Mental Health Monday: If It Makes You Happy.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about "stuff". Not necessarily deep or heavy stuff, (though honestly turning 35 in a few days has me scratching my head, wondering where the time has gone??), but "stuff" in the physical sense. I often think the saying "the best things in life are free" is a pile of crap, but maybe it isn't. When I take a look at what really makes me happy, most of it, you can't put a price tag on.

Every morning when I drop Cameron off at daycare, I stop and look at this beautiful cherry blossom tree. I take a deep breath, take a moment and enjoy it. There are pictures of my kids, videos my friends make, quilt fabric, a barbapapa figurine my friend Jennifer brought me from Paris, my good luck Japanese Maneki Neko cat, and the generosity of others towards a cause I am passionate about.
My favourite gifts are ones that my friends make, be it a cd they pour their heart and soul into, a sketch in a notebook, or a knit shawl in the perfect shade of red.
I framed Cameron's art and hung it on the wall of my powder room so it is the first thing I look at every morning. It reminds me how lucky I am.
And when I see Max close his eyes, and enjoy the wind in his hair, at peace for a moment, that makes my heart swell with joy. These are just a few things that make me happy. What makes you happy? Are they free?

The Best Gift You Could Give Max.

Today is Max's 4th Birthday. It's also Scott's 29th birthday (for the 7th time). So, happy birthday to my two favourite guys!

As you all know, my son Max has Autism. You may not know that 1 in every 110 children and 1 in 70 boys is now being diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. 20 years ago it was 1 in 10,000. Scary shit, I know (first hand). You may have a child with Autism. Or a family member or close friend. Maybe there is a kid on your block with Autism. Heck, you may not know anyone with Autism but be deathly afraid of one day having a child of your own who ends up being diagnosed with this devastating disorder. I know I was.

Scott, myself, and many of our family and friends participated in the Toronto Autism Speaks Walk for Autism last year and were thrilled to raise over $5000 to support research into the causes, prevention, treatments, and cure for Autism. We were blown away by how generous our friends, family, coworkers and readers were. We're hoping you'll support us again this year.

Trust me I know times are tight for everyone. But I'm still going to ask you to support us if you can. $5. $10 or $20. Whatever you can spare - it all makes a difference and we appreciate every single penny.

I'm going to up the ante this year. If you donate $50 or more, I will send you one of our walk t-shirts. And if you join our team and walk with us, you'll get one automatically, regardless of how much you raise (we would love to have a sea of green shirts at this year's walk!!). While I'm at it, let me thank the talented Christopherr Mendoza of Designmojo who donated his time and talent to design this year's (and last year's!!) shirt for us. We will wear them proudly.

The best birthday gift you could give Max is to support him by sponsoring Team Maxwell in the Autism Speaks Toronto Walk For Autism. Thank you in advance! Remember - every penny counts!

Max is Registered For JK.

And then I barfed.

Wait. Let's back up a bit.

I was supposed to register Max for JK back in February. While I wish I was "just kidding", JK actually stands for Junior Kindergarten. In our public school system. I'm not sure when my baby turned into a boy on me, but here we are and once again I am faced with making really important decisions on Max's behalf.

I called the school in our neighbourhood and spoke with a very nice woman about our unique situation. Much to my surprise, she didn't cringe when I told her Max has Autism. In fact, there was a process set up for her to follow, and the school has a little boy with Autism in their Senior Kindergarten class this year. They were even making accommodations for this child from a scheduling perspective (a relief for me considering Max is in therapy every afternoon). All I needed to do was come in and fill out some forms, bring copies of birth certificates and property tax statements to get him "officially" registered to start this September. No biggie. The Special Education teacher called that afternoon and introduced herself. The ball was rolling.

It took me 2 months to go in and fill in the paperwork. And when I finally did it, I somehow "managed" to forget to bring all of that important documentation they required. I didn't return with that paperwork for another 3 weeks (and 2 calls and an email reminder from the school admin). After officially enrolling Max in Junior Kindergarten, I came home, felt light headed and went into my bathroom.

