parenting

Leave a comment Posted on autism, family, parenting, special needs

The Good Parts

Writing and sharing the good parts

Hello. It has been a while since I have published. I recently returned to work….well, not recently, three years ago and I am loving my new “in-my-older-years” job.

My new job took off around the same time I thought I would work on writing a memoir based on my son’s autism. I was really serious too. I had a book coach and everything. I wrote fourteen complete chapters and was on my way to twenty-one when I decided it was making me too damn sad. I wanted to write a happy book and my coach said well you just can’t write the happy stuff without diving into the not so good and painful stuff and after outlining, drafting, editing and polishing foruteen chapters, I took some time to think about whether or not I should move forward and I took into consideration how heavy the burden of this memoir had become, I decided that I damn well could just write about the happier times. I didn’t have to re-live the dark days especially now that he is doing SO well. There is always gonna be something with my son that isn’t so pleasant but that does not mean we can’t share the good times we celebrate as a family.

Besides, I gathered up my courage and I got into commercial and bit-part movie acting and I am doing well. Like REALLY WELL! AND I LOVE IT! I have had fifty-seven jobs to date and I have only been at this for three years. (Not bad for a fifty-eight-year-old, huh?) I like making a living from my acting and I like that writing is my “unpaid-free-to-share-with-all” passion.

I am happy.

My God, for the first time in years I can truly say, I AM TRULY HAPPY.

My family is happy.

And, we are healthy.

So, I am going to share our state of happy while I am able.

And who knows…it may even help someone with their autistic son or daughter.

So, stay tuned for my account of the good things over the years with our precious, talented and beautiful son. I will try my best to post every Friday and if you are a parent of a child with autism or a guardian or support person etc., let me know if I have helped you in any way. It’s nice to get to know the community of like-souls, for what are we if we don’t support each other, right?

Till Friday my dear readers….

~D~

Leave a comment Posted on family, parenting

The Power of Words – “Parenting” Young Adult Children

Our son’s have flown from the nest — both fully gone since their nineteenth birthdays, (yes, even the son with autism) and we were pleased and proud to see them launch their lives as young men.

As when I was young, they were ready to leave because their father and I made it so. They knew how to do small repairs about the home.They built a back deck and a front porch with their father. They were shovelling snow to clear the driveway at six years of age. When they turned eight, they started doing chores around the house like dishes and laundry, yardwork and light housework, lthough the younger’s room was always a perfectly-livable-to-him, disaster.

When it came to preparing meals, Adam, (the older, with autism) did have staff to help him, but he knew how to make simple meals on his own using his smart oven. He could set the time and temperature to prepare chicken; he could make a pizza; re-heat left overs in the microwave and could make a heck of a tasty, hearty sandwich, and always washed fruit and vegetables before consuming them.

Adam NEVER went hungry.

His brother, Logan, (with eye-rolling reluctance at first) learned to cook during the Covid 19 pandemic and all the dishes I taught him are documented online, right here on Medium, fully accessible to him, with photos. Pulling out an old, dusty notebook with mother’s handwriting on yellowed pages is part of my nostalgia and will never be a part of theirs and that’s quite fine by me. My sons are young men in a digital age so anything I want them to hold on to and reference is NEVER documented on paper.

It was incredibly important to me that my children learned as they grew, to take care of themselves — especially Adam. When he was diagnosed with autism, I made it my mission to cultivate many qualities in my sons; the most important ones being happiness and independence because to me, you can’t have one without the other. When they were young, I was haunted with the idea of me not being around to get them to adulthood. Life is unpredictable and can be unkindly short, so it was a priority of mine, not to put off teaching them all I could so that they could handle themselves as adults.

At that time, some of my friends thought that I was putting a lot pressure on myself and the boys— that I seemed to be in some race with time when it came to making Adam and Logan capable of so many things, and when I reflect on my sheer physical and mental exhaustion of raising them the way we’d chosen, perhaps they were right. But it wasn’t like their lives were devoid of fun and fantasy. I was married to the king of fun and he made sure their childhood was not misspent or lacking in awe and wonder. I might have taught them a lot of life skills quickly but it was the only way I knew how to parent the children we had by being myself and sticking to my beliefs. I was, and still am a person who is always thinking two or three years ahead, especially when it concerns parenting someone with special needs.

I spoke to Adam’s psychologist about this and he told me not to be insulted by his observation of me, as he went on to explain that in his professional opinion, I was quite male in my outlook and that it served me well. I knew what he meant right away and had quite the chuckle.

I am an ‘if it’s not bleeding or broken dust yourself off and give it another go’ kind of mother. I have a deep voice and while I was able to use it to soothe and comfort my kids, I was never able to speak to them in light, higher-pitched baby speak. They were large, strong babies, toddlers and kids who enjoyed rambunctious play, and I was happy to indulge their roughhousing as much as I was happy to read and sing to, hold, hug and kiss them. I look, and present as Mom but I do share traits possessed by their father whereby I see things in a cause and effect way. So, in my mind, as their mother it translated to I loved them, ergo it was my duty to teach them. I believed that by teaching them I would foster their confidence and independence and they would be better prepared to take the one foot that was still planted in teen-hood and place it with the other in adulthood as they exited adolescence.

Adam’s psychologist agreed I seemed to be very A or B in my outlook on most things and he was right. I guess having a child with autism does not afford you the opportunity to procrastinate or be wishy-washy about anything. Living with Adam’s autism meant we had to be decisive. In a crunch when he was not coping well with a situation (remember we also had to take into consideration how Logan would be affected by what was going on with Adam) it was imperative that we asscess quickly, think quickly and act and move forward quickly and without doubt.

For us, there was never any value in negotiating with our children when they were young — especially Adam. Talking too much, being overly emotional was useless in parenting disastrous behaviorial moments that were stressful to all of us. Tom and I had to treat and street . We had to shut down behaviors firmly, calmly and later when the young ‘perpetrator’ converned was in a receptive mood, briefly and simply explain why we did what we did, always reminding him that we corrected him because we we loved and cared about him. We saw no point and no gain for our sons through coddling and I suppose if you can put any belief in Adam being born to us because we were the right parents for him, then I am proud that we chose our parenting path and stayed on it.

If I had to choose my greatest strength as their mother, I would pick my ease with language. I have always known how to talk to each of my sons in a way he could understand. As they got older, I embraced the power of my words through emailing and particularly texting with them because of its immediate delivery. The bumps, bruises and their tearful chats with me at the kitchen table or lying beside them in their beds were the problems of a childhood past and their adult burdens are now soothed by the healing and encouraging power of my words.

In a time when the world is moving so quickly and there is so much violence, hatred and pain, it can be hard for my young men to see the joy and the good that I promised them will always exist. My words, help them find the serenety they seek, and help them make sense of the confusion that is presented to them sometimes on the daily. My words remind them of who they are and that they are loved.

My younger son is supposed to be living his dream right now and for the most part he is. He is playing NCAA ice hockey and studying kinesiology. He is strong on the ice and is strong academically and has been on the Dean’s list every semester. This however is the hardest year for the team. The losses have been insurmountable and it is clear that after eleven seasons (this being the worst) the coach is struggling to find ways to utilize what is a collection of very talented and highly skilled players in the most effective way to produce wins. The players know it and have approched the athletic director of the school and while parents have spoken about it amongst themselves, (and I am sure a few have reached out to the athletic director as well) our sons are adults and as parents we are merely spectators and must behave accordingly.

As his parents, my husband and I can only listen to, and support our son and give advice if and when he asks for it. We have noticed that often when there has been an issue when we would have stepped in and helped him in his youth, the phone call we get now is merely an account of what happened and what he did to rectify it. We have now had almost four years of him calling us to tell us about a problem he has solved. Whether his approach was different from the one we would have taken, we listen and appreciate that he has learned to manage himself in his still, new journey as an adult.

