life Archives - Page 9 of 11 - Running for Autism

Mommy Is A Boy

March 18, 2011 By Kirsten

George - laughing boy!

This week, I had to share March break parenting duties with Gerard. It did not mean much to us where James is concerned, because James still got taken to the daycare and picked up again at the usual times each day. George, who usually gets bussed to school from the therapy centre each lunchtime, had to be picked up and brought home instead, and one of us had to be around for him.

And that is how, on Tuesday and Wednesday, I found myself working from home.

It was a treat. As soon as I had dropped James off, I got to start my work early instead of sitting in public transit for over an hour. I got to spend two entire mornings at home by myself, with no distractions. I got to complete tasks that tend to get pushed to the bottom of the pile when I’m in the office, because I have to keep running to meetings. I got to go running. In SUNLIGHT!

And by the time George’s grandmother had kindly picked him up, provided him with lunch, and delivered him to me, most of my work for the day was done, and I got to spend the better part of the afternoon alone with my firstborn.

As I always tell my kids, I love them “bigger than everything”. I love it when they collaborate with each other to wrestle me to the ground and play with me. Reading bedtime stories with them at night, with one child on either side of me, brings me great joy. When I wake up in the early hours of the morning to find myself sandwiched between my sleeping boys, I think of how lucky I am to have these kids. When I am together with both of my boys, I am happy.

But you know, getting to spend one-on-one time with either of them is a treasure as well. And so I savoured those two afternoons with George, when it was just him and me. Even when I was finishing up my work for the day, he was at his computer and we were each doing our thing, in companionable silence.

On Wednesday afternoon, right after I had finished my work and packed up my work laptop, George clambered into my lap – no mean feat for a long, lanky seven-year-old – and cheerfully said, “Mommy is a boy.”

I gasped in mock horror, “Noooooooo,” I said. “Mommy is a girl!”

George let loose with his giggles.

It is worth mentioning at this point that George has the most infectious laugh I have ever heard. It is impossible to hear this kid giggle and not giggle right along with him. He is the living epitome of the phrase, “Laugh and the world laughs with you.”

So there were the two of us, giggling as if there was no tomorrow because my son had called me a boy.

When the laughing subsided, I said to George, “Mommy is a…”

“BOY!” he shouted, collapsing once more into helpless giggles.

At that, I started bouncing him up and down on my lap as I chanted, “Mommy is a girl! Mommy is a girl! Mommy is a girl!”

Very quickly, George caught on to the chanting idea, and in unison with me, he was chanting, “Mommy is a boy! Mommy is a boy! Mommy is a boy!”

This continued until George became so overcome with mirth that he slithered off my lap and actually rolled on the floor laughing.

It was a truly phenomenal moment of connection, significant in many, many ways.

George had initiated the contact.

George had demonstrated his quirky sense of humour.

George had engaged in extended communication with me for the express purpose of making a joke and having fun – in other words, for social purposes.

George had continued the interaction, and determined its direction and outcome.

And George – my beautiful, bright, FUNNY child – had made laugh so much that my face hurt.

Filed Under: Humour, life Tagged With: George, giggling, humour, infectious, laugh, Mommy is a boy, postaday2011, social communication in child with autism

Can You Call Back Later?

March 15, 2011 By Kirsten

After a fairly quiet morning, my phone just rang. I was struck by an initial blast of panic because I hate talking on the phone, except to a select group of people that includes Gerard, my Mom and other close family members. According to the display, it was a long-distance call but no number was available to be displayed.

The only reason I answered was that my Mom had told me my brother might call.

It was not my brother. It was a telemarketer.

This is what the conversation went like:

Me: Hello?

Telemarketer: Hello, this is Rajid from ABC Windows and Doors. How are you today?

Me: I’m fine thank you, how are you?

Telemarketer: I’m fine, thank you for asking.

