Happy Days in May Project

Naomi, from Seven Cherubs is running her "Happy Days in May" project. It's very simple to her happiness project from last year. The premise is simple.

Keep a note, each day of May of something that made you happy.  Then, at the end of the month, we all link up and share.  It can be in a notebook, on your phone, or a blog post that you publish at the end of the month (that's how I'll do it. I'll start a draft and add to it each day).   So far, there are about 40 people doing it. Why don't you join in?


I wasn't sure, but I realised that of all of the months of the year, this is the month I need this. This is the month I need to make myself find the good and the happy and the sunshine. It's a rough month for me.  It's the anniversary of my mother's death. But it's so much more than that. The build up, the week or two before hand, there are so many memories, heartbreaking memories. The 5 days before, every year - flashbacks and nightmares. I hate May with a passion.

So this May, I'm going to pro-actively try to survive that first half by stealing some happiness. I will mourn, I will miss her, as I do every day. But I will be as happy as I can.

She'd have wanted that.

Things Parents of children with Autism DON'T need to hear

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But. There ARE things that we hear, that are not helpful. I'm not sure if people think they're being kind, I imagine that most of them are. I'm not including all of them.

1. "But he doesn't look autistic".  This is one of the most common. I would go so far as to estimate that a good 75% of families with children on the spectrum get this one. I've had it from family, from friends and believe it or not, from Doctors.

Please. Draw me a picture or show me a poster of what autism actually looks like? Because my goodness, it'd make life easier when searching for diagnosis in those early years. Forget about speech assessments, physio assessments, occupational therapy assessments and those pesky paediatricians. Nooo. We could just compare our chilren to a poster on a wall at the local GP's surgery.  Like at Dreamworld. "If you're not as tall as THIS, you can't ride alone".  If you look like THIS, you get a free pass into the Autism Spectrum.

2. "But he makes great eye contact!"  Well yes. He does actually make reasonably good eye contact. When he's comfortable. And now, that we've been working on it for the last 3 years. But first of all, not all children on the spectrum avoid eye contact. And even though right now, he's looking happy and social, wait until he becomes uncomfortable. Wait until there is just a slight change in the air and he feels threatened, he feels a confrontation, so much as a hint that he's messed up. There isn't anything, anything you can do to make him look at your face.

3. "You just need to be harder on him." Actually, this was one of the ones that upset me most. The number of people who rolled their eyes at me when I tried to explain that I know him. I know when it's a 2 year old tantrum, and I know when it's him simply unable to process something or unable to handle the stimulation. I know the difference. And I will NOT punish the latter. So stop suggesting it. Do you think he can't hear you?

4. Oh, mine does that too, He went through a phase of lining up his cars. It's nothing. Yes. I do understand that a lot of children at some stage show some traits. It's not necessarily the traits themselves. It's the persistence of them. To the exclusion of anything else. If it's the only way he knows how to play with cars, and it has been for 4 years now, then it might be an issue. If the only thing he knows what to do with pencils is to grab a yellow, blue, purple and red one and call them Anthony, Murray, Greg and Jeff, then it's an issue. He's 4 and he is fixated. The (whatever the fixation is at the moment) is literally the first thing he thinks about in the morning, it is what he is talking about when he goes to bed at night and it is a cause of extreme distress when he doesn't have access. It's not the same as other children. Because it persists. For years.

5. But he loves other kids. He can't be autistic.  He really does love them, you're right. That's what makes this so heartbreaking to me. Because he has no idea what to do with them. He couldn't tell you a single child's name. He can't tell you the name of his carer, and he's had her for a year. He's playing alongside them, not with them. He doesn't understand their games, their social rules, not even their taunts. He has no idea. He knows that he wants to be with them. But he's 9 and he still has no idea how to be with them. Or how to form a lasting friendship. He feels no differently about the child he just met at the park than he does his cousin. They're all on the same level of love to him. It's a LOT of love, but he loves the one he's with.

6. Oh. So he's like Rainman. Can he do anything cool? Can he work out math problems in a second? Is he a computer whiz?  Listen, dumbass. My child is not a performing seal. Am still trying to teach him to catch a ball on his nose, but he whines that it hurts.  That movie was actually pretty unhelpful. Only a small percentage of people on the spectrum are savants. My child is ahead of others in some areas (for Alexander it was reading and computers and now science) and all of these things we encouraged and worked hard with when we saw that he had a leaning toward them.  And it's lovely. But no. He's not a savant. Yes, he can read at the level of a 9 year old in Year 1. He can't catch a ball though. Or tie his laces. Or work out when someone's being an ass to him.


7. Do you wish you hadn't vaccinated him? Jenny McCarthy says that it's all caused by vaccinations. Ok. This is a tricky one. There has been no science to back up any link between autism and the MMR vaccination (particularly the vaccination schedule of the past decade). But I DO understand and sympathise with parents who feel that there is. At best, there is anecdotal evidence. Alexander met all of his milestones on time. He was talking, walking and perfectly fine the day before his 12 month shots. He changed almost overnight. He stopped talking, for a year and a half.  I will admit, for a time there (before I'd heard about Jenny McFreakerson) that I wondered. I'd talked to so many people who made the same claims.

BUT. And it's a big but (I like Big Butts and I cannot lie...sorry. Tangent. Also, wrong 'but'), I do prefer scientific evidence. And Jenny McCarthy is a freaking crackpot. Seriously. She needs to stop drinking the Kool-Aid.