And then I barfed.

So here we are where we started.

The Special Education teacher is observing Max at daycare with a member of the Halton Autism team next Wednesday. They need to determine what his needs are and how they can best support him in the classroom. He will definitely require a dedicated EA (Education Assistant). At this point I'm not sure what other resources will be made available to him.

This is really happening and I couldn't be more stressed out about it. I know that if we decide Max isn't ready we aren't tied down to having him go to JK. I know that Max has shown me he can handle a surprising number of new situations, that he actually thrives when he is around other children.

But this is the real world, with real kids and adults that won't necessarily understand Max. Sure there will be people in place to watch out for him. It still scares me. It is a reminder that I can't protect him forever (like in this picture back in June 2009). I want to be able to shelter him from mean kids and ignorant adults. I want to keep him safe. But I don't want to hold him back.

Max deserves a chance to show us what he can do. Many people believe children with Autism should not be integrated into the public school system. They think they should be kept in environments that cater 100% to their needs. I get that. Many children with Autism are not able to function in an integrated environment. I think it's worth a shot though. We just have to be okay with backing out if it isn't what is best for Max. At the end of the day, that is all that matters.

Bana Nah Nah.

Whenever I look at pictures of Max and Cam I notice the same thing. She brings out the big brother in him. It doesn't matter if they are getting along or fighting like honey badgers, their relationship is one of typical of siblings. Cameron loves her big bro and we often joke that she is his pint sized shadow. She gives it as well as she takes it and she doesn't give a rat's ass that he has Autism. To her he is just Max. I kind of think that's a beautiful thing.

With that in mind, I thought I'd share some very cute pics of the kids from last weekend. They are sitting patiently at the kitchen table eating bananas (also known as Bana Nah Nahs).

Max: I'm not sharing my banana with her.
Cam: Where is my banana? Did you forget about me mama?Max: Hey look, it's SEE food.
Cam: I'd show you my SEE food too except I don't have any banana!
Max: If I smile really big will you stop taking pictures mom?
Cam: Pictures! Pictures Pictures PICTURES!
Max: What are you looking at?
Cam: Mama, Max is picking his nose...you told me not to do that, how come he gets to?
Max: Nom-nom-nom
Cam: Nom-nom-nom (keeping an eye on Max to make sure she stuffs her face just like him)

A Little Night of Respite.

Anyone with young children will tell you that getting a night away takes a bit of planning and of course, a lot of luck. Those of us with children with Autism will tell you it also requires the stars to align, a full moon, and the help of family and friends. Taking a night off for respite is very important for caregivers. For me it is the glue that holds me together when my stress starts to get to me.

Read more at TravelingMom.com

The Cost of Autism Therapy, The Price of Hope.

Ever the procrastinator, I left getting our tax paperwork together until this past Friday. For my friends south of the border, the tax deadline isn't until April 30th in Canada (my birthday - yay for me! happy effing birthday!). It isn't quite as simple as telling "the man" how much I made this past year and how much money they have already eeked out of my already small pay cheque. Now that we have kids there are daycare costs to submit. Now that we have a child with what is defined as a "disability" we have therapy costs to submit as well.

We spent $52,041 on Max's therapy in 2009. If that made you gasp, picture me breaking a sweat, feeling dizzy and lightheaded and trying to convince myself that the chest pains I was experiencing upon adding up the pile of invoices on my kitchen table were merely symptoms of an anxiety attack and not my heart giving out on me. The Canadian government (be it Federal or Provincial) did not contribute one dime to Max's Autism Therapy last year. Not one. His name will not reach the top of the wait list for funding until at the very earliest, summer of 2011. He will be over 5 years old at that point. In case you didn't know, the key window to treat children with Autism are the years between the ages of 2 and 5. Yes, once again, government at its finest.

