I really can be neglectful, can’t I?  Sorry about that.  Life has a way of getting in the way sometimes and when that happens, it’s my writing that suffers.  My escape, my outlet, my release is the last thing that gets satisfied.  I really have to learn to be a little meaner with myself and make sure my needs are met too.

When I left off way back when, Mike had just learned he was hired as a casual 911 call-taker.  As excited as we were, Mike was a little nervous as well.  He would be dealing with people moments after what could possibly be the most traumatic times in their lives.  I had no concerns.  He’s a wonderful people person and with his radio background and firefighting experience I knew in my heart that this was the job for him.  He would be responsible for communicating with police, fire and ambulance as well as public works calls after hours and anything else that cropped up.

The area of Cape Breton that he would be covering had 3 divisions: Central, East and North.  He grew up in “North” so he was very familiar with the area.  He lives in “Central” and was pretty familiar with it but East was somewhat of a different story.  One night he wanted to get in the car and go driving.  I asked him why.  He told me that he would feel much better sending police officers or firefighters out on a call if he knew where he was sending them.   He wanted to learn the streets, he wanted to know the landmarks and he wanted to feel confident that when he was sending them on a call he could visualize exactly where they were going, what was around and what they could possibly encounter.  So we drove…..and we drove….and we drove…..and we drove some more.  I couldn’t imagine how there wasn’t a street left in the Municipality that we hadn’t driven on.  And not only once.  He’d go back a few nights later and quiz himself trying to get from here to there in the shortest distance possible.  We did this for weeks.  (Exciting lives we led, huh?)  In the end it definitely paid off though as he was much more comfortable sitting behind the computers talking to the people on the phone and relaying the information to the emergency personnel out in the field.

Shortly after he started working it meant a couple of trips for courses and certification.  There was some very sensitive information he would be accessing and he had to be trained in those areas.  He also had to be trained in how to handle 911 calls.  He started working in September and Matthew was born October 7.  A week after Matthew was born he had to travel for one of these courses.  That was fun.  He was gone for 5 days.  Let’s just say I’m really glad Mom was just upstairs.  We made it through with no major catastrophes.

Over the next 4 years Mike excelled at his job.  He was very professional on the radio, he had the respect of practically every police officer on the force ad he took great care and pride in his work.  He was still a casual employee but he was getting lots of hours.  Too many at times.  There was one Christmas I can remember he worked 13 night shifts in a row.  That was rough.  The shifts ran 6-6 and they rarely had a chance to ever close their eyes even for a minute during the night.  I was back to work after my maternity leave so he’d come home from night shift and if Matthew was awake, so was Mike until Matthew went for a nap.  Looking back now I don’t know how he did it.   There were a few nights he just didn’t answer the phone when they called him to go out.  He just couldn’t especially if it was a trying day with Matt.  There weren’t many mind you and he’d go out the door at the last minute if need be.  He loved his job but wished something more permanent and stable would come along.

One night about 4 years after he started working with 911 he was talking to a fellow firefighter who asked him if he was going to apply for the firefighting jobs that were coming up.  Mike knew nothing about it.  Nothing was posted in the Communications Centre.  After some investigating he learns that the closing date for applications has passed and that indeed the job posting did not make it to the Centre.  That’s it.  His lifelong dream of being a paid firefighter is out the window.  Or is it??

Until next time…

So Mike picks Matthew up at school today because I have some stuff I need to do. Just as I get back to work I get a text from him… “Call me” …Uh-oh.

He picks up the phone when I call and says I don’t know if I want a beer, rum, or both. Yikes. Matthew had a good day at school. Ok, good. Then the TA hold out her hand to Mike and in her hand is my diamond cluster ring. Huh??? How’d she get that. Well, apparently Mr. Matthew has been watching this ring sit on the vanity in the bathroom now for a few days and decided today that since it had been sitting there for “3 1/2 weeks” that I didn’t want it anymore and he was goingto take it and give it TO HIS GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!

Poor Mike damn near died. So did the TA. Thankfully (for Matthew) his little friend ratted him out to the TA. She took himout into the hall and with the straightest face possible tried to explain to him that #1 it was stealing and #2 you don’t give your “girlfriend” a diamond ring that BELONGS TO YOUR MOTHER!!!

After I stopped laughing and hung up the phone with Mike it hit me. Today is the “girlfriend’s” birthday. *sigh* He came home Friday with the invitation to her party. It is a dance 6-9pm. I thought yeah, no big deal. It’ll be his first dance, might be kinda fun, he can go —- until I got home and looked at the date of the party. It’s tonight - a school night. Matthew is in bed by 8:30 on a school night. He needs a good 11-12 hours worth of sleep to function. If he’s up past 9 on a school night he’s a bear the next morning.

Sooooooooooo everyone here at work is giving me a hard time after I tell my story saying that we should let him go and it’s only one night blah blah blah. One of the guys comes in (former office manager) who is very strict with his girls and says “Did you ever think about compromising and letting him go for a couple of hours?” Huh????? Ummmmm, no that idea never even really occurred tome. Dddaaaaaa.