8. If he's so afraid of XYZ, why don't you just medicate him? My next door neighbour's aunt's brother in law's cousin said that Rispedridone/SSRI's/Haloperidol/Ritalin fixed their child. Ok. I'm going to be careful with this one. Remember that the spectrum is wide and every child is different. I know that when Alexander was younger (his first 5 years) he had a few phobias. The worst were just after Sammy was born (so the change). He became deathly afraid of baths/sinks of water/swimming pools and Television/Radio/Cinemas and anywhere he could catch a glimpse of Shrek (formally his favourite movie).  More than one person suggested that we simply drug him.

I know that in some cases, medication is the best option. For some children, it is a necessity. But in our case, we wanted to wait and see if we could just patiently, a little at a time help Alexander work through those things.  It was rough. Sammy had I think less than a handful of baths in the baby bath. We showered him. We did the dishes when he was asleep. We stayed away from pools for a while. We stopped watching TV.  But we also slowly worked him up to things. We explained that music would be on at the shopping centre, or television at a friend's home. That he didn't have to watch it if he didn't want to, but that he had to let other people do so. It took months and months, but we got there. He's had others since, but we've been fortunate enough that we are able to work through them.

That may not always be the case.  Or, as he gets older (and a year ago we were seriously concerned), he may suffer from clinical depression. If that arises, it is something we will consider medication for, as we would for anyone.

So for some, it's an option. But don't throw it at me for convenience sake. Don't tell me to do it because it's the 'easiest' option. Parents who resort to using anti-depressants, anti psychotics and the like do so after serious, long consideration. It's not an easy out. Don't pretend it's not, and that we're just making life harder than we have to by not using it yet.

9. I don't know how you do it. I couldn't raise a special needs child.  You know, you probably could. Because he's my child before he's anything else. He's my son before he is a child with autism. And I will openly admit, my life is easier than that of some of my friends who also have children with ASDs. There are parts of this that are hard. For us, between 12 months and 4 years were a hard slog with Alexander.  It got easier, and it's been a bit harder again since about 7 years (he's 9 now). I imagine that in a couple of years, we'll be in a for a whole other kind of hard.  And we're just starting with Sammy, so who knows what's in store. But don't make it sound like this is a huge burden. He's not. He's his own child, just like all of yours are.  Yes, I have to parent him differently than you do yours. But we all parent our children (or should) according to their personalities and needs. There is no one size fits all. So we don't parent that way.

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10. We need to work for a cure.  Another tricky one. My instinct is to shout you down and tell you to go to hell. I don't want a cure for Alexander. I don't want a single part of him to change. All of the things that make him him - I want them to stay. I don't want to take away any beautiful, eccentric, wonderful part of him.

I know other parents who are parenting children on the spectrum feel differently. Some children are not high functioning. Some are trapped in their own worlds and aren't able to communicate or build meaningful relationships. They will never live independently and for those parents there is heartache and despair - concern for what the future will hold for their children when they reach adulthood.

But don't assume. Don't assume every parent of a child with autism would wish it away. Let them guide you. Don't suggest that they would rather a different child, that they have been somehow cursed with an impossible burden. If they feel that way, that's fine. Let them own that. Let them feel however they feel. But don't suggest that they should if they don't.

These are my sons. At least one of them has autism. I would not change anything. I do not want a cure. I do not want to take away his autism.  I just want you to let him be. Help him where he needs help, praise him where he deserves praise and accept that there is no one 'normal'.  There is beauty in my child, just as there is in yours.

5 Things that have made me laugh this week.

Ok. I'm just going to pretend last night didn't happen. I had intended to blog but my body had other ideas. It was baaaaaad, people.  I was too sick to be angry about being sick, I just lay on the bed, head in Joel's lap while he tried to massage the migraine away.


So. It's there. In the background. Masked, for now with some kick-ass (well, not so much kick ass as wave a while flag and say "please, wait half an hour until the boy is at school") meds. Erm. So, not so much forgetting about last night as spending 2 paragraphs on it, but bear with me, yeah?

Anyway... in honour of Shelley's Friday Funnies, I went in search of things to make me smile.

Click the button and head on over to Shelley's. She's got the funny today. And every Friday.

1. This is the one that inspired me to post today.  I'm assuming most of you have at least heard of the new 'sensation', NYT Bestseller "Shades of Grey". It's all a bit funny to me. This was a fan fiction piece a year or so back and then it got pulled and tweaked (excuse the puns) and turned into a trilogy. It's apparently getting women all hot and bothered. (Edit: Now there's a film adaptation? Already? It's not even that good! And by 'not even that good', I mean 'so cringeworthy I couldn't bear it).

So of course, Ellen DeGeneres had to have her turn.  Watch her do a reading. I laughed so hard that Alexander came to find out what was going on. At which point I was forced to pause it and think fast. Really fast. (If anyone's asking, she found those handcuffs and she was trying to give them back to the police officer they belonged to. She was at a microphone because she was making a radio ad. Ok? Just in case he asks).

I don't actually watch her (any) show on TV, but generally when I see clips of her on YouTube, she makes me laugh. She's funnier than she was on her sitcom.

2. I've gotten into Flight of the Conchords in a big way. I resisted for sooo long.  As with most comedy shows (well, really everything that isn't NCIS), I rather just watch clips on YouTube. That way I just get the funny without the rest.  These are my two favourites. These boys are CLEVER. 

