memories of a sparkly green motorcycle helmet.

This morning I found out that my aunt and uncle's home in Boulder, Colorado is in the path of an out of control forest fire. They have been put on evacuation notice, and at this point, all anyone can do is pray the wind blows in their favour and the water bombers do their job. Besides praying for their safety, I am also praying that their wonderful home is spared. It is a place that I have always loved. Mostly for the people under its roof, but also for the times I spent there as a child.

When I was quite young, my Aunt Lynn's parents, Joe and Cecile lived there. My mom tells me that they built this home to live in for the rest of their lives. It was their dream home. I remember laying on their family room couch, my new head gear causing me much pain. Cecile fed me frozen m & m's to help my mouth feel better. I don't know if it worked, but I sure liked the m & m's.

The house is situated on a very steep hill, and when the infamous Colorado winds are blowing, it is hard to open and close  car doors. In quiet moments, you can look out the window and find at least one deer staring back at you. Back in the day, the garage was (and I imagine still is) filled with motorcycle parts and artist supplies and all sorts of fabulous things little kids have no business getting their mitts on. The ceilings are vaulted high with wood beams, and the windows stretch across every wall making it feel as if one was a part of the outside, while still being sheltered.

One of my favourite memories is my uncle Gunner taking me and my cousin Dana on a motorcycle ride. Dana had a sparkly red helmet, and the spare kid helmet was sparkly green. In recollection, he had no business putting two little girls on his motorcycle. But damn was it ever fun. My uncle Gunner also had a cockatoo named Lester, who was allowed to roam free. Lester, a female (this was discovered after she was named), was in love with my uncle Gunner. While he may have always had the soul of a grumpy old man, he is also an artist and has a dark, Danish sense of humour, so who could blame her? She would stalk anyone and everyone and pretend to play nice with my aunt Lynn so she could get close enough to bite her. When I heard Lester had passed, I shed no tears.

I always imagined that I would return to Boulder as an adult to visit my aunt and uncle and sit in their living room and enjoy a glass of wine (without the company of Lester). One of my favourite friends from college lives there as well and has a daughter Cammie's age. It has always been my intention to return, and I'm annoyed with myself that I have waited this long to make my way back. One of my uncle's etchings of a viking ship hangs in the entryway of my home. I think of him every time I see it, today especially.

please stop growing.

Kid needs a haircut. He is staring into the camera lens for his Aunt Jenny. Note, when my camera comes out, he runs for the hills. I guess she gets special Aunt Photo Op Privileges (aka "Ap-Op"). Either that or he was trying to glamour her.

Cameron has taken on my love of colouring full stop. She is also quite particular about the sharpness of her pencil crayons, just like me. Which is kind of a pain in the ass when I am trying to colour and she is demanding that I sharpen her pencil crayons. Clearly, I need to teach her how to sharpen them herself.

we live on a mountain.

I always thought I would travel the world, experience different cultures, dip my toes in every ocean. So far in my 37 years on this earth, that hasn't happened. Many of my friends have led far more adventurous lives. Touring Australia and New Zealand for a year, moving to Japan, honeymooning in Paris, enjoying extensive family trips every summer - I'd be lying if I said I'm not envious. But something I have learned through my very limited travel, is that "Wherever you go, there you are" (Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis). What this has come to mean to me is that no matter where you are, be it in Iceland or Toronto, you are the same person with the same joys and sorrows. You may find inspiration staring across vast glaciers, but the most important journey we must all take, is within ourselves.

There are days when I feel very much at peace with my life. I have a family in the suburbs. I have a son with autism who has changed the way I view most things in this world. I am mostly happy to take things at a medium pace. My brain runs away on me often and when I chase after it, on whatever tangent it has decided to take, I feel as though I am being swept away with the tidal wave of blood pumping through my veins too fast. So I go along for the ride, to see where I will travel on this particular afternoon. Will it be to explore the patterns of my life that I keep repeating, over and over? Or maybe I'll rush turbo speed into the future, mapping out all of the possibilities and what ifs. There is always the possibility of sinking down to the murky depths of the past, an endless corridor of recollections. And I can do all of this without leaving my home.

Nobody ever asks me about these "trips". As they regale me with tales of their travels and share photos of their loved ones in front of well known monuments, I secretly think of the journey I have taken in recent weeks. And I send light and love to my friends, light and love to the universe, and hope that some of it comes back to me before my next great adventure from my fingertips to my toes.

tmi tuesday: don't snort your wellbutrin up your nose.

