An Intense Yearning

Despite Nate's quirky behaviors and my suspicions of a disability, our family didn't get an official diagnosis of Autism until Nate was 8 years old.  When the psychologist told us his findings, my first reaction was tears.  For two reasons.... 1) I wanted to know if my son could feel my love and feel love for me... (which he can and does, by the way) and 2) I was so relieved to have my suspicions finally confirmed... I felt.... justified.  I called Matt and we breathed a sigh of relief together.  Now we would finally get help.

But then something weird happened.  When we told people - our family and friends - they told us how "sorry" they were.  And we were, like, "huh?".  We were also told that we would now need to grieve the child we lost and learn to know our child in a new light.  But here's the thing... we'd been living with Nate and his disability for eight years.  Nothing had changed for us except that we will be getting extra school funding and some good resources to pull from!  Yahoooooo!  But so many people were very sorry for our diagnosis.   And I get it... you definitely wouldn't want it to be you, right?  And we wouldn't have chosen this for our son either.  Even though we greatly appreciated the condolences, we were just happy to have confirmation and it renewed our passion in helping Nate. 

After our diagnosis, I dove in head first at learning about our new funding, getting help for Nate in the school system, looking for new therapies and professionals that could help him, and educating others on his disability.  I poured my heart and soul into our family... learning to parent differently, carving out one-on-one time for Arielle as this disability can be overwhelming to the "other" child, and trying to find ways to connect with my husband.  And some very good things have come from this.

But, now.... two years later... I am grieving.  And it's not grief over a child I've lost but rather a distinct grief over how Nate's life is "different" than that of a typically 10 year old boy.

Lately I am intensely yearning for a "normal" life.... 

The one where my son could play hockey instead of attend occupational therapy.  

...where we could go to the ocean while on vacation and not worry that the texture of the sand on Nate's skin will be overwhelming and we will have to turn around and leave.

...where he would bring home a non-modified report card and I might just see an "A" somewhere on it instead of the report card that doesn't have grades.  Because if there were grades... they would all be "F".

...where little girls thought he was cute and maybe, just maybe, they would fantasize over marrying him one day.

...where I didn't have to worry about whether the girl he loves will adore him just as much and will treat his soft, sensitive soul with compassion.

... where I didn't have to worry about whether or not he would be able to attend the emotional needs of his wife.  Or will he even have a wife someday?

...where I could join in the conversation with the other moms about how busy their sports schedule is and maybe we could get together and drink wine while planning the next home tournament.

...where my son could try out for the basketball team and I wouldn't have to worry that he may not even make it through the gym doors because the noise of the bouncing balls is too loud for him.  And that the coach might give him some feedback that he doesn't understand and he refuses to ever go back.

...where I can let him play with other children and not have to worry that he may not be able to regulate his emotions which could lead to him hurting another child... where I don't have to supervise him the way you do a toddler.

...where I don't have to watch other children laugh at something quirky that he says or give each other a knowing look of "wow... that kid is so weird".

...where I don't have to worry about his future... will he go to middle school or will I need to homeschool him?  Will he be able to get a job?  

 ...where I don't live in a world where I am revving at 100% all of the time.  It's been said that autism moms have stress levels similar to that of a combat soldier.

...where I don't need to constantly worry that my daughter is lusting for attention... and that someday she may seek out that attention in a way that would break my heart in two.

...where I didn't wonder if we would have visits from family often if they didn't feel awkward interacting with Nate.

...where I don't have to take my son to a psychiatrist for his depression and anxiety.  And I don't have to worry about the suicide rate in children with his disability.

...where I don't have to care about statistics like the 80% divorce rate for parents of children with autism and whether this is true and how we will fight to be the anomaly.

I am grieving the life with children that I never had.  It has hit me like a sudden storm on a sunny day.

Writing is my therapy.  And I will come through this... I always come through.  But right now... I am going to dwell in my grief as long as it takes until I can move forward in a healthy way.  Here I am... sitting with these feelings.  As ugly and awful as they may be.  And then, when I'm ready, I will be optimistic again.

Lucky 13

On this day, thirteen years ago, I married the man I married.

I knew I loved him.  And after a month of dating, I knew that I would marry him.  He was kind, gentle, generous, loving and compassionate.  He was everything I knew I needed.  But I had no idea what I was getting myself in to.