At the very least, we have to come up with another $50,000 to $60,000 to get Max the therapy he will need in this next key year of his development. I have no idea where this money will come from. I have decided to cancel my trip to the BlogHer convention (what the hell was I thinking anyway? lol...), and I am hoping we get a decent tax return. I am planting money trees in our backyard. I am praying. I am contemplating how badly I really need both my kidneys. I am looking at my beautiful boy Max, knowing that I have to figure this out, because he is my everything and I will not sleep at night if he is not getting the therapy he needs to have the best chance at a wonderful life, when he needs it in these key early years. I will not fail my son, even when the Canadian Government, The Provincial Government, our Premier, and MPP have dropped the ball for all children and families suffering from Autism. It's too bad they seem to have zero foresight on how much it will cost to support these children when they are adults with Autism, unable to support themselves and requiring round the clock care for the duration of their lives. When will they ever learn. When will they ever learn.

Parenthood: TV Drama or Reality TV?

When I heard there was a new TV drama starting up called "Parenthood" all I really thought was "oh, cool, Lauren Graham from Gilmore Girls is back on TV, I'll have to check it out!". I actually managed to catch the first episode (total fluke) and as the plot was laid out, it became apparent that one of the story lines was going to be about a family "coming to grips" (see me doing air quotes with my fingers sarcastically) with their son being diagnosed with Asperger Syndrome. I was tempted to turn it off and never watch it again, my feeling being that I ride this Autism roller coaster every damn day and I don't need to watch it during my time to relax. But the siren song of Lauren Graham lured me in (and the ever sexy Peter Krause) so I decided to give it a few shows before I made the call.

Funny enough, the character with Asperger Syndrome is named Max. Go figure. I've been asked if I see any similarities between what is being portrayed on the show and my personal experience. Our Max was diagnosed with Autism at 32 months old, so we are really living a different reality. The Max on the show is quite high functioning whereas we really have no idea where our Max will end up on the spectrum. I certainly have high hopes for my little guy, but only time will tell. What did hit home is how overwhelming it is when you first start out. Everyone has advice, well meaning parents tell you what you should do, what doctor you should see, have you tried this diet or this B12 shot? Read this book? Seen that documentary? You are bombarded from all directions and you haven't even asked for help yet. It's completely nuts and when I look back on the last year and a half I wonder how I managed to stay out of the funny farm (I'm guessing it was full and my family just didn't have the heart to tell me).

I remember someone emailing me the "Welcome to Holland" poem, thinking it would help me get perspective on having a child with special needs. After I read the poem, all I could think was "Fuck Holland, them and their wooden shoes". I still feel that way today, especially now that I have a neurotypical child. Raising a child with Autism sucks. It really does. It is heartbreaking and painful, it eats away at you and breaks you down. It tests every single one of your relationships to the fullest extent possible - be it your spouse, your best friend, parents, siblings, employer, whatever - nothing is left untouched. I've had some people suggest to me that I love Max just the way he is and that they are sure I wouldn't change him for the world. That's complete bullshit. Yes, I do love him the way he is, but if I could wave a magic wand and make him not Autistic I would do it in a hot second. Life is hard for us as Max's parents, but it is way harder for Max. I wish more than anyone can understand that I could lift this blanket of Autism off of my little boy and let his full sunshine light the world.

Back to the show though - because that's where we started. I like it, and I'll keep watching. Not for Lauren Graham or sexy Peter Krause, but for Max's mom "Kristina". I see a lot of my experience in her. She feels woefully inadequate on all fronts, can't seem to make anyone happy, and has lost her identity somewhere in the shuffle. She's doing her best to keep her head above water and keep on keepin' on. I feel for her, and I'm rooting for her. Telling her it will get better, hoping for myself that it gets better too. Next time you watch this show and you get to turn it off after the hour is up, remember that for a lot of families, this isn't a TV Drama, it's our personal Reality Show, and we don't get to turn it off, and we don't win a million smackers for getting through it.

Travel Tuesday.