I am sharing the text messages between us this morning.

With just three games to limp through before they put this dying season to rest, it has been difficult for him and his teammates to play for this coach, who albeit a nice person, is in over his head at this level of competition. My son and many others on the team are already weighing their options with their advisors as to where they should play and continue their academics next season and you can feel the tension these decisions are creating when you go to the games. Disbanding a brotherhood and disrupting the camaraderie is anguishing and as Mom, all I have to offer are my words.

This is what I said to him –

“Good morning, my son. Today is day two of the snow storm in our area and unfortunately we will not be able to see you play in person as planned but we will live-stream the game tonight and cheer for the team in the warmth and safety of ‘the sports-cave’ — lol.

Today, I woke up early remembering how you would run into our bedroom and whip open the curtains and say, ‘it’s a morning day!’ You were ready to play at 5:30 a.m. every day — lol — much to your tired dad’s exasperation. 🙂

I know you are an adult now but whenever you can, tap into that 4-year-old kid and embrace the joy of being alive. Every day is a new opportunity no matter how crap the day before and remember to just enjoy what you do and who you are. Because the truth about you, Logan, is joyous and beautiful. No one and no situation can ever take that away. I see it in you even now, so today, enjoy EVERY moment. Enjoy everything learned, every step you walk, every bite you eat, every word you say and every time your skate blades hit the ice. Enjoy it because YOU are happiness. YOU are joy and even if things don’t go exactly your way, know that you were still able to be healthy and alive to experience it.

Have fun tonight.

HAVE FUN.

Skate and play with joy, and if you don’t skate for whatever reason or decision, just know that you are still YOU, and you are still LOVED and this is just one night and there is still so much for you to do in the world. HAVE AN AMAZING DAY, SON! Love you more than you know, ❤ Mom.”

And within five minutes I received —

“Thank you so much Momma. I really loved reading that and I really love you. Thank you for being you and that is, not only the best mom ever, but the best human on this earth. I love ya and I can’t wait to play for you guys tonight and to have fun doing what I love and what I was meant to do.”

As flattering as his comment was, it’s not about me scoring points in the mothering department. Far from it. My older son cannot express himself the way his younger brother can but when I text him or speak to him in the car, the gentle squeeze of his hands on mine, lets me know that he too has felt my love and support.

That’s all they need from me and their father moving forward. These days, I can’t give them much more than a listening ear and occasionally, my words. I can only hug them and kiss their stubbly cheeks when I see them and that is not often. They have grown and they are gone most of the year. They have new people in their lives who fill the voids their father and I cannot.

I look back on our parenting and I am proud of the way we chose to raise them and acknowledge all the mistakes and misteps made along the way knowing that without apologizing for them to the boys, we would not have developed the strong rapport their father and I have with them today.

I love our sons and I am proud of them and even if all I can do is bandage their adult wounds with my words. I take comfort in the thought that my words will boost them in some small way to live confidently trusing their intuition and having the courage of their conviction to be their best selves.

Leave a comment Posted on evolving, family, Mental health, parenting, Patience, self care, Taking life one day at a time, the new world society, Uncategorized

Dear Young Person between the ages of 19 and 29,

SLOW DOWN!

I want to tell you something that was told to me at times in my life that I didn’t heed until the day I HAD to accept it . SLOW DOWN AND BREATHE. There’s no reason to rush and you can’t control an unpredictable future, so why not take life in stride and see what it presents to you? You will miss so much if you life your life by a plan laden with benchmarks and goals and if you pressure yourself because others have achieved something you haven’t yet. So, if this is you, an over-planning, over-achieving youngster, staring at life through eyes-only-on-the-prize glasses, please stop and read my words and understand that I know what I’m talking about.

When I was growing up, adults loved asking children what they wanted to be when they grew up. Considering it is the business of children to grow at their own pace without agenda, this is the most stupid question an adult could ask a child. How can someone who hasn’t spent much time on a planet filled with so much to discover and experience answer such a question? Some adults forget what being a child is like because they have lost the creativity of their childhood and don’t know what to ask kids. As a result, they come up with a question about something they can relate to — the soul-sucking world of work and highly regarded careers, thereby unconsciously tampering with the natural programming of being human where we learn with our senses, thereby sparking curiousity. Posing questions about the future to a child, infiltrates their mind with pointless benchmarks and a man-made need to have a life-plan bombarded with goals for success without failure.

When I reflect upon my my mother’s younger years, I can see she did the best she could with what she had, living by society’s rules. I remember she would coach me to give impressive answers to the what-I-wanted-to-be-when-I-grew-up questions. I was coached not to speak my truth of wanting to be a creative person but to say I wanted to be a linguist working at the United Nations headquarters, a lawyer or a doctor. When I was young, I wanted to be a nurse who was also a dancer who painted and wrote stories to read to her patients for fun in her spare time. While I was praised for dancing beautifully with incredible expressiveness, lauded for my ability to move people with my writing, or complimented on the impecable first aid I lent to others, I was also told that certain pursuits (mine) allowed only a chosen few to find success and that the rest of us (me) needed to pursue not what we loved but what was sensible(things that were considered lucrative). After a while, I believed that any compliment I received for anything creative I had done was a polite lie. Disenchanted, I started buying one liner greeting cards instead of filling blank ones with my heartfelt words. Writing wouldn’t make me any money, dancing would mean I was an academic failure and since I was the firstborn and had to “set a good example” for my sister, I set aside what the adults in my life saw as “fairy tale”dreams and forced myself to find a profession that would not make me become a disappointment in a world that was “not going to get any easier, you know”. It was so confusing being encouraged to put my mind to doing anything I wanted to do, so long as it was the sensible thing to do. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life at eighteen, nineteen or twenty (I’m hard pressed to believe anyone does) and in my my haste to choose something to study at University, I choose to study for a career in Television and Radio like my father. And even while at the embassy applying for my student visa, my father, whose footsteps I was about to follow, told the man who was processing my application that he thought I was stupid to choose what I had because at sometime I would have to give it up when I had a family. Forgive my late father’s statement. I have. He was a product of his arrogant generation’s oppressive thinking and he also did the best he could with the tools that were available to him. I knew he loved me but I don’t think my father ever recognized when he hurt my feelings or made me feeel small. That’s just how fathers were then I suppose. To this day, to protect themselves (or rather be on the offensive), my family likes to brush off or pretend to forget the things they did wrong (because they are never wrong) and they all wish I would just let things go but I can’t. However, I use these things I can’t let go of not to be bitter towards them, but to be a better person and parent and offer better guidance to my sons and the young people I encounter.

There was only one adult in my life, a university professor, who made a statement about life and careers that stuck with me and perhaps my entire graduating class of 1992. He said, “Do what you love and the money will come later,”. If I could have my youth back, that is exactly what I would do, because success is not about titles or money earned but it is about soaking up what life offers us every day. Living is about experiencing moments, seeing things, meeeting people,trying new things, scary things, tasting new food and finding comfort in the familiar. It’s about helping people, feeling emotions, being selfless and inadvertently finding out who we are and what’s our purpose. Life provides experiences that fuel ideas and innovation and invention while art inspires and uplifts our souls and sometimes, we feel like we are soaring instead of sinking and it feels good, if only for just a moment. Life is short…even if you live to a hundred …life is short; too short to live by a plan or a ridgid schedule. It is okay to not know what you are doing tomorrow or next week, next month or next year. If you live life by a ridgid plan you will have more disappointments than achievements and you will not be happy. Now, let’s not mistake disappointment for failure. Failure is a reset button. Failure is the greatest teacher because you can’t improve or achieve anything great without the mistakes that lead to failure. Failure is the foundation and stepping stones to success. Failure is temporary, really, if you use it as impetus to try again. Disappointment tends to linger and sometimes never goes away.

