crying Archives - Running for Autism

9 Memorable Moments Of A Lifelong Friendship

June 15, 2013 By Kirsten

Friendship

It has been said that people come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. Sometimes they are there for a specific purpose, and once that purpose has been fulfilled, they move on. Other people are there for a phase of our lives before the friendship drifts apart for whatever reason. Then there are those who are there for the long haul, no matter what life throws at either one of you.

Jenny came into my life when we were both 10. She is still there now, and we have made a pact that when we’re old, we’re going to sit on a porch on rocking chairs doing our knitting. Well, Jenny will knit and I will probably be doing some writing on an old-person tablet with extra-large font. I cannot knit.

When you’ve been friends with someone for 33 years, you collect a lot of memories with them. Today, in honour of Jenny’s birthday, I want to share some of those moments.

1. We were new kids together at school. We stood there side by side as the teacher introduced us to the rest of the class. We pretty much stayed side by side until we graduated high school.

2. When we were about 13, Jenny caught a bad cold that did some very weird things to her speech. This was during her phase of calling me “Spazzhead”. Try to imagine what the word “Spazzhead” would sound like when spoken by someone whose head has been stuffed full of bubble wrap. During recess one day, Jenny kept saying “Spazzhead” over and over, just because it sounded so funny. We were laughing so hard we couldn’t even sit up straight.

3. One Monday, Jenny came to school with her eyes red from crying all night. The previous day, her family had seen the immediate aftermath of a serious car crash on the highway. Jenny described the scene to me, and I was horrified just listening to it. For her to have actually seen it must have been absolutely traumatic. As she told me about it, she broke down in tears again. I could not think of any words to say, so I just held her.

4. When we were 12 or 13, we went on a school field trip to the zoo, and we were admitted right into an enclosure with blue cranes. For reasons known only to God and to it, one of the birds was instantly fascinated by me. The damned thing had me dancing in circles around the enclosure, never making contact with me but getting close enough to make me very nervous. Jenny’s attempts to help me were thwarted by the tears that were running down her face as a result of her laughing so much.

5. During my university years, I got myself into big trouble, but I didn’t tell anyone about it. While I was trying to pick up the pieces of my life afterward, I did something that hurt Jenny badly. It took a couple of years, but she forgave me and I had my friend back.

6. On a beautiful sunny day, Jenny said “I do” to the love of her life. She was, without any doubt, the most beautiful woman in the world as she walked down the garden aisle with her father. The wedding was small and simple, and the air was filled with love. When you looked at Jenny and her new husband, you just knew they were going to be together forever.

7. In my late 20’s, I used a sizeable bonus from work to fund a holiday to Greece and Wales. Jenny, who was heavily pregnant, did not follow my instructions to hold off on having the baby until I got back. As I was sitting down to breakfast in my B&B near Cardiff Castle, Jenny’s husband called me with news of the birth. It was quite a birth story with many anxious moments, but Jenny and her new baby boy were doing OK. When she asked me to be the godmother, I cried with joy.

8. When my dad died, I forced myself to hold it together. I had to go through the logistics of traveling alone from Canada to South Africa, and when I got there, I needed to be strong enough to help my mom deal with the aftermath of losing a loved one. As I stood outside the church before the funeral, Jenny arrived with her mom and came right over to give me a hug. It was only then that I allowed myself to cry.

9. Last year, I took another unexpected trip to South Africa following the death of a beloved aunt. In spite of the circumstances, there were some rays of sunshine during my time there. One of these was a day with Jenny. We had a marvelous time getting rained on during a bird show and then having a leisurely lunch together. That perfect day was capped off by a phone chat with my now-almost-teenage godson.

Jenny and I live on opposite sides of the world, but that does not get in the way of a friendship like this one. Today, this amazing person celebrates a birthday, and even though she is thousands of miles away, I am celebrating with her.

Happy birthday, my dear friend. Thank you for putting up with me all these years.

(Photo credit: Jixar. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

Filed Under: Friend, Friendship, life, Memories, Wordcount Blogathon Tagged With: birthday, crying, death, friends, godson, laughing, lifetime, purpose, wedding

He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother

August 18, 2012 By Kirsten

When I tell people that I have a child with autism, their immediate focus tends to be on what that must be like for me as a parent. Very few people have expressed any kind of compassion for my younger son – the neurotypical sibling. It’s not that people don’t care, they just don’t think about the challenges of the autism sibling until I bring up the subject. The truth is that the siblings can so easily be overlooked when, in a sense, they are special needs children themselves because of the roles they find themselves in.

I am calling this “James Week” on my blog. All of the posts that I publish here for the next seven days are dedicated to James, in honour of how utterly fantastic he is. I am so proud to be his mom.

Yesterday afternoon, George was crying. He was crying because he’d gotten into trouble – actual, real trouble that involved serious consequences. This is a big deal because it happens so rarely. We scold him, of course, and we don’t let him get away with stuff like headbutting his little brother. But thereal trouble – the kind that results in timeouts and the removal of computer privileges – we save for times when he has done something that could seriously compromise his safety or someone else’s.

Like the time he climbed a ladder onto the roof a few weeks ago. Or the time he hit his brother on the head with the business end of a garden hoe.

Yesterday’s transgression happened after we had all been sitting on the front steps of the house, drinking tea and enjoying the lovely weather. James was kicking a soccer ball around on the driveway, and George was tossing plastic ball into the air and then hitting it with a baseball bat, in a surprisingly coordinated way. When it was time to go in and start thinking about dinner, George got upset because he wanted to continue playing. We know that transitions can be rough for him, so we patiently spoke to him and tried to get him to yield the baseball bat.