When I married Matt, I wanted the most beautiful wedding.  I didn't give much thought to making the most beautiful marriage.  I thought it was simple - you loved him, you married him, and you would be happy for the rest of your lives.  I thought that marriage was lived on one blissful level.  I was in for a shock.

There are so many things I could say about those first years of marriage.  They were tumultuous, to say the least.  I struggled with unmet expectations.... I expected a lot - a perfectly clean house, a hard-working, money-earning husband that would take care of me, financial stability, an abundant sex life, and, most detrimentally, perfect happiness.  When my expectations weren't met, I was shocked.  I wanted to escape my marriage and I threatened to leave my husband.  I was not prepared for the reality that in a real relationship there are ups and downs.  I lived with one foot out the door.

I look back on those years of our relationship and see how much I hurt Matt and my heart breaks.  He was a rock - never wavering, always committed to me and our marriage.  I always loved him, but I was so afraid of being hurt that when my expectations weren't met, I wanted to run.  I wish that I had been prepared for the realities of marriage.  The reality that sometimes you live in the clouds but other times you are drowning and just cannot find the surface to save your life.  I used to keep these facts hidden.  I was embarrassed because I thought we were the only ones who lived like this... but we weren't and we aren't.  I have so many friends who have what I like to call "solid marriages" and their marriages also waiver between heaven and hell and somewhere in between.

Matt and I finally went to an amazing counselor.  She was warm, friendly, loving, and I knew from the minute I met her that she would help us.  She didn't care about analyzing our pasts, but rather giving us tools to get through the times when we were drowning.  It was her help that finally made me realize that I had never truly committed to my husband.  Because of her, I finally gave him my full commitment - that I would never leave him under any circumstance.  The commitment that I should have given him on the day we married was finally made.  And it wasn't just lip service.  I soul searched, I weighed the pros and cons of our marriage, I considered the fact that we had children and what it would do to them if I didn't make this commitment, and I came to a decision that I loved this man enough to do whatever it would take to make our marriage work under any circumstances.  It wasn't enough that I loved him.  I needed to quit living with one foot out the door.

It was our commitment that got us through my fight with anxiety and depression, Matt's struggle with addiction, parenting a child with autism, parenting a "strong-willed" child, a move to a new community and school, building a new home, lost friendships along the way, living apart for Matt's work, and many, many more struggles that we have faced.

If not for our commitment, we would not have seen the joy of the last several years.  The trips we have taken with our children, the camping, the simple mornings drinking coffee together, the birthday parties, the family gatherings, our anniversary trip to New York, our "date nights", Christmas mornings, and all of the simple moments in between.  In these years, despite their ups and downs, we have been the most happy we've ever been and we have loved a lifetimes worth.  Matt is the one person on this earth that I trust with my whole heart.

We still have our ups and downs.  Some moments we are living in perfect joy and I look at this man and feel more love than I could have thought possible.  In other moments we are struggling and I can't quite put my finger on why... all I know is that I have to fight through it because it WILL come around again.  And then, just like that, we are blissful again and my heart is full.

So, today I want to wish a Happy Anniversary to to the man I married thirteen years ago.  The one I commit to every day.  The one I have always loved.  And thank you, Matty, for persevering through my struggles and for the happiness you've brought me.  I am thankful every day for you.

My dad, My hero

A tribute to my dad on Father's Day.

In my eyes, my dad is the greatest man on earth.  He's atypical, I think.  Little things.... like he organizes my mom's pantry (think Sleeping with the Enemy without the creepiness), he washes walls and cleans baseboards, he loves to garden, he is a jack of all trades, he's remarkably friendly... for an introvert, he's incredible with money, he rode a motorcycle and drove a big truck, he came from nothing and gave us everything.

And then there are the more classic traits.... He LOVES his job and the kids on his bus route.... in fact, I'm not sure he'll ever retire until they force him to.  He adores animals... more than humans, I think.  He is the hardest worker I know - he will literally work from dawn until dusk without batting an eye... and the kicker?  He loves every second of it.  He's devoted, committed, and loyal.  He's a great hugger.  Kids love him.  He has a bond with my daughter that I am in awe of.  I watch them together and my heart swells.

