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!

embrace the journey, forget about the destination.

Results are very important to me. In fact, perfection is preferred, and planned for. Even the things I do to "relax" are about creating a final product that will be pleasing. Cooking a meal that will taste good to everyone. Working out so I can look like the folks in the P90X dvds (a girl can wish). Taking a photo that will accurately capture how beautiful my children are. No matter what, I'm always scoring myself and internally telling myself how I can improve next time.

What if I didn't care about the results at all? If I had nothing invested, except the time it took to sit and breathe? Risky, for me anyway.  I don't have a lot of extra time on my hands. When I find a spare moment to drink a cup of coffee, I find myself gazing up at the kitchen ceiling and reminding myself that come summer, I need to put a fresh coat of paint on it. It's been a long time since I did something just for the experience, where I didn't care if I was good at it or bad or what anyone thought.

I started thinking about what I would enjoy doing that would be something where I could truly embrace the journey without a care in the world of where I was headed. Wandering through Michael's, I overheard an announcement about a painting class. Perfect. I know nothing about painting. I don't need to be a good painter. It doesn't matter if my seascape looks like a murky bog or my fruit bowl is mistaken for a toaster oven. Why the hell not?

The first class was an interesting experience. Sitting at a table, in the middle of Michael's with my lovely instructor, I learned about how to hold a brush, blend paints on the canvas, and when to use what stroke. It was fun. For two hours, I was able to let go and just "be" (and was serenaded by a local adult contemporary radio station to boot).

I painted a tree, which for me, was fitting. It looks like a tree (or maybe a hat). Who cares? Certainly not me.

tearing down christmas.

I find solace in taking down all of my Christmas decorations after the new year. I breathe a sigh of relief with every breakable ornament I wrap up, sorting through stockings, folding the poinsettia table cloth and snow man napkins, and figuring out how to get the nutcracker back into his box. If there were any champagne left in the house, I would have finished it off, as if to celebrate making it through another Christmas.

For the most part, I love the holiday season. And it's way better with kids. This year we saw (most of) a Christmas movie in the theatre, made gingerbread cookies (and ate them before we ever got around to icing them), and listened to Christmas music every time we got in the car. There were several days where we didn't get out of our pyjamas, and we finally managed to dial back our spending.

Of course, the things that stress me out every Christmas still stressed me out. Well, maybe they stressed me out a little less, but that may have been general apathy, who knows? I'm hoping it's growth and perspective that have taught me that if I don't get it all done the world won't end and if someone does or doesn't call me, I shouldn't take it personally because it has more to do with them and their "stuff" than me.

One thing I did this year that I haven't done (ever) is finally repair the box of broken ornaments I hold on to because I just can't bear the idea of throwing them away. It was just me, my krazy glue, and a dozen decorations that had seen better days. I successfully fixed all but two (which went back into the box for next year). The rest of them, they weren't perfect, but they will live to see another Christmas.

the big kahuna of depression.

As I reflect back on what was 2011 consider what I will strive for in 2012, the elephant in the room is "depression". Unfortunately, it played a dominant role in 2011 and put a damper on some incredible experiences and opportunities. It made me doubt myself and hate myself and held on with all its might no matter what I tried to do to shake it. Thankfully, my doctor, family and friends are a patient and supportive bunch and they stuck by me while I worked through this "big kahuna of depression".

The fun thing about meds is that you don't just magically start taking a new one and stop taking an old one and KAPOW everything is all better. You have to wean yourself off the old med, then ramp up on the new med, and then wait about two months for the new med to get into your system fully to see if it works. And if it doesn't work, then you are back to square one. I should also mention that the side effects of stopping/starting new meds are a real treat - tummy issues, weight gain, sleeplessness and exhaustion. Super fun, I know. And before you start telling me I should just eat right and exercise, let me invite you to go have sex with yourself. If it were that easy, I'd be Tony Horton's girlfriend.

I am hesitant to say this, but I think I may finally be on the right combination of meds, and I have made some personal decisions that are helping me feel more optimistic. Helping myself feel better is not just about taking medication, it is about working on how I communicate, not avoiding conflict, and reaching out when I need a hand. By no means do I think I have depression licked, not by a long shot. But I seem to have finally reached a point where I have my meds right and feel strong enough to deal with some of the emotional garbage that has been cluttering my happiness. Here's to 2012.

this is how i do it: katrina of fickle feline.