I have learned that in life, (and to be successful you’ve got to believe this) you have to do what makes you happy and though sometimes you have to do what you have to do to get by, it does not mean you have to put aside or not do the thing that is the essence of who you are — the thing that comes from your soul. You also can’t find happiness if you hold on to regret. I suppose I could say I regret not doing this or that, but I realize I can still do some of those things now. I couldn’t when I was younger but I have the chance to re-visit some of the things I had postponed now. It’s up to me to do them. I have no reason or excuse not to. I had so many plans that were laid on a shakey foundation that consisted of what I was told would make me a successful. It was a plan laid on a foundation I made based on what other people had in mind for me — people in retrospect, who were not more intelligent than I was. It is quite surprising and a little unsettling when you realize you are far more intelligent and intuitive than the people that raised you — after all, they were supposed to know best and yet their guidance was often wrong. I know that nothing they did was malicious but rather were ideas that were formed out of fear because they could see the world changing, becoming harder and that human beings were becoming more ruthless and selfish and to protect us from being ravaged by the world, they felt they had to steer us to choose paths that would make us financially able to survive. After all, money has always made the world go round, but I see loopholes of hope. Having missed the opportunity to pursue my passions in my youth, I see that there are no age limits or rules that say I can’t at fifty four.

When I was in my twenties I had a life plan set on a time frame. By twenty-five I’d be working at this place earning this much. By twenty-seven I would own my first house in such and such a neighbourhood and I would be driving this specific car and be taking vacations in country X and Y. It was a tough, rigid, impossible plan, really. Back then, I didn’t have the extra tools like the internet or a smart phone to help out with these grandiose plans of mine but I was determined to stand out in any way that I could to get it all. And then, life happened and I became just like any other ordinary grunt out there. I wasn’t special, famous or succesful or financially rich. Life happened and I had a baby who would later be diagnosed with a life-long condition that would determine everything we would do, say, think or feel forever. And while I was suspecting something was worryingly different about him, I was pregnant with baby number two who, upon birth would be colicky for six months and susceptible to both bronchiolitis and bronchitis. Quickly, my life-plan was a vague speck of an idea created for some other woman from some other time. My husband and I bought a house much later than our peers, shared a very basic four-door sedan for a very long time and we spent more time worrying about the future of our one child while busting our asses to create a “normal” life for the other.We didn’t have a lot of money back then and when we did have extra life threw us major hiccups like a broken down furnace or kitchen appliance. We seemed to be perpetually climbing out of a very deep hole, shaking off the dirt that landed on our heads as life tried to bury us. Ours was a life set before a backdrop of constant chaos, constant change and movement, perpetual tiredness, brain straining days and nights of thinking outside the box to create the best environment in which to raise these two little boys while everyone our age in our neighbourhood was worrying about which tiles or hardwood they should buy to increase the value of their homes.

By the time I was thirty-six, my husband and I quietly understood that we had been placed in fixed roles. He would work outside the home and do other other lucritive work on the side to pay the bills and put food on the table and I would be at home with the boys, overseeing our special son’s therapy while raising the other and the only job I could do kept me inside the home, babysitting other people’s typically developing children and pretending to like the ones I really didn’t. I learned to re-use and re-purpose things and replenish the basic needs of our family with a budget based on what I called a creative banking system. It goes without saying that life was grinding us down back then and I could absolutely relate to Lee Lawrie’s famous sculpture of the plight of Atlas. I had to make a concerted effort to find joy in each day so that I could face the next. I was often bitter, angry, hurt and just so sad because at the time, I felt that my child was ripped off by his diagnosis and that we were ripped off as a family. It felt like we had to work so hard for the simplest of things; work so hard for peace and happiness.

Dear People between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine, I can sincerely tell you that ALL my plans went down the drain. I couldn’t remember what they were or why they were important and I had no idea who I was. But, I survived and I truly lived because I got out of bed every day and sometimes went through the mundane motions and sometimes I experienced heaven before my eyes or in the palm of my hand and eventually, when the grief and pain subsided; when I stopped letting myself believe the medical community who kept telling me I had a short window to help my child develop; when I quit frantically rushing around trying to fix my son and fix our lives from something bad that I believed was lurking around the corner…. when I stopped to breathe and take life more slowly, I started to see and I mean really see what was life was all about and just how magnificent it all was. I understood that there was no plan that was going to make me happy. What was making me happy was what I have been doing for the past twenty one years. I had to get to the end of my parenting road to realize my value. I had to become an empty nester before I could say I understood the puropse of my life and now, it’s time to write a new chapter for myself at fifty-four — it’s time to see what other purpose I will fulfill.

I spent too much time doing what I thought I had to do in my twenties and not doing what I loved. Circumstance made me shelve my passions but I was able to take all the mistakes and poor advice that I spoke of earlier and make sure I did better as a parent and a person. I had the wisdom to break the cycle of haste and planning and mapping out a life that surely none of us could predict. In life there are only a few sure things — you are alive, you need food, water and air. You need love, joy and a sense of belonging and purpose and then, one day, you die and your life is over. So, don’t you think we should make the most of the time we have?

I encourage my boys follow their passions. I try to expose them to everything by taking them everwhere and showing them what this world of ours has to offer. I give them love and affection and I give them my ear, always. I think truly listening to a person is one of the most valuable gifts you can give to them. I welcome their ideas and opinions and love when they teach me something new. I have given constructive criticism and I have known when to hold back and let them fail. I have learned to be patient whenever I watch them flounder before they rise again. I have wiped tears and offered words of encouragement more times than I can count. I try to make them confident and strong knowing that some days, they can’t be strong and they just need time to be emotional puddles — but they are my puddles, my boys, two important contributors to the planet that I have had the great fortune and privilege of raising and propping along the way. I was there for every first and every struggle and every heartbreak when life was not fair. I have been there for every achievement and I am proud not just of who they’ve become but of what the four of us have been able to achieve as a family. I might not have become anything I dreamed of but my husband and I continue to take on the twists, turns and sudden drops of this roller coaster life of ours. We look at the short comings of our parents as teaching tools because we know we are able to do something better — we can support our sons as they shoot for the stars and we can encourage them to slow down and be patient and see how life unfolds amidst a world society that still bases success on archaic patterns of generations gone by. We try to do better by our boys because we know what it is like to not get the opportunity to try and pursue our passions.

I might not have gotten the promotions and important corporate positions I thought I wanted. I live in a simple house that is a glorious home. There is enough money in the bank and there are even some well-performing investments and we’ve since upgraded the sedan to two more reliable and comfortable cars. We are at the point in our lives where we are looking to do and see more and possess less. I didn’t become famous for anything earth shattering but my husband and I have been complimented repeatedly for helping nurture two incredible human beings. As we lived through those tough, tough times, we became passionate about helping our sons and other young people embrace their talent, live their truth and follow their passions and it continues to be extremely rewarding. What we feel every day is something money could never buy. I know now that if I was working for some powerful corporation when my son was diagnosed, my family would not have turned out as wonderfuly as it did. I cannot imagine doing all that I did with my sons and working in a demanding environment at the same time. All those moments I devoted to raising them would have been split with and lost on a career and I don’t want to imagine what kind of person I would have become . I don’t have material accolades to show that I am indeed successful. Truth is, I never needed them and I was able to get the necessities of life in the long run. It didn’t matter that the things I needed came when I was twenty-five, thirty-five or forty-five, the point is, we got what we needed and what we don’t may still come, or not but I don’t care because there is no benchmark or deadline. We have our health and we have a bit of wealth but most of all we have love and an openess to receiving and accepting all that is to come or that is to be denied.