In the end, he yelled, “FINE!”, threw the baseball bat down on the ground, stormed into the house and slammed the front door. In other words, he acted like a typical almost-nine-year-old bratty kid who wasn’t getting his own way.

Which is great, and normally something that would have me jumping for joy.

The problem was that he flipped the lock on the front door, so none of the rest of us could get in.

Oh dear. My autistic son – my upset autistic son – was unattended in a locked house. That is a frightening prospect: we were more worried about his safety than anything else. We did eventually talk George into unlocking the door, and then, to use common parenting parlance, we read him the riot act. He was given a timeout, which he hates, and then he had to wait for an hour before he was allowed to use his computer.

He cried as if the world was about to end. Tears of absolute desolation flowed from him as he lay on the couch. He looked utterly heartbroken.

Well, this was no good. We had wanted to discipline him, not make him miserable. I lay down on the couch beside him and told him I loved him. I tried to comfort him, but he would not be comforted. I started thinking that this might be one of those times where you just have to let the kid cry it out of his system. But it turned out that he simply needed something else.

He got off the couch and ran into James’ room, where James was lying quietly on his bed waiting for the storm to pass. George got onto the bed beside James and gently tugged at James’ arm. James responded by looping his arm over George, and the boys lay there hugging each other.

And just like that, George was calm, as if someone had flicked a switch. Which in some way, James clearly had.

I instinctively knew that I needed to back away and let the brothers have some time alone.

As I quietly left the room, I heard James softly say to George, “I would do anything for you, George.”

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

Filed Under: autism, Brothers, family, parenting Tagged With: baseball bat, computer, consequences, crying, locked the door, safety, timeout

Why I’m Not Wearing Mascara

February 7, 2012 By Kirsten

“You look tired,” said my mother-in-law gently. “Why don’t you put a bit of makeup on you?”

She meant well – of course she did – but what she had way of knowing is that I never wear mascara to airports. Because no matter how I try to talk myself up as this brave, strong person, at airports I turn into a blubbery crybaby.

The plan this evening was that I would check in for my flight, and then spend time hanging out with my family. But we all knew, with George’s autism being what it is, that this might not happen. Even at relatively quiet times like this, airports are loud, busy places with lots of people and bright fluorescent lights. Airports are a recipe for sensory overload for a child with autism who’s already bewildered by the idea that his Mommy is going away.

And so I checked in, and then George tolerated a few minutes of looking at the planes before they had to go. I hugged my mother-in-law, and then clutched onto my children without wanting to ever let them go. A hug and kiss for my husband, and then they were off.

I stood in the middle of the wide terminal and watched them go. I didn’t move until long after they were out of sight. I savoured every glimpse of them that I could get, trying to get enough to last me for the next twelve days.

And then, just as my eyes were starting to overflow, I bolted into the Ladies Room and hid myself in a stall. When the flow of tears had subsided, I washed my face, surveyed my worn-out looking self in the mirror, and remembered just why it is that I never wear mascara to airports.

Filed Under: Airport, family, Goodbye, Travel Tagged With: airports, crying, mascara, saying goodbye, travel

The Parent Who Disappointed

January 31, 2011 By Kirsten

This weekend I had the dubious distinction of being The Parent Who Disappoints. It’s not a nice feeling, I tell ya. In fact, it’s downright awful. I feel like someone’s reached down into my throat and twisted my heart around when I see my five-year-old son standing in front of me with fat tears rolling down his cheeks because of something I’ve done. Or in this case, failed to do.

James was supposed to go to a birthday party on Saturday afternoon. The party was being held for a little girl who goes to school and daycare with him. She is a really, really lovely child with equally lovely parents. James was excited about going to the party, but the catch was that I would have had to stay at the party with him. He’s not ready to be left without either of his parents at an unfamiliar house (and frankly, I’m not ready for it either).

It’s not that I mind staying at these parties. In fact, I kind of enjoy sitting there chatting with the other parents while our kids run around and play.

On Saturday, though, I was sick. I was streaming with a cold, using up Kleenexes at the speed of sound, inhaling cough drops like they were Smarties, and feeling as if my head was about to explode. And by Saturday afternoon I had started developing pink-eye, and my eyes were oozing in a very unsavoury manner.

Would you have wanted me hanging out in a house full of moms and kids in that condition? Would you have even wanted me driving in that condition, with my eyes pretty much sealed shut with gunk?

Gerard was not able to go, because he had an appointment with a client at work.

Gerard’s mom, the only other possible candidate, was at a funeral.

It fell to me, in my sick, dreary state, to break the news to James that I would not be able to take him to the party. James was not angry, and he did not throw a tantrum. He just started weeping in a very, very sad way.

Now, in addition to being as sick as a dog, I felt like a piece of crap parent. I felt so sad for my little guy that I started to weep myself.

Just in case you were wondering: crying when you have pink-eye is not a good idea.

I apologized over and over to James. I explained to him the dual problems of putting everyone at risk of illness and not actually being fit to drive. Later, he assured me that he understood and that he didn’t hate me. But still. I felt horrible for disappointing my baby.

I asked him what I could do to make it up to him, and he said he’d like a birthday party of his own. This works for me – I have plans to throw him a party anyway – but his answer has prompted me to step it up a notch, to make a supreme effort to provide him with a special day. He wants to have his party at an indoor playground, and he wants a Lightning McQueen cake. I’ll provide him with a Lightning McQueen cake if I have to go all the way to Radiator Springs to get it.

James misses out on a lot. It must be tough for him, being the brother of a child with autism, and the son of a Mom who gets sick at just the wrong time.

The least I can do is give him a day that he can call his own, where he will be the centre of attention.

Filed Under: parenting, postaday2011 Tagged With: birthday party, children, cold, crying, disappointment, illness, James, Lightning McQueen, parenting, pink-eye, postaday2011