 He taught me to hunt, fish, and camp.  He taught me to drive, get a bank loan, and write a cheque.  He taught me how to wash my car, check my oil, and change a tire.  He always told me, "If it's worth doing, it's worth doing right".

My dad taught me the value of hard-work.  I can remember him saying, "I knew you could do it".  He told me that so many times over my child-hood that I couldn't help but believe I could do anything.  He would say, "there was never any doubt".  If you wanted a believer, it was my dad!

My dad is not perfect, but he has always been my hero.

In October 2014, my dad had open heart surgery to repair two valves that were damaged by childhood illness.  This surgery permanently changed him and he battled to regain who he was before the surgery.  The vibrant, hard-working man that once dominated his own life, was gone.  My dad struggled to find the energy to get out of bed in the morning.  In so many more ways, he fought to get his life back, but physically and emotionally could not quite get there.


And then came the proposal from my Auntie Jackie to hike the Appalachian Trail.  After weighing the decision and support from the family, he jumped on board.  And everything was re-newed.  He began to shop for gear and hike on the weekends.  He gradually increased his stamina and could hike farther distances and more difficult terrain.  He got excited and had something to look forward to.

On April 29th, my dad left Canada on his journey.  He spent three days in Seattle preparing re-supply boxes and food for the trail.  He then left for Georgia to begin his 300 mile, six-week trek.  On May 3rd, my dad starting hiking the most beautiful terrain he has ever seen.  He experienced and reconnected with nature... he was like a kid in a candy store!  However, two days later he discovered that his new body was not equipped to hike the intense elevations and territory that he would be required to cover.  Heartbroken, he left the trail and came home.

My dad worried about telling people that he had to come home - that he couldn't physically handle the hike.  He worried about the money he'd spent on what he considered an unsuccessful journey.  As much as I'd love for him to understand that there is nothing to be ashamed of, I'm not sure he will ever see it that way.

As his daughter, I have never been more proud.  I watched him regain his motivation to experience something new and his passion for the outdoors.  I watched him look forward to something.  I watched his physical stamina improve.  I watched him open up to another individual in a way I'm not sure he ever has.  I watched him be vulnerable.  And most importantly, I watched him fight back from his illness.

So today I pay tribute to the man who gave me high expectations.... who made me a believer in myself, taught me to be strong, to work hard, and to battle through tough times.  To my dad, the man who showed me what a husband and father should be and to accept no less than what I deserve.

My dad has always been my biggest fan and now I am his.

Lazy Girl

Over the past few years, my hubs and I have both dramatically changed.  I went from over-acheiving, perfectionist, go-getting, volunteer for everything, never sit down girl to........LAZY GIRL.  Simple.

Matt has gone from perpetually relaxed, carefree, coffee-drinking, Sunday lazing guy to get-shit-done-NOW guy.

We've almost traded places.  I used to be the one running around the kitchen cleaning on a Sunday morning feeling completely out of control because Monday is coming and "oh my God, I better get my shit together" and he used to be the one asking me to please sit down and watch the hockey game with him..... and now he is the one tidying the kitchen while I drink coffee with my feet up.  I feel like we've finally balanced each other out after sixteen years together.  And quite honestly, our marriage has never been better.

However, my balancing act didn't happen overnight and it didn't come by miracle.  The balance, for me, began four years ago when I finally realized I was struggling with depression.  I'll save that story for another time but the point is that I've since begun taking anti-depressants.  They've done a world of good for me in so many ways, but they've also absolutely crushed my intensity.  Recently I've found that I just don't have the urge, motivation or stamina to do ANYTHING....  My house is completely untidy, my laundry is piling up at all times, I have unfinished projects everywhere, and all I can think about doing is going to bed at the exact moment my kids lay their heads on their pillows (or should I say my pillows because I don't have the energy to fight with them to sleep in their own rooms).

Hence, lazy girl.  I have basically been using every excuse in the book to NOT get things done.  In the New Year I posed a major goal of accomplishing 52 minor goals in 2016 thinking that this would be enough for me to kick my own ass into gear.  Not so.  I've been sitting in my chair drinking coffee for the past four months.

