parenting Archives - Page 4 of 6

Sleep Interrupted

July 18, 2011 By Kirsten

Sleep – or lack thereof – has been a big issue in my life lately. I’ve never really been one to sleep for long stretches, and particularly since entering the world of motherhood, I consider six hours to be a good night’s sleep. But these days, even getting that amount of shut-eye is a challenge. There are a number of reasons for the recent sleep deficit, ranging from a run of kids’ tummy bugs to the fact that I’m an occasional insomniac.

Saturday night was particularly brutal. I went to bed early enough, because I was planning a long run early on Sunday morning. The kids were asleep, and James, who had been afflicted with a tummy bug, seemed to be on the mend.

At about midnight, when I had barely been asleep for half an hour, I woke to the sound of James crying his little heart out. My husband and I went to investigate, only to discover that the poor child had had a tummy-bug related accident. I whisked James off to the bathroom to clean him up and comfort him; my husband took care of changing the sheets and throwing soiled sheets and pajamas into the washing machine. James, bless his precious little soul, kept apologizing, even though I assured him that it was OK.

We got James settled and went back to bed. By the time I got back to sleep it was well after 1:00 a.m. A couple of hours later, I was roused to consciousness by a light tugging at my arm. I squinted in the darkness and saw James standing beside my bed. He took my hand, wordlessly led me to his bed, and plaintively asked me to stay with him. How could I refuse, right? So I climbed in and got settled, and James promptly threw up all over me.

As quietly as I could, I got James and myself cleaned up, threw yet another load of sheets and PJ’s into the washing machine, and having run of clean sheets, settled the two of us on the futon in our living room.

We went to sleep, and until about 4:00 a.m., I slept the sleep of the just.

At that point, George started to feel lonely, so he abandoned his bed and went in search of me. His first stop was my own bed, where he apparently found his Dad alone, and woke him up just to say, in a tone riddled with indignation, “You’re not Mommy.” Then he found me on the futon and squeezed in beside me.

There is not enough room on the futon for me and two long, lanky kids, both of whom sleep splayed out like starfish. But my discomfort was outweighed by the fact that I had my boys, one on either side of me. And so I (sleeplessly) passed the rest of the witching hours squished between my two gently snoring kids, with elbows and knees poking into my back, and my head bent at an uncomfortable angle.

Eventually, I gave up on the idea of sleep. I made coffee and drank some, and then, with my body screaming in protest, I went out for a 12km run.

It was not a good run, except in the sense that I actually finished it. By seven in the morning it was already scorching hot, I was not properly hydrated and above all, my body was utterly exhausted.

And because I love being there for my kids whenever they need me, at any time of the day or night, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/doortoriver/2903845014/)

Filed Under: Children, Illness, life, parenting, running, sleep Tagged With: children, exhaustion, George, illness, insomnia, James, kids, life, parenting, postaweek2011, running, sleep, tummy bug

Lucky Number Six

July 12, 2011 By Kirsten

Being a parent is hard. You have to deal with conflicts, challenges, lack of sleep, lack of privacy, loss of self-identity, turmoil, guilt, worry, heartache, tears, and the reality of never being able to eat a full meal without interruption. And that’s just with a regular kid.

When you add autism into the mix, you also add the sensory challenges, meltdowns, communication issues, various other autism-related challenges, guilt piled on you by the media and other parents because you chose to vaccinate your child, and uncomfortable stares and rude comments from strangers in grocery stores.

All parents need a break sometimes. Especially parents of children with autism or other special needs. We love our kids, and recognize that in order to be better for them, we need to take care of ourselves.

This is why God created respite workers, and for some lucky parents, the funding to pay for them.

Our respite worker adventures are in their fourth year. In that time, we have gone through five workers, and we have just started on our sixth.

Our first worker was fantastic. We found her at the daycare George went to. She was his favourite teacher there. And so, when she left the daycare and asked us if we would like her to do respite work with George, we jumped at it. Both of the kids loved her, and George eagerly anticipated his times with her. After two years with us, she called me with the news that she had suffered a relapse of breast cancer and needed to take time out to focus on her health. We were sad to see her go, but we completely understood.