When Ellen of Love That Max (she has her own Max) asked me to write a guest post for her site, I was completely honoured (she is a big deal and an incredible mom). If you'd like to check it out - it's online here.

a christmas lesson from cam.

Christmas is a strange time of year for me. I am tempted to completely overdo it, but I'm also stressed out because there is just so much to do. And I want it to be perfect, but I know it can't be. Most of all, I want my kids to grow up feeling like Christmas is a fun and relaxing holiday where everyone is happy (damn it!).

Part of my picture of a perfect (and fun and relaxing) Christmas, is the kids having Christmas sheets for their beds. Specifically, flannel Christmas sheets. I have no idea where this came from (or exactly what is fun for kids about sheets?). I certainly never had Christmas sheets, and I turned out relatively okay. Plus, I doubt holly covered sheets would have helped the current demons I'm battling (that's a question for my next appointment).

Anyway, when I was finishing up my shopping last weekend, I passed by the sheet aisle and there they were - calling to me. I picked up a set of twin sheets for Cam's bed and put them in the cart. I wasn't going to buy a set for Max's bed, figuring he wouldn't get it, and wouldn't care either way. Mother guilt kicked in, and I picked out a set for his bed and put them in the cart. For a second I thought to myself that the last thing I need is for Max to look at me when he's in his 20's and say "I will never forget how you didn't buy me Christmas sheets - you are a terrible mother!".

I got home, washed the sheets, and made their beds up. Within an hour, Max had a potty training accident on his bed. The Christmas sheets were no longer full of joy and fun, but were covered in something entirely different. So much for that. I stripped the sheets, remade the bed and salvaged the pillow cases, the irony of it all not escaping me. At bedtime, I asked Cam if she was excited to sleep in her special Christmas bed, and she told me "I want to sleep with Max". Typical.

Later that evening, I went in to tuck them in and found them wrapped up like baby burritos. And while the Christmas sheets were still in the wash, the pillowcases had survived. Not quite what I had in mind, but Christmas isn't always about the intended results. Cam showed me that by relaxing and letting the "fun" win out, that's where the happy memories come from.

believing in max.

Every day, rain or shine, I drive Max to his therapy session. Round trip, it's about an hour, and it gives me a lot of time to reflect. Unlike his younger sister, Max is a quiet passenger, and I often find myself looking in the rearview mirror, double checking that he's actually in the backseat and that I haven't forgotten the important step of picking him up from school before I make the trip to the clinic.

As I drove by the local mall today, with its parking lot full on a weekday with Christmas shoppers, I was reminded that I really don't want anything for Christmas this year. Don't get me wrong, I will absolutely appreciate and enjoy any gifts I am fortunate enough to receive. But, the things that my heart truly desires are not physical things.  The thing I want most in this world, is for Max to continue to have progress. It is my belief in him, and helping him learn how to communicate and navigate our world that keeps my engine running. The words I remember on the hardest days are those of my late friend Kim Pace.

"Visualize it - each and every day and that is what WILL be. Believe it with every ounce of strength you have and there will be no other alternative."

Max has had tremendous progress these past few months. We seem to finally be making real headway with a toileting routine, his eye contact is breathtaking, he is reading and spelling, and he is communicating unprompted. I cannot fully describe to you how my heart swells when he says "Goodbye Mommy" each day when I drop him off at the clinic. He is my daily affirmation that if you believe with all your heart, anything can happen. He is the reason that even on the hard days, I put one foot in front of the other and keep going. He has proven the doomsayers in his life 100% incorrect. And he does so with a smile that will not be denied. Thank you Max for making me a believer.

max update: tree decorator extraordinaire.

Every year, Max becomes a little more involved in family celebrations. It's exciting to see him show interest in holiday activities, be it birthday cake, opening gifts, and now, decorating the Christmas tree. One of the biggest factors in Max's success is preparing him by having him practice new activities in therapy. Before we had him put decorations on the tree at home, he worked on this for two weeks. Since once a week he has therapy at home, I timed setting the tree up so that he and his therapist could be the first to hang this year's ornaments. I'm almost certain that next year he'll be tall enough to put the star on the tree.