Take it from a middle aged woman about to start new things — slow down, be patient, take it all in. Breathe, lie back and stare at the sky, dip your toes in the water, taste all the flavours, listen to all the music notes, take a walk in the rain, feel the sunshine on your face, jump into a pile of leaves, make a snow angel. The planet isn’t what she used to be, there are no starter homes that young people can afford and higher education is more expensive when it should be free. Choose to follow your passion and follow it your way because it is okay to break the mould of stringent path of elementary school to high school to college and university to hopefully high paying job. It won’t work because it can’t work if you haven’t allowed yourself to experience life. If you don’t allow yourself to live, how will you ever know what you want to do in life? Life will deal you several hands, be flexible enough and love yourself enough to be able to play each hand you are dealt. If you just want to be alive, stay on the carousel. Jump onto the roller coaster if you want to truly live.

Leave a comment Posted on Breakfast, Cooking while in pandemic lockdown, Dinner, evolving, family, Feeding my Athletic Family, Food, Lunch, parenting, Uncategorized

Cooking in the time of Covid-19: Dear Logan,

Dear Logan,

We have been home doing our part to stop the spread of this deadly virus and keep each other healthy. Today, we have been home for 53 days. We are doing our part to keep our family safe as well as preventing the spread of this virus that abruptly ended life as we know it. This virus couldn’t come at a worse time for young people like you who are on the brink of so much growth and change. You have always had to fight to get where you want with your passion and now it seems you have to wait and be patient just a bit longer. I struggle to understand why things happen when they do and I try to ground my belief that things do happen for a reason, but this virus occurring now, has me frustrated and my heart aches when I think of how it has interrupted your and your brother’s life. I think if it were just Dad and me, I wouldn’t feel so frustrated, angry and disappointed at the timing of this virus. If it were just Dad and me I wouldn’t care that I was home for 53 days. But, I look at you, son, and you are patient, resilient and you are finding ways to utilize your time and be happy. You also keep us happy around here and once again, you have earned the right to be called pure joy. Some days are better than others and cabin fever does show up from time to time but for the most part, we have all been okay while stuck at home.

I wanted to let you know that including all these recipes on my blog is primarily for you. If people try our recipes and learn to cook as well, that is just a wonderful sharing bonus, but this is all for you. You have embraced using this time together to learn to cook and take yet another step to independence. I have gotten to know you better during our time in the kitchen. I have always known you but finding out more about who you are becoming has made my heart full. You are ready to head out and forge your way in the world and I cannot wait to see the coming chapters of your life unfold. I hope you have a long and happy life, filled with as many experiences as you can gather. I hope you see thousands of places, eat thousands of dishes, swim in many oceans and lakes and embrace many cultures. I wish you joy and peace and the strength to stick to what you believe in and get back on your feet when life knocks you down. I want you to tap into the reservoir of our support, belief and love for you when we are apart from each other and know that when we do see each other we will re-fill that reservoir with every hug, kiss, smile, kind words and laughter. It is a pleasure to cook with you, to teach you and to learn from you. It is reassuring to know you are independent and capable of taking care of yourself. You can call me, text me or video chat with me anytime you want, but I think more often than not, you will refer to the blog for anything you need to know about the dishes we have taught you. This blog, in all it’s virtual locations will be here for you now, for when we are not available or able to help you and it will be here long after we are gone. I think I can safely say this blog will be here not just as a reference for cooking but for comfort and will serve as a a bank full of beautiful memories we have created together.

We love you Logan and we are so grateful and honored to be your parents. You are an incredible gift of love, light and life.

**********

Last Monday’s dinner was part of what I call phase 2 of learning to cook. In phase 2 we cook the dishes we have learned for the second or third time. So far he has done lasagna twice, shepherd’s pie twice and has done chicken and broccoli pasta twice. For Monday’s dinner, he prepared chicken and broccoli pasta for his dad and did a shrimp variation for us. This is how he he did it:-

First, Logan cut up the chicken, seasoned it  with oregano, salt, pepper, garlic powder and onion powder and put it in a pot of olive, a little Worcestershire sauce and a little water. He covered the pot and let the chicken cook on medium low heat for 10 minutes, reducing it to low heat for 15 – 20 minutes until the chicken is thoroughly cooked but tender. Once the chicken was cooked, he turned off the burner and set the chicken aside.

Next he boiled the water for the pasta (with a little olive oil and salt in the water). While he waited he rinsed the shrimp and seasoned them. Logan chose, salt, pepper, cayenne, Worcestershire sauce, fresh garlic and diced onion.

Once the water came to a rolling boil, he put in the pasta of choice which was rigatoni and boiled until al dente. He drained the pasta, rinsed it and set it aside. Next he cooked the broccoli in a teaspoon of butter until it softened a bit and turned a brighter green.

He added the pasta to the pot and folded in the Alfredo sauce  and some freshly grated Parmesan and left on low heat.

 

Lastly, he cooked his shrimp in a separate pot (only because we were doing two versions of the dish – otherwise he could have cooked the broccoli with the shrimp. Once the shrimp turned light pink, Logan added the juice of 1/4 of a lime, stirred and set aside.

He added some of the broccoli pasta Alfredo into the pot with the chicken to make Tom’s dish and then added the shrimp into the remainder of the pasta and broccoli Alfredo.

Once the meals were plated, he topped them with some Parmesan and black pepper and served.

When a dish is made right and is tasty, it satiates you and leaves you wanting for nothing more. Since the pandemic it has been difficult not to snack but generally I eat and stop when I am full so often I will have one big meal a day with  two very light ones. If I am hungry, I eat.The second time he made this dish (and with a variation) it tasted even better. He is learning so quickly and so well that I forget I am teaching him. I give him the freedom to season how he wants to and the freedom to choose how great or how fine he wants to cut his ingredients. He makes me so proud when he tastes the food as he cooks it, cleans as he cooks and puts ingredients away while he waits on the food as it cooks ….and….he smells his seasonings and in a short space of time has learned to flavor meat by eyeballing how much he thinks he needs to make his food tasty.

If this is round 2, I can’t wait to taste round 3 of these fabulous dishes.

Stay well, wash your hands keep 2 meters between yourself and strangers and hang in there, This too shall pass.  ~Daniella and family.

 

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Cooking in the time of Covid-19: Logan declares Meat Monday – Tonight he tries Steak Frites

Wanting to learn his way around the grill, it was Tom’s turn to teach Logan today. Like baking, I am not in love with cooking outdoors. I like eating it, but it’s just not my department. Tom does it splendidly and I am happy to let him do it as he is so much better at it than I could ever be. He also wants to make sure Logan remembers grilling with him. We don’t have daughters so this is a real father/son thing. We always want to do right by our kids. We always want to give our kids what our parents couldn’t or just didn’t give to us and tonight my husband gave his son a memory. As they grilled steaks for the first time, I heard them laughing and talking and I could see how special this time was for them.  I introduce to you, THE PLAYERS at the grill:-

LOGAN – TEENAGER LEARNING TO COOK BEFORE HE LEAVES THE NEST WHENEVER THAT IS, CONSIDERING THIS PANDEMIC

and this guy …DAD WHO ALSO GOES BY TOM….Can you imagine grilling with people with these expressions? Expressions that are quite normal for them on a daily basis….