Me (interjecting quickly but politely to avoid having to listen to the sales pitch): To save us both time, I’d like to mention that I am not interested in buying anything right now.

Telemarketer: Oh no, I’m not trying to sell you anything. I just want to offer you a special price on our windows and doors, for this week only.

OK, did I miss something here? The man tells me that he’s not selling me anything. In the very next sentence he tells me that he wants to sell me something. Whoever wrote the script manual for that telemarketing company should probably look for a new job.

Despite the fact that we are on all kinds of Do Not Call lists, we get our share of telemarketing calls. I deal with them by getting rid of them as quickly but politely as possible (they may be annoying, but they’re just doing their job, and it costs nothing to be nice), or more commonly, by simply not answering the phone.

Gerard has a very different approach. He likes to engage them in conversation and have a little fun messing with them (not in a malicious way; he’s never mean to them).

Several years ago a very nice lady called us – strangely enough, it was also to sell windows and doors. “Would you mind calling back a little later?” Gerard asked sweetly. “I’m in the middle of having sex with my wife.”

Cripes. Even though there was no-one to actually see me (apart from Gerard), I still turned beet-red.

Then there was the time someone called to tell us that James had completed a suvery and won a three-night stay in a hotel in Mexico, and that he would just have to listen to a three-hour time-share presentation. We informed the caller that the then 16-month-old James did not have the writing skills to complete a survey, and that the presenter would have to stop mid-way through his talk to change a diaper.

More recently, we got a call from a guy selling alarm systems, who was so persistent that it was almost admirable. Eventually, Gerard told him that we didn’t need an alarm system because we would simply shoot anyone who started stealing our stuff. The poor guy spent a whole thirty minutes on the phone discussing the merits of alarm systems vs. guns. Ten out of ten for perseverance.

I think I might have a new way of dealing with telemarketers: I will simply give the phone to James (yes, the same James who at 16 months, won a three-night stay – as yet unredeemed – in a Mexican hotel). James has, it would seem, inherited Gerard’s propensity for saying outrageous things.

Telemarketers of the future, beware.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jonphillips/4423187529/)

Filed Under: life, Telemarketers Tagged With: James, Mexico, phonecalls, postaday2011, telemarketer

Wonder Woman Wannabe

March 12, 2011 By Kirsten

I woke up early this morning and started making a list of everything I hope to accomplish today.It is a daunting list, and I have just figured out why.

My wedding day coincides with the deadline for filing tax returns.

That is why I find myself having to organize tax documents for myself and Gerard, do bookkeeping for two businesses, and prepare and file an HST return, which is a headache in itself, all while I am printing off address labels and wedding invitation reply cards, stuffing envelopes, conjuring up missing addresses from thin air, following up on people who owe me quotes, and attempting to stay sane.

At the same time, there are other things that I have promised to do today – promises that I have made either to myself or my kids.

I promised James that we could make bread. He received a real chef’s hat at a school field trip a while back, and he takes great pride in wearing it while he helps me bake (I realize that that last statement makes me sound like Martha Stewart, but in reality, my baking happens about as frequently as a lunar eclipse).

I promised George that I would make up some math worksheets for him. The kid has a love and aptitude for numbers that is just staggering, and he cannot get enough of the worksheets. He has already completed all of the spare ones I had a home, so I have to make him some more.

I promised myself that I would bid on all of the writing jobs that are in my watch list. I have worked out that I can make a fair amount of extra cash during my daily commutes, but that’s not going to happen if I don’t bid for the jobs. I will lose some, but I will hopefully win some. Who knows where this might lead?

Before I do any of this, I have to take a shower, load the dishwasher, and throw a load of laundry into the washing machine.

I have to go now. I need to look for my Insane Wonder Woman suit.