10 ways to make the holidays fun for your child with autism.

Everyone has hopes and dreams for how the holidays will turn out. There are traditions we want to carry on with our own families and friends. But what if a child with autism is included in the mix? How do you make sure you find a balance between maintaining a festive spirit while also respecting his needs? Here are 10 tips what will help make your holidays a success.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

'america's next top model' crowns the winner!

The final three models are put to the test with the pinnacle CoverGirl photo and commercial shoot at The Blue Door at the Blue Palace with photographer Nikos Papadopoulos. Lisa nails the photo but has a hard time coming off as sincere in the commercial; Allison once again has a hard time with the bright sunlight, while Angelea produces a terrific photo and delivers a stellar commercial.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

toys for kids with autism: top 10 mom and kid-approved toys.

As the mother of a five-year-old son with autism, I have lost count of the number of times I have stood in the middle of a toy store and had no idea what to buy him for Christmas or his birthday -- never mind making recommendations for grandparents! After a few missteps and false starts, I have figured out what regular, non-therapeutic toys will engage a child with autism. These are my son’s top 10 favourites.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

america's next top model: tyra wants to be on top!

Now that the competition is down to four models, the heat is on -- and not just because they’re in Greece. This week’s challenge is one of the best yet. The girls are tasked with writing a blog which will be judged by the editor of Vogue Italia, Franca Sozzani, who also blogs on Vogue.it. Since the winner will also be blogging for Vogue.it, it’s a good idea to make sure that the finalists can string a sentence together.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

max's first trip to the movies.

Max received his diagnosis of autism 3 years ago. He has had non-stop therapy ever since, and his progress has been incredible (but not a miracle – just a lot of hard work). Even so, we still underestimate him. Last week, my friend Tracy and I were discussing taking her kids and Cam to see the new Muppets movie and she asked "Can Max come?". My brain was quick to say "No, he isn't ready". Instead I said "Let me talk with his therapists and Sarah (Max's respite worker) and see what they think".

Sarah was all for it, and Max's therapists had practice movie sessions with Max – with popcorn and everything – to help prepare him for the dark room, high volume and sitting in a chair. On the day of the movie, I bought the tickets online and Cam and I left early to make sure we could get good seats and to buy popcorn. Sarah planned to arrive with Max after the previews. I was a nervous wreck. Sarah and I had decided before the movie that no matter what happened we would view it as a success and a stepping stone. If he didn't like it and wanted to leave right away, then that would be okay. Of course, I was really hoping he'd love it.

As the previews rolled, my stomach was in knots, until I saw Max and Sarah enter the theatre. I was so proud of him as he made his way up the stairs and sat down next to me. His eyes were as big as saucers and he immediately found his popcorn and turned to watch the movie. I didn't watch much of the movie myself, I was too busy watching Max watch the movie. At some point, Cam told me she wanted to sit next to her brother, so we switched seats. Max didn't even mind when she started reaching over to his seat and touching his arm.

Right before the credits rolled, Max turned to Sarah and said "I want to go to the car". I love that he requested to leave so nicely and that he knew that he could ask to go when he had had enough. He watched the movie for over 100 minutes! As we left the theatre I started to cry (tears of joy!). We have all worked so very hard with Max, it is wonderful to see that when we prepare him and set him up for success, he can enjoy the same things other kids enjoy, which is really all I've ever wanted.

social media 'a lifeline' for moms of kids with special needs.

Something every mother of a child with special needs tells me is that when they first found out about their child’s medical issues, they felt completely isolated. Friends and family couldn’t relate to what they were going through. Taking care of their child took so much time that it was all but impossible to advocate on behalf of him or her. It was overwhelming.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

christmas albums: the 10 you need to own.

I am a self-proclaimed Christmas music expert. How did I earn this title? Well, I own over 50 Christmas albums, hundreds of Christmas singles, and I start playing them in early November each year. My kids think it’s awesome, the rest of my family thinks it’s amusing (up to a point), and I take my job of critiquing the season’s new Christmas albums very seriously. You'll notice there’s no Mario Lanza, Vince Guaraldi or Mannheim Steamroller. They weren’t even in my Top 20! Let me know what your fave Holiday albums are.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

boys with autism have distinct facial features, study suggests.

