I have people send me this link regularly: Jason McElwain Autistic Basketball Player

I’m always so chuffed when people take the time to forward something that might be of interest to me. Have a look – this clip is a beauty. A lovely teenager with autism gets his chance on the basketball court and absolutely shines – elevated to hero status by his supportive peers cheering him on. It is truly moving.

It also annoys the crap out of me.

When I see this clip, it makes me want to scream “So what? You think the only thing a kid with autism can do is fetch water for the team?” Why, oh why, did it take so long to get that kid on the court? Why, oh why, is there such shock that he can actually play well?

I think a part of it is that a lot of assumptions are made about children with autism, the most popular being that children with autism have learning disabilities. Nowhere in the diagnostic criteria for autism is there mention of learning disabilities. Basically, if a child with autism appears to be LD, chances are the professional team needs to shape up and find more effective teaching strategies. So, it’s time to stop being shocked when you meet a kid with autism who is “smart” (whatever that means). There is no reason for that kid not to be.

I’d be fine if my kid had LDs, just so happens he dodged that bullet. But either way – autism or LDs, I’d expect him to have a shot at being on the basketball team. My kid is doing the regular Gr. 5 curriculum. He started French Immersion this year, is a helpful big brother, has fun with his friends, goes to Cub Scouts, loves the ‘Bone’ books, has a growing RESP for university, drives me crazy on his Nintendo and plays an awesome game of hockey. Note that water boy duties do not make the list. I do recognize that the kid in the video gained a lot from his role as team “manager” – it provided him with the opportunity to be involved and feel a part of the team. But there’s a lesson to be learned here about expectations. Let’s set them high, folks.

I don’t want to take away from the awesomeness of this clip – the community spirit and the raw support for this kid is out of this world. I really did cry….moments before I got a little annoyed.

Last week on October 15th, many mamas were lighting candles in remembrance. That day has been designated as National Pregnancy Loss & Infant Loss Awareness Day.

I had a miscarriage soon after my first child was born. My loss was accompanied with some guilt too – finding out I was pregnant while having a newborn left me horrified. I quickly adjusted to the thought of my “Irish Twins” and was devastated when I miscarried. Then came the guilt – how could I have initially greeted this pregnancy with such little enthusiasm? Guilt and being a mama – a match made in hell.

Almost 10 years has passed since that time but there are two occasions when I am particularly reminded about it:

1) When I see my friend who had a similar due date. Her little girl will be turning nine-years-old next month. I should have someone turning nine next month.
2) When filling out the paperwork in subsequent pregnancies, you are required to record how many live births you have had, and also how many pregnancies. My numbers don’t match. I get shivers thinking about the mamas out there whose numbers REALLY don’t add up, and by a long shot. Just can’t imagine having to write down: pregnancies: 8 / live births: 0

I often think about the mamas who have lost full-term babies or babies during the first year of life. I wonder what happens when they are innocently asked “so, how many kids do you have?”

I think that must be a torturous question – the answer could either make you feel you are not acknowledging your lost child, or alternatively, you have to explain the painful experience to every stranger who is making small talk.

I had a teacher in high school who was raising two daughters, five years apart in age. She had lost her middle daughter, who was severely disabled, after several years of caring for her three girls. She often had people comment to her: “two kids, five years apart in age – what an easy way to do it!”

Little did they know.

I hope that this Day of Remembrance tells the world that mama is entitled to her grief – no matter what form it takes or how long it lasts, which is often a lifetime. So, on this day let us remember our losses. In some ways for many mamas, it is a day like no other – a day that we love and miss our children.

I was miraculously alone in my car the other day tuned into CBC, hoping to catch the dreamy voice of long- time crush, Jian Ghomeshi.

Being interviewed was Shane Earle, Mount Cashel Orphanage survivor. Something he said really resonated with me: the way we live each day as an adult is a constant reaction to how we were treated as a child.

That really spoke to me – although the majority of our years are spent as an adult, those childhood years are with us always. We carry those around with us day in and day out. Sadly, the weight of those years can be very heavy for some people.

I want the weight of their childhood years to be very light for my adult children. It got me to thinking – how am I treating my children to contribute to them being at peace as adults? I started a mental list and will share two simple ways that I think are significant. They are both little things that I hope make my kids feel like they are the top dogs in my life. Here are my two bits of advice:

1) Be excited to see them.
Whether the kids are walking in from school or I’m picking them up from Cubs, I always look ridiculously excited to see them. Sometimes I have to fake it – sometimes I wish they were gone for another hour, but they don’t need to know that. I vividly remember my own mom’s face every time we came home from school. She looked as though she was eagerly waiting to be re-united with us. Man, it made me feel good.

2) Don’t be late picking them up.
It is a very rare occasion that I would be even a couple of minutes late to pick up my kids. I feel like being late is sending them a message: I was so preoccupied with my work or other activity that I forgot about you. Being on time tells them that they are my first priority.

Sure, they are small, but as a child those things made me feel really valued. And as Shane Earle said, how we are treated as a child has a tremendous impact on our adult lives. I hope those little things will give them confidence and they will go into adulthood knowing their worth.

So, how do you treat your kiddos? What tips and tricks do you have to help lighten the load for your adult children?

I have wrapped up my maternity leave and am now enjoying my official Mabel duties. One of these duties includes overseeing the Sales Department, which is kind of funny since I almost killed a sales guy this week.

The other evening I was nagged by the sound of a faint knock at our door. I was just starting all the bedtime routines and it was a particularly challenging evening since daddy-o was out of town.

I ignored the nagging knocking as long as possible then finally opened the door. There he was – persistent Sales Guy. He was quick to mention that he didn’t ring the doorbell because it was obvious I had small kids. Pretty observant considering he had to make his way through an obstacle course of strollers, bikes and ride on toys. When he did make it to the front door he was greeted by a poster that says “shhhh…children sleeping”. All that kiddo evidence stopped him from ringing, though it obviously didn’t act as a deterrent from knocking.

A moment after I opened the door, out came the pitch. As he’s yammering on, I’m jiggling a fussy baby, a toddler is yelling from the toilet demanding a bum wipe, big kids are fighting and a little kid is tugging on my leg with pajamas half on. Sales Guy did not take any of that chaos as his cue to bail. Finally I interrupted him.

Me: “Hang on a sec – don’t you see what is going on here? Can’t you see that this is a completely inappropriate time to come to my door? Look around! I can’t even hear a word that you are saying!”

Sales guy: “yes, that’s true. Is there a better time for you?”

Me “yes, come back in spring of 2015 – maybe around dinner time”

Sales guy: “uh, OK”

This incident reminded me of another sales experience I had in spring of 2005. One evening I was alone with three crazy small children and a week away from having baby #4. A young guy came to the front door representing a local golf club. He began his pitch which included however many rounds of golf for one very low price. I gave him a stern look and said something along the lines of:

“Listen here young golf man: no one, and I mean NO ONE in this house is playing golf this summer. You got that? So why don’t you just mosey on along now and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

He looked at me like I was a completely hormonal psycho mama, and that was a pretty accurate assessment. So, now that I’m back at work and looking at our Sales Department, I can tell you with great confidence that you will never hear from anyone at Mabel’s Labels during feeding, bathing, or bedtime at your zoo. Promise. Pinky swear.