Filed Under: life, Tax deadlines, Wedding Tagged With: bread, George, James, math worksheets, postaday2011, taxes, wedding, Wonder Woman, writing

The Moment My Future Arrived

March 11, 2011 By Kirsten

21 August, 2001

It is a beautiful summer’s evening, but my heart is feeling heavy. I am lonely. I have been in Canada for just over a year, and it seems to be taking an inordinately long time for me to build up any kind of social support network. Barry and I split up just a week ago after dating for five months. It wasn’t the best of relationships – we didn’t really have any kind of chemistry, me and Barry – but he had represented some kind of social normality at a time when I really needed it. The breakup was awful – the kind that involves lots of arguing, accusations flung back and forth, and absolutely no chance of friendship afterwards.

What stings the most is that Barry is not divorced at all, like he’s been telling me. He’s still married. It doesn’t matter to me that he and his wife don’t get along. It doesn’t matter that they no longer live together. The fact is that for five months, I’ve been sleeping with someone else’s husband. Even though I didn’t know, had no way of knowing, I feel tarnished. Like I’ve done something wrong.

I’m feeling sad, angry, lonely. I feel trapped in all of these negative emotions, and I have to get out. I cannot go for a run: I already ran this morning, and with my first half-marathon just a month away, I cannot afford to mess with my training.

Instead, I take a walk to High Park. As I wander into the park, I instantly start to feel calmer. High Park is the kind of place that does that. All of that luscious green, the wide open spaces, the breathtaking beauty of the flowers and the river, serves to slow my heartbeat and appreciate the world around me.

I walk for a while, and then sit on a rock close to the park entrance. I close my eyes and bask in the warmth of the sun. Gradually, I feel myself coming to life, like a flower receiving water after a drought. I open my eyes and see a man walking towards me.

I wonder if I know him, and squint to get a better look in the sunlight. No, I’ve never seen him before, and yet he is walking in my direction with definite purpose, smiling broadly as he makes eye contact with me. He is holding a bunch of flowers.

Odd. I wonder if he has mistaken me for somebody else.

He reaches me and sits down on the rock beside me. He looks into my eyes, pauses, and then says, “You have beautiful eyes.” He hands me the flowers and tells me his name. I hear the sound of my own name coming from my lips, but I am not aware of having spoken.

In an instant, Barry and everything to do with him has faded into complete insignificance. None of that matters anymore.

I am staring at this man in wonderment, this man who is a stranger and yet somehow, not a stranger at all.

We stand up, and arm in arm, we start walking.

Both of us somehow know that we are walking, together, to our future.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/eleasa/2734011065)

Filed Under: life, relationships, romance Tagged With: beautiful eyes, breakups, flowers, future, High Park, loneliness, marriage, postaday2011, relationships, summer, sunlight

A Scrap Of Paper That Changed My Life

March 3, 2011 By Kirsten

I was numb with shock as I drove home that day. Although I was only 22, life had already jaded me to the point where I never believed that anything good would actually last, but I had no idea, when I woke up that morning, that things would change so abruptly.

I went to work that morning, just as I did every other morning. It was my first real job – a job with a regular paycheque AND benefits – and I was so proud of it. I had been there for about nine months, and for the first time since my early University days a few years previously, I felt as if I was starting – just starting – to get some direction.

I had emerged intact – bruised and damaged and hurting, but intact – from the wreckage that my life had been, and I had somehow managed to create the semblance of a normal existence. I was proud of this. I was starting to like myself again, to feel kind of OK about who I was.

I was starting to think that just maybe, I was not a complete failure who was capable of nothing more than disappointing myself and everyone around me.

That day, I lost my job.

It was a crushing blow. All of those feelings of failure and disappointment came flooding back. I hadn’t sorted out my life at all. The sense of direction, the sense that things had been getting better – that was all a mask, something to hide the fact that I was and always would be a complete screw-up.

As I drove home, I didn’t know how I was going to tell my parents. It seemed as if they had just seen me through my last crisis, and here I was, about to show up with another one. How was I going to face my Mom and tell her that I had lost the job that she had been instrumental in me getting? She had made the initial contact and arranged the interview for me at a time when I would never have been able to do it myself. And now it was all gone. I was a disappointment once again.