On the phone I get to Mike. Explain the whole compromising thing. Mike’s not sold. He doesn’t think we should because of the whole ring incident. I told him we’d deal with the ring incident - but Matthew wanted to have something to give to her today (which is kinda sweet, but keep your paws off my rings!!!!)

We ended up allowing him to go to the dance until 8:30.  He seemed quite pleased with that.  He needed to wear his “best clothes”, he wanted to know if he could borrow his fathers deodorant and cologne, asked if he could take his wallet with some cash in it “just in case”, wanted our cell phone number in case of emergency and needed to take a handkerchief with him because “Papa never goes anywhere without his”!  I was in stitches trying to get him out the door.

Driving down to the center he said he was really nervous.  We told him that even Momand Dad get nervous when we are doing something different for the first time.  So after I go over all the rules (again),  Mike walked him in.  Oh to be a fly on the wall…….

8:30 came, wepicked him up and there was no hard time given about him having to leave (~phew~).  He got in the van, I asked how it was and he said “Good”.  That was it.  So of course, I started asking a million questions and it didn’t take long before he got annoyed with me.  I knew once he had time to process everything, we’d hear all about it.  Sure enough by the time we got into the house he started.  LOL He asked a girl to dance with him - she ran away and hid…lol; the decorations were really nice; they had pizza and cake, but he diddn’[t have any cake because , well, you know …(I didn’t know, but anyway…); Breanna’s skirt was “very pretty”; he made a new friend; and on and on and on.

He had a snack and off to bed he went by about 9:30.  OK, not bad, I can handle that - so can he.  At 11:00, however when I went to bed Matthew was STILL AWAKE!!  I know he was just excited and wound up from his night, but try tellinghimthat at 7:00 tomorrow morning….lol

This morning when we got him up, he wasn’t too bad.  I can’t wait to see what kind of mood he’s in by supper time!   Oh well, it was worth it.  He had a great time and learned a valuable lesson all in the same day!

And the fun begins….

Until next time…

As you know, we haven’t had the easiest of weeks.  Mike’s grandmother (his father’s mother) passed away on Easter Saturday and even though their relationship was pretty much non-existent for many years, we have all reconnected recently.  Everything finished up today with the funeral and it was absolutely beautiful.

Last night we asked Mathew if he would like to come to the wake with us and his response was “Thank you, but I think I will have to decline.” He thought it would be scary and spooky. Ok then, no pressure! We decided to leave it up to him as he has never been to a wake or a funeral before.

This morning he was 5 minutes away from going out the door and Mike again asked him if he wanted to go to the funeral. I near fell over when he said “Sure”, right away. I don’t know if it was the fact that it was daytime and nice and sunny out or what, but he wanted to go. I told him we’d be going to the funeral home first for prayers, then to the church, the grave yard and then for a reception. he was good to go. He asked a TON of questions on the way over which we tried as best we could to answer.

We purposefully left early so we could get to the funeral home before anyone else, that way Matthew could have his time. We walked in and he was amazed at how beautiful it was (just like I told him…a hotel lobby…lol) We looked at the collages of pictures and he was as pleased as punch that there were pictures of all 4 of us included! After looking at them for a bit he turned and peaked inside the room where Nanny was. I asked him if he was ready and off we went. I’m glad we were the only ones there because he asked umpteen questions while standing at the casket. “Does she have socks on?”, “Why are her glasses on her if she’s…you know…dead?”, “Why is she holding prayer beads?”, “Why are there candles?”, “I think she’s breathing.”, “Are you sure she’s not breathing?”, “When do they close the top?”, “What if there’s water in the hole in the ground?”, “I still think she’s breathing.”, “Why is there makeup on her?”, “Who picked out her clothes?”, “How do they get her in the church?” and on…and on…and on….. Then he said he loved her as a single tear came down his cheek.

The family started coming in and he opted to sit in a chair at the back of the room. He was a little iffy when Nanny’s daughter’s were openly crying but he held up very well. He spoke to a lot of people whom he didn’t know and seemed ok when I made as many connections for him as to who the people were. About 10 minutes before they lowered the casket, him and I headed out to the church.

Once inside the church he kept saying about how bright it was getting in there. (It wasn’t, really) But he said Nanny was shining down her love on everyone from heaven so they wouldn’t be sad. Every time the choir started to sing, whether it was a hymn or the response to a prayer, he cried. (Music at funerals does that to me, too) He was really intrigued at the end of the mass when the priest blessed the casket with the incense. (I had forgotten about that part and hoped he wouldn’t get sick because of his intense sense of smell, but he did ok) He hoped there were no smoke detectors that would go off though.

Once we got to the grave yard things went pretty quick. It was COLD!! A strong northwest wind on top of a high hill right off the Bras d’Or Lakes = a quick committal service! All nanny’s children and grandchildren and great grandchildren laid roses on her casket before we left. It was beautiful.

Once we got to the reception things were much more relaxed. Matthew was starved and he snuck up to the end of the sweets table and got a brownie to hold him over until we got to the front of the line. After we ate we mingled and he had more people come up and hug him and shake his hand and kiss his head than he cares to remember! About an hour later, everyone was starting to disperse so I took the cues and we said our good-byes.

