Behind starburst eyes

Wonder Woman


I normally write about my wee ones, or about crafts/gifts I’m making but this week has a very special day in it that isn’t about either of those topics. It’s my mother’s 65th birthday this week. She is my inspiration every single day. Any time I’ve gotten caught up in society’s “me” attitude I look at her and I am humbled. She is a woman that has made more sacrifices than I can begin to list for her children. She is the epitome of a real wonder woman. There’s a line that Queen Hippolyta says to Wonder Woman before she leaves paradise island: “And remember that, in a world of ordinary mortals, you are a Wonder Woman.” While it was said by and to a make-believe character, nothing comes closer to the truth than that sentence about my mom.

She fights harder than any woman I’ve ever met for her kids and grandkids. But a pushover with us she’s not ;-) We all know not to try and pull crap with her or in any way in general for she’ll find out about…she always finds out, one of her superpowers I’m sure ;-) She’ll fight just as hard with us if she thinks we’re not living up to the potential she sees within us. But Gods forbid you hurt one of hers, mad at us or not she ALWAYS has our backs. I’m far from perfect and like everyone else I’ve made mistakes, said the wrong thing, did the wrong thing. Like all parents she’d get mad at some of my stunts, but no matter how mad she was I always knew she loved me unconditionally. If I’ve ever needed her, she’s been there.

But it’s not just me that she’s so fiercely loyal to. She comes across to others as gruff, as a hard-ass, and if you make her mad she really can be. What often gets overlooked is how loving she is. How far she bends for those she loves, how much she quietly gives in the background to those of us privileged enough to have a spot in her heart. For to be loved by her is to have someone in your corner for the rest of your life, no matter what. She taught me that being a good person is about doing the right thing even when no one was looking. That if I have to wait for others to see, than it’s not being a good person it’s being self-serving. She taught me to follow my dreams, and to live my life according to my own terms. To not bow to anyone’s opinions, not even hers, but to stand strong in my convictions in what is right for me and my kids. Just as she did. She taught us that we could do anything, and that she’d cheer as we soared as high as we dared. She taught us that life isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be. She taught me to be loyal to those I loved, and to work hard for what I wanted. She taught us through her example. She is one of the greatest blessings in my life. I can only hope my own children will look upon me when I’m 65 and see even half the value I see in her presence, in her love, in her friendship, in her.

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Active Participation; his way

Shoulders slightly hunched as he plucks at his pant strings. Sitting on the only chair in the room, he watches the other children dancing. It would be a sad picture of a child excluded, until you look at his face. He’s not forced to sit on the sidelines as it first appears. He’s focused intently on watching their dancing. He’s breaking down the flow and movements of limbs and core into pieces he can then re-create at home. In private he’ll try each move. If he’s stuck he’ll ask his brother for help. Even then, he’ll ask him to do them over and over until he’s sure he’s figured out the “how” to each one…Then he’ll dance. Joyfully, with abandon he’ll dance, for himself, and for all those he loves he’ll ask: “Wanna see my cool dude moves?” But first he’ll watch. I’m thankful our local YMCA accepts him as he is. I’m grateful they respect his ways, and understand his need to watch first. I’m glad they understand that for Mr. N watching IS active participation for him. It’s his way, and they smile at him and tell him he can join in with the actual dancing when he’s ready.


A worn coat and new fabrics

Just yesterday I was at Fabricland getting edging for lil miss’s quilt. As I perused all the options for it I came across the fabrics I’d used to make Joy’s special butterfly pillows. Beside them was an adorable pink and brown flower print and my first thought was that it’d make a really cute pillow for her this Christmas. Immediately, I realized where I’d gone wrong with that thought, and standing in an aisle of Fabricland I started to cry. Time is supposed to make it hurt less, at least that’s what I’m told, but it’s bullshit. It still hurts just as much, because the love we all felt for her hasn’t gone away. We’ll always love her just as much as when we were blessed with her presence in our lives.

I was organizing the hallway closet today, making room for all of our fall and winter gear and getting all of the summer stuff finally packed away. As I was hanging up fall jackets I came across an adorable bright pink coat covered in polka dots. It’s a size 2, and lil miss is now in a 3 but I couldn’t donate it to Value Village. For in faded blue pen it says “Joy” on the tag. Instead I sat on one of the kitchen chairs, clutching this small coat and cried. I cried because she won’t get to outgrow any more coats. I cried for all that we’ve lost as a family without her. I cried because I miss her so much, and I cried because I’m still so angry that someone so perfect had to go. I get that she’s in a better place, I get that she’s no longer hurting or struggling. But I’m angry that she had to struggle and hurt to begin with, and I’m angry that we have to go on without her, it’s not fair and while logically I know life isn’t fair, it doesn’t make it a damn bit easier.

Mr. N saw me crying about the coat and I told him I missed Joy. He said “Aww, that’s sad, I miss her too but she’s up in the sky, she’s watching over us” I’m sure she is, but I still wish I could see her smiling face one more time.

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What It Means To Be There For Someone

A deeply moving reminder of why we need others during the long haul times and not just the first initial moments of a dark situation. What It Means To Be There For Someone.

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ASL Alphabet Memory Game

The more I try to incorporate signing into my day the more the kids are interested in it. To that end I thought why not combine a fine motor skill activity (picking up the shapes practices using the pincer grasp) with learning colours and shapes with ASL.