After a search of about three months, we found a new respite worker. George took to her right away. She was organized but creative, firm but kindly. She engaged George in a very positive way. She was a lovely, lovely person, and we could tell that she had a gift for working with special needs children. Unfortunately for us, one of the therapy centres recognized the same gift in her, and hired her full-time as an instructor/therapist. She gave us plenty of notice, so that we could find a replacement before she left.

Respite worker #3 was easy enough to find. On paper she looked great. Lots of experience with special needs kids, working towards an early childhood education qualification, and sister to someone with autism. We thought this woman had it all, right down to the personal experience with her own brother.

She turned out to be spiteful and vindictive. She lasted for precisely two sessions, one of which had been a handover session with Respite worker #2.

On to Respite worker #4. We found her through an ad we placed in a local newspaper. She came for an interview, and seemed to interact well with George. We liked her, we hired her, and she agreed to start the following week. Unbeknownst to us, though, she had been actively seeking full-time employment and got offered a job a couple of days before she was due to start with us.

At this point, I was ready to throw up my hands in despair. Good respite workers – the ones who are good at what they do, are nice people, and stick around for longer than it takes to make a cup of coffee – are like gold dust.

I placed another ad, and got a number of responses. We settled on a very nice, down-to-earth lady. When she came for the interview, she produced a binder containing her resume, police clearance, references, and various CPR and First Aid certificates. The details that impressed me on her resume were that she had been with one of her respite families for about ten years, and the other one for even longer. This woman had a history of staying with her families, and she even spoke about the benefits of building a long-term relationship with the child. We liked her, we hired her. She started the following week.

And then, as fate would have it, a close family member of hers was seriously injured in an accident, and another close family member had a heart attack and needed bypass surgery. Our new respite worker had to temporarily suspend work so she could take care of her family. After a break of a month or so, she came back, but that only lasted for two weeks. One of her family members relapsed, and she had to take time off again. She stopped replying to my texts and returning calls, and as nice and all as she was, I had to make the decision to cut her loose.

And now, as of yesterday, we have started with Respite worker #6. I am hesitant to make any sweeping statements at this point, but she seems to have been dropped into our laps by the smiling gods of fate. She has been a student volunteer in George’s classroom for the last two years. She knows him, and she seems to like him. He seems to like her.

I am really hoping she will be our Lucky Number Six.

Filed Under: autism, parenting, Uncategorized Tagged With: autism, finding the right person, George, interviews, parenting, postaweek2011, Respite Work, respite worker, special needs

Out Of The Darkness: Overcoming Post-Partum Depression

July 4, 2011 By Kirsten

This post was a hard one to write, even though the events described happened several years ago. It took me a number of days to get this all down, and it has taken another few days to actually decide whether or not to publish it. My hope in publishing this is that it will make a difference to somebody. Maybe you’re a new mom who is going through post-partum depression. Or perhaps you know a new mom who seems to be retreating into herself. If your life is touched in any way by post-partum depression, know that there are things that can be done. Talk to your friends and family, seek help from medical professionals. And whatever you do, don’t lose hope.

My younger son James was born at a tumultuous time in my life. I had lost my dad to cancer a year previously, and me and my husband were going through some challenging times in our life together. At around that time, we were also starting to realize that there was something wrong with George and we had started to experience the frustration of wrangling a referral out of our family doctor.

I sometimes wonder, when I look back, whether all of these factors led to the post-partum depression I went through. Or perhaps it would have happened anyway. This is an illness that can strike the most unlikely of victims.

I knew within a couple of days after giving birth that the utter bleakness I was feeling was more than a case of “baby blues”. What I had experienced with George two years previously – the mild sadness, the anxiety, the tendency to be emotionally weird – that was baby blues. What I was going through now was completely different.