In the van on the way home he said that he was proud of himself. He asked if we noticed that he didn’t pull away from people who were hugging him. (This has always been an issue for him). He asked if we noticed how calm he was. We sure did. He told us that he didn’t feel as stressed out around so many people as he usually does and he wondered if it was because he was growing up. We told him it very well could be that, for sure.

Now that he is in bed and I am sitting here replaying the day, what must go through his head? How must he really feel at times to notice such a difference in himself that he can verbalize it after something like that?

I’m very glad he decided to join us today and I couldn’t have been more proud of him. To hear the wonderful words spoken about him today by friends and family did my heart a world of good.

He’s a special boy and so may people are touched by him. Even though he may not have had the relationship with his great grandmother that we would have liked for him to have he certainly touched a lot of lives today. And like the priest said during his homily, it’s not the amount of time that you spend with a family that counts, it’s what you make of the time that you spend. That’s the important issue.

Raising a child living with Autism has allowed me to view life and the world around me in the most literal of ways, without prejudice or judgment; without cynicism or negativity. I have learned the importance of the “things” I take for granted - the grass turning green in the spring, the first dandilion of the year, the ring around a full moon. I have learned the value of unconditional love and have seen pure joy in the eyes and heart of a boy learning to drive his bike for the first time at the age of 9. These joys and many many others have made my son the person he is. The good far outweighs the bad and other than removing the struggles he faces, I wouldn’t change him for anything in the world!

Over the last year Matthew has climbed a mountain I did not think he would ever reach the top of. At the age of 12 years old, Matthew became a big brother. Knowing that he has spent the last 12 years as an only child, Michael and I were concerned that the transition would be very traumatic on us all. This could be the furthest thing from the truth. Even Matthew’s team at school voiced their concern and wondered how Matthew would react to such a change.

Matthew has told us endless times over the past year that we “made his life complete” by giving him a brother. The love, the adoration and concern that Matthew has shown Marcus right from day 1 has been something that I could have never imagined.

I want to thank my son. Not everyone has the opportunity and blessing to live with their hero 24/7/365. I do. My hero constantly reminds me that nothing is impossible (even if he doesn’t believe it himself). My hero shows me what is important in life and works hard to share his points of view with anyone who will listen.

For whatever reason, Autism has touched our lives. It was up to us how we were to deal with it. Allow it to defeat us or learn from it and capture the unique gifts that it brings along with it.

The days of struggles and heartache are there, for sure; but aren’t they for everyone?

We have chosen not to use Autism as an excuse, a crutch or label it as a “condition”. It is a characteristic - part of what makes Matthew the wonderful boy that he is. Part of what makes The Hilliard’s the family we are.

Today, on World Autism Awareness Day, I salute my son, Matthew and everyone else who lives with Autism. I am the better person for having him in my life.

I knew, and loved every one of my grandparents. What an honor that was for me. Not everyone is that lucky. From the time I was a newborn child each of my grandparents have held a special place in my heart. I have had the good fortune to be able to spend time and create many wonderful memories with each of them. Now that they have all passed away, I look back on these memories with fondness and draw on them to ease my grief.

My father’s mother, Nanny, was the first of my grandparents to die. It was October of 1979 and I had just turned nine years old. “Mim”, as she was known to so many, raised eight children and for many years worked as a homemaker for Dr. Greenlaw. She loved to play Bridge and was always knitting or crocheting something.

Big Pond Center became a very important place for Nanny. She and my grandfather had a bungalow built on top of a large hill just before Middle Cape. This was known as “Hanratty’s Hill”.  Every year, as soon as the snow would melt, Nanny and Poppy would head for the bungalow. The grounds were always kept so beautiful. She loved plants and flowers of any kind and could always be found transplanting or watering her multitude of bushes.

I can recall spending time at the bungalow with her. Early in the morning I would get up and look for her. It was almost like a game, because I would find her in the same place every time. She would have her sun hat and sunglasses on and would be sitting out in the front yard in her wooden lawn chair, just staring across the road and looking out over the water. It would be the most peaceful time of the day. Just Nanny and me watching the waves before anyone else even got out of bed. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even talk; we would just sit there. As I think back now, more was said by not saying anything than if we would have spoken actual words. It was our time together, and no matter how many grandchildren were around, she made sure she had time for each and every one of us.

Although the bungalow was a special place with a lot of special memories, other memories are just as important. The Hanratty family homestead was 73 Falmouth Street, now home to the George Street Plaza. It was an older home, nothing fancy, but the minute you walked in, you knew it was home. The coal furnace was always burning and I can remember being so excited as a child because when we visited I was allowed to leave my shoes on in the house. Little did I know at the time it was because of the coal dust on the floors. Oh well, I didn’t care what the reason was; I was just excited because I got to leave my shoes on.

Every year at Christmas time we would have our Christmas supper at 73 Falmouth Street with Nanny and Poppy and whoever else happened to be home that year. Nanny would let me spray the windows with the fake snow and one year she even let me spray it all over the mirrors. As long as we were happy, she didn’t care.