Here is what the grilling action was like – the goal – medium …maybe medium/well…

HERE ARE THE MARINATED STEAKS I GOT AT MY BUTCHER’S  

                                   EVEN SOME FLAME ACTION HERE 

MEANWHILE IN THE KITCHEN I WAS TRYING SOMETHING NEW:-

We usually use our air fryer for making fries. No oil is used and it is a healthier way to make light crispy fries. However, as usual, the things that are not as good for you always tastes better. Yearning for a little “bad for you”  I decided to find a way to make fries in oil with a light crispiness.

Cut up a couple large potatoes – for our family of 4, I washed 3 but they were so large, by the time I cut 1, I realized I overshot so I cur up 1 1/2 for the family’s dinner and the rest I cut up and put in the freezer for another time.

 

Next, boil a pot of water. Season the water, or not but when it comes to a boil, add your cut potato and boil for 5 minutes. Any longer and you will have mashed potatoes. drain and rinse in cold water and set aside for all the water to drain. In a large bowl, mix together equal parts of flour and potato flour. Season with seasoned salt, garlic powder, chili powder and black pepper or whatever seasonings will make your fries taste best to you. Toss the drained fries in the seasoned flour mixture making sure each fry is coated properly. Then, heat some oil in a pot. Tom has ruined this iron pot of mine by poorly frying  food in it over the years. It is now known as the fry pot. Once the oil is hot, put in the fries, portions at a time and with a strainer spoon or a mesh ladle, gently stir occasionally to prevent fries from clumping.

Cook until the fries are golden brown. Drain on paper towels and salt them before transferring them to the plates. These fries can be kept warm and crispy in the oven at about 300 F but tonight, the steak landed on the plate and seconds later so did the frites.

Here is Logan’s steak, accompanied with my fries for Meat Monday’s Steak Frites. The meat was tender, juicy and the fries were light and crispy and the food was enjoyed by all. Adam’s portion was picked up after his run and we three settled down to a great meal and some fun conversation. Nothing like family dinner and soon, there will just be dinner for two, Use this time at home to teach your teenager to cook. Enjoy the slower meals together. Enjoy not having to head out to somewhere after dinner. Lockdown is hard but being ill,or dead is worse. Stay home. Stay safe. Wash your hands. Don’t touch your face. This too shall pass ~Daniella and family.

 

 

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Cooking in the Time of Covid-19: Logan Declares it Butter Chicken Friday

Butter chicken is a good dish for Logan to learn because it is simple to make, quick, flavorful and nutritious. Since we are in a pandemic lock down it was a little difficult to get all the ingredients we needed to make the sauce. So, we had to improvise. I bought a bottle of butter chicken sauce and added to to it to enhance the flavor and to thicken it as we found to be a little too liquid. So before we get into Logan’s cooking, here is the recipe I usually use for the sauce:

1/4 cup vegetable oil

2 1/2 cups chopped onion

2 garlic cloves chopped

2 tbsp garam masala

2 tsp paprika

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

2 tsp kosher salt

2 cups diced tomatoes

3/4 cup heavy  cream

2 tbsp butter

Chopped cilantro to garnish

Method: Cook the onion and garlic in the oil until fragrant. Add the diced tomatoes (canned is fine) and simmer in a covered skillet for about 8 minutes. Once cooled, pour into blender and blend for a few seconds and return to skillet. Add in the cream and the seasonings and simmer for another 8 minutes. Add the seasoned cooked chicken and let it all simmer in a covered skillet for 30 minutes on medium-low heat.

Here now is Logan’s preparation:

Wash chicken breasts with water or lime (Washing chicken before we cook it is something we do as Trinidadians. If you don’t want to wash your chicken then so be it). Cut chicken into smaller pieces and put into a bowl. Add 1/2 cup of onion and 2 chopped garlic cloves and set aside.

 

Next he measured out 2 cups of Basmati rice, washed it and put in a pot with 2 1/2 cups of water and brought it to a boil. He added a couple smidgens of vegan butter to the water to help the rice stay light and fluffy as the water evaporated.

Next he put a table spoon of oil in a skillet and heated it and cooked the chicken pieces, onion and garlic. Once the chicken began to turn white, he added the bottled sauce, a pinch of salt, cumin and black pepper. He stirred in a tsp of tomato paste, a pinch of paprika, cayenne pepper and a pinch of cinnamon, just to boost the ready made sauce.

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Stir in a tablespoon of cream, cover the skillet and let it simmer for about 20 minutes on Medium – low heat.

Once the chicken was thoroughly cooked and tender, Logan garnished with chopped green onion as we didn’t have cilantro. Pandemic lock downs force us to be creative and improvise but that’s okay because the most important things are that the chicken is properly cooked and the meal is tasty. The butter chicken smelled like Heaven making us all very hungry indeed and when we tried it, it tasted even better than it smelled.

Serve Indian Butter Chicken over rice or with naan bread and enjoy.  Stay home. Teach your teen to cook. Stay safe and bon appetit.  ~Daniella and family.

 

Leave a comment Posted on Cooking while in pandemic lockdown, Dinner, family, Feeding my Athletic Family, Food, Lunch, parenting

Cooking in the Time of Covid-19: Logan Declares it Butter Chicken Friday

Butter chicken is a good dish for Logan to learn because it is simple to make, quick, flavorful and nutritious. Since we are in a pandemic lock down it was a little difficult to get all the ingredients we needed to make the sauce. So, we had to improvise. I bought a bottle of butter chicken sauce and added to to it to enhance the flavor and to thicken it as we found to be a little too liquid. So before we get into Logan’s cooking, here is the recipe I usually use for the sauce:

1/4 cup vegetable oil

2 1/2 cups chopped onion

2 garlic cloves chopped

2 tbsp garam masala

2 tsp paprika

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

2 tsp kosher salt

2 cups diced tomatoes

3/4 cup heavy  cream

2 tbsp butter

Chopped cilantro to garnish

Method: Cook the onion and garlic in the oil until fragrant. Add the diced tomatoes (canned is fine) and simmer in a covered skillet for about 8 minutes. Once cooled, pour into blender and blend for a few seconds and return to skillet. Add in the cream and the seasonings and simmer for another 8 minutes. Add the seasoned cooked chicken and let it all simmer in a covered skillet for 30 minutes on medium-low heat.

Here now is Logan’s preparation:

Wash chicken breasts with water or lime (Washing chicken before we cook it is something we do as Trinidadians. If you don’t want to wash your chicken then so be it). Cut chicken into smaller pieces and put into a bowl. Add 1/2 cup of onion and 2 chopped garlic cloves and set aside.

 

Next he measured out 2 cups of Basmati rice, washed it and put in a pot with 2 1/2 cups of water and brought it to a boil. He added a couple smidgens of vegan butter to the water to help the rice stay light and fluffy as the water evaporated.

Next he put a table spoon of oil in a skillet and heated it and cooked the chicken pieces, onion and garlic. Once the chicken began to turn white, he added the bottled sauce, a pinch of salt, cumin and black pepper. He stirred in a tsp of tomato paste, a pinch of paprika, cayenne pepper and a pinch of cinnamon, just to boost the ready made sauce.

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Stir in a tablespoon of cream, cover the skillet and let it simmer for about 20 minutes on Medium – low heat.

Once the chicken was thoroughly cooked and tender, Logan garnished with chopped green onion as we didn’t have cilantro. Pandemic lock downs force us to be creative and improvise but that’s okay because the most important things are that the chicken is properly cooked and the meal is tasty. The butter chicken smelled like Heaven making us all very hungry indeed and when we tried it, it tasted even better than it smelled.

Serve Indian Butter Chicken over rice or with naan bread and enjoy.  Stay home. Teach your teen to cook. Stay safe and bon appetit.  ~Daniella and family.