On New Years Eve that year, when James was six days old, I was sitting in front of the TV nursing my newborn while I watched CNN coverage of festivities around the world. At about five to midnight, Gerard brought me a cup of tea, and as he set it down beside me, he asked in surprise, “Why are you crying?”

I was just as surprised as he was. I had not even noticed the floods of tears rolling silently down my cheeks.

Even though I was filled with this feeling of terrifying – emptiness – I did not initially label what I was experiencing with any name. The first time I thought of the term post-partum depression in relation to myself, James was about two months old. A replay of an old Oprah episode was on – the episode where Tom Cruise spouted forth about how there was no such thing as post-partum depression, and how all new moms could solve all of their problems by eating right and exercising.

What an idiot, I remember thinking. This thought was followed by the sudden light-bulb moment in which I realized that I was suffering from post-partum depression.

There was a good news and a bad news aspect to this discovery.

The good news was that I now had a name for what I was going through. I had something to Google, and sure enough, on every checklist I found, I was able to put checkmarks beside all but one or two of the signs and symptoms. I had a basis for research, and I felt some validation that I wasn’t simply going mad.

The bad news was that I too far down the path of post-partum depression to be able to actually do anything about it. Talking to someone – my doctor, my friends, or even my husband – would have taken energy. And that was something that I had in very short supply. Just getting through the day was an accomplishment. Once I had attended to the basic needs of my kids – feeding, diapering, bathing, dressing – there was nothing left over. No reserves of energy whatsoever.

And because I didn’t do anything about it, my illness got steadily worse and worse. I didn’t talk to anyone about it, and no-one recognized the signs. My friends and family saw me retreating further and further into myself, but they did not know why. They saw that the kids were obviously being taken care of, so they didn’t realize that there was anything to be concerned about.

Even when my depression was at its very worst, I was not suicidal in the sense of wanting to actively go out and kill myself (again, that would have taken energy that I just didn’t have), and I was never in danger of harming the kids. Their health, safety and happiness were my top priorities – my only priorities.

I did start to think about dying, though. I fantasized about what it would be like to die in a car accident, or to have a sudden heart attack, or to be shot during a bank robbery. I thought about being on a plane that had a bomb on it. What if I had some undiagnosed condition, and simply went to sleep one night and didn’t wake up?

My depression went untreated for over a year, and by then I honestly thought that I was lost forever. Right after George was diagosed with autism, I went to see my family doctor, who had received a copy of the diagnostic report. I was seeing the doctor about something unrelated – an old ankle injury was acting up – but he immediately picked up that there was something seriously wrong.

My doctor, who had been absolutely dismal at detecting signs of early developmental delay in George, was able to tell right away that I was going through a major depression. He put me on medication and insisted on seeing me once a week until I was out of the woods.

The pills were both good and bad for me. The bad part was that they made me feel angry. While I was taking them, I was mad at everyone and everything. Back then, I didn’t even have running as a stress coping mechanism, so the anger just sat there and frightened the living daylights out of me.

The good thing, though, was that the pills helped with the depression. I started feeling some energy again – even though the energy itself was negative, it was a start. Negative energy was better than the absolute empiness and desolation that I had been feeling for so long now.

And so gradually, I started finding my way back. With time, I rekindled my relationship with my husband, and I discovered the true joy of parenting. I went back to work and started to find my own identity again. I started running. Little buds of hope started to grow within me.

I found my way out of the darkness, and into love and light.

Filed Under: Help, Illness, Medical, parenting, Post-Partum Depression Tagged With: autism, bleakness, children, depression, doctor, emptiness, George, help, hope, illness, James, medical, medication, newborn, parenting, post-partum depression, postaweek2011, thoughts of death

If He Can Do It, So Can I

June 15, 2011 By Kirsten

Last night, my son George was upset. He was distressed for the entire evening, crying and looking at us sadly with tears escaping from his beautiful big blue eyes. I could tell that this wasn’t just a case of a kid being in a bad mood. Something specific was bugging him. I just didn’t know what it was.