There were so many memories… Friday night swimming at the Kiwanis Pool, and then sleeping over at her place only to have her get up some Saturday mornings and take me to my Irish dancing lessons. This thrilled her because, of course, Hanratty is a very Irish name. I can also remember when she would come to our place to visit. I used to hate having to sit there while she would unwind her yarn because I would have to sit with my hands out and she would wrap the yarn around my arms. I would give anything to be able to do that just one more time.

The first time Mom and Dad went away, Nanny and Poppy baby-sat my sister and me. I was five and my sister was not quite a year old. It was during Easter and I was very confused that year. I got a lot of different things from the Easter Bunny that I wouldn’t normally receive, and I couldn’t figure out why. Things like chips and pop were not normally what I would get for Easter. I later clued in to what had happened. Nanny and Poppy helped the Easter Bunny out that year. It wasn’t really funny at the time, but now I look back at it and laugh.

I can also remember waking up one morning during this time and walking into Mom and Dad’s room, where my grandmother was supposed to be. All I could see was the back of a head with all kinds of gray hair. I couldn’t understand why my grandfather was there and not Nanny. I went into my sister’s room, took her out of her crib and we went into my bedroom. I cried and cried. I had no idea where my Nanny was and couldn’t figure out why she had left me. After a few minutes of crying, I heard her voice. She was telling Allana she didn’t have to cry that she was coming to get her. Imagine her surprise when she realized it was I crying and not my sister. After I told her why I was crying, we both had a good laugh. It was she in the bed all the time. It just looked to me like it was my grandfather.

The year Nanny spent her final summer at the bungalow was hard on everyone. But that was where she wanted to be. For a period of time, after she couldn’t stay at the bungalow anymore, she stayed with us, in my bedroom. The last time I can remember seeing Nanny was lying in my bed. I know I saw her in the hospital before she died, but I can’t remember it.

For a long time after she died I was scared of my bedroom. I would keep having dreams that she was in my closet and would want to come out and get into bed with me. I know it was just my imagination, but I think it was just because the last memories I had of her were in my bedroom.

That’s most of what I remember of Nanny. Even though I was young, I’m glad I had those special moments.

The next grandparent to pass away was my Mom’s father, Papa. I was in grade nine so it would have been February of 1985. I didn’t have quite the same relationship with him as I did with Nanny, but that didn’t make it any less special to me. Papa had a very complicated life. He and my grandmother raised ten children. He was an alcoholic and could be violent. He would at times disappear for days. Fortunately, I never saw any of this. Some days, as a child, I would go into his home and he wouldn’t even say hello, but that was Papa and we learned to live with it.

Most times, however, he would brighten up when my sister and I would walk into the room. He and I would talk about a lot of different things. He was a very smart man, and although at times he tried to be mean and grouchy, I usually ended up making him laugh. We would talk about lots of things; usually school. He would always quiz me on my math or science. He taught me about the weather and how to read a barometer and a thermometer. I always hated math, but he had a way of making it fun for me. I enjoyed visiting with him because once I could get him talking he was great. He used to tell Mom that since the day I started talking I hadn’t shut my mouth since. Did he know me or what?!

I was always fascinated with his hands. They were so strong, but fragile. I would sit in his chair and play with the wrinkled skin on his hands for hours. During the summer, he was always outside and it would amaze me how the top of his hands would get so dark and the palms would stay so light. He would often look at my hands when I was little and tell me that I was going to get married someday because I had a big “M” on both my palms. Again, he was right.

I don’t remember Papa being sick because he was in the hospital, but I do know he loved me a lot. He always had a special spot in my heart and I loved him very much.

Then, on May 12, 1989, Papa’s wife, my Nana, passed away. This would be my Mom’s mother. She, of all people I know, had the greatest impact on my life. She was perfect. We were always very close and I could talk to her about anything. Every day after school I would run through our yard to her yard to go visit. We spent a lot of time together. I would go shopping with her and I think it was with her that I had my first ride in a taxi. Nana was alone quite a bit because of the way Papa was. Mom and I wouldn’t let a day go by without visiting.

She was so proud of me. There was nothing I could do wrong, in her eyes. She would always have something good to say about me, no matter how small. While I was in high school I would look so forward to our Awards Night, because right after it was finished we would go and show my certificates or trophies to Nan. She used to get so excited. It was almost more fun going there than to the Ceremony.

The day I graduated from high school was special. I have a picture of her and I where I am in my cap and gown, and although she couldn’t get to the Grad Ceremony, I knew she was as proud of me that day as my Mom and Dad were.

She started going into the hospital a lot because she had some heart attacks, but she would always get better. After the last attack, she had been home about two weeks. She was doing great; so good that I had asked her to go to lunch with me one day. The day we planned to go to lunch never happened because she took a massive heart attack that morning. I can remember wondering what I would have done if we had had the chance to go out and she had gotten sick on me then. Part of me is so glad that it happened the way it did… even though she was alone, I know she wouldn’t have wanted me to see her that way. She was a beautiful woman; a woman who could never be replaced and I miss her dearly to this day. Sometimes I walk into my Aunt’s where she was living and I just expect to hear her voice and her laugh. Her soft-spoken, gentle words will always stay in my heart and my mind, and she knows I love her just as much today as I always have.