I don't travel a lot. Not right now, anyway. I hope to travel more often in the near future (with and without my kids). I have recently started writing over at travelingmom.com as Autism TravelingMom. I'll be posting there weekly, writing about my adventures. I'm looking forward to documenting our journey and sharing what works, doesn't work and making recommendations on how to travel successfully with a child with Autism. So, come on over and check out my first couple of posts - my intro and an ode to my Camry.

Mental Health Monday: The Tale of the Tike's Trike.

Depending on when you started reading ficklefeline.ca, you may or may not know the story about our birthdays. Long story short, they are all squished into a one week span. That's a whole lot of celebrating to do in a small window of time, so we like to spread it out over a few weeks so it isn't so overwhelming. This weekend Cam got her first birthday present of the season, her very own (brand spanking new) pink trike. But we forgot to get her a helmet, so before she got to ride her trike outside, we had to go to the bike shop to get her something to protect her wee noggin.

She didn't want the one she's wearing in these pictures. Of course she didn't. She wanted to paisley one that only comes in adult sizes. Awesome over the top tantrum ensued, with me looking nonplussed and the employees of the bike shop looking impressed (and perhaps a bit concerned) with her vocal prowess. We somehow managed to pry her chubby little fingers from the paisley helmet and carry out of the shop all the while serenaded with her shrieking "my hat, myyyyyyyyyyyyyyy HAT!!!" over and over again. So much fun.

When we got her home she wanted nothing to do with her new helmet. She looked at it scornfully, yelling "noooooooooooooooooooo" every time I suggested she try it on. I finally won her over with the promise of a ride on her trike around the block.
She seemed like a natural. Feet on the pedals, all smiles. And then suddenly, not so much. One third of the way around the block she decided she was done with the whole pedaling business. So off she got. And she started walking home, abandoning her much loved trike on the sidewalk for me to deal with. Oh yes, she was mighty pleased with herself. I dare say she thought this was hilarious.

When I finally caught up with her and told our neighbour Irene what Cameron had done, she denied the whole thing, claiming she got a flat tire and was merely going for help. Nice.

There is Nothing Love Cannot Face.

I've been thinking a lot about "love" lately. Love of all kinds. As I sat on the couch last night, Max snuggled up next to me, I realized something. One of the hardest things for me about Max is that he is not able to show love in ways that I like receiving it. With Cam it is easy to know she loves me. Smiles, kisses, excited exclamations of "Mama, UP!!" and how very sad she is when I attempt to put her down, ever.

Max does not have the same expressive language that Cam has. He shows his love in much more subtle ways. It's in his smiles, the proud look he gives me when he masters something and sees how excited I am. It's his little body pressing into me as he sits on the couch next to me, it's his joyous laugh as I chase him at the park or run in front of him pretending that he is chasing me.

I wonder sometimes, how does Max need to receive my love? Have I been missing the mark with him, showing him love in the ways I like to receive it instead of truly considering how he can understand it, feel it. I imagine being here every day through thick and thin no matter what is a way that he knows I am one of his people. Squeezes and singing and stories and smiles. Knowing what he likes, and what sets him off, speaking "max", and seeing his beauty beneath the challenging behaviour are expressions of love he can process.

I think that maybe I have been a little selfish in how I love. I need to reassess how I am willing to accept love in my life. It can't always be on my terms. I suspect that truth be told, accepting love on someone else's terms is the truest form out there. Once again, I learn from Max.

My Glamorous Life.