Joel introduced me to this one, certain it'd make me laugh. Oh, I tried not to (was in the worst mood) but I couldn't help it. Now it's kind of my go-to to get out of a bad mood. Makes me laugh every time. 

3. My Hallmark moment with Alexander the other night. We were all on the bed just chilling out and being kind of sweet (you know, when you suddenly look at your family and think "Awww, we're so awesome...no?) and I hugged the boys and said "Out of all of the little boys in all of the world, how did I get lucky enough to get you two?".  

Alexander, who's normally right up there with me on the sappy front: "Err, you already know this. YOU told ME.  The sperm got in and met your egg and then turned into me. And then you did it AGAIN and that sperm and that egg turned into Sam. I thought you knew this stuff!".  Hmm. Good to know he's not falling for any other stories, but Dude! I was having a moment...

4.

  

5. "When My Husband Does the Dishes" by Kerri Sackville. 

I waited so long for this to be available as an e-book. The large print version was $60!!!! and I really couldn't afford that at the time. But finally, Kerri tweeted me when it became available and I was on that so fast!  But it took a few months to get into a funny book mood. I sat down finally to read it last week. 

Laughed Out Loud. A lot. Several times.  In fact, so did Joel, whenever I'd leave it open on my computer to do something, he'd find himself catching snippets and laughing too.  A sign of a good book, when it makes both of us chuckle. 

Get it. It's awesome.

There are more. But for today, I'm sticking to my 5. The power of laughter is an amazing thing. I kid you not, my headache is a little less intense. I rewatched everything as I posted them and it seems to have made a difference. 

Join in. Give your Friday a boost - head on over to Shell's bog and add your Friday funnies. 

Creating a media kit just got so much easier.

Source: sevencherubs.com via Melissa on Pinterest

If you haven't already - head on over to my friend Naomi's blog. She has written one of the best guides to creating a media kit I've ever read.


I know that media kits are something that a lot of bloggers worry about, especially given the growth of the blogging industry in Australia over the past 12 months or so. We've been told so many times now that if we want to work with PR companies (I don't at the moment, but perhaps later in the year, I'll start again) we need to have a fabulous media kit.  


But it's often so vague.  But between this e-book over at Tina's blog, and today's post by Naomi, I think that any blogger, new or established can now come up with exactly the right kit for their blogs.


Go. Read it. Save it. You'll be so glad you did.

For Eden. And everyone else who leaves the good china out.

I sat with my coffee and my boy this morning and we put some music on and headed into the blogosphere. Visiting some friends (while he spilled milo on my bed, dammit!)  and catching up.  I was feeling a bit restless. I'm struggling to write at the moment. Well, for a while now. I thought I'd have trouble again today.

Until I got to Eden's blog. Her post today. I started to reply but I realised, when I was literally 5 paragraphs in, that it was too long. Too long to leave in a comment she may not see. Hell, she may not see it here. But it's important to me, so it is here on my blog, where I want to write what is important to me, whether it is read or not.

Eden, your post is kind of breaking my heart. I've been talking with some of my closest blogging girlfriends just yesterday after the announcement of yet another "Top 5" blogs; about what to me is a good blog. And to me it's nothing to do with numbers. Nothing to do with stats or PR or even followers or comments. It's you. All of the bits of you. The funny, the defiant. The scared red-headed step child and the self-sabotaging 24 year old, and the almost 40 year old who has learned so much from all of that. The irreverent pool bomber and the respectful advocate, eyes wide open, heart even more so. You with the beautiful words and the self deprecating vlogs. Even your god-awful Eminem (see, this is where we respectfully agree to disagree). <3

For me - it's about truth. Good writing and truth. Whatever that person's truth is. It doesn't have to be all about heartbreak. It doesn't have to be all butterflies. It doesn't have to be all hard slog. It just has to be real, dammit. Whatever is real. It doesn't have to be ALL of the china.We're all entitled to decide what we put on display for the world.  But I need to see something of a blogger to care about their blog. I need to know something of the heart of the person. I want to be a witness to their lives, have a piece of them under my skin, niggling away, all sharp ends and chipped and real.

Because God, I'm all sharp ends and chipped and real. And I need to know there are people like that out there. I need to feel that connection. Because otherwise, my illness, my PACK of black dogs gets to win. Gets to make me stop feeling anything good and real and worthwhile.

Sometimes, your blog is my antidote to the numbness that threatens to pull me under and suffocate me.  I don't say this to dump more pressure on you. You're not alone, there are others. But I'm saying, all of that china you put out there? All of the YOU that you share? It's why I have come back to your blog almost every day since I discovered it, less than a year ago.  It's why I stayed awake that first week, every morning, going back and reading from the beginning.

It's part of why I still blogged after the Nuffnang mess in December. After 3 of the people I adore most online told me they were disappointed in me, in the mess I'd made. It wasn't the vitriol that almost stopped me blogging. It was the people I knew that turned on me. I hope it's not the people you know that are now making you feel the same way.

Reading that people are judging you? Judging the way you are writing about Africa. Reading about how you're feeling shame right now, rather than pride? It makes me want to weep.  It makes me want to hug you and slap them and shout them down and whisper reassurances to you. And the bloggers like you.