Wednesday Burrito Lunch Date

After two visits with a psychiatrist, he was able to determine that I am not bipolar, and I am not schizophrenic. In fact, he found me to be a bit of a conundrum. I don't have ADD or ADHD, and yet I am still extremely depressed. I don't fit into a pretty little diagnosis which would mean a clear cut path on what medications I should be taking.

The conclusion he came to, is I have a lot of stress, a harder life than most, and I have a legitimate reason to feel sad. Medications are helping to keep my head above water and manage my anxiety. And I will probably always need them to manage. But I don't need more medication to help me feel better. I need therapy.

So, after agreeing to commit to attending weekly therapy, he filled out my prescriptions and told me that after this session, I didn't really need to see him anymore. One of my prescriptions is Wellbutrin, and he reminded me not to crush it and snort it up my nose. Say what? I guess his patients at the prison take their meds in a different way than me. I like to wash mine down with a nice pinot gris. I'm sure if he reads my blog he'll be horrified by my candour, but as I told him, I write as part of my therapy and also to help break the stigma that mental health is a dirty little secret to be ashamed of. Every time I write about my journey with depression, I receive many emails from people who are also struggling. So, word to the wise, don't crush up your Wellbutrin and snort it up your nose. But if you do, email me and let me know what happens as I am a little curious!

helping your child with autism make friends.

The one thing that I want for Max to have more than anything in the world, is friends. That sounds like a simple thing, but for that to become a reality, there is a lot that needs to happen. From a skill development perspective, Max has to prefer the company of others to being alone. He will need to understand the give and get of relationships. He needs to have the opportunity to develop deep and meaningful friendships outside of his immediate family.

Max has a lot of people in his life who he likes a lot. He has favourite therapists who he lights up for, his EA at school who he will do anything for, and of course, his respite worker Sarah, who is his favourite person on earth. Out of all of these people, only one is male. I would like him to have the chance to have a male role model, besides his dad. One who he feels comfortable with, and likes as much as he likes Sarah. It has been a long time in the planning, but, it looks like he will finally get to build this type of relationship.

Over the summer, Max will be spending mornings with my friend Tracy's teenage son, Matt. They have started spending time together on Sunday afternoons to give them the chance to build a friendship naturally, no pressure. Last week Sarah came over for the first Max and Matt afternoon to answer any questions Matt had about the ins and outs of Max. Yesterday, the two fellas hung out on their own and played stair-ball (a game that involves throwing a ball up the stairs and catching it when it bounces down), played outside, and cut paper. Max was very, very happy and Matt's comfort level and confidence increased considerably. The key for me is that Matt is not a therapist - that isn't his role with Max. Matt will help Max learn an entirely new skill - and that is how to be friends.

when behaviours come back: the joy of autism (my ass).

This past month, Max has been putting us through our paces. When I say it's a good thing he's cute and looks like an angel when he sleeps, I am not exaggerating. These periods of intense behaviour are hard on everyone, including Max. I feel like they are brought on by one of two things - the first that he is about to get sick, the second that he is experiencing a burst of development and doesn't know where to put the new pieces. It's especially difficult when his new skills are more comprehensive in nature than expressive. He may have a better understanding of his world, but not be able to do anything with these new skills, which as you can imagine, is incredibly frustrating.

He expresses this frustration by bringing back tried and true behaviours that we thought we had worked through and left behind us. The hardest one is his screaming when Cameron coughs. Conveniently, Cameron has a cold right now so there has been a lot of screaming which wears thin on everyone's nerves. He has bionic hearing, and it doesn't matter where he is in the house, he can hear her when she coughs. And he knows the difference between her cough and everyone else's. An amazing skill, but hard to appreciate at 6am before you've even had a sip of coffee.

The other behaviour that has increased is Max's love of slamming the fridge door. Any time anyone opens the fridge, he runs in the kitchen and slams the fridge door. Not just once either, but twice. Sometimes he even slams the fridge twice and returns for an extra set of slams, who knows why. The interesting thing is that when he is on his own, without Cameron, he is quite happy and a lot easier to manage. We have been coping by keeping the two apart as much as possible, which is fine on weekends but hard in day-to-day life. This week we're bringing Cameron into one of Max's therapy sessions to see if we can make some headway on the coughing issue. Once we tackle that I have some door locks for the fridge. Just another fun day at the Carefoot household...pass the vino.

gymnastics as part of autism treatment.