This brings me to my last grandparent, Dad’s father, Poppy. He died April 7, 1995. What can I say about Poppy? My memories of him come in three different stages. The first would be when I was very young and would “help” him fill the coal furnace on Falmouth Street. He was great, just the kind of grandfather every kid wanted. He loved ice cream, so we automatically thought he was awesome. He was a hard worker and worked at the Steel Plant in the Open Hearth for years. Once my grandmother died and the house on Falmouth Street was sold, I saw a side of Poppy that scared me. He was also an alcoholic, but I had never seen it before. When he moved into the high rise on the Esplanade he was by himself. My sister and I would go down and clean his apartment but we didn’t like doing it, in fact, we didn’t even like going to visit, and as I got older, I stopped going to visit him. He was so sick all the time. He would drink and get sick and drink and get sick. It wasn’t the best thing in the world to be around, but even though he did drink he was still my grandfather and I loved being there when he would start telling stories about when Dad was a young boy.

Things changed dramatically when Poppy moved into the MacGillvray Guest Home. He lost weight, got himself all cleaned up and was much more mobile. I didn’t visit him as often as I should have because I guess there were just some memories of the way he used to be that I just couldn’t get out of my head. Although, there were many times when Mom and Dad would go up to see him and I started going with them. I couldn’t go by myself because I was scared but as the years went by, it got easier for me and I began to see the grandfather that I had remembered as a young child. He still loved ice cream, and his rum, but he was totally different, a better different. He was very content at the Home and everyone loved him. The staff would always go into his room if they ever needed the score on a baseball game. He loved the Blue Jays and was thrilled when they won two World Series in a row.

Poppy always loved Mom’s cooking and would be tickled pink when Dad would bring him out for a barbecue with Mom’s potato salad.

I had been looking forward to seeing Poppy at my wedding, but he was not feeling well. He was so happy when, after the supper, Michael and I went to the Home to see him. I was his first grandchild to get married and he was so pleased.

Things started to change the most Boxing Day of 1994 when Poppy fell and broke his hip. He just wasn’t the same after that because his independence was taken away. I don’t think he ever fully recovered from that.

It wasn’t his hip that landed him in the hospital the last time, though. He had congestive heart failure and was very very sick. Sometimes he would know whom you were when you went in and sometimes he wouldn’t. Mom and Dad had to go away while he was in the hospital and they knew I wouldn’t go up by myself, so I found out when my Aunt was going to be there so I could go see him. One night I went up and there was no one there. I couldn’t turn around and leave because Poppy had already seen me. I went in; by myself. I was scared. What if he didn’t know me? I didn’t know what I was going to do. I talked with him for about twenty minutes before my Aunt came. Although he didn’t know me, I still talked with him and made him feel safe and secure.

The next night was the same thing, but this time I felt a little better about going in, and this time he knew whom I was. We talked for a long while about everything before other members of the family came. It felt so good. It was such a big thing for me to be with him by myself, because, as everyone in my family knows, I can’t handle being around sick people by myself, but I did it. I think even Poppy knew it was tough on me, but I’m glad I went that night because that was the last time I saw him. At least I had the chance to be with him one on one and tell him I loved him. I will never regret the time I spent with him. The only thing I regret is not having done it sooner.

As I said in the beginning, I consider myself very lucky because I have had the honor of knowing every one of my grandparents. I loved them all and they loved me, and even though they are not with me in person anymore, their memory is as strong as if they were.

I think sometimes they are watching over me because they gave me another person who was very special to me, my husband’s grandmother. Her and I had a bond since day one. Michael was practically raised by her while his mother worked and in ways is closer to her than he is to his mother. I was able to share in their closeness. She was a wonderful person and was the best-adopted grandmother I could ever have. I feel like sometimes I had a second chance to make memories, and I have lots of them. Although for a couple of years she has been sick, we knew her time is also coming. With the memories we made with her, I have no doubt that one-day my memories of her will be as strong as the ones I hold of my own grandparents.  Michael’s Nanny left us one month before her great grandson, Matthew was born in late August of 1996.

And now I watch my 2 boys.  I see them with the invaluable opportunity to see their grandparents anytime they want.  We live within 5 minutes of all three grandparents and it’s wonderful!  Matthew has been having regular sleepovers with them now for as long as I can remember and even though Marcus is only 11 months old, he knows and can differentiate between them.

As fortunate as I was to have had time with all my grandparents I am thrilled beyond words that my boys are going to have the same chance to make memories.

You don’t realize how precious these memories are until they are not able to be made anymore.

I am glad I had the chance to experience love like this, and I hope that when I am a grandparent I will be able to give back half of what my grandparents gave to me.

Welcome to 2009!  I can’t even believe that it has been over 3 months since I did an entry.  Geez, for someone who normally has so much to say, this is very uncharacteristic of me, isn’t it?

