the6packmom – all this and more

Joshua didn’t go to Pre-K but we started him off in Private school for Junior Kindergarten.  Unlike Marie he had a lot of anxiety, and some other issues.  Believe it or not he probably set the record for being the youngest child to be kicked out of school.

            That’s right.  Kicked out in kindergarten.  It happened about a week after school started.  I had just given birth to the fourth child Arielle and she was in special care so we were all a bit stressed.  Joshua was of course new to the whole school thing and there were a few things he didn’t get right away.  Library was one of them. 

            At this point I knew something wasn’t quite right with Joshua but the so called experts told me I was worrying too much and that he was fine.  Of course years later we now know he has aspergers so it all make sense, but at that time it didn’t. 

            Anyhow, he was at the stage where he was obsessed with the T.V. show Arthur.  So this day in particular Joshua was at school and they had library.  Joshua picked an Arthur book and then (according to Joshua) another boy grabbed it from him and said it was the book he was going take.  Well that set Joshua off on a major meltdown.  The school called the next day and wanted to meet with myself and Paul.  They claimed he wasn’t a good fit for the school and perhaps we should look into having him assessed.  In short they were trying to be polite while they were kicking him out. 

            So in the end we decided that for Junior Kindergarten the best place was a nursery school.  It was the best decision we could make but it wasn’t an easy journey.  Joshua was very anxious and suffered from major separation anxiety.  I can only imagine what must have been going through his head the first week he started when I told him everything would fine and not to worry.  His thoughts probably went something like this:

            My name is Joshua and I am only 4.

            Are you going to kick me out of this school too?

            I have new pants that bug me, a new shirt, and socks that don’t feel right. I haven’t slept well since I was born and I am worried.

            We have a new baby.  What if mommy forgets about me and I have to sleep at school?

            Do we have library at this school?

            What if the other children laugh at me?

            What if it is too loud and I need to run or scream?

            What if I can’t keep my socks on because they bug me?

            What if the other children don’t like me?

            What if the other children don’t like Arthur?  What will I talk about?

            What if I spend the whole day without a friend?

            What if the other children try to take away my Arthur book?

            What if I don’t like the snack and it smells funny?

            What if the teacher gives a seat to everyone and I am left over?

            What if everyone can write their own name but me?

            I’m just a four year old boy, with new pants that bug me, a new shirt, and socks that don’t feel right, but maybe I am as smart as I think I am.  At least I know better than to tell a four year old “not to worry.”

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With summer vacation into full swing I am continually hearing the proverbial comments of “I’m bored!”  “There is nothing to do!”  and the never ending “What’s there to eat?”            Now in my house of six children it is not an uncommon sight to walk into the kitchen and see a behind or two sticking out of the fridge.  It seems as though there is always one or two children rummaging through the fridge to find that perfect snack.  But when did snacks become such a big deal?  Back in the day when I was just a wee girl we ate three meals.  Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner.  A ‘snack’ was something you had maybe between lunch and dinner and it usually consisted of perhaps and apple or maybe a cookie. 

            Over the past twelve years (or at least I started noticing this phenomenon after my first was born) snacks have become the biggest thing ever.  As a mother (or at least if you are a good mother) you are expected to provide snacks between breakfast and lunch, between lunch and dinner and then again sometime before they head off to bed.  We wonder why so many children are fighting obesity! 

            But that’s not all! Oh no my fellow parents, your snacks have to be nut free, milk free, gluten free and wheat free.  They must be nutritious and the presentation of the snack must be beautiful and flawless!  Really I do admire these parents that can provide this type of behaviour on a daily basis because they obviously have nothing better to do with their day, but whatever happened to “get it yourself, don’t make a mess, and make sure you clean up!”   

            Maybe this is why my children are so independent (although some supermoms would disagree and just consider my children to be disrespectful and bratty.)  If I feel up to it I will provide a beautiful, flawless, and oh so nutritious snack, however, this is usually done if I am expecting my own friends over and then I’ll throw in a bottle of wildberry or wine.

            When my children want a ‘snack’ I tell them to get it themselves – and they do, even the three year old.  I don’t consider this as me being a lazy or mean mother; I believe it is me being a teacher.  Teaching my children important life skills along with the art of independence.

            Do you provide your children with wonderful thought out snacks that take a good chunk of time out of your day?  Or are you like me, a teacher?  I want to know!