Researchers have found yet another way to approach solving the puzzle of autism – this time by comparing facial characteristics of a group of boys with autism to a group of typically developing peers. The catalyst behind this study, published in Molecular Autism, was the fact that the face and brain develop in tandem and influence each other from the embryonic state right through adolescence.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

'america's next top model' - when in greece.

We’re down to six models now, and you know what that means – time to travel! André meets the girls at the mansion and informs them they are going to Greece. They break a bunch of plates, fulfilling a wonderful Greek stereotype and leaving one helluva mess for the maid.

...Read more on iVillage.ca

telling people "my son max, he has autism".

At least once a week I find myself in a situation where I have to tell someone that "my son Max has autism". I used to dread it, the looks of pity, awkward break in conversation, and sudden inability to meet my gaze. I hated having people feeling sorry for me or telling me things like "God doesn't give you more than you can handle". Uh, yeah, sure...I don't think I "handled" it too well at 3am this morning when Max decided it was time to start the day, but whatever.

These days, when I tell someone about Max, I say it in a very matter of fact manner. I also make sure to say that he's attending senior kindergarten, is in therapy seven days a week, and is incredibly intelligent. I have no idea if someone is feeling sorry for me, but I don't really care. What I hope they take away from learning about Max is that autism is not hopeless. It's really hard, and a lot of the time it sucks big donkey bollocks, but the rewarding moments part the clouds and kiss you with a million rays of perfect sunlight. The steps forward are like winning an Olympic medal. We drink a lot of champagne.

Having a child with autism has changed me profoundly. What I value in people has changed. I have chosen my family over my career – I have changed professions, taken a pay cut, and now work from home. What stresses me out has changed. How I define a "good" day has changed. And I only cry when I'm happy, and even then I don't really cry, but tear up.

My son Max, he has autism. And he has the same potential your kid has, except he's a better reader than your kid, and better looking too. (Oops, did I say that out loud?) You don't need to feel sorry for him, or me. But some kindness and support would be wonderful.

batgirl to the rescue.

One of the things I really looked forward to before I had kids was getting to celebrate the holidays with them. Because my first child has autism, "celebrating" has always been somewhat augmented to meet Max's needs. We still celebrated, but Max didn't get excited about Christmas or Halloween or the Easter Bunny. He still received gifts, was dressed up in costumes and had a chocolate bunny to munch on, but it really felt like we were going through the motions and doing it for the sake of doing it. I'm glad we celebrated and helped Max experience it in his own way, but I had no idea how excited kids could/should/would get over simple things like carving a pumpkin.

Now that Cameron is 3.5 years old, she gets really excited about holidays. In early September she informed me that she was going to be Batgirl and Max would be her "side kicker" Robin for Halloween. I waited a few weeks and asked her again to make sure she hadn't changed her mind, and she stuck to her guns. I went ahead and ordered the costumes. October rolled around, and suddenly every grocery store in our area was exploding with pumpkins. Cameron wanted to know when we would get our pumpkin and how would we carve it and do we put candy in the pumpkin? She could hardly contain herself. The day before Halloween I finally bought a pumpkin and Cam and I set to work on carving it.

I thought she would be willing to reach into the pumpkin and pull out the guts for me, but she wanted no part of it. She was more of a cheering section than anything else. And after months of feeling so depressed I could barely haul myself out of bed, I felt a glimmer of joy. When I finished carving the pumpkin, we tested it out with a candle and she was SO HAPPY. It was contagious. I found myself looking forward to taking her out trick or treating, to witnessing her pure joy in something as simple as an amazing Halloween display, and getting candy just for knocking on a door and saying "trick or treat" (actually, that is kind of cool). On the big day, Max was sick, so her side kicker Robin would have to live to see another day. Regardless, I think I had almost as much fun as Cam did. The day after, I tried to hold onto some of that joy, grasping at anything that could propel me forward. Depression is an uphill battle, with the weather and my body conspiring against me. But I find myself feeling like I can muster up enough energy to at least try, which is more than I can say for how I was functioning last month. So, thank you Batgirl, for saving the day. Let's do it again at Christmas.