It was heartbreaking. There was this child, my beautiful boy, clearly wanting or needing something, and he was not able to communicate what it was. It was not for lack of trying. He was making supreme efforts to find the words and get them out, but no matter how much I tried, I just couldn’t understand.

In the end, George was just looking at me with an expression that told me he didn’t blame me for not getting it, that although he was sad, he was used to not being able to express himself, used to not being understood.

It was that look, the expression of resignation, that broke my heart. The idea that my child is already, at the age of 7, getting used to a life of hardship, just kills me. I guess this kind of acceptance has to happen sometime, because George’s life is never going to be the same as most other people’s, but still. It’s a difficult pill for a parent to swallow.

Moments like this strengthen my resolve where my running is concerned. On Sunday evening, I ran 14km on the treadmill. That’s a long way to run on a lab-rat machine, but really, I didn’t have any choice. Circumstances were such that it was the treadmill or nothing. And because I have a half-marathon a month from, now, I had to put in the distance.

Just because I deemed it necessary to run for 90 minutes on the treadmill, that doesn’t mean I liked it. It was very hard. The running part was OK. It was the mental resolve part that got me. Treadmill running is mind-numbingly dull, no matter what you do to try and distract yourself, and it took all of my self-discipline to keep going for the full distance.

Many of my long runs – even the ones I do on the open road – are tests more of my mental fortitude than my physical abilities. I know that I can run the distance. I have the base of physical fitness, and I have developed a running form that works for me. The mechanics of my body work just fine. The trouble is that my mind keeps trying to tell me that I’ve been running for a long time, and really, I should be getting tired by now. I have developed techniques to keep myself mentally strong during my runs. Playing music, thinking of things that are not running related, focusing on my body and how it feels as I run. The most effective technique I have, though, is this: all I have to do to keep going is think of the reason I’m doing it.

Every step I take, every aching muscle I endure, every toenail that I lose – it’s all for George. All of this training takes me closer to my Run For Autism, the event I use to raise funds for autism services to benefit my son and other people like him. Running for my child – what better motivation could there possibly be?

People sometimes ask me how I do it, how I go for all of those long runs and then, at the end of it, go out and race for thirteen miles.

For me, it’s easy. All I do is think of my boy. If he can live every day of his life with the challenges he faces, surely I can manage a two-hour run.

If he can do it, so can I. And he is my inspiration.

For details about my Run For Autism and how to support the cause, please visit my race page.

Filed Under: autism, fundraising, life, running, Running for Autism Tagged With: communication, difficulty with expression, heartbreak, life, parenting, postaweek2011, race, resignation, running, scotiabank toronto waterfront marathon, training, treadmill

The Beauty Of Autism

May 31, 2011 By Kirsten

"Peep And The Big Wide World" by George

It was a beautiful moment. One of those moments that autism parents celebrate, that parents of neurotypical children completely fail to notice.

I got home after a long, hard day at work, feeling tired and cranky. As I trudged my way up the driveway, all I wanted to do was grab a glass of wine, collapse into a chair, and never get up again. I didn’t just feel lethargy. At that moment, I was lethargy.

I opened the front door and stepped into the house. Moments later, I heard a pair of feet thundering up the stairs from the basement, and a seven-year-old whirlwind launched itself at me, almost knocking me to my feet. After giving me a ferocious hug, George said, in his sweet sing-song voice, “Hi, Mommy!”

Without me saying hi to him first.

Without me or anyone else prompting him.

This was a social exchange that was initiated completely, 100%, by my child with autism – my child who has, as one of his biggest challenges, social communication difficulties.

Instantly, my energy was back and I was ready to laugh and play with my family, with this amazing child who always seems to give me surprises of wonder.

As a special needs mom, I find that my life is punctuated with moments like this. I remember firsts that I probably wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t have a child with autism.

Like the first time he pointed. What a joyous occasion that was, coming as it did after almost a full year of me teaching him how to point. I blubbed my eyes out that night, all over the Bob the Builder book that had been the vehicle for this accomplishment.