This is me on a better day. I don't look like this today. Not even close. The only reason I bathed today was because I was open to the possibility that one of my kids might join me in the tub. Max, who is super sick and only stops coughing when he is in the bath, decided to go for dip #3 of the day while I was washing my hair. I'm just happy he didn't pee this time. I say "this time" because yesterday, yesterday he peed. In my bath water. Yes, I know, tremendous.I took this picture with my BlackBerry this morning. Crap quality. We bberry users are in fact second class citizens in the world of smart phones. iPhone users have the good cameras, wicked apps, and coolness factor that we bberry users merely long for. But at least my phone isn't covered with fingerprints, so, I have that. Anyway, you can tell Max is really ill because he is actually looking to Cameron for comfort. She was completely taken aback and thought he was up to no good when he rested his big noggin on her legs. I had to explain to her that "no, Max isn't going in for the kill, he is sick, so be nice". She looked sceptical and I don't blame her given his track record.For the record, in case you haven't figured it out, my life is not glamorous. It isn't. Cameron on the other hand, she's got it going on. Glamour+++.

Easter Beats 2010.

Happy Easter folks, for whatever it means to you. For many it is a day to go to church, be religious, etc. For us it is about the chocolate and musical instruments (as you'll recall from last year).It was a productive day. Max helped me make Apple Crisp for dinner at Nana and Bumpa's tonight. This is the first time he has shown any interest in my baking, so I really enjoyed having his help. He was mostly just curious as to why I was peeling and cutting up so many darn apples.
He figured I didn't actually need all 10 cups that I had prepped for the recipe. Good thing he's cute - his dad gets in a lot of trouble for munching on my ingredients while I cook.
Cam was not sure what to make of her limited chocolate Easter basket. I think she's looking for the big chocolate bunny she saw on display at the Nutty Chocolatier. Sorry kid, no such luck.
We dolled her up in a dress for Sunday dinner. Do not let this picture fool you, she threw a king hell tantrum when I wrestled her into those tights. She looks cute now, but I needed a glass of wine after I finally got her into this outfit. Kid can scream and squirm with the best of them. Yay for almost 2 year olds!

Zombie Fridge.

It started out like any other day. I shuffled into the kitchen, got the coffee maker going, and reached into my fridge for the carton of cream. That's when I screamed from the sharp pain of teeth sinking into my tender flesh and felt myself being pulled into the veggie crisper with the force of a dozen sturdy gremlins (the kind that get wet after midnight, not the cute and cuddly ones with bug eyes). I gasped in terror and staggered backwards, clutching my hand to my chest, holding onto my oven door for support. The fridge door creaked shut, slowly, mocking me the entire time and most certainly daring me to attempt to retrieve the cream once more. Needless to say, I drank my coffee black.

After my 2nd cup of coffee, I realized I was acting like a child. I mean, there couldn't actually be something living in my fridge. For sure I had let it get slightly out of hand, what with the questionable items in Tupperware pushed to the back of the fridge. And the squishy produce intermingled with its fresher cousins. Ummm...certainly anyone foolish enough to dive into any product without carefully checking the expiry date is a fool and I cannot be blamed for food poisoning merely because the product originated in my fridge, right? Yes, the dirty secret is out - when I did my kitchen overhaul, that clearly did NOT include le frigidaire.

On second thought, maybe we had reached a crisis situation (I'm guessing it isn't normal to get bitten by perishable items that have taken on a life of their own?). I prepped a garbage can, put on some plastic gloves, and prayed to dog that I would live to tell this story. Interestingly enough, the creature who had attempted to dismember me earlier was nowhere to be found. In its absence, it had left an awful stench though. A warning perhaps? After emptying the fridge, I realized this was a bigger job than I had anticipated. It needed a full scrub down. It needed bleach. It needed prayer and redemption.

BEFORE:No fewer than 3 hours later, my fridge was returned to its happy, clean, cool, calm, collected, creature-free self. We're on speaking terms again. It is filled with fresh produce and there is no longer a terrible smell wafting from its depths. But I have been put on notice and given a strong recommendation to pick up some of those new fresh food Date Mates labels from the lovely ladies at Mabel's Labels. Who knew my fridge was in cahoots with them?

AFTER:

Crazy Quilt Complete.