My favourite bloggers - they're a tough bunch. They talk about alcoholism, mental illness, drug addiction, suicide, sexual abuse, divorce, infertility, the death of a beloved child or mother or husband. They talk about wanting to leave it all behind, about being determined not to take that step. They talk about having trouble bonding with their kids, the shame they (we) felt in the throes of post natal depression. Of falling in love, and out of love. Of poverty and violence in Africa, abuse of women there and in the Middle East; God, everywhere really; of race inequality, bulsh!t politicians here and everywhere, making promises and breaking them just as fast.  They're bringing up children with disabilities, children with special needs, large families, small families.

Husbands whom they both adore and want to throttle in the same moment. Children whom they adore and want to throttle in the same moment. Families they adore and want to throttle in every moment.

They give us other stuff too. Favourite movies. Favourite poetry. Favourite books and music and pictures. Recipes and funny stories.

Because there's all of that and more to each of us. None of us are one dimensional. We have so much inside of us, so much to sift through. We go through our china and we each one of us make decisions about which bits to leave out, what we trust people to borrow for a little while. Some of us, we lay it all out there. Others, just a little.

But it's our china. Not yours. Ours. And we each get to decide how much to use, how much to bring out on special occasions, how much to pack away.

And for those of you who judge us? Who think we ought to have used the good stuff every time? Screw you. And those of you who think we ought to have packed it away, sucked it up and kept it to ourselves? Screw you too. You know where the 'x' is. Go up and press it.

For the most part, we don't mind if you disagree with us. Unlike some on the internet, most of us recognise that you can disagree with us respectfully, without feeling the need to call your words an 'attack', or you a 'troll'.  We don't delete every single disparaging remark you make, just because we're uncomfortable. Just because you chipped our favourite cup.

But those chips? They hurt. They make us doubt ourselves. They remind us of the pain we once felt, or the pain we're feeling right now. They make us scared to show you more. Scared to invite you back. Scared to share even with the people who deserve it.

You know what else happens though? Our friends, our faithful readers... they get mad. They get protective. They circle the wagons and they will face you head on. Watch out. Those are the ones that leave their good stuff out there as well. They're the toughest of them all. The sisterhood, it's alive and well. It'll soothe our wounds and take you on, all without a second thought.

So, Eden. Let them flame. Let them talk. Let them be petty and jealous and ignorant. But let the rest of us speak. Let the rest of us remind you why there are tens of thousands of people coming to your site for the same reasons as me. I promise, we can drown them out, if you'll let us.

Ignore them Eden. Keep writing, the way you've always written. It's been working for you for a long time now. It's authentic and it's powerful and it's freaking amazing.

New Love

As a reader, I've always liked poetry. Liked. Not loved. No poet was ever able to make me feel the way Lucy M Montgomery made me feel. No poet ever made me feel the way I felt when I read Jane Austen or Lewis Carrol or Louisa May Alcott. Not even Wordsworth or Keats could make me lose myself the way Hemmingway or Anita Shreve or Mark Twain can. My favourite bloggers write in a way that makes me weep at times, Jenn, Averil(I'm sorry, I can't link this one, it's on hiatus. Sob) and Eden. I read their words and I want, I wish to write like that. 


Poetry was always an intellectual exercise for me - exactly the thing it ought not be. It was a source of frustration.  I could memorise a piece of poetry, but it never moved me the way an amazing work of prose could.


I breezed through English in school, loved every second of it. Except poetry. I am completely, utterly unable to write it. It just isn't there, I could not be more blocked. The desire is there. The desire to write it, read it, most of all to just get it. Really, truly be moved by it. The way that some students slog it out to get through Shakespeare and Orwell, I went through hell in poetry. The way a Year 10 student vows never again to bother with Shakespeare, I resented my poetry modules.

I was frustrated by the 'rules of poetry'. I didn't want to think about form and meter, or iambic pentameter. I just wanted words, just words meaningful and beautiful.  Words that stood alone, not because they followed a set ryhthm.




I also couldn't stand being read to. I've found, my entire life that being read to is one of the most irritating, useless exercises for me. I can't take a thing in. I have to look at the words myself to take them in.  I've hated audiobooks (the Hobbit at school in Grade 6 was awful. I had to get the book and read it before I could make sense of it) for as long as I can remember.


Until now. It turns out, to love one, I had to embrace the other. Poetry, when spoken to me, can make my skin tingle. 

This is my favourite at the moment. I can't stop listening to it. I swear. Goosebumps and tears. Every.Single.Time.

But recently, someone on Facebook linked to a Spoken Word Poet performing at TED. Now, I'm a sucker for most things coming out of TED. But this. THIS spoke to me (excuse the pun).  She got under my skin and I found myself trawling through the internet (Thank You You Tube - I've never loved you more) for everything by her. I love almost everything she's written.  


She and another Spoken Word Poet started an organisation called Project-Voice which goes into schools and teaches Spoken Word Poetry, and makes it so much more accessible than it was when I went to school.  (Funny Story. Read about the coincidences with Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye). 


This isn't the poem she recites at TED. I'm saving that one. It's amazing. But I love this. 

THIS. This is poetry that speaks to me. This is poetry I wish I could be a part of.  What I'd give to find something like this happening in Brisbane. Oh. And to not have this whole please-don't-look-at-me thing happening.

I'm utterly in love.

I don't even care if it's 'just a phase'.