Then there was the first time he made a request using a full sentence. It didn’t matter to me that the sentence was only three words long. This child who said, “I want juice” was streets ahead of the child who, just a few months before, had indicated his need by grabbing my hand and thrusting it in the general direction of the juice boxes.

And what about the first time he pretend-played? It was a simple game that consisted of George crouching down on the ground, and crawling around with his back arched skyward while repeatedly saying, “Turtle.” So what if it was unsophisticated play that included only himself? He was pretending – something he had never done before.

More recently, we celebrated him drawing his first picture. He’d made lots of scribbly-type drawings in the past, of course (and I have kept every single one of them), but this was his first picture depicting an actual scene. That it was an instantly recognizable scene from his favourite kids’ show, Peep And The Big Wide World, makes it even more special.

We have seen the advent of humour, and this is all kinds of significant. Humour is a complicated intellectual process, and George gets it. And let me tell you, he is funny.

All of these moments, when strung together, tell a story of a very special little boy who is making a journey through life that is somewhat different to the way other kids do it. But the point is that he is making the journey and having all kinds of adventures. He may be taking the scenic route, but ultimately, he does pass through the same places that other kids do. He achieves many of the same things, but it takes a little longer and is accomplished in unconventional ways.

I believe that having a child with autism makes me a better parent than I would be otherwise.

It has given me the ability to spot a single flower in a sea of long grass, and more importantly, the power to stop and smell every single flower that I pass on this journey through my kids’ childhoods.

Filed Under: Accomplishments, autism, Children, family, life, Milestones, parenting, Special Moment Tagged With: accomplishments, autism, Bob the Builder, children, drawing, family, George, humour, life, milestones, parenting, Peep And The Big Wide World, pointing, postaday2011, pretend play, scenic route, social communication in child with autism, special moments, special needs

The Beauty Of Autism

May 31, 2011 By Kirsten

"Peep And The Big Wide World" by George

It was a beautiful moment. One of those moments that autism parents celebrate, that parents of neurotypical children completely fail to notice.

Without me saying hi to him first.

Without me or anyone else prompting him.

This was a social exchange that was initiated completely, 100%, by my child with autism – my child who has, as one of his biggest challenges, social communication difficulties.

Instantly, my energy was back and I was ready to laugh and play with my family, with this amazing child who always seems to give me surprises of wonder.

As a special needs mom, I find that my life is punctuated with moments like this. I remember firsts that I probably wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t have a child with autism.

We have seen the advent of humour, and this is all kinds of significant. Humour is a complicated intellectual process, and George gets it. And let me tell you, he is funny.

I believe that having a child with autism makes me a better parent than I would be otherwise.

The Meaning Of Friendship

April 15, 2011 By Kirsten

When George was a newborn, I joined an online group for parents of living children who had also experienced pregnancy or infant loss. Having gone through two pregnancy losses, I was paranoid about everything connected with my new baby. Did those sniffles indicate a cold or something more serious? Why wasn’t he nursing? Was that little bump to the head going to cause permanent damage? Was I actually going to be able to keep this tiny scrap of a human being alive?

In the online group, I found a home – a group of women whose experiences, while all very unique, gave us a common ground. We consoled and comforted one another, offered advice and reassurances, laughed and cried with one another. We became friends. And as you find in any group of friends, there was drama. We had disagreements and conflict. Some people left never to be heard from again, others left and came back.

Seven years on, the core group of us are still friends. The online group itself is not as active as it once was, because most of us are friends on Facebook, and we communicate that way. But we are still as much of a support for one another as we always were. Through seven years (and in some cases, more), we have seen each other through births and deaths, marriages and divorces, relocations, bankruptcies, illnesses, post-partum depression, and even a prison sentence. We have been there for each other through everything.

In 2007, George was diagnosed with autism. As I dealt with the implications of this, including my own emotional fallout, my girls were there for me. Their love and support helped keep me buoyant at a time when it would have been so easy to drown. These amazing women, who had already helped me stay sane through relationship and financial problems, the loss of my father, and my pregnancy with James, once again banded together to help me cope.