Update: To see the complete process for this quilt, check out: 

Part 1 - prep, cutting, piecing

Part 2 - piecing

The crazy quilt is done. It took me less than a month from the first cut to the final stitch. Yep, I know, I rock. I mean, if you can quilt and rock at the same time. I suspect Scott would say this is impossible, and Jennifer would say "hell yeah!". All I'm thinking is thank dog. Shout outs (hah! I'm acting like I'm a rapper or something) to my mom and Aunt Inger who gave me sage advice on how to tie this thing together from a colour perspective and also told me when to stop adding blocks. Good thing too, because I have a hard time knowing when to wrap it up and this thing could have gotten into acreage territory.
The part that I absolutely do not enjoy when it comes to quilting is the machine part. It's bulky and awkward and boring (see below). Plus I suck at it and I'm never quite happy with the end result. Enter my mom to save the day and sign me up for a machine quilting class at the Oakville Sewing Centre for my birthday and is also gifting me the required sewing machine attachments I'll need. I am guessing if I get better at it I might enjoy it more. Or maybe I just need a bigger bottle of wine. Or maybe THAT'S the problem...hmmm...
After I got sick of machine quilting, I hand quilted around the centre squares. It didn't take as long as I thought I would, because, I was thinking it was going to take FOREVER.
One of my favourite things about this quilt is the backing. I picked a super bright and cheery orange flower flannel. It made quilting this beast tolerable because you can't stay grumpy for long looking at this beautiful fabric. I have a feeling I will end up using it again some time. I wonder if it comes in lime green?? I used a combination of all of the orange fabrics for the binding which ties it all together really well.
I ended up staying up until 1am to finish sewing on the binding. Scott found me like this in the morning (notice the new haircut).
My best work yet for sure. Now onto the jelly roll quilt (which I finished basting last night). I'm going to quilt it by hand because I don't want to do anymore machine quilting until I take that class next month!

Max Update: Joy and Pain, Like Sunshine and Rain.

I don't write about my daughter Cameron very much. What is there to say? A lot, I suppose. She is incredible, has a huge personality, is talking up a storm (as in, full sentences), and she will be 2 years old in exactly one month and has already earned her "terrible" stripes (times ten). She is cute as a button, has an attitude that is both hilarious and a colossal pain in the ass, and I love her so much I could eat her up. People constantly comment on how smart she is too. For some reason, that really bothers me.

It isn't that I don't think she's smart (please excuse the double negative). I do. She's brilliant. She's gifted and will likely be the Prime Minister of Canada one day (dog help us all). But it feels like an insult to Max, because it is rare for him to be complemented on his intelligence. In my gut, I know that he is brilliant - every bit as smart as his sister. It breaks my heart to think about how frustrating it must be for him to know and understand so much and not be able to express it. It kills me to think he will be overlooked and underestimated, when he works so hard for what comes so easily for regular kids.

Cameron is able to tell me exactly what she wants. She tells Max "feet on floor Max!" (yes, she's already bossy and a tattletale). She asks to have her picture taken when she sees a camera, and makes observations like "daddy cough" and "Max sick!". Scott and I are constantly shaking our heads in amazement. It may be "normal" development, but it's all new to us. Yet as exciting as her rapidly expanding vocabulary is, it still doesn't blow me away as much as Max's breakthroughs.

I took Max to Erinoak this morning for an assessment before he starts his fourth and final block of speech therapy at Erinoak. In the session, his speech therapist, Michelle, was thrilled with the progress he has experienced since she last saw him. (Amazing what having two private speech therapy sessions a week at blueballoon does for a kid.) Michelle was able to get Max to articulate the letter "b" in the word "bye" over 50 times. This is huge as when Max says "bye bye" it usually comes out as "eye eye" because he doesn't use his lips when he speaks. The work he is doing with this speech therapist Amy with horns and straws is strengthening his lips and building awareness. It's one little letter, but it means he can now say "bumble bee" and "Bumpa" and "boat" as clear as a bell. He may not have the vocabulary of his little sister, but one day he'll catch up. Slow and steady, right?