Pinterest

Alexander was watching the tail end of the news last night. There was a report (I didn't see it, so I'm getting it second hand) on the damage done to the fishing industry after the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. Horrifying to realise that livelihoods are still being affected (many have been destroyed) by something that happened so many news cycles ago - how quickly we forget (can you believe it's been almost exactly 2 years). The effects are still being felt.


I'm told there was talk about the shortage of fish (or at least, safe fish).  Alexander asked why people fished for a living and Joel explained that we eat fish, so people go out to catch them for us. It's at about this time my ears (I was in the next room) pricked up. I'd been waiting for this, expecting it for about 3 years.  Joel, the poor, deluded fool didn't see it coming at all. Sucker. ;)


So Alexander (all things being black and white to him) asked why we didn't simply not eat fish for a while.  Joel explained how most people eat fish and meat, but that some people did, in fact choose not to. For a variety of reasons. Environmental, ethical, health, sustainability etc.


And my boy pounced. It's like it all clicked together for him. "You mean, some people don't eat meat, because they don't like killing animals?"


"Err. Yes. Some people. Not many though. Most people love eating meat. You love eating meat.  All of your favourite dinners have meat in them".


Enter Mama into the discussion. Trying not to lead him or sway him in any way. "Alexander, did you know that I was a vegetarian for 3 years, just before I got married".  Big eyes. "Why?"


Time for honesty.  "I didn't like how I felt about eating animals. I hated to think about them dying.  And I really, really hated the way that they are treated before they die. It made me feel sad and sick, so I just stopped.  I only started again because I got really sick and the Doctor said that I really needed to go back onto meat, as the vitamins I was taking weren't being absorbed at all".


"So I could be a vegetarian?".
"Yes, if that's what you want" (Cue strained look on Joel's face. The Mitchell family is really, really a meat 'n' Potato kind of family. Who LOVE their steak).
"I want". Instant. I don't think I'd even finished my sentence. And I know that look in his eyes. Determined. In his head, the rule was made.*


Slight panic in Joel's eyes. (I love that look. It's usually me putting it there, but it turns out it's fun no matter who does it). "But. But. You love Lasagne. And Spaghetti bolognese is your favourite food. And Chicken Nuggets. And Chicken Parmigiana. And Hot Dogs. Sausages". The list went on. And on. Actually, on some more.


He was firm. He understood, you could see he looked pained with each of his favourites being taken off his menu. I thought he'd cave after Lasagne. He didn't.


He asked if Ice Cream was off the list. I was honest. I said that some people choose not to eat dairy products. But in truth, I'm not prepared to support him giving up dairy at this point. He's still growing. He's active. I want him to drink milk (he loves milk and drinks a fair bit of it), yoghurt and enjoy ice cream.  So for now, dairy stays.


I asked him again this afternoon.  He said he was feeling a bit 'weird' about it, that it was a 'harder decision' than he thought. I steeled myself, I didn't want to show any disappointment. I told him it was fine, it was completely up to him, and that no one was going to expect or pressure him to give meat up if he wanted to eat it.


"See, I love Lasagne and Spaghetti Bolognese and 'stuff'. I really do."  I nodded, understanding that for now, he's not ready.


I kissed him and told him that was fine. He called me back. "I wasn't finished" (Man, he sounded like me when he said that,lol!). "This isn't just about me, is it? I might miss those foods, but that doesn't mean I have stopped caring about what happens to the animals. I just have to decide which is more important. Me or them.  And of course, it's them. So I still want to do this".


Turn back so little tear doesn't show. Big smile then.  I promise to do it with him for at least a month (we've agreed to trial it for a month. He's only 9, I don't want him feeling like he has to make a lifetime commitment at this age). Joel's going to join in. For an entire week! :-) Sam won't notice. He'll still live on breakfast cereal, spaghetti and milk.  I've promised to make it as easy as I can. None of the 'favourites' will be served at all in the following month (it starts next week, in earnest. Unfortunately, Alexander made the decision less than an hour after my weekly grocery delivery was made). I won't have anyone eating those things in front of him this early in the game.

Pinterest

So, there we go. I'm actually really pleased with this.  I genuinely thought it would happen 2 or 3 years ago. And even if this turns out to be a one month experiment for him, I'll still be pleased that he thought about it and decided that some things are more important than him.  I respect that in anyone.


I'm scouring (and searching for) good vegetarian blogs, particularly ones that have entire families not eating meat.  It's going to be somewhat tricky. Alexander, while he has made enormous strides in the past year or two, has very strong food aversions. I've already explained to him that there are going to be new foods he is going to have to try.  Where I can, I'll hide them. But that won't always be possible.  And more than taste, it's a textural thing. I don't know how he'll cope with cannelini beans or kidney beans or mushrooms (well, this one I know,actually. He hates them. They'll have to be hidden well).


I have my own food aversions too. Cannot abide chick peas. Which is probably a little tricky for a vegetarian. In the same vein, hommus is detestable to me, as is tahini. But I think this is a great time of year to be doing this.  Risottos, minestrones, stir fries, zucchini slice, I look forward to finding more recipes.


Any websites or recipes you can recommend (or tips) would be greatly appreciated.  Do I need to get him onto a multivitamin? Anything specific to look out for? Help me vege friends.

Pinterest

*While not all chidren on the spectrum are the same, many of them become fixated on rules in their head. Don't go past this house if you're playing in the street. Don't say these words. Sleep is for nighttime (ugh. He decided this one when he was exactly 2. Broke.My.Heart). Once the rule is in his head, it is unbreakable, even when you want it to be broken.