 

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Cooking in the Time of Covid-19: Baking an Old Favourite from the Naparima Girls School Cook Book.

You know a recipe is a well loved tradition in your family when the page of the cookbook you are using is stained  and kind of crispy and a little yellowed.

  I am not sure if this is still a thing, with technology being so easy but I don’t know a Trini cook who does not own a Naparima Girls High School Cookbook. I have the edition with the bright pink cover and I know there was another fancier edition since then but I am in love with the one I have so I never felt the need to upgrade.

    Whenever I doubt myself about a recipe and I can’t get a hold of my mother, I refer to this book. Before the internet and when the only way to get anything on line was by e mail, I referred to this book. When the kids were toddlers and I wanted to cook for them using recipes from home, I used this book. I remember a lentil pie I made for Adam and then again for Logan when they had those little peg teeth and I was so happy they devoured it. I had large monster babies, both 10 lbs plus at birth and I wanted them to develop a taste for my heritage cuisine.This book, especially in the middle of winter, and especially when I was far away from my Toronto based family, gave me comfort and pride and confidence to cook some dishes from my homeland that I never tried make.  Nothing makes an expat feel happier and less lonely than something from their mother country that they can eat. And so, I cooked and these toddlers grew up and from the moment they started school, theytook their mother’s cooking to school in the array of textures and colours, rarely taking sandwiches and never taking anything from a can to school in their lunch boxes.

Tonight I realized with all this cooking, I did not yet make a banana bread. I made cookies (from the packaged dough) and pies (with filling from the can and the ready-made pie shells) but not banana bread. I will begin by telling you I prefer cooking to baking. I don’t have the precision or patience for baking and will happy refer anyone to my friend Ronnie, or Leslie and even my husband Tom, when it comes to information on baked goods but I do enjoy making my Naparima Girls banana bread. So let’s begin.

Here are the ingredients:

And here is the method:

I am planning to do the banana bread muffin style. Now, bear in mind I mentioned I am an impatient baker and over the years I have found some shortcuts in the mixing of the ingredients and baking time – hence the muffins as opposed to prepping a loaf pan for a solid loaf. I do suggest you follow the recipe for best results but what I have done does work. You will see that I put the mashed bananas and eggs, salt, sugar ( I use brown sugar)  and baking soda and baking powder (my addition 1 teaspoon) in a bowl.

         

I added the lime juice and zest (my addition as I like to use all of an ingredient if I can) and the milk and fold it all in. I also omit nuts, partly because I did not have any that would work and I usually add a pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon because I love the taste.

         

I use 1/2 cup of vegetable oil instead of butter and really mix it in. Once the batter is all blended (I like to blend by hand but feel free to use an electronic mixer)pour it into the papered muffin tins place into an oven pre-heated to 350 F and bake for about 45 mins. Separating the batter into muffins allows them to bake in less than an hour so check them during the baking process so they don’t burn.

     

And there you have it, plus a pumpkin pie that Logan was craving. Give this recipe a try and enjoy for breakfast or lunch or a snack warmed with melted butter or jam of your choice. Stay Home. Stay safe. Try new recipes. Teach your kid to cook. ~Daniella and family.

 

Leave a comment Posted on parenting, the new world society, Uncategorized

Hover, Hinder and Somehow Interrupt My Day.

I’m 52 years old and I am beginning to live in world that I am struggling to understand. It’s not because of technology or anything like that. I am happy to advance in the age of smart devices. What perplexes me the most is the devolution of parents and parenting. My children are almost adults and maybe I should not have an opinion on this but it is hard not to when it is all around me. Much of the next generations are being raised in a manner that is making them incapable of doing anything on their own. They have no boundaries, they are always the centre of attention (mostly when they are unremarkable) and they have no regard for others. They also have little to no coping or problem solving skills and no manners and it is sad and very concerning that they are indeed our future. Now you will probably say that my statement is unfair so let me re-iterate, I said much of the next generations. Certainly not every child is like that but I urge you to look around and observe and you will see, many children have the behaviors I’ve described.

Earlier this morning, I stopped for a young woman and her toddler to use the cross walk. I was not in a hurry and she was with a really little child. She proceeds to cross with the child and I realize she is not holding her hand. The kid is really young so her gait is slow and wobbly. As the mother gradually moves ahead of the child, she doesn’t realize the little one is sitting on the cross walk. Oh yes, bum planted firmly on the asphalt and she ain’t moving.  The mother walks back to the child and begins to talk to her, never acknowledging that there are now 3 cars waiting on her and her child to cross. I took myself back to when my boys were toddlers. If someone motioned for me to cross with my toddler, I would have scooped him up in my arms and crossed the street. Once I was safely on the sidewalk, I would have put him down (my boys were heavy) and taken his little hand in mine and led him safely to the car. When did parents stop reacting like I would have? When did we stop holding a toddler’s hand? And when did we think it was okay to negotiate with a 2 year sitting on a cross walk to get up and get moving? That situation this morning was unsafe, inconsiderate to the three waiting drivers and stupid. I have no problem acknowledging children, listening to them and explaining things to them but there are times when a child has to be told what to do, when they have to be picked up and have their hand help to keep them safe. I finally drive by and she motions for me to roll down my window and she tells me that the little one is at the age when she chooses to walk. Okay…I have no problem with giving kids a choice. They can choose whether they want to wear the blue or the yellow pajamas and they can choose a bedtime story but they cannot choose their bedtime. They can choose to have an apple or a pear but they cannot choose candy instead. Children are children because they need to be parented. They need to be guided and they need to be taught. We love our boys. We are friendly with our boys but we are their parents, not their friends. We speak to them with respect and we expect that respect in return. We speak openly to each other but there is a distinct difference between the way they address us and the way they address their friends. There is a clear, healthy divide between us and our children are no worse for it. The 20 year old, lives on his own and though autistic, runs his own life and his aides, his father and I support the way he chooses to live. The 17 year old still lives at home, and needs our permission to borrow our cars and go to parties and have friends over in addition to all the things a teenager needs permission to do, have or attend. My husband and I are still the authority figures in our home and our son at home respects our guidance, our home and property.

The cross-walk fiasco over, I am sitting in the exercise studio monitoring the participants. Through the glass wall I can see the participants of three in a row toddler dance classes. These classes are designed for ages 2 -5 and cost parents way-too-much-plus tax for the session which consists of ten 30 – 40 minute classes. I have noticed over the weeks that none of the participants are ever on time for the first class which starts at 9 am. Then there is at least 10 minutes of crying or screaming and kids running out of the class into their parent’s arms who carry them back into the class time after time, the drama only ending when the parent stays in the room with the child. Those who don’t go into the room, are glued to the glass tapping it and waving to their now distracted child. Then there is the parent that goes into the class suggesting alternate dance moves and specific music requests of the teacher. My close observation of these humans makes me understand the high turn around of teachers for these classes.

The second class of participants arrive about 15 minutes before the first class begins and they are allowed to spread their toys all over the floor outside of the class which is also the walkway to the studio where I’m sitting. I watch in awe as adults and seniors coming into the workout studio gingerly navigate their way through a spread of dolls, miniature cars, Lego and  a version of Pick up Sticks with no attempt from the parents to clear the path for others, no telling their kids to move into a corner so that others can get by them, no apology for taking over the entire walkway. One child not interested in the toys on the floor, is finding joy in spilling water from the drinking fountain all over the floor because the obstacle course created by the spread of blocks isn’t challenging enough for the adults and seniors to navigate. Excuse me for a moment while I go to the utility room to retrieve a mop to clean up said child’s mess. And in case you were wondering, I’m not mopping the floor. My children didn’t spill the water.