Jelly Roll Quilt: Avoiding the Obvious.

I have fallen in love with jelly rolls. This jelly roll quilt top came together in no time at all. Plus, it was fun! It was an easy quilt to make, with no stress or worry that there was going to be something I wouldn't know how to do.

Now, I know I haven't finished the Crazy Quilt yet. I am still trying to get in the mood (oh boy) to quilt the damn thing. I swear I could easily become that person who has hundreds of quilt tops, so close to becoming quilts if only I would sit my ass down and complete them. I have committed to quilting both quilt tops before I start another one. That should be the motivation I need (plus I'm bidding on some jelly rolls on ebay, so I need to make room at my sewing machine for my next project(s).

How to Choose a Daycare For a Child With Autism.

I consider myself an expert on selecting a daycare for a child with Autism. Specifically because Max, who is turning 4 years old in one short month, is now entering his fourth daycare in three years. Hmmm...perhaps what I am actually an expert in is how not to pick a daycare for a child with Autism. If you are interested in the background on Max's daycare saga, I have written about our traumatic adventures here and here. I want to point out that his last daycare was quite good until the ownership changed last spring. Since then the staff turnover has been brutal so I have not only removed Max, but Cameron as well.

It took a few months to find the right childcare setting for Max. It needed to have "integrated spaces" available (meaning it was a centre that Halton Region was working with and had Resource Consultants already in the facility). It needed to be a place that was open to having a child with Autism in its care and was willing to work with us to make it a successful experience for Max. It needed to have a great playground as Max LOVES to be outside. And most important, I needed to know that he would be safe and treated respectfully. For now, Max is only attending two mornings a week. His main IBI therapist, Nicole, has been supporting him for the past month, and helping him learn the routines of the room, and providing support to the teachers so that they understand what expectations they can place on Max. He has a new Resource Consultant at this centre (welcome Liz!), and the centre has received funding from Halton Region for an extra support person in the room when Max is there. As you can imagine having a child with Autism in the room is extra work. This is a very special centre and the teachers are phenomenal to welcome Max so openly.
Max's Resource Consultant took a bunch of photos of Max so that when a transition is coming up, his teachers can show him a picture of what is coming to support their verbal prompt. His receptive language is very strong so he understands what is being said to him, but the photos will help him prepare himself mentally so that it isn't so hard for him to actually follow through with it.
Max has trouble with understanding that when his teachers say "it's time to go outside" that this doesn't actually mean that they are going to open the door and allow all of the children to barrel down the stairs into the great wide open. It's all the in between steps that frustrate him (this centre is quite large, so there are more doors, stairs, waiting as children are counted, and that's all before they have even reached the cloak room to get their coats on!). Add to that when they are coming back in, they are told it's "time for lunch" when in fact, they have to go into the cloak room, go upstairs, wash their hands, and sit for circle, all before they get to eat. I'd find that hard too if I'd been told I was going to get to be fed!
The good news is that the kids in this room are fantastic (one little boy in particular seems to have decided that he is going to be Max's buddy through thick and thin). Max is drinking from a straw at daycare, helping set the tables for lunch, and has even been successful at toileting in his new room. I'm thrilled that he is getting this experience to be social with children his own age who can model appropriate behaviours for him. But I'm over the moon that he is getting the chance to be a kid and have fun.

Mental Health Monday: What's Old Becomes New.

Lest you think that there is no actual prep work in the Jelly Roll quilt I'm about to embark on, let me tell you, that in fact, there is quite a bit of cutting that needs to be done before you get to sit down at the sewing machine. The photograph shows two of the pieces of fabric (of 32) that needed to be cut into 11, 9.25, 7.5, 5.75, 4, and 2.25 inch lengths. That took an entire episode of Elvis Costello Spectacle (the one with Neko Case and Ron Sexsmith) and 2 glasses of wine to complete.