Last week I decided to force myself to do something.  I gave myself a super tiny goal - dig up 10 rocks from the ugly flower bed that I want to rid my backyard of.  On night one, I attended a meeting, followed by cooking dinner, cleaning up dinner, making kids lunches, making sure the kids bathed, dealing with a meltdown, dealing with bedtime snack, and finally just throwing in the towel and hitting the hay with my kids.  Ugh.... I'm so tired all the time.

Night two I put the kids to bed and went straight outside!  Success!  I managed to dig up ALL of the rocks from the ugly flowerbed and even transported them to a new drainage area I dug!  Say what?  I overachieved!  It's been a while.  This got me on a roll.... Night three I dug up the rest of the rocks from the OTHER ugly flowerbed.  They are currently still laying all over my lawn (where I threw them) because the wheelbarrow has a flat... but hey, the hard part is over.  And on day four, five, and six, I drove to Costco (alone, I might add), purchased two huge cart loads of trees and planted them!  That's fifteen holes people.... and all I had was a little red wagon to help me.

 

I must say, I am aching all over.  My torn rotator cuff is killing me.  But I feel accomplished in every way!  So, lesson learned.... LAZY GIRL CAN PUSH THROUGH!

Goal: Trees Planted - CHECK!

I thank you for your part in my journey...

For you, my lifelong friend.

I don't remember the first time I met Todd Macland.  I also don't remember a time after age thirteen where I didn't feel his presence.

Our friendship existed only at first in the gym at Central Middle School.  We played countless hours of basketball together... just fooling around throwing up wild shots.  And then Todd started calling me and we'd hit the Ark together.  Sometimes I was the only girl, sometimes it was a group of us and sometimes it was just Todd and I.  It was always basketball.

We had a strange friendship back then.  He would tease the hell out of me and I would be furious!  So furious that I would think I couldn't handle him one more second... and then he would look at me and say "Oh Ter... I was just jokin'" and expect me to forgive him on the spot.  And this unforgiving girl forgave.  Our relationship was always platonic.  There was an unwritten language of trust between us. 

When Todd moved to Kelowna, I was truly sad.  I thought that I would never see him again.  But man did I underestimate the power of Todd's love and friendship.  Not long after he moved, I started getting his calls.  He would tell me stories of basketball and his new team-mates.  He was making some amazing friendships and loving the game more than ever.  This was the beginning of our evolution as friends... 

I've been searching for words that would describe the next 20 years of our friendship.  There are none that would do justice to what Todd meant to me.  He was a force of energy that existed in the background of my life....always...  We did not see each other as often as we would have liked.  But it didn't matter because our bond was strong.  I credit this to Todd's commitment to our friendship.  He never wavered, never faltered, but rather kept our relationship alive at all times.  There are so many reasons I am thankful for Todd's commitment.... a major one being that I have weak telephone skills, even when I love and treasure someone.  This didn't matter to Todd - he was the persistent energy behind our communication with constant calls and texts.

But more than the logistics of our friendship.... he taught me about being a devoted friend.  I always told my husband that there were times that Todd would "drop off the face of the earth".  He would ask about Todd and if this was the answer he got, he knew that I was worried sick.  There were times in our friendship that I would not hear from Todd for months at a time.  I would call or text and hear nothing in return.  And then suddenly he would pop up again... and track me down.  Literally.  I can recall a time that Todd couldn't remember my married name (because even though I'd been married thirteen years, he still called me "Terri Dueck") and couldn't remember our phone number, so he decided to call all of the Dueck's in the book.  Lucky for him, my dad is "Abe" and the first listing!  And another time that we moved and turned our land line off... but it didn't stop him - he started calling accounting firms to find me.  And just like that we were reconnected.  He could have given up.  He could have foregone the effort.  But he was a loyal friend and constant force in my life.

Todd and I talked about everything from our personal struggles to movies to relationships.  He taught me how to listen with an open heart and to accept differences.  He showed me parts of the world that I was sheltered from.  He taught me to see outside of my boundaries and love the "unloveable".  If not for Todd, my strict ideas of the way things "should be" would probably still exist.  Todd taught me how to be vulnerable.  To love even though I might be hurt.  To love even when it was not easy.