……Okay, I’m back. The water is being mopped by the child’s father and the precious angels have gone into class and there is a repetition of the running in and out of class to mummy and daddy.  Oh dear, one father just got a premeditated back hand to the face and he is responding by hugging his child who continues to strike him. Wow. I have no words.  One little girl from the previous class is playing with the Lego on the floor as her mother tells her over and over that it is time to go. The child screams a loud shrill “NO!” Mom, holding a baby just smiles and waits and repeats her request to leave. I think they are going to be here a while.

Call me archaic but I think in addition to laying down some guiding rules and some consequences for their actions, we also need to give children a chance to grow and be independent and to learn from and be guided by other people. They don’t sit beside them all day at school so why are they in the dance class with them? Children need a chance to fail so that they will have a chance to succeed. They need to learn that mom and dad can leave them to learn from someone else and that they will be fine until they return for them. There are three parents right now doing the dance class with their child. Three parents who look like they can use a break, so why aren’t they taking one?

The classes are over and the little darlings have gone. The custodian is shaking her head as she mops up the sticky spots of juice and picks up the fruit roll up wrappers off the studio floor. The hallway looks like a tornado came through it and so does the gallery to the pool where the siblings of those taking swimming lessons are left to run wild and wreck the place.

I don’t know what books, or websites these new parents are reading nor do I know who is giving them bad advice but here is what I know –

It’s okay to take the weekend back and empty a trunk of toys on the floor and let your kids play. It’s okay to play with them for a while then walk away and let them play on their own. Having a friend over or going to play at another kid’s house is a healthy activity.  Video games in moderation isn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact some kids develop excellent hand eye coordination from playing video games. Whatever happened to Saturday morning TV? That used to be a great thing. I remember many winter mornings when Thomas the Tank Engine and the Clone Wars made for a cozy time indoors. When the shows were over many hours were spent by our two little boys creating their own versions of the stories they had seen  in our basement with all the make shift costumes, props and noises of children at play. Very often there was a sign that said “keep out” or “kids only” that let us know that this was their parent free time to pretend and we respected that.

Maybe we can go back to keeping things simple. You know how little ones get a fancy present and they are more interested in the box? It’s because kids are simple people. No need to make things with them over complicated. My husband and I didn’t get suckered into expensive toddler classes that pretended to promise cognitive and motor skill development. We knew these skills were important but our kids got all that stimulus at home and eventually at school and through sports.

Parents, it’s okay to give yourself a break from your children. Learn to take turns. Both parents and kids don’t have to be everywhere together all the time. From time to time we did take our kids shopping or to run errands with us but there were also days when we took turns staying at home with them while the other parent did the errands and such. Alone time is good for mom and dad and kids have a lot of time ahead of them to go shopping when they are older and more tolerant of crowds, noise and other stimuli. To keep our sanity we knew it was not possible for both of us to be present at all times at our children’s’ activities. We did not all have to go to the store all the time. We took turns going to the gym and to church. We gave our boys boundaries. We told them “no” and they learned to be disappointed and they learned that disappointment passes. They learned to be in a class or an activity without us and today at 20 and 17, I have 2 happy, independent, generous and polite young people (one with autism) with jobs, commitments and responsibilities and they are turning into very respectable men of whom we are extremely proud. I look at our autistic son (who has his own apartment going on three months now) and I am thrilled to see that all my instincts were right. Nothing in any book about parenting ever applied to him and I am so grateful he is a part of our family because having him made us better parents and it allowed us to raise him and his brother with our minds wide open without getting caught up in this overprotective, micromanaging, coddling style of parenting that seems to persist.

I once asked my 17 year old how he felt when I dropped him off at Kung Fu when he was 5. He said sometimes he felt a little scared that I was leaving him but Sifu didn’t allow other parents to linger and no one cried for their mom or dad and he didn’t want to be the baby that did. He said, me not being there helped him focus on Sifu and the moves he was being taught. He said he learned how cool it was to stay quiet and be still and focus on the move he was about to do. He said he liked learning stuff without us there so he could surprise us by showing off his moves when he got home. He also told me he always knew one of us would come back and pick him up and he never felt that we would forget him. He also said, when he was little he sometimes felt like everyone was a big kid – better than him, bigger than him and faster than him (he was a short, stocky little thing who is now a lean 6’3″) and that learning to be in a Kung Fu class with mixed ages and heights made him feel like a big boy; made him feel proud that even with his size, he could sometimes take down someone much bigger and taller than he was. He said it made him confident and taught him that if he tried his best, he could take on anything. He does not practice Kung Fu at the moment (maybe he will get back to it one day) but that activity combined with all the other sports and activities he participated in allowed him to learn from other people and given him skills he would not have developed if we were constantly by his side.

By trying to be all inclusive parents, trying to be the perpetually positive parents trying to make life perfect for your kids, you’re setting them up for failure. Isn’t it exhausting doing everything in your power to make every moment of every day a successful one for your child? Take it easy parents. Say “no” once in a while and hold your kids accountable when it comes respect and give them rules and boundaries so they can actually successfully live in society. Loving them does not mean doing everything for them and giving them their way all the time.. By hovering over them all day, you stifle their independence and creativity. Helping them every step of the way does not set them up for the bump in the road that will make them stumble. If they don’t stumble and fall they will never learn to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and try again. I know it’s hard to not jump in and help them every chance you get but what you are actually doing is hindering them and making them unprepared for that roller coaster journey that is life.

Finally, be considerate of others. Your children are lovely and all children are gifts but they are not lovely gifts to everyone. My children are grown. I put in the years with the sleepless nights, the worry, the teaching, potty training, the feeding, healing, reassuring …all the verbs that go along with parenting and even though they are grown, I still am concerned for them and concerned about things I cannot control. But I know my husband and I have put in the time and work and love and all I can have now is faith that they will make the right choices and that they will be safe. My husband once said, parenting is 50%what you teach them and 50% what they do with it and we need to give them the chance to exercise their 50%.I don’t have little children anymore and the few kids I know between the ages of 1 and 12 have really great parents with a strong, admirable parenting styles so when a poorly parented child comes into contact with me it usually leads to an inconvenience to my day somehow. I don’t want to be subjected to poorly parented kids, yet I am on the daily with the hovering, over helping and hindering parents everywhere I go. Because I don’t need to hear you negotiate with them at the top of your lungs, I grocery shop listening to music through earbuds. I don’t appreciate them running around my grocery cart, randomly stopping and starting, yet you let them crash into my cart anyway. I don’t always want to have a conversation with your kid who can barely talk. I am a complete stranger. Why would you let your child wander around talking to complete strangers in an arena? I am there to watch my son’s team, I don’t want to miss the game because your child whom I don’t know, wants to talk to me. And for the love of all that is right and just, please don’t allow your child to linger in the entrance of a busy store. Don’t let them play with the doors and don’t let them lie in the aisles of the grocery store. No one enjoys that…plus, it’s unsanitary.

Dial up the discipline and tone down the hovering and path paving. Prepare your child for their path. Do not prepare the path for your child. Keep it simple and it will be special. Sign your toddler up for less activities and let them enjoy being active through play with their friends, with you and on their own. Take the time to breathe, Mom and Dad, guide them, teach them and take more time to enjoy them. You don’t need to take them to organized classes when they’ve barely learned to walk. Kiddies are simple beings. Don’t make raising them more complicated than it needs to be.

 

 

Leave a comment Posted on autism, parenting, special needs

Surviving the Loop the Loop – The Prodigal Wallet.