Anyway, just thought I’d check in for a bit.  I’m not going to get into any big long blog right now (I have to go back and see where I left off…lol), but I would like to touch base and let you know what’s been up with us.

Can you even believe Marcus is 8 and a half months old?  I have no idea where the time has gone.  He’s just simply amazing.  he is sitting up, waving, clapping, saying Mama and Papa and eating just about everything in sight!  He is definitely going to be my “don’t-take-your-eyes-off-me-for-one-second” child!!  He is already displaying a very strong will, but at the same time he is so loveable and happy.  He’s really developing his own little personality and it’s too cute.  He absolutely ADORES Matthew and the feeling is mutual.  To see the two of them spending time together makes me feel so wonderful.  I hope (ha ha ha) that it lasts forever.  Wishful thinking??  Only time will tell.

Even though Mike had to work all through the holidays, we had a nice Christmas.  Certainly one that none of us will ever forget, that’s for sure.  We had a lot of rain on Christmas day and many homes in ur neighborhood flooded.  We got water too, and had I had known how to start the sump pump properly it wouldn’t have been near as bad as it was, but I had wet walls and ceiling after the hose blew off the pump, soaked me and sprayed all over the bathroom.  However we survived that.  Matthew also had a bit of the flu bug over Christmas, but it didn’t stop him from enjoying everything that was under the tree for him!

New Year’s Eve we were planning on spending a relaxing quiet evening, just the 4 of us.  there was a storm forcast for New Year’s Day so we decided to light the oil stove down in the rec room just in case we lost power.  It was the first time this year we lit the stove, although it was already cleaned out.  The stove decided to puff back on us sending lots of nice black smoke through the basement and upstairs.  Dis you ever smell burnt oil???  Not very pleasant.  So just as I was about to start cooking our Chinese food, Mike had to head out to the fire hall to get a smoke ejector and fans to get rid of the smoke.  The smell was another story.  Everything was closed so I had to make due with the few candles I had and a can of Febreeze plus open all kinds of windows (bbbrrrrrr).  We managed.   The rest of the night was great!  We ate, played Wii for hours and lit off sparklers out in our yard.  Matthew and Marcus both saw the New Year rung i in Newfoundland and then they went to bed.  Mike and I managed to stay awake until just after midnight, then off to dreamland we went as well.

Now we are 12 days in to 2009.  Unbelievable!  Another year older, hopefully another near wiser (LOL) and another year closer to retirement!  This year we have a big family trip planned in May to Ontario.  It will be the boys first time on a plane.  We’re all really looking forward to it.

Other than that, it really has been all the same ol’ same ol’ here, which is a good thing…lol.  No news is good news, right?

I truly hope to try and blog regularly again.  I miss it.  I love telling my stories and getting everything down in one place.

Stay tuned and I’ll try not to make you wait another 3 months!

Until next time…

So I was now working full-time, Mike was working part time and things were not great, but ok.  I’m really glad we didn’t have a huge debt from our wedding to worry about, as things were pretty tight.  Mike hated being at the radio station because management was treating him pretty badly.  I was enjoying my job, though.  I LOVED clothes and getting a good discount to wear the clothes I sold was a great incentive!   However, with money being scarce I didn’t have a lot of money to spend.  I did have the opportunity to make a few extra dollars each paycheque as we worked on commission, so hopefully I could offer good customer service and have it pay off in the end.  We had the money to pay the rent to Mom and Dad and pretty much keep on top of the few bills we had, but there wasn’t a lot left over for any “extras”.

I thank God to this day that we had Mike’s Mom and grandmother to help us out.  Not too many people know this but for the longest time, they both put groceries in our house.  If it wasn’t for them, we wouldn’t have had the money to have much more than the basics in the house.  They made sure we had lots of meat and vegetables and that our cupboards had lots of canned goods.

Mike wanted out of the radio station.  It was time for a career change.  He loved his career, but didn’t like his place f work anymore.  The once fun-filled working environment was so long gone.  He started doing what he could to see “what he wanted to be when he grew up”…lol.  My cousin worked for a local dairy delivery milk and Mike began going out with him a few times a week.  It gave him some pocket money and got him out of the house.  My cousin knew a lot of people because of his job and he was great in helping Mike network with a lot of different business people.  Also around the same time the fire department was the recipient of some grant money to fix up the hall.  Mike applied and got 20 weeks full time on the grant.  He learned a lot about gyprocking and he felt as though he was once again contributing to running the house.

He soon realized that small jobs here and there was just not going to cut it.  He had to take drastic measures.  It was time to return to school, get some upgrading and see what’s out there.   Mike talked to a counselor at the then “unemployment office” and was told what courses he could take that would offer him funding.  Off to our community college he went and decided to do a general upgrade before he got into anything specific.  He got his funding for that program so then he was good to go.  After completing that course, he took a second one geared more towards business and computers.  Again, he received funding and was able to receive further education and still make ends meet.  He loved working with computers and excelled at his program.  He attended on-the-job-training a our local hospital in the IT department where my Dad worked.  He was agin, able to meet lots of people and get his face “out there”.