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So as most of you who follow my blog are aware that my husband works out of the Province and is only home next to never.  So after five months of being away he came home at the begining of June and was here for almost a month.  I have to say that he was very productive while here.  Spent time with the kiddies, gave me a whole new laundry room, renovated the kitchen and gave me a new baby.  Yes that is correct, due to some technical difficulties with birth control we are expecting our 7th child in February 2011.  I am still picking my jaw up off the floor and adjusting to the fact that I am about to turn 41 and am pregnant again.  The actual due date is March 10 but it will be another c-section (the 5th – it is possible to have more than 2) so therefore the c-section’s are usually done during the 38 week so that brings us to the end of Feb.

The funny thing though is that even though I have been pregnant six times I am still pouring over the books (updated ones of course) obsessed with counting down the weeks, how I look (getting bigger already) and just being pregnant in general.  It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve been pregnant – nothing changes (for me anyway) I still find the thought of a tiny being growing inside my body fasinating and well quite obsessive.  I think about it all day and half the night when I am back and forth to the bathroom.  I also curse my husband for doing this while I am standing over the toilet and while I drag myself around forcing myself to stay awake.  This is the thing I cannot stand.  The tiredness!  I don’t think I was ever this tired.  I am sure it has nothing to with the fact that I have six other children to run after, my age and that I am on my own here…..LOL.

So although this an “Opps I am pregnant again!” I am excited and look forward to not only sharing my adventures with six, but the adventures of having another on the way.  If I wasn’t insane before, I must be close now.

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Being the oldest sibling of six is difficult enough, but when you add two autistic siblings, and an absent father, well lets just say it can’t be easy.  Marie has had her moments of complaints such as “Everything is about Joshua and Zachary!” which in some cases is true, however, for the most part she doesn’t complain and tries to help me as much as she can. School is a different story though,  and I know Marie has often behaves as though she doesn’t know her brother Joshua infront of her friends or has avoided him at lunch recesss when she see’s him all alone picking up things off the ground.  I can’t fault her though, she is twelve and at a difficult time herself as she enters the wonderful journey of puberty, peer pressure and just understanding who she is.  The other day was a different story though and I couldn’t help but be amazed at what she told me.

Marie and her friend (who also just happens to be our neighbour) were working on a project in the music room at school and happened to overhear a group of grade five students talking in the hallway.

Girl # 1: “Who is Joshua G.C?”

Girl # 2: “I don’t know.”

Boy # 1: “He is some loner guy in our class dummy.”

Boy # 2: “Do you mean Joshua K?”

Boy # 3: “No that is the other weird guy in our class.  He is really strange.”

Girl # 2: “Maybe that’s why the two hang out together.”

Laughs from all of them.

At this point Marie and her friend got really ticked off so they went out to the hallway.

Marie: “Hey thats my brother you’re talking about!”

Boy # 2: “So?”

Girl # 1: “Which Joshua is your brother?”

Marie: “Joshua K.”

Boy #1: “Well who cares, both of them are weird.”

At this point Marie told me she started crying a little and our neighbour told them they were really rude.

Marie then spoke up.  “I can’t believe you have been with these two in your class for almost a whole year and can make comments like you do!  Why don’t you go look up the words Autistic and Aspergers! The only people who have issues are the bunch of you!”

Marie and her friend went back to the music room, where Marie was able to really cry without the others seeing her.  She told me she the reason she cried was because she didn’t like people talking about her brother like that because he couldn’t help the fact that he has a disability.  She was also angry that they could be like that when they have been with him in the same class all year, act as though they like him and then talk behind his back like that.

I told her I was proud of her for standing up for her brother like she did and that I agreed with her.  Unfortunately though this is the reality of having a child with special needs.  Ignorance.

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I was looking at my new hip cell phone the other day and realized there is a small hazard in having it.  I call it the cell phone crisis.

At least once a day while I am out somewhere I will be summoned to answer my cell phone only to hear the voice of one of my six children saying “Mom we don’t like the babysitter she’s mean.  Can we ditch her and go to the park?”

Remembering I am in a public place, I will attempt to keep my composure and shout “You ditch the babysitter and I will kill you!”

Now for obvious reasons I cannot leave my children in the care of their father or a babysitter without them having my cell number, but then I am left in a precarious situation as my children like to stalk me while I am out.  Some of the things they phone me for are really ridiculous, however if I chose not to answer their calls I would be assaulted with such terrible guilt.  What if they were being hurt, what if the house was on fire, what if, what if, what if…. and so I answer it.  Every time just so my children can electrify me with urgent decisions such as the following:

“Can I have a pop?”

“Can I split a can of pop with Marie?”

“Guess what Ryley did?”

“I got an A on my math test.”

“Guess what daddy said about you?”

My cell phone crisis typically reaches a feverish pitch when I have to be out for more than just a few hours and I am struck with fear by the following call:

“Mom this is Joshua.”