And then, a little over a year ago, I found another online group of friends – these ones parents of children with autism. They wormed their way into my heart in the same way my first group had. Although the general conversations centre around different issues, the sense of love and support is present in both groups. My autism friends have been part of my life for substantially less time, but they have helped me over so many hurdles. They tell me I’m a good Mom when I’ve struggle to deal with George’s behaviours. They celebrate with me when he achieves a milestone, and they commiserate with me when a stranger in a grocery store says something ignorant about my child.

Both groups of people are brutally honest in their opinions. They have the strength and the integrity to tell me what they really think, instead of telling me what they believe I want to hear.

From the two groups combined, I have met exactly three people in person.

Occasionally, someone makes a distinction between online friends and IRL (“in real life”) friends. To me, there is no such distinction. Just because you communicate with someone primarily through email or Facebook, that doesn’t mean they are any less real. The only word in the equation that means anything to me is “friends”. And that is truly what these people are. I cannot imagine my life without them. I do not know how I would have weathered the storms of the last few years if they hadn’t been there to keep me afloat and give me reality checks when I needed them.

This post is dedicated to my friends at PALC_group and Parenting_Autism. Thank you for being the wonderful people you are. I love you all.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/ilamont/4329364198)

Filed Under: autism, Friendship, life, parenting, Pregnancy Loss Tagged With: autism, email, facebook, friends, IRL friends, online, online friends, parenting, postaday2011, pregnancy, pregnancy loss, support

Wedding Planning Worries

March 19, 2011 By Kirsten

I have discovered an odd parallel between wedding planning and parenting. With both, you always have something to worry about, but the particular worries change and evolve depending on what stage you are in.

For instance, I look back on the day I first brought George home from the hospital. There I was, a new Mom with this ridiculously small human being who looked so fragile. I was terrified that I’d break him, that something bad would happen just because I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.

When it became apparent that I actually had the ability to keep him alive, I started worrying about different things. Was he sleeping enough? Was I feeding him the right stuff? What did that rash on his face mean? How did I know whether or not to worry about a fever?

Then James came along and brought with him a whole new set of worries. Now, I worry about stuff like sibling relationships, whether the boys are happy at school, and how to keep up with the fact that they seem to outgrow their shoes within the first ten minutes of owning them.

A year from now, I will no doubt be stressing about something else.

It’s been much the same with my wedding planning.

Right in the beginning, I was focused on getting the reception hall booked. I figured that as long as we had a place to party, nothing else would really matter. It took us a long time to commit to a hall, and throughout the whole selection process I was stressed to the hilt and being pulled in different directions by different people who wanted different things.

The moment we paid the deposit on the hall, a weight lifted from my mind. But soon another one settled there: the weight regarding my dress. A long story, the dress was. It involved a promise from my soon-to-be mother-in-law to make it, a retraction of said promise, and an argument before the promise was reinstated. There were discussions about whether or not I would wear a veil, and these discussions were more heated than one might expect. Eventually, my wishes prevailed (and why shouldn’t they?) and it is now known by all concerned that I will not be wearing a veil.

Then I started to panic about the shoes. I had to go on several shoe-shopping trips, and I hated every one of them, because – well, I hate shoe-shopping. Just as I was starting to think that I would have to wear my battered running shoes to my wedding, I found a pair of shoes that I love.

Okay. Deep, soothing breaths.

When the shoes were sorted, it was time to worry about the guest list and the invitations. This caused me no end of stress. Initially I was going to keep it simple. I got plain but elegant stationery to print the invitations on, I had the invitations designed and I was just about to print them when…

…the hub-to-be announced that we should have a theme for the wedding.

It’s a great theme, I have to confess. I’m glad we’re going with it. But it meant that we had to change what we were doing with the invitations, and as a result they went out ten days later than I would have liked. But they went out, and all credit to Gerard, they are really nice.

We have a makeup person.

We have a DJ.

Everyone’s clothing has been sorted out.