As part of Max's treatment for autism, he recently started taking gymnastics at the Oakville Gymnastics Club. I was hesitant to enrol him at first because I was worried that the huge physical space would be stressful for him, plus, it's a really busy gym with a lot going on all over the place. Would he be able to stay with his class or would he being trying to escape to go check out the gymnasts vaulting into huge pits of foam? The folks at the club encouraged me to give it a shot, and were really supportive of integrating Max. They have quite a few children with autism in their current program and I was very impressed with their attitude towards Max and helping us make sure it would be a successful experience for everyone.

Max's IBI therapist, Wendy, attends with him. She helps him stay focussed and after the first few classes, is pretty much able to stand back and let him do his thing. There are six kids in the class, which is a perfect size and the class is an hour long. Every week, Max is excited to go, and he is doing well from a social perspective. The goals that we have set out for Max have nothing to do with gymnastic skills (though he can bounce with the best of them on the trampoline), but social skills. We want him to be able to follow his coach's instructions, wait for his turn, participate with the other children, and most of all, have fun.

Over the summer, Max will continue taking the weekly class, but this time, Cameron will also be attending with him. It will be a new social challenge for both of them. Will he stick by her side the entire time? Will she boss him around? Probably, but maybe not. We'll have Wendy attending as well so she can step in and tell Cam to "get her own kids" if she gets in Max's face too much. I think it will also be a good bonding experience for both of them. We're also looking at putting Max in soccer this summer and swimming lessons in the fall. As if the kid wasn't busy enough!

autism bumper cars.

When the going gets tough, I get quiet. This I know for sure. It has been a roller coaster of a month, filled with a lot of fun stuff and a lot of stress (much of it self-imposed). We celebrated Birthdaypalooza with our friends and had a great turn out, beautiful weather and happy kids. After eleven years of faithful service, we sold our Camry and bought a Ford Escape. The upgrade in size is so we'll have room for Max's service dog which will be joining our family in November. I've never had a brand new car and I have to say, I'm loving it.

I've been trying to quiet my brain. There are so many thoughts bouncing around in my head, they create a wall between what is important, and the bullshit minutia of life. I have drastically reduced the medication I take for depression, giving my body a chance to adjust and for me to accurately assess what it is I truly need. The hard part is managing my anxiety, which has increased. But as summer gets closer and the sunlight increases I find my mood lifting. I remind myself that whatever it is that is causing my heart to beat out of my chest is only a moment in time, will pass, and that on my death bed, I won't be worrying about whether or not I filed my taxes on time for 2011 (which I did not).

I had lunch with my friend Christina on Friday. She's got a huge heart, is wicked smart, polished and stylish in a way I'll never be, and she also has a son who was recently diagnosed with autism. As we talked, I told her about some of the ideas I have been having about what I want to do creatively and professionally, because I wanted to hear her thoughts, get her feedback. Am I nuts? On the right track? Can I do this? Should I do this? What I want to do is help families in the early stages of autism, to help them keep their heads above water when their lives are turned upside down. I want to do important work that truly makes a difference and to use my experience for something positive. I'm not exactly sure how this will take shape or what form it will be in, but I finally feel like I'm on the right track.

max is six!

Max turned six years old today. I am not sure I believe it. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday, yet the last six years feels like it has lasted twenty. How can this be? I guess we've been through a lot. Max decided to take the day off today. I got the dreaded call from school at 9:45am that he was not feeling well. We spent the day chilling out at home. Well, he chilled and I stressed out wondering what was going on. Appendix? Urinary tract infection? Ear infection? Birthday blues? Since it was raining slush, we played it low key and decided to reschedule the birthday partying for another day. Max is still working on the whole "I'm six" business anyway, so it's all good.

If six has come in like a lamb, then credit that to five going out like a lion. This past month Max fell in the playground and knocked two of his top teeth loose (the Thursday before Easter long weekend no less). Luckily, our family dentist squeezed him in and we were able to get him into a dental surgeon that afternoon. The problem was that Max had eaten that morning, so he couldn't be given any form of anesthesia. The teeth were loose though, so if he monkeyed around with them he could swallow them and choke. They had to come out, so out they came, without any freezing. I am no fan of dentists, so it was zero fun wrapping myself around Max while the surgeon pulled the loose teeth out. I am only now getting used to Max's less toothy grin and I'm 100% certain Max recovered before I did. The only real positive about the situation was that we were blessed with truly wonderful medical professionals who showed incredible humanity in helping Max. The oral surgeon, Dr. Pye, even called the next morning to check and see how Max was doing. Proof there are angels everywhere.

