dip, biscuits, cheese and potato chips I would. 

13. I have learnt it’s OK to ask for help. 

14. I consider myself an idealist although sometimes I’m jaded. 

15. My bedside table usually has a minimum of three books on it at the one time. 


So that's a little of me... 


oh, one more thing... 


This is the scariest, most exciting thing I've done for a long time! So here I go...