Unfortunately, once his course was finished he was not able to secure employment at the hospital at that time, but he had a whole new world opened up to him.  He had a great resume and was ready to hit the streets!

Shortly thereafter he heard through the Emergency Services grapevine that the  municipality was going to be hiring dispatchers for their 911 call-centre.  What could be more perfect???  He had lots of experience with handling emergencies as a firefighter, he had geat speaking abilities because of his many years in radio and was now knowledgeable with computers.  Sounds like this could be perfect for Mikey!  He applied and made it through many stages of interviews.   Were we fooling ourselves by getting excited?

All the interviews were over and we were just waiting to hear if he was successful.  While we were waiting for what seemed to be forever, Mike’s grandmother passed away.  It was a very sad and trying time.  But like she always said, every time something bad happens, something good comes right behind it.  She was once again correct.  The day we buried her we were all sitting in her living room later that evening and the phone rang.  It was for Mike.  He was out in the kitchen for the longest time and when I went out to see what was up, he had a grin on frm ear to ear.  He got the job!!!  Now it was only casual to strat with, but it was something.  Once he got his foot in the door, who knew what could happen.  Everyone’s saddness turned to joy when he came in and announced the news.  It was, in my opinion, perfect timing!

There was lots of training and a few courses for him to complete, but from the moment he walked into the communications centre I could tell he was hapier than he had been in a long, long time!  Things are starting to look up…I hope!

Until next time…

Yes, I am still here!!  I haven’t gone anywhere.  I’ve just been complacent.  I have to get back at this on a regular basis - again.  Bear with me, please and if you don’t see anything in the next couple of days…starting bugging me!!  LOL

Anyone who is a reader of my blog is very familiar with my family.  More specifically, Matthew; my almost 12 year old son who lives with Asperger’s Syndrome, a form of Autism.

Nine days out of ten our days are very routine and typical.  Day number ten doesn’t happen very often, but when it does it reminds Mike and I why Matthew is the special little boy that he is. 

This weekend we rented a cottage a few hours away from home.  Matthew has camped in a tent the last few years, but this year with the baby being so young I didn’t feel much like pitching a tent in a campground.  Mind you, the cottage is about 5,000 times more expensive but we figured, “What the heck?” and off we trotted.

The cottage is beautiful and Matthew felt “at home” right away.  There was lots of space for him to play and wander without leaving our sight.   He found a playground with swings and hand-rings and a sandbox.  Heaven.  He was in absolute heaven. He played out in that sand for 4 hours straight the first night we arrived and continued his work well into the second day.  More on this later.

Our first night, bedtime was a little difficult. It’s a new place with new sounds and not a whole lot of insulations in the walls; it is a log cabin after all.  Every noise, every squeak, every sound caused Matthew great anxiety.  There was no way he was going to settle unless one of us went in a lied down with him.  It’s been a few years since we’ve had to go and lie with him.  As soon as Mike stretched out, Matthew was sound asleep.  Safe – he just needed to feel safe, and Dad makes him feel safe. 

The next morning Matthew said he had he best sleep of his life.  We had a late breakfast and just lazed around for a while.  He was in and out and back and forth to the sand pile working tirelessly to make his creation just so.  Later in the afternoon we drove to a beach and again he had a ball playing in the sand.  We returned back to the cottage and began cooking supper.  Shortly after a van arrived at the cottage next door and soon we realized that Matthew’s mood was going to change and not for the better.  Two beautiful little girls were out and around checking the lay of the land.  They found the sand box.  In ten seconds flat Matthew’s hours and hours of work was gone.  Mike and I stood in the window and our hearts sunk as we watched the two little girls demolish a creation which took Matt to a land so far away.  So, do we tell him or do we let him find it on his own?  If he goes out and finds it on his own we know that he’s going to lose it out in the middle of the yard.  I didn’t want that. 

Off to the bedroom I went.  I explained to him that the two girls found the sandbox and started playing in it and his project was kinda kaput.  He started to freak and I tried to explain to him that it wasn’t “his” sand and that anyone who came around was allowed to play with it.  This is one of the challenges he faces with Asperger’s.  He just doesn’t get it.  He thinks that people are doing things just to be mean and to hurt him.  He doesn’t understand that some things are “universal” and belong to everyone.  Because he was playing there and he was working on something, in his mind it was his and no one should have come along and destroyed it.  He came out and looked out the window.  He little heart was broken.  My heart was broken.  I cried for him.  I can only imagine how he felt.  He had worked so hard and had an entire scenario scripted out around his sand sculpture and now it was nothing more than a mound of dirt.  The house, the driveways, the yard…it was all gone.  And so was the happiness that it generated for my boy. 

Trying to explain to Matthew to be happy that he had so much fun playing with it in the first place is like talking to the wall.  Trying to tell him that he could go out and rebuild it is useless.  Don’t you know it would never be the same because he would never remember where every single grain of sand was (his words, not mine), and it was just “perfect” the first time he made it.  Had those girls not come by and destroyed it, he wouldn’t have to go and do it again.  So now he’s devastated and has no more interest in the outside because he doesn’t want to see “those girls”. 