I felt low. So low that I actually contemplated wrapping my car around a telephone pole with me in it.

When I got home and blurted out the news, my parents wrapped me in a bear-hug. Their love and support covered me like a soft, soothing blanket. Take your time, they said. Catch your breath, give yourself a chance to recover, and then try again.

They assured me that this was not a reflection on my worth as a person, that I would indeed make a success of my life. I didn’t believe them, not really, but I really needed to hear it.

About ten days later, I was at a loose end, so I decided to tidy my desk drawers. I must have had six years’ worth of old papers and notebooks in there. It was a veritable time capsule that took me right back to my high school days, to the time before.

I went through my old diaries and books and scraps of paper, and reminisced. I reflected on the days when my whole life had stretched before me like a blank canvas, when I had not made bad decisions that would create emotional tsunamis that would ripple through time. Most of the items went into the garbage. I was sad to throw away these mementoes of my youth, but that stuff hardly seemed relevant to the way my life was now.

I pulled out an advertising leaflet and automatically started throwing it in the garbage bag without even looking at it. Just before it went into the bag, though, my eye caught the word “Israel”.

Curious. Why would I be in possession of an advertising leaflet that had anything to do with Israel? Presumably it must have been of some value to me at some point, otherwise I wouldn’t have kept it.

It turned out to be a travel brochure for people wanting to go to Israel to experience life on a Kibbutz. The brochure posed a series of questions in the form of a checklist. Do you want to see a part of the world that is like no other? Are you trying to decide what to do with your life? Have you reached a difficult crossroads?

Yes, yes and YES. As I read the brochure, I grew increasingly excited. I called the number on the brochure and asked some questions. Yes, the company that produced the brochure still ran the Kibbutz program. Yes, it was true that all I needed to pay was the cost of the airfare plus an administrative fee. No, there was no waiting list – I could leave with the next group to depart in six weeks’ time.

With fumbling fingers, I dug out my latest bank statements. With the money I had saved up, I could just about cover the costs. I wouldn’t have spending money, but that was OK. I didn’t want to go shopping. I just wanted to go.

I booked my spot there and then, and then, with my face involuntarily pulled into a completely unfamiliar-feeling expression that I later realized was a smile, I went to talk to my parents, to tell them that I was going to Israel.

Little did I know how completely this spur-of-the-moment decision would alter the course of my life.

Filed Under: life, Travel Tagged With: bad times, crossroads, Israel, job loss, Kibbutz, life, parents, postaday2011, shock, spur-of-the-moment, stress, travel

Reflections In Shiny Buildings

March 2, 2011 By Kirsten

This morning, as is my custom, I went to Tim Hortons straight from the subway, to get my morning coffee (one of my morning coffees, anyway). From Tim Hortons, it is about a two-minute walk to the office – a walk that takes me past tall buildings with shiny, reflective exteriors. As I was walking, I glanced up and caught a reflection of myself.

I did not like what I saw.

I was walking along, shoulders hunched forward, head down, looking at the sidewalk right in front of my feet. It was a posture of utter dejection. The word defeated was written all over every inch of me.

I have been having a hard time lately. I have been going through a series of mini-crises, and even though I’ve always known that I can survive them, while they’re happening they leave me feeling absolutely steamrolled. There has been much stress and anxiety. I’ve been in the kind of state where the slightest kind word instantly makes my eyes spring a leak.

When I saw myself reflected in the building this morning, looking crushed by life, I thought to myself, Enough of this crap. I can’t be walking around looking like a wet breakfast. What kind of message does that portray to the world around me? And how can I possibly expect to build up my self-confidence when I cannot even walk down the road with my head held high?

Now, I cannot control all of the things that are going on in my life right now. But I can control the way I walk. So immediately, I squared my shoulders and raised my eyes to face the world head-on.

