As some of you know, my oldest kid has autism. We take this autism stuff pretty seriously and as a result he has made remarkable gains. Indeed, to the untrained eye he is indistinguishable from his neuro-typical peers.

Last weekend four of the kiddos did a triathlon. When “Number One Son” finished the running component too early, it was obvious he got confused somewhere along the way. Turns out he went around the wrong pylon cutting the run short.

That evening my 8-year-old daughter came into my office to have a chat about her brother:

Kid: “Why did he get confused in the run today?”
Me: “Well, there were no marshalls directing the kids so he went around the first pylon and came back.”
Kid: “What is his ‘diagnostics’? I heard talking about it at a meeting once.”
Me: “Was it the Autism Ontario meeting?”
Kid: “Yes”
Me: “Well, uh, autism. But he has worked pretty hard and kind of outgrown it.”
Kid: “Like I outgrew my milk allergy?”
Me: “Yes, kind of.”
Kid: “Does he still have autism?”
Me: “Do you think he does?”
Kid: “I think he still has it a little bit.”
Me: “Yeah, I think you’re right. Listen, I have not talked to him about it yet so you need to keep this private until I speak to him about autism.”
Kid: “no problem.”
Me: “Thanks for being such a cool kid.”
Kid: “you’re welcome. Can I have a cheese stick?”

Although I was shocked that the conversation happened, it’s actually kind of weird that it took so long to come up. I mean, we have an autism logo on our car, we do Cycle for Autism, hang out with people whose kids have autism, and participate in all kinds of activities within the autism community. Didn’t they ever wonder?

I got to wondering about their lack of wondering – do all the siblings and cousins know about his autism on some level but just not question it? Maybe it’s a kiddo case of “it is what it is”.

My mother often reminds us of the time she sat us down as children to discuss her sister, who has a mental disability. Mom first asked us if we knew anyone with a mental disability. We rhymed off the names of kids at school, a neighbour and other random people who did not actually have a mentally disability. The one name we didn’t say was that of our aunt, and this was an aunt we were close to and saw regularly. My mom always says that to us, our aunt was just herself – no title, label or explanation necessary.

I’ve been dreading the day when I have to “out” my son to himself. I’ve played the conversation in my head a thousand times. This incident got me thinking that maybe all this worry is for nothing - maybe he is just like his siblings and cousins and already knows and accepts his autism.

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I’ve been doing a bit of complaining about having to find a car that suits our family. I was whining about this on my other blog (www.thebabymachine.com).

The biggest issue has been that it seemed like no one wanted to help us out. I e-mailed contacts in the car industry and didn’t hear back. We went to a car lot and looked at a bunch of vehicles and the guy said he would call if something suitable arrived and we never heard from him again. I actually wanted to be pitched by the stereotypical cheesy car sales guy and he was nowhere to be found.

In despair, I blogged about my car issues, threw it on Twitter and it got re-tweeted a few times. The next thing I knew I received an e-mail from GM Canada. Finally someone had heard my cries for help and responded.

The response was a shiny Buick Enclave on my doorstep for a two-week trial with no strings attached. Why? Well, basically they knew we were a tough family to suit up with a car and they wanted to help me out. Shocking, I know. Finally my customer service woes had turned around.

Obviously I was concerned by my family’s potential to either trash or crash the big fancy-schmancy car. I drive cars that get me from point A to point B without caring if there is food on the floor or ice cream smeared on the windows. This car was just too good for me and the likes of my offspring. To add more stress to the situation, I learned that the owner of the vehicle was the President of GM. Yep, my stinky, dirty kids were driving around in Mr. President’s vehicle.

Since we were finally able to travel as a family, we decided to head to the cottage last weekend. After 3.5 hours in the car and only two kilometers from our cottage when we got the call from the back of the fancy-schmancy car: “GET THE BUCKET!!” Not being in my regular van, I did not have my trusty vomit kit with me which meant there was no bucket to pass. Next thing we knew, the big almighty vomit had taken place all over Mr. President’s vehicle. We got the kid beside the puker out just as she started gagging in reaction. It was a bad situation, but at least we were able to limit the damage to only one puker.

The two weeks ended and my friends from GM arrived at the doorstep to collect the fancy-schmancy vehicle. I had a moral dilemma – do I fess up about the puke disaster? I figured if the car couldn’t come clean, then I had better. The reaction was fantastic – they didn’t expect anything less from my family. I’d never been so happy to have such low expectations set for my kids.

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One week down, eight more to go.

This week four of the kiddos were enrolled in a little tennis camp in the neighbourhood for two hours a day. The plan was that in those two hours I would have enough time to clear out my e-mail inbox, update my Facebook status, spend a few moments on twitter, read a couple of blog posts and run an errand. The rest of my day would belong to the kiddos.

It rained this week and while I don’t mean to carry on and complain about the rain, tennis camp gets cancelled at the first detection of a dark cloud. It’s a far cry from soccer night where parents are forced to shiver on the sidelines while cheering on their little players during a torrential downpour.

So the kiddos and I spent a decent chunk of time together this week - indoors. As our family has increased in size, I’ve noticed some changes in our actual house. The volume has increased so dramatically I’m convinced someone secretly installed invisible microphones into the walls. There seems to be a noise switch hidden somewhere that can never be turned off. I’ve also noticed some structural changes in our house - the foundations seem to be shrinking and the walls are closing in.

During the week I also had a chance to closer observe the strange and confusing relationship my kids have with each other. They are best friends and playmates while simultaneously teasing, bickering and generally annoying the crap out of each other. How do they manage all that love and torment at the same time without getting hurt or offended? Don’t these people know how to hold a grudge? Engaged couples should observe them for a lesson on how to be angry and then just let go of it. My guys don’t even seem to remember that they are in a conflict situation before they move onto the next activity together.

This summer will provide plenty of opportunity to observe the strange and unusual behaviour of my kiddos – I’m on maternity leave and other than a few half day camps, the kids are hanging with me. Since my house is kid-centric, “their” backyard is suited up with a pool, trampoline, swing set, sand pit, and even backs onto a park. No need to camp up when home feels like summer camp.

While I have already had moments thinking it’s going to be one long summer for mama, I’ll just keep my wits about me and have some fun surviving rainy days, bickering siblings and my ever shrinking house.