So I made 2 copies of the ASL alphabet that I found here:

I purchased the wooden shapes at our local dollar store, but one could use card stock, cardboard from a box, or even foam blocks (if picking up almost flat shapes is too difficult for the person playing the game)

I then cut up both sets and glued one to different coloured circles and one to different coloured squares. Just like other memory games all the pieces are flipped over and you have to make a match. I tell the kids to make their matches by picking one circle and one square.

Both Miss. G and Mr. N love playing it and I’m getting some great practice before my first day of ASL class at our local college!





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My Unintentional Hiatus

I realized today that I haven’t posted anything on here in a couple of weeks. It’s amazing how fast the days fly by at times!

We’ve been busy with all sorts of fantastic adventures as well as a growth spurt (Mr.N’s) and it’s all lead to the days blending together as they whirl by faster than fall leaves on a windy day!

We went camping as a family of seven for a week-end. For those that have followed this blog for awhile, you know just how much our camping trips mean to us as a family, and how much I treasure the moments we get to create magical memories both as a family and as part of a community on them.

I took Mr. C to a Linkin Park concert as his main birthday present. By the end of the concert he was crying tears of joy. I don’t think there are words to adequately describe how much it meant to me to see him THAT happy.  

Mr. C did another lemonade stand at a local zoo to help raise money for a family that had lost everything in a house fire. Miss. G was as enamoured with a baby tiger as it was with her. She even went so far as to wrap her paws around her leg to stop from being picked up and brought away from Miss. G!

Mr. N is now officially in sizes 3 and 4! He grew at least 3 inches in the last few weeks. His sleep patterns are massively off right now. HIs emotions are also swinging wildly from his growth spurt. Understanding how his growth spurts effect those areas for him help me greatly to help him as best as I can to ease him through this difficult transition filled time.

Miss. G has added lots of words to her vocabulary, so many so that her speech therapist will be floored at tomorrow’s appointment! For example, last night she held up one finger and said “one mo time, baff peas?” because she wanted another bath after hers was finished. 

I took Mr. C and his friend to the CNE, they had a blast and I adored watching them.

Hubby and I took the three to the CNE by train and that was an experience all on it’s own. Why there are no seatbelts on Go Trains?!?! But aside from the train antics, they had a blast and so did us grown-ups :-D

I had another workshop yesterday, which I of course thoroughly enjoyed.

Hubby and his brother took the eldest three to see Battle of the Best. It was a wrestling event hosted to help raise funds for Grandview Children’s Centre. The pictures he sent me of the kid’s smiling faces warmed my heart as I came home from my workshop. I also adored the t-shirt they brought me home with Brett the Hitman Hart’s logo intertwined with the wrestling division’s on it.

I picked up my textbook for my first ASL course at our local college. Some of you might remember that for my New Year’s Resolution I had wanted to learn a new sign every day. But I’ve struggled greatly with syntax, slang, and the different signs that mean the same thing but are used by different regions. To that end, I figured the best thing to do was to simply sign up at our local college to learn it. In two more weeks I’ll attend my first class, and I can’t wait!

Well that’s a very brief summery of our last couple of weeks. I hope that everyone has been having a wonderful time soaking up the last of summer.


Tired of all these Autism and ADHD brats!


Because, yes

Originally posted on Pensive Aspie:


When I was a kid they didn’t call it “Behavioral Disorders.”  They called it “Being a little brat!”  This is just ONE of many memes I have seen on my social networks. They are shared by my friends and family. I would like to think that is just the ignorant/uneducated who feel this way, but it isn’t.

Driving home from work a couple weeks ago, a college-educated peer told me that she felt that “most of these autism and adhd diagnoses” are fabricated.  Her son had some of the traits of a child with Autism/ADHD but HE doesn’t have Autism/ADHD so maybe it doesn’t really exist. She felt it was just an “excuse” for people NOT to parent. Did I mention she was COLLEGE EDUCATED?!?  She knew about my blog, my Asperger’s, and my beliefs, but since my thoughts are different from hers, of course mine MUST be wrong.  After…

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Robin Williams


She speaks my thoughts on depression and suicide better than I could.

Originally posted on Pride in Madness:

I <3 Robin Williams... In sooo many ways he reminds me of my wonderful dad! He is my hero and so is Robin Williams :)Robin Williams experienced depression and substance abuse. I was shocked when my sister text me last night telling me that he had died. Inside I knew it was self inflicted and my research confirmed it. While my grief over the loss of Robin will never ever compared to that of his family and friends, I am still upset that the world has lost another amazing person because of the torment they felt inside.

Whenever I hear someone has ended their life I am torn. I understand the battle it probably took to keep the horrible feelings at bay. I understand the hard work that it can take to pursue recovery. I understand the consuming determination that can take hold before finally attempting to take your life. I have been there, just in my case I survived.

As I said to a friend today, “People are people first. If anything the…

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The unrecovered

Originally posted on Chavisory's Notebook:

I have had a lot of reaction in the past few days to that New York Times Magazine article concerning “The Kids Who Beat Autism.” Here’s about all I have left.

The parents, the teachers, the therapists and researchers without a clue who are celebrating “recovery” because they have, in their heads, defined autism as a fixed set of permanent inabilities—

-Are not the people doing the work of passing, and are not going to be the ones to find out first-hand just how long it isn’t actually sustainable.

-Are not the people who get told we’re too articulate to be autistic but have to ration our hours of speech per day.

-Are not the developmentally disabled women who suffer a sexual abuse rate of over 90%, no thanks to the compliance training that teaches that allowing others to control our bodies is desirable behavior.

-Are not the…

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