Now, I guess because I actually have the time to worry about it, I have a new worry.

Who is going to do my hair?

I already know what my next worry after this one will be, but for now, I’m going to focus on the hair.

I can only worry about one wedding-related thing at a time, otherwise my head might just implode.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/saffy_suppi/4958417528)

Filed Under: parenting, Wedding, Worry Tagged With: hair, parenting, postaday2011, stress, wedding, worry

The Weird World Of Children’s TV

February 21, 2011 By Kirsten

Today is a statutory holiday in Ontario. A few years ago people started whining about the dearth of holidays between Christmas and Easter. We need something to break up the long, crappy winters, they said. The Ontario government agreed, and so Family Day was born, to be observed on the third Monday of every February.

I never really thought the lack of holidays was much of a big deal, but I’m certainly not going to complain about an extra day off. What it means, though, is that I get a day of riveting TV viewing that includes the likes of Thomas the Train and Roary the Racing Car.

Don’t judge. By the time Monday rolls around, I’ve spent an entire weekend being run ragged by two kids who make the Energizer Bunny look like a lazy slob. On holiday Mondays I feel entitled to be more lax in my restrictions of the kids’ TV viewing.

Anyway, as I sit here listening to an inane song that repeats the phrase I’m the map about seventeen million times, I feel compelled to make the following observation: In order to make a successful children’s TV show, you have to be high on crack.

I mean, seriously. It’s the only explanation I can think of for some of the stuff I see on Treehouse Channel and TVO Kids. Take the episode of Dora that was on yesterday, for instance. It featured these Super Babies who had supersonic hearing and X-ray vision, and they floated down a river on a raft helping Dora and Boots find the clues. The Super Babies were Super Creepy. They wouldn’t look out of place in a scary horror movie.

Here are some children’s TV shows that make me scratch my head and go, “Huh???”

Barney the Dinosaur. Otherwise known as “most annoying children’s character ever created”. I don’t allow Barney in any shape or form in my house, simply because if I did, my head would explode. It’s a matter of self-preservation. It’s the the combination of the goody-two-shoes kids, the shade of purple, and that annoying voice that makes my ears bleed.
Blues Clues. Rumour has it that Steve, the original host of Blues Clues, developed a serious drug problem and had a nervous breakdown. Who can blame the poor bastard? He spent his time in a two-dimensional psychedelic world hanging out with furniture and salt shakers that could talk to him, and a manic blue dog that couldn’t so much as say Woof.
Harry And His Bucket Full Of Dinosaurs. OK, let me get this straight. A normal-sized six-year-old boy can somehow fit his entire body into a normal-sized bucket. The bucket turns into a place called “Dino World” and the toy dinosaurs come to life and grow to full dinosaur size. When Harry is in his bucket talking to his dinosaurs, I wonder if his mother knows where he is.
Max And Ruby. Otherwise known as “second most annoying children’s characters ever created”. Max is a little rabbit, maybe four years old. His primary caregiver is his sister Ruby, who is maybe eight. She is solely responsible for feeding him, bathing him, putting him to bed, and so on. The parents are nowhere in the picture, although there’s a grandma who shows up from time to time. My theory, based on the fact that Max has very poor verbal skills and yet has very unique thought processes that end up solving whatever problem the pair are presented with, is that Max has autism. Mom and Dad couldn’t handle the responsibilities of special needs parenting and ran away to Mexico. Ruby was forced into guardianship of her little brother, and Grandma periodically checks on them to make sure they have clean clothes and nutritious food.
Backyardigans. I don’t have a problem with the adventures these kids go on. The show is set up in such a way that you can tell they are engaging in really creative imaginative play, right in their back yards. It’s kind of nice, actually. A group of kids who live on the same street, playing together and being best friends. It’s just that – well, have you seen what they look like? What exactly are they supposed to be ?
Toopy and Binoo. Gigantic mouse who never stops talking and is clearly addicted to happy meds. Miniature stuffed cat (you can even see the seam where it’s been patched up) who cannot talk but can walk and nod its head, and has the biggest village idiot grin you ever saw. Enough said.