Quote of the Day: If slaughterhouses had glass walls the whole world would be vegetarian.
Linda McCartney

I don't even care if it's 'just a phase'.

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Alexander was watching the tail end of the news last night. There was a report (I didn't see it, so I'm getting it second hand) on the damage done to the fishing industry after the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. Horrifying to realise that livelihoods are still being affected (many have been destroyed) by something that happened so many news cycles ago - how quickly we forget (can you believe it's been almost exactly 2 years). The effects are still being felt.

I'm told there was talk about the shortage of fish (or at least, safe fish).  Alexander asked why people fished for a living and Joel explained that we eat fish, so people go out to catch them for us. It's at about this time my ears (I was in the next room) pricked up. I'd been waiting for this, expecting it for about 3 years.  Joel, the poor, deluded fool didn't see it coming at all. Sucker. ;)

So Alexander (all things being black and white to him) asked why we didn't simply not eat fish for a while.  Joel explained how most people eat fish and meat, but that some people did, in fact choose not to. For a variety of reasons. Environmental, ethical, health, sustainability etc.

And my boy pounced. It's like it all clicked together for him. "You mean, some people don't eat meat, because they don't like killing animals?"

"Err. Yes. Some people. Not many though. Most people love eating meat. You love eating meat.  All of your favourite dinners have meat in them".

Enter Mama into the discussion. Trying not to lead him or sway him in any way. "Alexander, did you know that I was a vegetarian for 3 years, just before I got married".  Big eyes. "Why?"

Time for honesty.  "I didn't like how I felt about eating animals. I hated to think about them dying.  And I really, really hated the way that they are treated before they die. It made me feel sad and sick, so I just stopped.  I only started again because I got really sick and the Doctor said that I really needed to go back onto meat, as the vitamins I was taking weren't being absorbed at all".

"So I could be a vegetarian?".
"Yes, if that's what you want" (Cue strained look on Joel's face. The Mitchell family is really, really a meat 'n' Potato kind of family. Who LOVE their steak).
"I want". Instant. I don't think I'd even finished my sentence. And I know that look in his eyes. Determined. In his head, the rule was made.*

Slight panic in Joel's eyes. (I love that look. It's usually me putting it there, but it turns out it's fun no matter who does it). "But. But. You love Lasagne. And Spaghetti bolognese is your favourite food. And Chicken Nuggets. And Chicken Parmigiana. And Hot Dogs. Sausages". The list went on. And on. Actually, on some more.

He was firm. He understood, you could see he looked pained with each of his favourites being taken off his menu. I thought he'd cave after Lasagne. He didn't.

He asked if Ice Cream was off the list. I was honest. I said that some people choose not to eat dairy products. But in truth, I'm not prepared to support him giving up dairy at this point. He's still growing. He's active. I want him to drink milk (he loves milk and drinks a fair bit of it), yoghurt and enjoy ice cream.  So for now, dairy stays.

I asked him again this afternoon.  He said he was feeling a bit 'weird' about it, that it was a 'harder decision' than he thought. I steeled myself, I didn't want to show any disappointment. I told him it was fine, it was completely up to him, and that no one was going to expect or pressure him to give meat up if he wanted to eat it.

"See, I love Lasagne and Spaghetti Bolognese and 'stuff'. I really do."  I nodded, understanding that for now, he's not ready.

I kissed him and told him that was fine. He called me back. "I wasn't finished" (Man, he sounded like me when he said that,lol!). "This isn't just about me, is it? I might miss those foods, but that doesn't mean I have stopped caring about what happens to the animals. I just have to decide which is more important. Me or them.  And of course, it's them. So I still want to do this".

Turn back so little tear doesn't show. Big smile then.  I promise to do it with him for at least a month (we've agreed to trial it for a month. He's only 9, I don't want him feeling like he has to make a lifetime commitment at this age). Joel's going to join in. For an entire week! :-) Sam won't notice. He'll still live on breakfast cereal, spaghetti and milk.  I've promised to make it as easy as I can. None of the 'favourites' will be served at all in the following month (it starts next week, in earnest. Unfortunately, Alexander made the decision less than an hour after my weekly grocery delivery was made). I won't have anyone eating those things in front of him this early in the game.

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So, there we go. I'm actually really pleased with this.  I genuinely thought it would happen 2 or 3 years ago. And even if this turns out to be a one month experiment for him, I'll still be pleased that he thought about it and decided that some things are more important than him.  I respect that in anyone.

I'm scouring (and searching for) good vegetarian blogs, particularly ones that have entire families not eating meat.  It's going to be somewhat tricky. Alexander, while he has made enormous strides in the past year or two, has very strong food aversions. I've already explained to him that there are going to be new foods he is going to have to try.  Where I can, I'll hide them. But that won't always be possible.  And more than taste, it's a textural thing. I don't know how he'll cope with cannelini beans or kidney beans or mushrooms (well, this one I know,actually. He hates them. They'll have to be hidden well).

I have my own food aversions too. Cannot abide chick peas. Which is probably a little tricky for a vegetarian. In the same vein, hommus is detestable to me, as is tahini. But I think this is a great time of year to be doing this.  Risottos, minestrones, stir fries, zucchini slice, I look forward to finding more recipes.

Any websites or recipes you can recommend (or tips) would be greatly appreciated.  Do I need to get him onto a multivitamin? Anything specific to look out for? Help me vege friends.