Max, I could not be more proud of you. This past year you have continued your rock star success and inspired more people than I suspect either of us will ever know. You love with your whole heart, and you are loved in return by everyone who is blessed enough to spend time with you. I dare say you have the whole world in your hands. I can't wait to see what this next year brings. Thank you for being my son.

fundraiser for mateo - autism from a mother's perspective.

Max at his 2nd birthday party (a week before his sister Cameron came into the world and changed his life forever)

This afternoon I had the opportunity to speak at a fundraiser for a little boy named Mateo who was recently diagnosed with autism. As much as I hate "welcoming" new families into the autism community (wouldn't wish it on anyone except our PM, Stephen Harper), it felt important to share Max's story with Matteo's parents and their friends and family. While it has been over three years since Max received his diagnosis, those raw, overwhelming feelings of initial shock and sadness are still easily accessible. I found myself transported back in time, and felt blessed to truly be able to speak from a place of empathy for this family.

Autism from a mother’s perspective.

My son Max, who is turning 6 years old tomorrow, has autism. He was diagnosed at the age of 32 months, but our journey into autism actually started at the age of 14 months when we really started to take notice that Max was not hitting milestones that one would expect. He didn’t respond to his name, or wave goodbye. He didn’t point and most upsetting, he had no words, just a stream of babbling “dadadadada”. Because he was our first child, our doctor told us to relax and brushed our concerns off as those of nervous first time parents.

Max continued to stall and miss milestone after milestone. He had problems sleeping, got terribly upset at the smallest transition. It was only at his 2 and a half year check up, when he sat on the doctor’s examining table and repeatedly banged his head on the wall for the entire appointment, that my concerns were taken seriously. 2 months later we had a diagnosis.
I have documented our journey with Max since the day he was born on my website, ficklefeline.ca. The hardest post I have ever written was on the day we finally had our biggest fear confirmed, that Max has autism. I was unable to speak about it, so instead I wrote about it.

...

And that has been my attitude ever since. We immediately started Max in IBI therapy. He also had Occupational therapy to address his sensory needs, Speech and Music therapy to work towards helping him learn how to speak. Anything that we could do to help him, we did. And it was expensive. The first year of Max’s therapy cost over $50,000. Each year that cost has increased as his therapy has become more focussed and intensive. This year it topped $70,000. We have remortgaged our home, maxed out credit lines and credit cards and relied heavily on the generosity of our families. Funding for autism is in high demand and we waited two and a half years on the ErinOak waitlist before Max was picked up. This funding only covers half of the cost, but it does provide some relief.

I am outlining the costs up front to help you understand what it takes to provide a child with autism the therapy he will need to be truly successful. It is mandatory that this therapy be provided as early as possibly and intensively. My attitude has always been the more therapy the better. Max receives treatment 7 days a week. We don’t take breaks from therapy during holidays - if anything, we snap up extra hours. And it has paid off.

When Max started therapy, he was unable to make eye contact, speak, imitate, follow simple instructions, or play with toys appropriately. He had to wear a helmet on the playground because he would get so upset during transitions in and outside that he would throw himself on the cement ground and bang his head. It took him six months of treatment to “learn how to learn”, and by that I mean, to be able to sit and pay attention long enough to complete a simple activity or task.

Our home was chaos. Sleep was scarce, I had gone back to work full-time after being off on mat leave with our daughter, and it became clear that having both parents working full-time in downtown Toronto was not going to work. There are only so many times you can tell your boss you have to leave work because your son is throwing a tantrum and is inconsolable. Something had to give.

So, I left my full-time job and started working part-time from home. Days are filled with daycare drop-offs, therapy, consultations, meetings about Max, and trying to hold it all together. I realized that if I was truly going to get Max everything he needed to be as successful as he can be, I needed to make that my number one focus. And it has been worth it. Max’s progress continued. I call it the “two steps forward one step back dance of autism”. Little wins, little setbacks, add them all up and you hit huge home runs - like the first time Max said “Momma” on August 20, 2009 after participating in 2 weeks of a Music and Speech therapy camp. We actually celebrate August 20th every year just like it’s a birthday.