To have a friendship with Todd, I had to learn light-heartedness.  To be teased and laugh it off.  Being a person who has never liked to be laughed at, this was a huge challenge for me.  But somehow, Todd made it worth figuring out.  I am what you call an outgoing introvert - I've got no problem talking to groups of people, but I much prefer a serious conversation with someone one-on-one.  And so did Todd.  But, he also knew how to draw out my carefree side.... I will never forget the time when we were 16 and went to pick up my best friend Suzanne at the mall.  It was 9:00 at night and we were there a bit early so while we were waiting, Todd masterminds a plan.... we should play "Running Man".  He says, "I'll run and you try to hit me with you car".  For whatever reason, I agreed to this madness and I remember laughing so hard I could barely drive as he zig-zagged around the mall parking lot.

And the light-heartedness was always there.... I vividly remember this goofy dribble of Todd's which would lead to him hitting an impossible shot and shouting, "Laaaaarrrrryyy Bird".  If not for Todd, I would not have even known who Larry Bird was, let alone nickname my daughter that twenty-some years later.

To Todd, I was special.  In intimate and private conversations, I learned it.  I know that I was safe for him.  At times I feel so undeserving of this privilege.  I feel that I have failed him.... times when I was unavailable to him because of my work and family commitments.  It will be a struggle for me to grieve through these feelings...  Underneath my guilt, however, I know what I meant to him.  And I am so honoured that out of all the people, he chose me.

I remember thinking the last time I saw him.....  "Wow, when did Toddy become this handsome man?".  To me, he was always brother material.  But suddenly I realized the entire beauty of Todd.... like everything had come together for him.  He was a talented athlete.  He was intelligent and passionate.  He was committed and dedicated.   He was charismatic.  He was funny and genuine.  He was healthy.  And he was my friend.  My committed, undying, force of energy.  If I had known that were the last time I would see him, I'd have hugged him harder and longer.

Todd's energy will live on.  I will move forward through this grief and keep his legacy alive in the commitment I have to my current and future relationships.  There will never be another Todd for me.... but I can only hope to honour him by being the kind of friend to others that he was to me.  I trust Todd.  I know he will be waiting for me on the other side.  

Thank you for your devotion, my friend.  Our bond will never be broken.

I fail... I conquer

I was given an amazing gift ten and a half years ago when Nate was born.  At the time, I thought I was simply and extraordinarily blessed with a beautiful baby boy.  He was huge and gorgeous and perfect.... okay, his head was pretty big and he was a little jaundice, but in our eyes he has always been beautiful!  What we didn't know was that Nate would be our biggest teacher in the ways of the world, specifically in human empathy and compassion.
   


Nate didn't "fit the mold" right from the start.  He never slept, yet he was perfectly content all of the time.  He didn't meet the typical milestones according to "What to Expect in the First Year".  He didn't roll over until he was 7 months old.  He never crawled... except that strange army crawl where he used his forehead to help push him along the floor.  He didn't walk until he was almost 18 months.  When we were concerned, our doctor simply attributed it to his big head.  He said, "I cannot wait to see this kid play soccer"!  I was so lost, I literally threw that book in the garbage.

At one year, Nate began having night terrors.  Every. Single. Night.  If you have not experienced a night terror with your child, you are NOT missing out.  These are literally terrifying.  Nate would thrash, scream, kick and hit.  Sometimes his eyes would be wide open and sometimes they would be closed.  They would last anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour and a half.  Before we understood what we were dealing with, Matt and I would take turns holding him, rocking him, taking him outside, and rubbing his back.  And then he would simply be done.  And look at me and say, "hi mom".  We were exhausted.  And number two was on her way.

Around one and a half, we noticed obsessions.  He would line up cards, cars, food (before eating it), and pretty much anything else he could get his hands on.  And you better not dare to move things out of their place.  We also noticed that he had a "tick" when eating or concentrating deeply on something.  Once he started walking, he was walking on his toes.  We saw a paediatrician who stated, "He's walking like that because he likes it".  The list of idiosyncrasies we saw was extensive: loud noises and certain fabrics bothered him, he was extremely textile sensitive to food, he scheduled himself, he couldn't sleep with any light in his bedroom, he would not get dirty, he would get tired easily, and the list goes on and on.

Alarm bells were ringing.... but nobody else seemed particularly concerned.  Against better judgement, I pushed these alarms away full force.  Every bit of my intuition was screaming and I found a way to ignore it. 