“Give me the phone! Mom this is Arielle, tell Joshua to stop hitting me!”

“I didn’t hit her! She went outside to the neighbours!”

“Mommy ,this is Ryley. When are you coming home?”

Me “Where is the babysitter?”

“She’s on her cell phone, talking to her boyfriend.”

“Mom Joshua hit me again!”

“I kicked you!”

“I’m bleeding! Moooooom!”

Click.

Imagine the calls I would get if I had a job?

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            I have always wondered how “Parenting experts” actually get that title.  Seriously what makes them experts?  Is it the fact that they have children, or that they are a Doctor, a psychologist? So if I have more than one dog would that make me an expert?  Well I have always wanted to have my own parenting advice column and considering I have six children maybe that makes me an expert.  I really don’t think so, but I do believe that I have lots of experience and advice that I could offer.  Here is an example of what my column might look like:

Dear Momof6

My eleven year old daughter refuses to get out of bed in the morning, and when she finally does get up, she is grumpy and rude to everyone.  Do you have any suggestions for helping her have a better attitude in the mornings?

CL

Dear CL

Have you examined what time she is going to bed?  Although she may not appear to be tired when it is time for lights out, perhaps you need to adjust her bedtime for half an hour earlier.  Her refusal to get out of bed may indicate another type of problem altogether.  Perhaps she is attempting to avoid going to school.  Is she finding a particular subject too hard? Has she has a disagreement with a friend?  Friendship issues can be very complex at this age.  I would suggest seizing the moment when she is a good mood, to sit down and talk to her.  Explain to her that you are concerned about her behaviour in the mornings and ask her if there is anything you can do to help.  If nothing comes about from talking to her, or setting an earlier bedtime, then perhaps the old method of a cup of water on the head would be a better option? 

Dear Momof6

My children refuse to eat what I set out for them at dinner time.  Any suggestions?

LK

Dear LK

Have you actually taken a good look at what you are serving?  Have you yourself eaten it?  If you answered yes to both and still feel your cooking is good then here are a few suggestions.Inform your children that if they do not wish to eat their dinner then you will undress right there at the table.  Trust me, the thought of their mother naked will get them gobbling up anything that may be on their plate!  Just be sure to follow through on that threat however.If you are not prepared to get naked, then maybe serve dinner buffet style.  Most children are more willing to eat if they have a few options rather than being told what they have to eat.Do not force them to “clean their plate” so called parenting experts suggest that by doing so you may actually enforce bad eating habbits and attitudes which may lead to eating issues later on in life.If all else fails just let them be.  Do not allow them to leave the table until everyone else is done eating.  They won’t starve.

LOL Have any questions you want to shoot my way?  I will be more than happy to answer and offer what I can.

Till next time, Momof6

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Somewhere between the first and sixth child I missed out on getting a really important memo: 

Dear crazy lady 

Now that you have officially made the decision to become a mother there is something you should know – NO SICK DAYS PERMITTED.  No typo, just pure fact crazy lady.  You may never ever get sick.On the other hand, your husband may do so as many times as he likes.  As well, while he is sick he may suck it up for all it’s worth, act like a baby (what is another one anyway?) lay down and moan all day, be served chicken noodle soup, tea, whatever he wants.  In bed or on the sofa of course, where he will be in charge of the remote control so he may watch whatever he wants on the boob tube.

On the other hand, you crazy lady, may not get sick, if do so you will still be in charge of waking  up the children in the morning, feeding them, getting them to school, cleaning the house, making sure all the laundry is completed (that means folded and put away) pick the children up from school, give them a snack, help with homework, and ensure that dinner is on the table on time. 

 If you are fortunate enough to have the children in bed on time, then my crazy lady you may take a few minutes to wallow in self pity on how you are ill and go to bed.Thank you for your time and co-operation,Sincerely Management for crazy ladies.

Did all you other moms out there miss the memo?  How do you deal with sick days? 

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Poor little Zak has had major sensory issues since I can remember.  He hated water touching him, certain clothes, the works.  However, the biggest obstacle was brushing his teeth.  It didn’t matter what tooth brush, what paste, what rewards…. nada!  Nothing helped.  I knew this was a problem but just kept hoping that we would be fortunate and bypass any major problems like his older brother seemed to do.  Ha!  Who the heck was I kidding!  A few months ago I was certain in between his screams, and biting me I saw a cavity lurking in the depths of his mouth.  Well I went to the regular dentist only to have him tell me there were two that he could see but he needed to see a Ped. dentist…. of course because I have money rolling out of my butt… so a few trips later Zak has to have dental surgery to fix the damage that has been caused by his sensory issues with brushing.  Oh and of course the cost is huge. 