Luckily, it is the wins that rise to the top of your memory bank. I keep a bottle of champagne chilled and ready to go at all times. You have to, because the hard days, they are also plentiful and will break you if you don’t celebrate when your child uses a spoon or fork for the first time, hums a song from daycare, looks at you when you say his name, and the ultimate party time, successfully uses the toilet. By the way, we have been working on toileting for 3 years now, and we are still not completely there. I recommend on stocking up on wine when you start toilet training, because that is one of the toughest battles we have fought. But I know that it isn’t a matter of if Max will successfully meet a milestone, it’s only a matter of when. That’s the way you have to approach it. Patience, a sense of humor, and all of the love in your heart. My mentor, the late Kim Pace, told me “Katrina, if you believe in Max, that he can do anything, then that is the truth, that is what will happen”. And I have stood by that advice to this day.

When we fast forward to where Max is today, he is integrated in Senior Kindergarten and attends school in the mornings with a dedicated Educational Assistent. He is the best reader in his class, participates in morning circle, has a favourite girlfriend “Maggie”, requests for his sister Cammie to come play with him at home, is taking gymnastics, and will not only happily tell you what he wants and doesn’t want, but has recently started telling us what he feels with phrases like “Max is sad”, “tummy hurt”, and “I love you”. He is also my grocery shopping buddy and we have a standing weekly lunch date at the local burrito place.

Two things I stand by when it comes to Max are that it is my job as his mom to help him learn how to share his light with the world and that we will all be attending his university graduation.

This deep belief gets me through. That and a tonne of support from my family and friends and the smile of my son. It is the hardest and most rewarding journey of my life. Being Max’s mom has taught me more in the last 6 years than the 30 years combined before I had him. He has changed me profoundly and made me a stronger, more patient and more loving person. I could not have done this alone though. Just as Max counts on me, I count on the support of my friends, family, autism community and Max’s therapists and teachers. My number one advice to parents of children with autism is to make sure you ask for help, people want to help, they just don’t always know what you need. And friends and family, if your offer of help is turned down, ignore that and come over with a bottle of wine and do some dishes or fold some laundry. And buy some raffle tickets! This therapy doesn’t pay for itself!

dirty little secrets.

After my last post, a few people expressed concern about the fact that I divulged that I suffer from depression and I am seeking medical treatment for it, in such a public forum. Will future employers google me and find out and not want to hire me? Maybe. Would I want to work for an employer that found my willingness to be open and candid as a sign of weakness? Not on your life. Not talking about depression gives it power. Being ashamed of something that is not my fault is exhausting.

One of my favourite women in the world is research professor Brené Brown, who I had the pleasure of meeting in Nashville last year. On the hard days, I remember her words "Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light". I have a lot of light, I just have to let it out. It's hard work, diving into the ugly stuff. But that hard work, it won't last forever. The potential of what's to come makes it worth it.

And I finally did get to meet with the doctor to discuss my medication (thankfully in the outpatient clinic and not in the psych ward). Our first step? Reduce my meds and a referral to a therapist. I'll see him again in a few weeks to see how I'm doing from a medication standpoint. I can't be ashamed of being depressed any longer. I can only be proud that I'm standing up and taking it on in a way that empowers me and others.

sunny day, sweepin’ the clouds away.

Have you ever witnessed something so raw, so base, that you realized that everything you thought about what "the bottom" looked like was not only wrong, but truly ignorant? Friday found me in the mental health ward of my local hospital. Not because I was being checked in (like I have often joked about and made light of), but because I was trying to figure out where the psychiatrist I was supposed to have an appointment with was hiding. Turns out my appointment time had been changed and nobody had told me. As I felt myself start to get irritated with the nurses sitting behind the safety glass, I looked behind me and saw a woman dressed only in a hospital gown.

She said nothing, her eyes were vacant. I smiled at her, not knowing what else to do, and she tilted her head slightly and shifted from one foot to the other. She was a wisp of a thing, and I could taste her sadness. Before long a nurse arrived and handed her two small plastic cups and told her one was shampoo and the other was body wash. The woman accepted the cups in a way that told me this was not the first time her toiletries had been doled out in suicide safe receptacles. She turned and disappeared through a pair of doors, and my heart hurt for her. Without thinking I sent out a prayer to her that she would get better and get her life back.