When Nate entered Kindergarten, he was visibly behind in his letter recognition and had a speech issue (an interdental lisp).  I thought briefly about holding him back (and here's one of my most shameful parenting moments) but I didn't do it because daycare was costing us a fortune and we simply needed to dig ourselves out of a financial hole.  I opted to push him forward into Kindergarten.  It became very apparent in Grade 1 that Nate had a learning disability.  Matt has a learning disability and we were told before having kids that it was likely genetic and we should keep a close eye on our children.  Sure enough, we knew it and it was confirmed with some testing not too long after his incredible first grade teacher reinforced our concerns.

By grade 2, Nate was depressed.  He was struggling socially, emotionally, and educationally.  He was bullied repeatedly, he was called stupid, he had no friends to play with at recess, he stood alone on the playground waiting for the bell to ring, he begged me to stay home so that he did not have to go back to that place, and he told us that he wished he were dead.  My heart was breaking for him.  I pleaded with the school to help us - to give Nate some emotional and educational support to help him through his day.  I asked if he could be referred to a district counsellor.  His teacher plainly stated that in her opinion, "Nate was a typical grade 2 boy".  When he didn't get his sentences written in Language Arts, he would be forced to remain in the classroom while the rest of the students attended PE.  He was pressured to read 4-6 books a night at home, even though he could not read.  He never did get a referral to the district counsellor.  The school did nothing to stop the continuous bullying he experienced.  I felt completely helpless and alone.  My world was shattering around me and I was overcome with anxiety.

And then something incredible happened.  I met a friend who introduced me to Autism.  I treasure my friend, Lisa, and everything she has done to ease me into this new world that I am now living in.  Because of Lisa and her support, I now knew Nate had autism.  I also knew he was highly functioning.  Now I just needed a doctor to confirm it.

Between the time that we decided to see a psychologist and the time we got a diagnosis, we made some major life changes.  My cousin-in-law, Brooke, suggested that I meet with the Principal at Devereaux school (a small rural school) and we were instantly sold!  This school was different and the Principal was on board with helping Nate in any way she could.  We changed schools instantly and noticed almost just as instantly a change in our son's demeanor.  Although still clinically depressed, Nate smiled more and spoke more.  He made two friends at school.  And most importantly, he was accepted by his peers.  However, this was a major change for our family.  Although my amazing mom had volunteered to drive Nate to and from school for the next four and a half years (an hour-long drive morning and evening), we didn't feel it was fair to her so we took a giant leap of faith, sold our home, and bought property Arras.  This was one huge and stressful move for us.... it meant living with my parents while we built a new house (my parents are amazing but 6 of us in a 3 bedroom rancher makes for a whole other story) and a change in school for Arielle, who was thriving in her current situation.  But we did it!  We made it!  And we are here!

Nate is a changed boy from two years ago!  It's been a LONG two years, but he has come so far.  However, we have learned some very painful, heart-wrenching, and life-changing lessons from him. 

1.  We learned to let go.  

This was a very difficult challenge to overcome.  We have had to let go of some friends that did not support our parenting style.  I may not be as strict with Nate as others feel I should be.  But, I am one of the few people that Nate trusts, feels safe with, and shows him unconditional love.  After all the pain he's been through and all the tears he has cried, I will parent MY way because I am HIS mom.  And if you see me parenting him a different way than you would, show some empathy instead of judging me.  Look at him and I through eyes of compassion.  Maybe you could learn something.


I've also let go of friends who have not supported me in understanding Nate's disability.  The long and short of it is this: if you want to be close with me, you need to understand Nate.  And what I mean by that is, you need to show my son compassion, patience, and love.  I NEED him, but I do not need you.





2.  We learned to trust.

Trust is tricky.  Before I our adversity, I trusted many people very deeply.  I trusted teachers, educational assistants, daycares, friends, and babysitters.  But I've learned that sometimes my trust was misplaced because it hadn't been earned yet.  And I learned that, for me, earning trust is the little things:  It's you making time for me, even if Nate is with me. It's you looking at Nate and saying "hello" even though you know that he may not even look at you or respond and he is not being rude.  It's Nate showing you something and blowing my mind because he doesn't just do that with anyone!  It's you asking Nate for a hug and kiss goodnight because even though he doesn't show it, he loves you and you love him.  It's all of these small gestures that fill Nate's bucket and allow him, and us, to trust you with our most valuable possession.  It's not easy, but we've learned.