Well last Wenesday we went to the hospital for his pre-surgery app.  what fun.  We met with the nurse which wasn’t too bad but then while we were waiting for the anaesthetic consult he started screaming that he wanted to leave, it smelled funny, then he began punching and kicking the walls.  That continued and I tried to calm him down.  Then he decided to throw a chair.  Yeah.  Finally the Dr. came and I talked to him as Zak continued to scream in the hallway.  After I was done how silly of me to pick up Zaks balnkie off the floor – all hell broke loose as he screamed bloody murder!  He was crying that now it was my fault and to go back and talk to the Dr. and start all over again.  I really wanted to get the hell out of there, so I picked him up only to have him punch my head in fury and scream that he was going to rip my face off – and so he did!  a scratched to #$%$# face is now what I have.  It is so great to have people ask – “Oh what happened to your face?” LOL.  

After what seemed like hours but was probably about 30 minutes I managed to get to the car.  I can’t wait until Friday morning when we have to go back for the actual surgery!  This is when I wish the hubby were here! Sigh……

Until later 

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Confession # 1: I was one of those women, who looked at your children misbehaving and swore I would never allow my children to behave in that manner. That was before I had my six brats children.

“Are they all yours?” this is the question I get asked on a daily basis by random people who just happen to see me with six children. After a while I get tired of it and start giving the following responses:

“No I found them on the street.”

“What children?”

“Holy crap! Where did they come from?”

“Why? Do you want them?”

Seriously though, what kind of question is that? If I only had three children hanging on to me, you wouldn’t ask. So let’s get it straight here. For the record, yes, they are all mine. Yes they all have the same father. Yes, I actually gave birth to all of them, and no, the three year old brute was not a mistake.

I realize that having more than 4 children is not the norm these days. Heck having more than two isn’t, but this is my reality so bugger off and stop being so rude!

That being said you may ask yourself what makes me so special just because I have six children and you don’t. Well for starters, as mentioned they are all mine from my first and only marriage (so far). Second, I have two children that are autistic, and three, my husband is never here. Yeah, yeah I know most husbands are not here with you (at least emotionally) but they are with you physically, even if they can’t remember how many children you have or their names, but we’ll get to that later.

My husband is only here about every three months or so because he runs a business out of the Province, but I am okay with this arrangement and why shouldn’t I be? I get money when I want it, and when he finally gets his butt home I have long delicious sex – when I feel like it. But most importantly, I am not expected to have some fabulous dinner every night at the table waiting for my great husband to come home after a long hard day at work and say “Honey you are too good to be true.” Damn right I am!

 Finally what makes me special is that I am real. I am a wife, a mother of 6, an advocate for all my children, and a bitch with a capital B!

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Today I cried.  I had finally had it.  Having children on the spectrum really sucks, and I have gone on for so long with just “dealing with it” every day that it finally happened.  Mummy meltdown.  Not to have a poor pity me session but seriously it was bound to happen.  How long did I think I could actually go on here with 6 children, no help, and two on the spectrum.  Granted there are other children who have far worse disabilities, but here in this household it is bad enough.  The worse thing about having a child on the spectrum is that the do not look like they have a disability.  They look so typical.  But back to the mummy meltdown.  It was probably brewing over March break as each child came down with a nasty stomach bug, one after the other.  So when it was back to school today I was glad to be back into the regular routine.  However, my Joshua had a rough time getting back into the school thing and didn’t want to go.  I finally managed to get him into the truck and over to the school, but once there he put up a terrible fight and wouldn’t get out.  I had to call out the VP who fortunately for me is a great guy and totally gets Joshua.  So after about 15 minutes of Joshua screaming, kicking, hitting and trying to run off, the VP managed to get him under control and into the school and so I left.

Then I cried.  Hard.  The flow of tears felt like it would never end.  For half an hour I allowed myself to scream “why me?”  I allowed myself to yell at all those ignorant people who claim Autism can be cured by diet, or other things that only give us parents false hope. I allowed myself to feel the guilt and shame that comes along when my son chases the garbage man in his truck down the street screaming for him to give back his stuff, or when he has violent outbursts, or when he has a meltdown in the grocery store.  I allowed myself to feel guilty about not being able to spend more quality time with my 4 typical children because Zak and Josh require me 24 / 7.  I allowed myself to be me, not the supermom people think that I am.

Then I stopped.  Wiped away the tears.  I am a wife, a bitch and the biggest advocate for my all of my children.  I am a momof6 who only has time to feel sorry for herself for about half an hour, once a month or so.  Times up. 

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