The reason I was there that day was merely to discuss my medication and a get a second opinion for my doctor. I've been feeling "not myself" (it's been a while, I'm not sure I'd recognize her if I saw her) for a long time. I'm not thinking of doing anything radical like harming myself, but I have days where I struggle to function. If it weren't for my kids, I would probably have become a hermit by now. Most of the time I'm exhausted, I have a lot of trouble focussing, my motivation is out the window and get extremely anxious about things that I can't control. I manage to cover these fun symptoms up when duty calls, but after the fact, I'm so tired from pretending, it takes longer than it should to pull myself together to do it again.

I'm writing this, not for you to think "Wow, Kat's a nut job" or "How unprofessional of her to smear her public persona with this type of information". I am writing this because for far too long, when asked "How are you?", I have answered "Great". And I'll probably continue answering "Great" because that's what people want to hear. But at least in one place, I have started to say what is really on my mind. That I'm not so depressed that I need to be checked into a hospital, but I do need to keep a close eye on it and be truly honest about how hard I struggle.

By the way, when I finally tracked down my doctor, he apologized for the mix-up and I responded "If this is the worst thing that happens to me today, than I'm doing okay". He gave me a funny look, and didn't respond. Go figure. I guess he isn't phased by seeing what I saw. I think I'll stop joking about checking myself into the hospital.

max update: even with autism, the kid's got game.

Max has had an incredible week. And yes, I know he looks terribly unhappy in this photo, but it has more to do with me attempting to take his picture than anything else. This is his first day of spring hat that he made at senior kindergarten, and he wore it all morning with a big grin on his face. The moment I put my phone away the smile returned. Thanks kid.

Where to begin? Max had his first gymnastics class this past week. His therapist, Wendy, accompanied him. He blew me away with how well he did. While there was a lot going on around him, he managed to to stay focussed on what is group was doing and to also follow his coach's instructions. Wendy definitely got a workout helping him stay on task, but by the end, she was able to step back a bit as he started to fall into the routine. For the rest of the week, anytime we mentioned gymnastics Max got a huge grin on his face. I can't wait to see how he does next week!

Max and I also ate out at a restaurant for the first time. My favourite Mexican place, California Burrito, was a hit with him because he got a big bowl of chips to munch on while I ate my lunch. He did terrific and I can't wait to take him back again. Funny thing was, it was an impromptu visit. I had ordered my lunch to go, and Max decided he wanted to stay and eat his chips. So we did - and we'll continue to do so!

We're also working on teaching Max to ask questions. Instead of stating "Mommy, I want chips" I now prompt him to say "Mommy, can I have chips please?". I started this on Friday and by Saturday he had it down pat. His comprehensive language skills also continue to blow my mind (with him immediately following instructions like "Sit up straight" and "Sit on your bum").

The last thing I have to report on is Max's playground pick-up skills. Apparently, he likes to sit at the top of the big slide and wait for another child to slide down with him. But, he will only slide down with the girls - the boys are on their own. I'm told he favours a certain white-blonde haired little girl who is in his class. Kid has game and he's not even six yet.

mothering a child with autism: the loneliest job in the world.

This past week there was an article in the Huffington Post about special needs parenting that truly hit home. Reading it, I thought to myself "Wow, I'm not the only one who feels all these things". Lately my days are more down than up, I'm a ball of stress. My stomach hurts, my skin is breaking out and the only sleep I get is the well medicated kind. Add to that, I seem to be spending most of my days on the phone, trying to explain to yet another bureaucrat that I understood their need to maintain numbers and limits and respect geographical boundaries, but they need to come to terms with the fact that kids with special needs don't fit into this jello mould they like to pour everyone into. And that's okay - the rules are there so that exceptions can be made to support the children who need special consideration. To which I'm politely told "no, we will not be making room for Max" (at the school he has attended for the past two years).

I feel myself starting to become unhinged. Because, as Max's main advocate and support, if I can't fix these relatively small problems for him, what good am I? And on top of that, if I don't do it, who is going to fight this hard for him? Clearly I can't trust others to prioritize his needs or even, quite frankly, do the right thing. There is so little I can control on this autism journey. When the few things I should be able to navigate go sideways I feel like I'm failing him. I want so badly for him to have every opportunity available to him to prosper and grow. When people say "no" to Max, I feel like I haven't done a good enough job telling them about Max. I haven't helped them fall in love with him. Ultimately it's their loss, right?

step aboard the autism dragon boat ride.