3.  We learned that we have a support system.

We can ask for help.  You know it could be tough with Nate and you help anyway.  This is absolutely huge in our world because we feel like nobody wants him.  And he is part of the package.  If you accept us, you have to accept all of us and that means our autistic son.  There are no conditions.  There is compassion.

4,  We learned to advocate and sacrifice.

We learned to ask for what Nate needs and not accept no for an answer.  We learned that we will forego anything in order to help him.  We have and will continue to sacrifice our needs for his.  We didn't want to leave our home.  We don't want to have those difficult conversations with teachers and friends.  We don't want friendships to turn into acquaintances.  We don't want to have to deal with two hour meltdowns that result in our daughter feeling ignored.  But we are doing the best we can.

And so, I've written this long post with a message.  That is.... I know what it's like to face adversity.  I have been "face down in the arena" so many times in the last ten years that you would think it would get easier.  But it doesn't.  That said, I have learned how to face these challenges and come out stronger.  I know what it means to FAIL.... but I also know what it means to CONQUER.  And I do feel regret... for so many things.... but I choose to turn that into a lesson and become stronger because of it.

Thank you all for being in my life.  I appreciate you in your many forms.  And I thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading our story about Nate.  

Much love, The Spencer Family.

CHECK!

In August 2015, our family spent two glorious weeks in Kauai, HI.  When we returned home, I added up the VISA purchases and almost fainted!  We had WAY overspent on this vacation and had not even realized it as we were spending.  I decided that I had to do my part to curb the spending on our VISA, since I am forever harassing my hubs about his VISA purchases!  I had recently read an article about a lady who had not purchased anything new for six months.  This sounded like exactly what I needed to get our credit card under control!  So, I set some parameters and a start-date of September 1, 2015!

My goal:  No new spending for six whole months!  With the following exceptions:
1) Groceries and toiletries
2) Gifts
3) Small souvenirs, including a mug and Christmas ornament from any location that we travelled

So this is pretty easy right?  And at first it was even fun.  If I needed something, I borrowed it.  I got really good at looking at the thrift store for things I could find used.  And I could feel that I was really saving some money, which made me happy as I paid off our Kauai spending!  My friends were awesome about loaning me clothing for special occasions (thanks girls)!

I ended up making one large purchase in January for my home.  So, technically, I cheated.  But I had been eyeing up these stools for my kitchen with the intent to buy them once my challenge was over.  (I contemplated making bar stools, but my garage is in no shape to work on them... yet.... *see future goal*).  In January I went shopping with my mom and I spotted my stools - ON SALE!  They were $30 off, for a total savings of $120.  I thought it would just be crazy to let this sale go buy only to turn around and buy them at full price in March.  So, I made the purchase.

I also bought a shirt when we went to Edmonton.  For those of you who follow my facebook page, you probably noticed that our bus caught on fire on the way to a Synchro skating trip in Edmonton.  When we arrived at the mall, I thought my clothes were ruined, so I broke down and bought a $20 shirt to wear.  Turns out, my clothes were fine, which is a good thing because I couldn't find any pants to buy that I liked.

Now that I am nearing my six-month completion date of February 29th with what I would call a BIG success under my belt, let me tell you... I am DONE with this challenge!

I am so sick of my clothes - I doubt I will wear any of the tops I currently own again after I get through the winter.  I'm desperate for a little bit of a shopping spree for summer clothing!  And I cannot wait!

I got a lot of great items for my home for Christmas, thanks my family!  So I don't feel a real tug at my heartstrings for house stuff.  But I desperately need a new strainer.  And did I mention some new clothes?

Having said all of this... I don't intend to get crazy with my purchases!  Matt and I have worked hard to pay off our Kauai vacation and I'm proud that I got my personal spending under control!  I have a nice secondary income stream from my Rodan + Fields business and I do not intend to frivolously spend it on just anything.  This cash is going to buy my family the trip of a lifetime to Disneyworld in August!  And this time, I do not plan to charge a single item on my VISA!

I am patting myself on the back for completing this challenge and living small for the last six months.  Lesson learned.  I'll be marking this one off my list with a huge checkmark on February 29th!