Pinterest

*While not all chidren on the spectrum are the same, many of them become fixated on rules in their head. Don't go past this house if you're playing in the street. Don't say these words. Sleep is for nighttime (ugh. He decided this one when he was exactly 2. Broke.My.Heart). Once the rule is in his head, it is unbreakable, even when you want it to be broken.

Trash, Tabloid Journalism

credit

I've read, so many times over the past couple of years, mainstream media lambasting the blogosphere. Hating that bloggers haven't the same credentials as journalists, haven't put in the years of study and hard work of journalists. How new media was destroying newspapers and magazines (well good riddance to most of the magazines, I say). Newspaper articles positively dripping with disdain at this 'new' format - regular people talking about the news, current events, community, finances, fashion, parenting on their blogs. Free blogs! Gasp!  The horror of it all! 

credit

In a way, I can sympathise. I hate seeing respected newspapers closing down their papers, laying off reporters and editors by the thousands. I think I will quite literally cry if the NYT ever has to go out of circulation. And yet, I'm part of the problem. I can't read newspapers and I don't watch television. I source my news exclusively online. Granted, some of these major news organisations have moved with the times and are now publishing online, and it is from these that I get most of my news (eg - about 3 or 4 out of  NYT, CNN, BBC, Reuters ABCNews first thing every morning and last thing at night). 

As for magazines, or syndicated newspapers (I'm looking at you Fairfax, and you Murdoch), I'm happy not to need them for my news. I have immediate access to international news sites now.  More and more, these conglomerate-owned papers are starting to feel like the kind of tabloid journalism I abhor. I start feeling like we may as well lay down our arms and just turn into Today Tonight or A Current Affair or The Sun.


So anyway. There was, believe it or not, a point to this.  I was a little nervous when I heard around the traps that The Age was doing a magazine article on "Mummy Bloggers", 4 in particular. They interviewed Eden Riley, Kerri Sackville, Naomi Pritchard-Tiller and Beth MacDonald. Four very different bloggers, so it seemed to have the potential to be a well rounded article. 


Until it wasn't. First things first. The most important. Two HUGE errors. Naomi's Dad is in this article, dead. In real life? Not so much. Doing rather well, in fact. And Eden? Her relapse? Not 7 months long. She was drinking for a weekend. It's still a relapse. It still broke our hearts to read of it.  But the way it's presented in the article? Insensitive and incorrect. You'd think being 'journalists', they'd have gotten those facts straight. 




I've seen a lot of Bloggers on Twitter tonight, clearly disgusted by the story. Julietta Jameson has chosen to take these 4 women, and say that their families are missing out because of thier mothers' 'hobby'. Worse again. That's the spin they want to put on this? Not only do they look down on bloggers, but they have to make us look like bad mothers and wives while they do it.


But do you know what annoyed me more? That what was totally disregarded is  the amazing things that can be accomplished by "Mummy" bloggers (head over to Eden's blog and read about her trip to Niger. Go back to September of last year and re-read the RUOK day posts).  It went beyond that though. Here's the thing.


These women - they're writers. Most "Mummy" blogs aren't about nappies and prams and playgroups and teasing. They're not about evil Mothers in law or Husbands who won't put the seat down. They only occasionally touch upon the day-to-day life of a parent (because there are also "Daddy" blogs, you know). 


But they are so much more. So many bloggers, myself included don't blog just about our families. Sometimes, it's writing. Honest-to-goodness-soul-baring pages that reveal who we are and what we dream of. Words that tell so much more about our stories than any magazine article would care to do. 


We don't all start blogging because we're so bored at home, desperate for something to do (which seems to be implied). We start blogging because the words, they're in our hearts and our heads and we need them to come out somewhere. And we try it, and our souls catch fire when other people, people like us read our words and 'get' us. When they share back and we get to know them too. 


We blog because like the rest of the world, there's more than one dimension to us. We don't JUST care about how to get vegetables into our 4 year olds. We care about how women are treated across the oceans. We care about the lack of basic food and water for communities thousands of miles away from us. We care about art and literature and music just like everyone else. And we write it and we share it and we make people aware of the things we care about. And we learn about the things other people care about.


 Read about our blog entries that are love letters to our children, just waiting for the day they're old enough to fathom the depth of our love. Entries that are an outpouring of devotion to our partners, a thank you for being the person who saves us from ourselves. 


The blog posts that are a call to arms, rallying the troops behind someone, one of our own, who needs us Right.Now. Who's world has fallen apart and the only thing that will help hold the pieces together are the connections we've made by sharing our lives, sharing pieces of our hearts. Sharing a community of comfort and healing words. 


Forget, just the once, trying to put a 'spin' on blogging. Forget the crap about monetising and who's popular. Blog about the beautiful writing that can come from bloggers. Mummy Bloggers. Daddy Bloggers. Any bloggers. Some of them aren't 'just' bloggers. They're writers too. 


Why can't you write about that, Julietta?