And we expect our kids to grow up normal.

Filed Under: Children, entertainment Tagged With: Backyardigans, Barney, Blues Clues, children, Dora, Harry and his Bucket Full of Dinosaurs, Max and Ruby, parenting, postaday2011, Roary the Racing Car, Thomas the Train, Toopy and Binoo, TV

The Juggling Runner

February 16, 2011 By Kirsten

Those who know me well know that I have the dual problem of (a) having way too much on my plate and (b) having crap time management skills. Juggling a full-time job with parenting a child with autism, parenting a child without autism, helping manage Gerard’s business, and everything else that I have going on, can really take it out of me. That is a lot of balls to have in the air, and dropping any one of them is not an option.

Despite all of this, though, I run. I am living proof that the excuse of not having time to exercise just doesn’t hold water. Anyone who wants to exercise badly enough – assuming they are medically and physically up for it – can find a way to make it work.

That being said, it is far from easy, and several people have asked me how I do it. And so, for people who are overtaxed, overworked, and overwhelmed and still want to exercise, I offer my words of wisdom (and thank you to the Running on Empty blogger for suggesting this as a blog topic).

1. Get your partner/spouse/significant other on board. I cannot stress this enough. I’m not saying you have to drag them out of bed to go running with you at five in the morning against their will, just ensure that you have their support. Explain to them what you want to do and why it’s important to you. Let them understand what impact, if any, it will have on them. I am very fortunate in this regard. Gerard occasionally grumbles and complains when I abandon him to the mercies of two lunatic children so I can go for a long run, but he understands that it is something I need to do. Come race day, he is always a rock of support for me, taking me to races at ungodly hours of the morning and cheering me on at the end.

2. Planning is essential for people pressed for time. At the beginning of each week, write down what days you are going to work out and how long each workout will be. Be sure to take into account the amount of time you will need to change into your workout clothes and get to wherever you need to be. Once you’ve done this, schedule the workouts in your calendar. Once they are in your calendar, don’t move them. Schedule other stuff around them.

3. Once the workout is scheduled, just do it. If your calendar says you’re getting up at five in the morning to go for a run, then get up at five in the morning to go for a run. There will be times when you just don’t think you’ll be able to drag yourself out the door, when all you want to do is go back to sleep. Your mind may even try to convince you that this would be healthier. If you give in, though, you will spend the rest of the day regretting it. If, on the other hand, you get up and do your workout, you will feel an amazing sense of accomplishment. As an added bonus, I frequently find that the runs I am really, really not in the mood for turn out to be some of the best ones ever.

4. As much as I’m going on about scheduling and planning, you have to be prepared for exceptions. Sometimes it won’t be possible for you to go running when you planned to. Your child will keep you awake all night, and you will genuinely need to catch up on sleep instead of running. Or your boss will call an emergency meeting that will cut into the time you had reserved for your lunchtime workout. Or you yourself will get sick and be forced to rest. This is all OK. Sometimes life gets in the way of running. If you’re not able to reschedule a missed workout, no problem. Just go for the next scheduled workout and life will continue to be good.

5. Remember that shorter workouts are still worthwhile. If you were planning to run for an hour and only find yourself with twenty minutes, it’s still worth running for those twenty minutes. From time to time, I’m not able to get out at all because I have no-one to watch the kids for me, but even on those days, I manage to do sprints up and down my road, checking on the kids between reps.

6. The key thing here is perseverance. Even when things get so overwhelming that you have to skip runs or take an extended break because you’re ill or injured, don’t give up. Remind yourself of why it is important to you, and think about how great it feels when you complete a great workout. When things get tough, don’t just give up and tell yourself it will not work. Ultimately, you are doing this for YOU, and you should never give up on yourself.

Filed Under: life, running, Uncategorized Tagged With: autism, calendar, children, family, juggling, parenting, postaday2011, running, scheduling, time, time management, work, workouts