The Gift of Guilt

One of the biggest goals I've set for myself in 2016 is to overcome my intense feelings of guilt.  I'm venturing out on a limb and guessing that I'm going to need to find the root of the guilt in order to do this.  This will be a frequent blog topic, I'm sure.... That said, let the journey begin!

Throughout my adulthood, I've been plagued with feelings of guilt.  As I reveal this to people close to me, they tend to chalk it up as "mom guilt".  You know, the kind that comes with the corresponding "I didn't do enough for my kids today" or "If only I wasn't a working mother" thoughts.

This isn't quite what I'm grappling with though.  I mean, don't get me wrong, I have plenty of THOSE kind of feelings.... but I have guilt running as a background program literally all of the time.

So, I divulged this to my parents last week.  I poured it all out about how I have these overwhelming feelings of guilt... I gave them the examples of how when Matt wakes up and isn't in a "talking mood", I immediately feel guilty, as if I've done something to cause this.  When my dad offered to help Nate build a car for a school project and Nate went off to play while my dad built it, I had such intense guilt I didn't know whether I should force Nate to help or dive in and help build the car myself.  When my Auntie Jackie brought over a bag of rice and essential oils so she could help me make some hot socks and we used almost the entire bag of rice, I felt so ridiculously guilty.  And EVERY SINGLE time I ask someone to help me with the kids in some way or another, I am riddled with the big "G".

To help me find the root of this guilt, I decided to write down every time in my childhood that I can remember feeling guilty.  So far I only have one.  It was the time that my Grandma knit me a brown sweater-vest.  I think I was 6.  I remember crying in my room because I did not want to wear that sweater-vest, yet I felt so incredibly horrible because I knew my Grandma had spent a lot of time making it especially for me.  If it were today, I'd rock that sweater-vest.  But I was 6 and brown was ugly.

A few days after I spilled the beans, my mom called with a few additions to my list.  I am literally laughing as I write (sorry Mom)!  She came up with three specific examples that I probably should feel guilty about.  Here goes:

The time I accidentally burned up the carpet in our living room while my mom had a nice relaxing bath.  I shoved all my school papers in the fireplace at once - the fire ROARED and instantly lit the Christmas Cards that were hanging on the mantle on fire.  From there, bits of paper and cards wafted through the air and landed on the carpet, burning tiny holes all over the living room floor.  An insurance claim ensued and a new carpet needed to be installed.  

The time I was going to a little party down the street and decided to help myself to some beer from my dad's stash.  I put four beer in my cute little pink backpack but wasn't smart enough to put padding in between them.  Oops!  When I picked up my backpack, the beer clinked together and I got a knowing look from my parents and a week's grounding.  Missed that party.

The time I went to see my boyfriend in Fort St. John.  I skipped school and caught the Greyhound there and spent the day hanging out with him.  I met his parents (who didn't seem to mind that he was skipping school), his mom introduced me to being an work-at-home Accountant (hmmmmm?), we had lunch with his dad, and did some shopping before I headed back home on the bus.  When I got home, I started walking toward my friends house, only to have my dad meet me half way there.  He had seen me in Fort St. John and I was about to come face to face with the consequences!

So I should feel guilty about these three things right?  But... nope.  NOTHING.  However, I got a great laugh out of them!  Maybe I don't feel bad because I think those are typical behaviors for a teenage girl (right?).  And hey, I had two older brothers who paved the way for me and trust me, they were WAY worse than I was.  After a good laugh with my mom, I chalked these up to funny memories and decided to continue my plan of writing the memories down as they came to me.

But then, last night, something amazing happened!  And the timing couldn't have been more perfect.  I am headed out of town for four nights so I asked the kids if they'd like to climb in and sleep with me last night.  Arielle, matter-of-factly, looked at me and said, "I really do mom, but every time we sleep with you, you complain about how much your shoulder hurts and it makes me feel really bad".  And I realized the "gift" that I am passing on to my children...  The "gift" of guilt.

This realization fuelled me more than ever!  I know I am headed toward a great journey in figuring out the cause of these feelings and, hopefully, coming to the point that I can sort through them and start living free of guilt.  I am determined to pass new and amazing gifts on to my children. <3