Monthly Archives: September 2014

The Unicorn


A mythical creature.

A story passed down.

Often describes things that we cannot fathom or dream of.

Things that are outside of our scope of experience.

For example our eldest son’s new school.

I got a call this week asking if I could come in for a meeting. “Of course!” I said, hoping that our honeymoon period wasn’t over yet. When I signed in at the office the principal came out of his office to say “Hi.” and ask how things were going. He seemed genuinely happy when I said that I was thrilled that our son was making friends and choosing to hang out with them outside in the school yard rather than reading in the library or office. Not only did he not think it was weird when I said that alone made our year a success for me, he agreed!

The SERT met me in the office, and together we went upstairs, chatting along the way. Our son was again offered an opportunity to join us but chose to take the bus home with his classmates! Anyone who knows an aspie realizes just how big a step this is. Oh and did I mention that instead of sitting near the driver, he chooses to sit at the back.

With the other grade 8’s.

Because that’s what grade 8’s do.

The meeting consisted of two teachers, an EA and the SERT.

And you know what? There were no major issues. Just some questions about how to handle certain situations. All asked in a “What do you suggest we do/try?” tone of voice.

I made sure to repeatedly tell them how thrilled I was. That they can feel free to contact us at any time. That being proactive like this can only ensure his success. That for the first time he is coming home talking about his day.

And most importantly, he is happy.

I sat in my van afterwards and realized that I no longer had to hold back the tears.

I’m so glad that we made the difficult decision to transfer him. That the school we chose is that rare mythical creature that actually encourages and supports him.

If only every Autistic child had that opportunity…

judgment

As usual, so very well said by Diary of A Mom.
Not judging in certain situations is cowardly and passively agrees with horrific actions.

a diary of a mom

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{image is a fist raised in protest, solidarity}

Years ago, a colleague of mine told me that I was the least judgmental person she’d ever met. I laughed. Hard. I told her that she really needed to get out more. She said, “No, really. You are.” I secretly took pride in her words.

I have spent a lifetime trying not to judge others. Trying to be open to their perspectives and belief systems no matter how far afield they might be from mine.

But there is a time to judge.

A place that demands that we judge.

This is it.

Last week, I held my breath as I watched the video of Baltimore ravens running back Ray Rice punching his fiancee in the face, then dragging her limp body out of an Atlantic City elevator, kicking her legs into place when they didn’t comply.

I judged him.

I did not vilify…

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The List

one of our fun hikes from a few years ago

one of our fun hikes from a few years ago


It almost didn’t happen.

We do it EVERY year.

But this year in the chaos that is the night before school, between unpacking the trailer, showers and discovering that not only was a lunch container lost but so were sharpeners and erasers BEFORE SCHOOL EVEN STARTED it was forgotten.

Eventually everyone was settled to bed and my hubby remembered.

Every year on Labour Day, in the evening when things are (supposed to be) calm, we all sit down and write a list of all the things we did that summer.

Everything from our tall ship excursion to our epic road trip was on the list this year. Whale watching and grandpa nearly dis-mounting a Mountie were there too. So were sleep overs, pool parties and going shopping. Anything that we enjoyed we add to it.

And then we re-read what we’ve done in previous years. There was the camping trip with ice cream every single day. There are animals spotted (from birds and turtles to bears and moose). One year was Fort Henry where the kids were “hired” as soldiers and then had to take their recruiter to jail for enlisting underage recruits. Another point talks of playing in the waves at the beach, learning to swim or ride a bike.

It’s our back to school ritual. I’m so glad that hubby remembered. When we all woke up the next morning, there was a draft of the list on our places at the table. We added our thoughts to it, and now we have eight summers worth of lists to look fondly back at.