I'm excited to get started on this next project. The fabric is top notch (high quality that feels fantastic under my fingers) and the colours and designs are modern. I think that is what I truly love about quilting. It is an old art form, but with the textiles available these days, quilters are able to put a completely new spin on patterns that make them relevant in the 21st century. One of the things the owner of the Oakville Sewing Centre said to me when I showed her my Crazy Quilt was that it was more creative than 95% of the quilts she sees in her shop. That got me fired up, and made me want to push myself to try new patterns and use bolder fabrics. I've done my share of traditional quilts - it's time to branch out and let my creativity have full rein. I also want to improve my skills and take some classes to learn new techniques that will allow me to take on more complex patterns and maybe even design my own quilts.

Not to worry... the Crazy Quilt is basted and ready to be finished off...pictures to come. I just need a few hours of quiet to get it done (crossing my fingers for tonight!).

Max Update: My Budding Horn Player.

One of the many challenges that we are working through with Max is not only a delay in his speech, but the fact that he has trouble pronouncing a lot of consonants. Letters like B, M, P, K, G and many others are very difficult for him to say. I have a feeling he is much more advanced in his communication than we understand, because, well, we don't understand him. Max receives Speech Language Therapy twice a week, and also participates in a weekly Music & Language group. His speech goals are also incorporated into his Behaviour Therapy and his Occupational Therapy. Because of this he is making progress in leaps and bounds. We are finding that when he is communicating successfully, his acting out almost completely disappears. Makes sense, right? If he is able to articulate his needs and we are able to help him achieve what he wants, he is much happier. I completely get it (I tend to behave poorly when I don't get what I want too).

In this video (taped today), Max is not only blowing on a horn with long, full blows, he is using a straw, and blowing bubbles. You may recall, we started working on these goals last June. It took a while to get here (mostly because Max had trouble tolerating having anything touch his mouth, let alone be put in it). Success is indeed sweet. I am so incredibly proud of my Max. He blows me away with how hard he works and his beautiful smile is often what keeps me going. Yay Max! Next up - saxophone lessons?

On a Roll.

Like any good quilter, I'm already starting my next project before I've finished my last one. (I'm just about done my Crazy Quilt - the top is done and I need to buckle down and finish it off). Once it is complete I'll take a bunch of pictures so you can see where I ended up with it. I think it is my best quilt yet.

Anyway, onto my next project - my first ever Jelly Roll Quilt. I will admit ignorance to the entire Jelly Roll phenomenon. I've seen plenty of rolls in quilt shops, but never thought much of them or understood what they were for. Turns out, they are not only a bargain (this one was $60 and has enough fabric for an entire quilt top crammed in there) but they are super easy since the majority of your cutting is already done. Linda, the owner of my new favourite place, The Oakville Sewing Centre helped me pick out my sashing (the brown fabric in the photo) and helped me find a book of Jelly Roll patterns. I picked a fairly modern pattern called "Gi Gi Girl" which will be different than anything I've done before.

I plan on getting started tomorrow, and I think this will be a quilt that comes together quickly. It will be a good diversion when I need a break from finishing up the Crazy Quilt (I hate the actual quilting/finishing part - I'm all about sewing the top together). All this quilting has me feeling very calm and creative - a good place to be since my kids are still on the anti-sleeping kick!

My Girl Wants to Party All the Time.

If there was a timestamp on this photo, it would read March 17 2009: 8AM. You got that right. 8AM. Cameron seems to have decided that sleeping during the night is for suckers, and that snoozing while we are in a mad rush trying to get everyone out the door in the morning is a much better time to catch some zzz's. Colour me unimpressed. This girl has a stubborn streak a mile wide (karma biting me in the ass I'm sure) and a set of lungs that would make an opera star proud. The combo is horrible when it comes to bedtime because if we let her scream while Max is trying to fall asleep he gets very upset. But the alternative is that she thinks it's okay to stay up until all hours of the night. I never thought I'd say this, but right now Max's behaviour is easier to manage than hers! Hah. Back to quilting I go...