Lately, when I'm asked "How are things going", I'm really not sure where to start. Me? Well, I'm still fighting the good fight, whatever that means and for whatever it's worth. Max? He is experiencing incredible progress in a lot of areas, but also regressing back into some behaviours that are both physically and emotionally exhausting to deal with. The typical two steps forward, one step back of autism. I was telling one of Max's  therapists that it felt like we were living on one of those big theme park dragon boat rides that swings from one side to the other, so high that it looks like the occupants might fall out when it reaches the summit but they are thrown back into their seats as the boat swings back down. The only thing I can figure is that with all of the new skills settling into Max's brain, it's causing him to need to balance things out by bringing back some of his tried and true (and irritating) coping mechanisms. So, let's start with the progress.

The good stuff is awesome. Max is surprising us almost daily. This past weekend, he found that train puzzle, which we haven't played with since November. He brought it upstairs from the basement and put it on the kitchen table. I told him the puzzle was too big to do on the table and he should do it in the hallway. He remember that the last time he did the puzzle, he did it upstairs, so that's where he went. I came up to check on him a few minutes later and he had completed it entirely on his own. Then he took it apart and put it back in the box. Also, he loves wearing hats now. We haven't been able to keep a hat on his head since the day he was born.

He and Cameron are continuing to develop a strong (and typical) sibling relationship. Last weekend they were playing tag, chasing each other through the house and giggling up a storm. If one is colouring the other wants to join in, and best of all, when I don't understand what Max wants, Cameron usually does. Last week when she was taking a bath, she asked for her "special soap from Grandma" (a heart shape soap). I had no idea that Max even knew what she was referring to, let alone what it looked like. He picked it up off the counter and tossed it in the bath for her.

Other progress? When asked what colour something is, Max is now responding with more than one colour (the dominant colour and secondary colour). He is being more specific when he wants something (like telling me "My turn, DVD all done" when he wanted me to turn a movie off so he could watch Elmo). He is also greeting more and more people unprompted and making killer eye contact. Also, he lost his first baby tooth (right on schedule!). We don't hit a lot of milestones on time, so we'll take 'em where we can get 'em.

These wins are what I cling to on nights where he screams every time Cameron coughs, slams the fridge door after every time someone opens it, whines non-stop and shouts out his favourite stim, "Mommy! What Max? Mommy! What Max?". Toileting is still hit and miss, and lately, he has been staying up until all hours of the night. So, how are things going? Depends which side of the boat you're on. I think the positive developments win out, but I wouldn't mind a break from the extreme swings. I'm more of a ferris wheel kind of girl.

colouring the blues away.

If you suffer from depression, you will understand me when I say that on some days I wonder if I will ever feel better – or at the very least okay. You do your best to pretend that you're "feeling great" when people ask. Because, nobody wants to hear that you feel sad, and that you are completely exhausted all the time. They want to hear that your medication is working and you are exercising up a storm and productive and ready to conquer the world.

Sometimes it's not that easy though.

So you keep searching for ways to feel better. For me, the only thing that seems to help manage the noise in my head is channeling myself into creative outlets. I'm taking a painting class every week, and that seems to allow me some time and space to just "be" without having to worry about my life and the "what ifs" that keep me awake at night. I have also taken up colouring, which the kids love. We sit together and chat about how many sleeps it is until gymnastics, and I am taken to task for not buying raspberries on my last grocery run.

The hardest part of depression, for me, is that despite all of my best efforts, nothing I do seems to be working to pull myself out of it. I have favourite friends who make me laugh (but you know, they have jobs so I can't ask them to call me every day to help me smile). My writing muse seems to have up and left me. And while I know that exercising would help, I get tired from walking around the block. This isn't the me I want to be. I'm not telling you all this to make you feel sorry for me. I'm telling you so that you can have a better understanding of what a tough battle depression is. It isn't laziness, or being a downer – not purposely. It's a medical issue that is scary for the person dealing with it, and hard on the people around you.  Anyone feel like colouring?

when your child with autism blows your mind.

Cameron and I spend a fair amount of time colouring together. Max has never really been interested in joining us. This past week I picked up a set of coloured pencils and a fun colouring book in hopes that colouring would help me relax in the same manner painting does, but with a faster set up and clean up. Max and Cameron have found this somewhat curious. Why is mom colouring? Cam seemed to accept that I had special pencils just for me, and liked that there was more colouring happening overall. I picked up a Toy Story colouring book for Max and put it out for him, hoping to lure him in with familiar characters.