To the average outsider looking in, my son would be behaving like a spoiled rotten brat, and that’s what makes me so sad as I sit here in tears writing this.  Matthew is the furthest thing from a spoiled brat than you could possibly imagine.  He is a young boy with a heart of gold and a personality so beautiful.  But he sees the world so differently than you and I.  All I want to do is protect him.  It would have taken nothing for me to go outside yesterday and ask those girls not to destroy Matthew’s sand castle, and I would have done it in a heartbeat, but come on.  It’s a pile of dirt.  I can’t stop other children from playing in the sand.  You know what really got to me yesterday?  As mike was standing looking out the door he said to me that if we were to ever win the lottery he would build a compound with 30 feet high walls so no one could get into Matthew’s world.  No one would be able to hurt him and he could just let in whomever he wanted.  My heart cracked into a million pieces when he said this.

Today was a rainy day at the cottage and there wasn’t a whole lot to do.  He would walk from window to window to door and back to his bedroom to watch DVDs.  One of his trips looking out the window he said that he wished he could go outside and play in the sand.  At exactly the same time Mike and I both said “go ahead”.  He looked at us like we had ten heads.  Mike dug out a big black garbage bag and made a raincoat out of it and off he went.  On his way out the door he looked at Mike and asked him if he was coming too.  Yeah, right!  It was pouring cats and dogs out there.  About five minutes after Matthew went out, Mike decided to join him.  They soon informed me that they were heading to the beach.  Off they went on a wonderful father/son adventure that means more to Matthew than anything in the world.  Their adventures have been somewhat shortened since Marcus arrived, but he’s never complained – not once.  He loves his little brother “to death” and he does understand why Mom and Dad’s time has to be shared between the two of them.  This was a concept I thought was going to be way more difficult than it was for him to grasp.

How is he ever going to adapt to the “real world”?  How is he ever going to be independent when at 11, almost 12 years old he can’t understand the dynamics needed to survive for a child half his age?  How will we ever teach him subtlety?  How will he ever understand using tact?  And how do we make him realize that the entire world isn’t out to get him?  But perhaps the most important question in my mind right now – how do we teach the world about Matthew?  We can’t change him.  His brain is wired differently than ours is.  We could tell him something 100 times, but it’s not going to make any difference.  We had to change ad adapt a lot of our ways to fit into “his world”.  We have the ability to do that where he doesn’t.  How do I explain this to the rest of “our world”?

I’m normally really good when it comes to dealing with Matthew and all his little idiosyncrasies, but every once in a while I get the boo-hoo’s.  It shouldn’t have to be this hard for him.  He’s too much of a happy little boy for all the hardships he endures.  It just makes me so sad.  Should anyone reading this have any great insights for me, I’d love to hear them.  But see, that’s another thing.  Every single child who lives with ASD is so different.  What works for one doesn’t necessarily work for the next and what works today may not tomorrow.  It’s a continuous vicious circle that never ends. 

I love my son and everything that makes him ‘him’.  I just wish I could take some of his frustrations away.  He deserves to be happy.

Thank you for letting me vent.

Until next time…

First of all I want to thank everyone who sent messages yesterday.  It was so wonderful to know that so many friends were thinking of us.  We had a really nice day.  We spent it together as a family and enjoyed a full family supper with Mom, Dad and my sister (….and Dad paid, which made it even better!! ;)  )  Then last night we sat out on the deck until almost midnight.  Couldn’t have asked for better.

It’s hard to believe it’s almost the end of July already.  Mike is now on his 10 weeks parental leave and we are enjoying it immensely!  Last weekend we traveled down the province to Truro so we could attend a CPO Picnic.  All together there were about 30 people there and we had a great time.  Kelly posted pictures, so I won’t bother..lol.  We have a couple of other trips planned before the end of August :)!!!  The 1st of August we are heading to The Highlands of Cape Breton to take up residence in a cabin for 3 days.  Matthew really wanted to go camping this year, but Mama’s not that brave!!  So we all agreed that a cabin in “camping territory” is better than nothing! (Gotta love compromise!)

Then 6 days after we get home from there we are heading to New Brunswick for a while.  Mike has a lot of family in Oromocto and it’ll be their first time seeing Marcus.  Matthew absolutely LOVES the time we spend there.  There are huge big yards and lots of woods for him to roam.  So for four days we are all together in Oromocto and then……are you ready for this?? ……….. Tracey’s going on a road trip - SOLO!!!!!  I’m going to Ontario for a few days!!!  Other than visiting Ottawa with the school when I was in grade 12, I have never been to Ontario.  I am SO excited!!  I can’t even believe this is going to happen!  It’s going to work out perfectly.  Mike and the boys will still be in NB (with more helping hands around than Mike will know what to do with) and I’ll get a chance for a little “me” time.

This is the first summer we have had any time off together EVER and I dare say it’ll be close to another 17 years before we see it again, so we are all taking advantage of it.

I dare say I’l have some stories by the time the end of August rolls around, so stay tuned - oh and in between all that there may be a couple of more “Tracey and Mike” episodes too…lol

Until next time…