I’ll be honest, it felt a little bit scary. But it also made me feel just a little bit stronger, a little bit more empowered.

I think I’ll do that every day from now on. When I’m walking down the road, or down the hallways at work, or wherever, I will not let my shoulders droop, and I will not be afraid to look the world square in the eye. Well, I might be a little afraid, but I’ll do it anyway.

I cannot help but think that simply making an effort to walk like a strong, confident person will help me to actually be a strong, confident person.

This too shall pass. Soon, the real me will be back. I might just be on my way already.

Filed Under: life Tagged With: building, head held high, mini-crises, postaday2011, reflection, self-confidence, stress, Tim Hortons, tough times

This Too Shall Pass

February 26, 2011 By Kirsten

From time to time, my mind goes into a dark place. The reasons why are not important – well they are, but since I only blog about them anonymously, in a whole other place, they are not important for the purposes of this blog. Suffice it to say that sometimes I get plunged into this darkness, and it can be a struggle to come out. Many late nights and early mornings find me wandering restlessly around the house while everyone else is sleeping, trying to outpace the darkness and bring myself back to – well, at the risk of sounding like a hippy, back to a happy place.

Sometimes, when I feel bad, I have an almost irresistible compulsion to go for a hectic run, no matter what time it is. It’s a compulsion I have to fight, of course, because it wouldn’t be safe. Even in the midst of the darkness, I never completely lose my common sense.

At the end of the day, what gets me through is the fact that despite this periodic bleakness, I am a natural optimist. There was only one time in my life – a long time ago – when I could truly say that I lost all hope. Apart from that one terrible time, I have always lived by the credo that no matter what is going on, this too shall pass. I have a permanent assumption that all bad times are temporary. Sometimes they may last for longer than I would think reasonable, but they always – eventually – pass. And when they do, I am hopefully a stronger and wiser person for it.

At times my life has taken the scenic route. There has been rough terrain along the way, and sometimes I have fallen down and I haven’t been able to get up right away. But I’ve never been one to just lay down on the side of the trail and give up. I’ve gathered my strength and forced myself to surge forward, sometimes at a sprint, other times at a snail’s pace. As long as I am moving forward, I am going in the right direction.

The thing is, when I get through those rough patches, the view I get at the end of it can be absolutely spectacular.

No matter what makes me fall, it’s always – ALWAYS – worth my while to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going.

I just can’t seem to shed the baggage I collect along the way.

Filed Under: life Tagged With: baggage, dark place, giving up, losing hope, optimism, postaday2011, scenic route, this too shall pass, view

This Too Shall Pass

February 26, 2011 By Kirsten

The thing is, when I get through those rough patches, the view I get at the end of it can be absolutely spectacular.

No matter what makes me fall, it’s always – ALWAYS – worth my while to pick myself up, dust myself off, and keep going.

I just can’t seem to shed the baggage I collect along the way.

Filed Under: life Tagged With: baggage, dark place, giving up, losing hope, optimism, postaday2011, scenic route, this too shall pass, view

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

Best Vacation Ever

February 3, 2011 By Kirsten

These pictures were taken during the Best Holiday Ever, back in 2008. Gerard and I packed the boys up along with five hundred of their favourite belongings, and drove down to New York. While we were on the road, my mother was in the air, flying in from South Africa. We all met up at my brother’s Manhattan apartment, spent a night there, and then drove to Long Island the following day, where we spent two of the happiest and most carefree weeks I can remember.

We planned the crap out of this vacation: knowing how all of the changes associated with vacations can affect a child with autism, we had to be prepared. There was some concern that we were “overplanning”.

It paid off, though. Thanks to all of the planning, George had all of his routines in place, along with all of the things associated with those routines, even though we were in unfamiliar surroundings.

The house we stayed in (borrowed from a friend of my brother’s) was a hit. The beach was a hit. Most of all, being with my mom and my brother made the vacation something truly special.