On Monday (a holiday in most of Canada), Max decided – without prompting – to sit down and start colouring. He focussed on colouring objects (not just random scribbling), and he stayed for 30 minutes. These moments when Max seeks out spending time with his family are never taken for granted and are always cherished. Seeing him transfer skills he has learned at school and at the clinic where he receives therapy into his day-to-day life increases our resolve to do everything we can to help Max continue to progress.

On Wednesdays, Max has his therapy at home. When I came downstairs at the end of his session, he was playing "Swinging Monkey" with his therapist. The last time we played that game was almost 2 years ago. I put it away because Max was more interested in throwing the monkeys than playing the game. Yesterday he was not only playing the game, he had worked out a strategy to get the monkeys into the tree. He didn't appreciate me trying to take his picture because I was messing up his flow. I fall more in love with this boy every day.

a chain of flowers.

My mom and dad are in town for a quick visit from the west coast this week. Since she is the one who nurtured my love for the arts, I really wanted her to come to my weekly painting class. It's rare for us to get time where it's just the two of us, so getting a couple of hours with her was a special treat. There was something soothing about getting to sit with my mom, create, have quiet conversation, laugh at the terrible muzak being piped through the store, and share in the learning experience. As you can see, we have very similar styles. And neither of us completed our paintings (all that quiet conversation, I suppose). I only wish she lived closer so we could go together every week.

mental health monday: when were you happiest?

Recovering from this pneumonia is a trip. I was going to say it's a son of a bitch, but in light of the photo of myself and Max right after he was born, that would probably be inappropriate. I am moving slooooow, which makes me completely inefficient and gives me way too much time to think about things I typically avoid thinking about by keeping myself on the move. There is a certain heaviness to me that I find terribly unappealing. I feel like I'm looking all around me for things to make me happy, and coming up short. I've been told that pneumonia is something that takes a while to bounce back from and to be patient and not take myself too seriously. I suck at being patient, and tend to take things way too seriously, so this, compounded with a 10 day cycle of gut-rotting antibiotics have been especially delightful.

One of Cammie's favourite things to do is look at pictures (preferably of herself). She doesn't get that from me. We stumbled upon this picture, and it struck me that I was so happy at this moment. Like, nothing else mattered, to heck with imperfect relationships and the toilet that doesn't quite flush right and the crazy amount of money I am owed and owe others. At this moment, I am holding my first baby, and he is perfect. I am a wee bit stoned and very tired, and oh my god, look at these little fingers! It was a perfect moment, and a tough one to top. Since I am currently struggling with getting better, with the black dog of depression nipping at my heels to boot, these are the things I am doing my best to focus on. Also, when Max tried to open the locked bathroom door yesterday he announced "the bathroom is occupied" (which made me smile). I suppose some moments aren't perfect, just humorous.

everything's gonna be alright.

January was a disaster. Which is a real pisser, because it had the makings of an incredible month. Painting classes, plans to start the new p90x, my home office getting finished up, and renewed energy and focus on being happy. Well, that all went in the toilet when I got the flu. And then the flu turned into pneumonia. So, not to belabour the point, but January was not what I had hoped it would be. Though I will admit that being forced to stay in bed for two weeks did give me quite a bit of time to think about things and make decisions about what I want in my life, what's important to me, and what I am ready to let go of. I am also quite certain that if there was ever a movie about my life, Drew Barrymore would be my first choice to be cast as me (though I would insist she not rock that terrible hair she has in that save the whales movie).

Awesome things that happened in January? Max was not put off in the least with me being sick (usually a change in routine would throw him for a big loop). He is turning into quite the little comic, making jokes in therapy. His language continues to increase – mostly requests for what he would like, but also singing songs. I taught him how to turn the TV and DVD player on and start his favourite Elmo DVD all on his own (kid can rock his iPad so I figured this should be fairly easy for him).  Cam continues to be his best friend, have sleepovers in his room, and when she decides she is done playing, Max gets very sad and calls for her to come back. Amazing stuff.

February...you're off to a bit of a slow start with recovery taking its sweet time (thanks for the insomnia by the way – really nice touch). Since you're a short month, I have lowered my expectations of you, but I do need to get back to working and exercising and feeling human again. Think we can manage that?? And Valentine's Day – let's see if we can do something fun this year. We need some fun!