Trash, Tabloid Journalism

credit

I've read, so many times over the past couple of years, mainstream media lambasting the blogosphere. Hating that bloggers haven't the same credentials as journalists, haven't put in the years of study and hard work of journalists. How new media was destroying newspapers and magazines (well good riddance to most of the magazines, I say). Newspaper articles positively dripping with disdain at this 'new' format - regular people talking about the news, current events, community, finances, fashion, parenting on their blogs. Free blogs! Gasp!  The horror of it all! 

credit

In a way, I can sympathise. I hate seeing respected newspapers closing down their papers, laying off reporters and editors by the thousands. I think I will quite literally cry if the NYT ever has to go out of circulation. And yet, I'm part of the problem. I can't read newspapers and I don't watch television. I source my news exclusively online. Granted, some of these major news organisations have moved with the times and are now publishing online, and it is from these that I get most of my news (eg - about 3 or 4 out of  NYT, CNN, BBC, Reuters ABCNews first thing every morning and last thing at night). 

As for magazines, or syndicated newspapers (I'm looking at you Fairfax, and you Murdoch), I'm happy not to need them for my news. I have immediate access to international news sites now.  More and more, these conglomerate-owned papers are starting to feel like the kind of tabloid journalism I abhor. I start feeling like we may as well lay down our arms and just turn into Today Tonight or A Current Affair or The Sun.


So anyway. There was, believe it or not, a point to this.  I was a little nervous when I heard around the traps that The Age was doing a magazine article on "Mummy Bloggers", 4 in particular. They interviewed Eden Riley, Kerri Sackville, Naomi Pritchard-Tiller and Beth MacDonald. Four very different bloggers, so it seemed to have the potential to be a well rounded article. 


Until it wasn't. First things first. The most important. Two HUGE errors. Naomi's Dad is in this article, dead. In real life? Not so much. Doing rather well, in fact. And Eden? Her relapse? Not 7 months long. She was drinking for a weekend. It's still a relapse. It still broke our hearts to read of it.  But the way it's presented in the article? Insensitive and incorrect. You'd think being 'journalists', they'd have gotten those facts straight. 




I've seen a lot of Bloggers on Twitter tonight, clearly disgusted by the story. Julietta Jameson has chosen to take these 4 women, and say that their families are missing out because of thier mothers' 'hobby'. Worse again. That's the spin they want to put on this? Not only do they look down on bloggers, but they have to make us look like bad mothers and wives while they do it.


But do you know what annoyed me more? That what was totally disregarded is not only the amazing things that can be accomplished by "Mummy" bloggers (head over to Eden's blog and read about her trip to Niger. Go back to September of last year and re-read the RUOK day posts).  It went beyond that though. Here's the thing.


These women - they're writers. Most "Mummy" blogs aren't about nappies and prams and playgroups and teasing. They're not about evil Mothers in law or Husbands who won't put the seat down. They only occasionally touch upon the day-to-day life of a parent (because there are also "Daddy" blogs, you know). 


But they are so much more. So many bloggers, myself included don't blog just about our families. Sometimes, it's writing. Honest-to-goodness-soul-baring pages that reveal who we are and what we dream of. Words that tell so much more about our stories than any magazine article would care to do. 


We don't all start blogging because we're so bored at home, desperate for something to do (which seems to be implied). We start blogging because the words, they're in our hearts and our heads and we need them to come out somewhere. And we try it, and our sould catch fire when other people, people like us read our words and 'get' us. When they share back and we get to know them too. 


We blog because like the rest of the world, there's more than one dimension to us. We don't JUST care about how to get vegetables into our 4 year olds. We care about how women are treated across the oceans. We care about the lack of basic food and water for communities thousands of miles away from us. We care about art and literature and music just like everyone else. And we write it and we share it and we make people aware of the things we care about. And we learn about the things other people care about.


 Read about our blog entries that are love letters to our children, just waiting for the day they're old enough to fathom the depth of our love. Entries that are an outpouring of devotion to our partners, a thank you for being the person who saves us from ourselves. 


The blog posts that are a call to arms, rallying the troops behind someone, one of our own, who needs us Right.Now. Who's world has fallen apart and the only thing that will help hold the pieces together are the connections we've made by sharing our lives, sharing pieces of our hearts. Sharing a community of comfort and healing words. 


Forget, just the once, trying to put a 'spin' on blogging. Forget the crap about monetising and who's popular. Blog about the beautiful writing that can come from bloggers. Mummy Bloggers. Daddy Bloggers. Any bloggers. Some of them aren't 'just' bloggers. They're writers too. 


Why can't you write about that, Julietta?

Waiting for the Day

Today's Sunday Sessions is taking me back to one of my favourite albums ever. It came out in 1990 and I loved every single song the moment I heard it. But it's about 2 or 3 years later, probably around 1992/1993 that this album becomes significant to me. I went from just loving it, to it laying down the soundtrack to one of my most meaningful friendships.

Countless hours with my best friend Philippa. In her beat up old corolla, the speakers worth probably 3 times the value of the car. This album, blaring at us both through the tape deck. Her diet cokes, my waters or iced coffee. Her meeting and falling in love with her husband to be, me agonising over what to do about him.

Hours of listening as we drove around the red, tiny town we lived in. Hours more listening in her bedroom as 17 and 18 year old girls are prone to do. Finished with school for now, entering the work force. Discovering our independence.  Drinking, talking into the night, music what kept us going in those angst filled days. Dipping our toes into womanhood, shrugging off the final vestiges of our girlhood. Hating, with passion the tiny town we were stuck in, the same people day in and day out, waiting for the day we'd be gone from it's dust and gossip.

The Album? Listen without Prejudice. Vol 1.

Where were you in 1992? What were you listening to? What was your favourite album? Song? Artist?  Join up to Sunday Sessions over at Jade's Oh Antipodes!