When Tom and I renewed our vows on our 10th anniversary in 2007, he talked about the incredible ride we were and still are on and that the only way to truly enjoy a ride is to not know what is coming and sit tight and ride it out when it goes chaotic and random. Well, we only know chaotic and random and this year certainly we endured many loop the loops on the ride that is our life. We’ve had a lot of experiences that created new feelings; new ways of doing things; looking at things, that I suppose, took me by surprise. There was not a lot of time to write this summer but on Labour Day weekend, with one day to go before school started, I sat in my little home office, in front of my old friend Laptop, my fingers retrieving stories I had tapped out about our wonky family life. This is the story I wrote about Adam’s lost wallet in May 2018.

Today went down hill when we realized Adam’s wallet was missing. I usually have stuff they can grab from the fridge or freezer that they could warm and take for lunch but it’s been a hectic work week and I remembered Adam had 5 bucks in his wallet and I decided he could buy his lunch at school, since there was nothing he really liked in the fridge that he could take with him. Court was working with him lately to try and make sure he checked for his wallet and his phone to teach him how to be responsible for his things and she thought it was secure in his coat pocket when she dropped him off after the movies.

My autistic teen does not really get the seriousness of losing his wallet and at times, has a really sketchy short term memory, so getting the clues needed to piece together where it might be, was for this mother, quite stressful. We retraced steps and even called the police to see if anything was maybe turned in. The only place left to check was the theatre but when school is on, there is no staff on site until about 3:30 pm. The mental weariness of knowing I had to cancel his bank card and then looking up the procedure of cancelling his ID card and health card numbers just started to swirl inside me like a tornado and then I, the non-crier started to sob.

“He’s not ready,” I cried to my husband. “He’s never going to be ready and if we are not here to help him who will really care? Who will turn every stone looking for his wallet? Who will try and get the clues out of him and who will look up what to do and make the calls?”

My patient, patient husband, kissed the top of my newly grey haired head and told me simply,”Someone will,” He told me that as capable as Adam is, he will always need help with the fine tuning and that losing the wallet was a good lesson for us because when it happens again (and it will) at least we know what to do and this experience will help us figure out ways to lessen the number of times something like this would occur.

So, while Tom held down the fort at work today, I worked from home and also worked on cancelling Adam’s bank card. I decided I could at least prevent someone from accessing his account but would wait on cancelling the other cards until we checked the movie theatre. Let me just tell you that losing your wallet is one thing when you don’t have special needs, it is a complete gong show when you do. Last year, in the fall when Adam was still 17, I set up his new bank account so he could collect his ODSP* the following year upon his 18th birthday. It had to be a joint account because he was still a minor. I set up accounts for each son and all was well. Now that Adam is 18, I was not able to cancel his card even though his account is a joint account with me. He needed to call in himself. After explaining that his autism would make that scenario difficult, I finally got the bank to at least freeze the account until we could cancel the card. They struggled because the millennial on the phone did not have a field on his computer screen that could help him make allowances for exceptions like Adam. No word of a lie, that was what I was told. I suggested he maybe ask a manager to help him figure out a way but he was a millennial too (not to knock them all) and said if there was no field on the computer screen, there was no way. Adam had to make the call. I started laughing this insane cackle. Adam. Adam had to make the call. Adam, who HATES talking on the phone, especially to people he doesn’t know. Well, the whole family had to be in on that because it takes 3 people to help Adam get through scenarios that other people could navigate with ease.

When the boys came home from school, Adam made the call. When asked his full name he answered John Adam James and he also added “I’m looking for my wallet” to which the person on the phone said ” Oh, I just need your name at this time,” to which Adam said, “John Adam James and I am still looking for my wallet,”.  The rep realized that this was the point in the script that called for that thing called human empathy and he said that he understood because losing a wallet happens to everyone. It was a sweet attempt because it was clear to him now that I was not bull shitting when I said talking to Adam was not going to be easy.

Adam proceeded to give his date of birth and his address however when it came to remembering the branch where the account was set up and what the answer to the security question should be, Tom had to whisper so he could answer correctly as I was not allowed to “coerce” him. Then by process of elimination they needed the card number and the boys accounts are joint with me so we had to read out the other two card numbers to isolate Adam’s. I read mine and Logan read his and had a blast taking his turn with the guy because by this time Adam was antsy and scripting quotes from movies and it had become significantly louder in our house. Adam is talking, Tom is trying to settle him down so Tom is talking, I am just laughing and Logan is well,”Loganing”.

“You ready for my information, Sir?” he began.  “Listen up because it’s getting loud. That’s what it’s like living with autism. See, this is what we were trying to explain to you. He can’t answer you alone. That’s just the nature of the beast. You would have had an easier time talking to Mom,” he said, as polite and jovial as always, schooling all the while.

Fast forward, we got the card cancelled, ordered a new one and a new PIN all before we found the wallet at the manager’s office at the movie theatre when they finally opened. For all the absurdity, I was disturbed to know that those who have no voice, those who struggle with conversation, those who need and have advocates, still in many areas of our daily lives, still have no voice. Losing a wallet is an inconvenience for us but a disaster for them. If my son had been non-verbal, how would I have been able to cancel his card? I learned too that for his ID card and health card and any government issued card, he would have to go in person to fill out the form and sign his name. Easy enough for Adam with a bit of help for the form because he does read and write and can sign his name but what about those who can’t?  If upon getting these important documents one can see that a person has a disability, why can’t the powers that be, find a way for those who can’t speak or write to skip the usual formalities and get straight to the matter of protecting them from identity theft and fraud? They need help getting these documents in the first place so they’d obviously need help when they are in situation regarding a lost or stolen wallet.

Today, formality and strict regulation was ridiculously humorous for a few seconds and then it became downright irritating and painful for my son. It took almost half an hour to cancel his bank card over the phone because a customer service rep was only able to stick to the one way of doing his mundane job. I could hear how flustered he was getting trying to speak to my son as if her was just another customer. But Adam isn’t just another customer. Adam is representative of the now 1 in 45 persons diagnosed with autism and he is one of many persons who struggles with verbal communication. Sure he can speak but he cannot conceptualize things the same way we do. Things are different for him because his brain is wired differently and he lives in a world that has evolved tremendously in many ways to incorporate people like him, but it is also a world that is also as inflexible as it was 40 plus years ago.

The day, however, was not completely stressful. We found the wallet with the 5 bucks and all his cards inside. It was reassuring to know kind, honest people still exist. I hugged the movie theatre manager tightly and she hugged me back saying she had never met anyone so grateful to find a wallet. Adam had to go to Tim’s for a frozen raspberry lemonade with Logan to settle himself after his stint on the phone and did not come with us to claim his wallet. To be honest I was prepared for a struggle to get it back if it was indeed found, because he wasn’t with us but the manager came out, asked me what colour it was, who it belonged to and what was in it and presto! She got the description, she realized we must have been his parents and we didn’t have to sign anything. She understood our situation and she made a human decision. She didn’t worry about formalities or rules. She was just happy to return the wallet. She was happy to help. Most times, that’s all people like Adam and parents like us need.

On the ride back home Tom glanced at me and said the most wonderful thing I’d heard in a while. He said, “You know you gotta love being a parent when something great happens to your kid and you feel fantastic! It didn’t happen to you, it happened to them but you just feel great! Today we lost a wallet and it took us down a worrisome road where we questioned if Adam was truly ready for independence and for better or worse, he spoke to a stranger on the phone and answered many of the questions without our help . And while we were stressing over his wallet, we received great news about Logan. Watching Adam’s big smile when we returned his wallet was like watching him look at me for the first time all over again. Just a feeling of pure joy, you know? We got great news about Logan and we found Adam’s wallet intact. Nothing beats being a parent when you have a day like today!”  Ever the optimist, I dare say, he’s so perfectly, completely correct.