The worst holiday in the history of the world happened to me. No one died let alone got hurt or sick. Our luggage was never lost and we weren't robbed of our valuables. I didn't have the mother in law to contend with. I didn't have to sit in circles holding hands with strangers whilst singing kumbaya. We weren't stuck in an airport and we weren't caught in any natural disasters. No, my holiday was worse than any of those possibilities.
In the middle of a cold dreary winter, by a beach with no surf, in a house with no t.v or books, I was stuck with the better half doing a jigsaw puzzle for 3 days.
A bloody jigsaw puzzle. 1000 pieces of some eastern european countryside. 990 of those pieces all seemingly the same shade of dull green. I couldn't see the point. If I wanted to look at a pretty picture I would just cut the cover off the box and pin it to the wall. I mean the picture was right there, we spent 3 days trying to create a picture that we were looking at the whole time. Jigsaw puzzles belong in the darkest recesses of your grandmothers wardrobe, a throwback from the days of no electricity, no telephone and no sex before marriage. There was nothing else to do other than cut up a nice picture and spend hours trying to make it look half as good as it was before being vilified.
The only gift required to fulfil this hobby is having no life so that nothing exciting can pull you away from the task. Truth be told, a lot of situations in life are like a jigsaw puzzle. You try and get all the parts to fit together to give you something whole. Friendships are like that. You try to surround yourself with people whose company you enjoy and with whom you have a mutual desire to see each other happy. Different friends make up different parts of the puzzle but they are all important to complete the picture, you or me.
I can't remember my first friend. I was trying to think of who it would have been and the best I could come up with was a boy who used to wear a blue tshirt at kindergarten. What his name was, well I have no idea but if he's reading this I do apologise for hogging the tonka truck and making him cry 31 years ago. As I've moved through life, friends and really close friends have moved too. Some you move on from, some friendships fail because you make a mistake and don't know how to say sorry and some stay; they are always there through good times and bad. Having a child, who at first just seems badly behaved, and then later you are told has autism, is one of those bad times and then as the cliche goes, you find out who your true mates are.
Some people either don't like being around when your child is prone to bouts of frustration or they feel awkward and as such, try not to be around for fear of such an episode. Gradually, they will stop visiting, stop ringing and certainly don't ask you around for tea anymore. Before you know it, your circle of friends halves because it can be tough being friends with a family with Autism. Since Cam has been diagnosed, we have been fortunate enough to meet other people in similar situations and they are great people who have the added bonus of empathy for what the tough times can be like and how the good times make it all so worthwhile. Also through my rather sycophantic obsession with cricket and Northern Districts, we have been lucky to make friends with people who just have empathy for everyone, us included.
One decided to come running with me, to try and help me get through the initial pain barrier of my first couple of events. I was told once the greatest gift you could give was your time and he has certainly done that in abundance. The other people that spring to mind could be seen as being quite different. One is a shoe fanatic and the other is a fanatic for shoe fanatics. They care about Cam and understand that sudden changes or surprises can be upsetting. And yet, knowing this, they have invited us to go out for tea with them tomorrow night and to bring Cam.
Taking Cam out to tea to a restaurant would normally strike fear into me. I'd rather go for a drive in a car with the mother in law and talk about feelings such is the unease I would feel. However, they must have anticipated this as they suggested to meet a bit earlier so as to give him time to adjust.
So we are going and I know that all will be fine because if he is having a bad night, they won't let it affect ours or their enjoyment. I don't do serious very well. I don't do appreciation very well and I certainly don't do jigsaw puzzles very well. But I have come to realise that in life, our own jigsaw puzzle evolves and how we would like things to look changes. We feel lucky that as we go along, we are finding the right pieces to complement and complete what we already have.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Whats my role?
Calving. The deep abyss that dairy farmers dissapear into for what seems an inordinate amount of time. Approximately 8 weeks straight, every single day starting at a rather uncilivilised time, anytime you have to set your alarm clock for a time starting with either a 3 or 4 is uncilivilised. And on a good day you finish in time to watch the news, a bad day, well dont ask. I once went to Mexico on a ship with a crew from the Phillipines and they had a saying 'Every day's Monday'. And thats kind of what calving is like, only instead of a sea of crystal clear salt water to gaze out upon, I have a sea of mud, mud, mud, effluent and more mud and this sea isnt so romantic.
I'll tell you what else isnt romantic at this time of year, going for training runs at the end of 15 hour days. Nor is the thought of sitting my backside on a painfully thin bike seat at the end of the day. Actually, romance it'self or rather 'business time' also isnt so romantic during this period. That could explain why very few children of farmers are born in the months of April/May. Wendz is expecting our second addition to the family in November, I think it's November 14 but who knows, I've yet to meet a father who really remembers dates like these. Clearly, it's safe to say that nine months prior to that date, we had no cows calving. It's also safe to say that the cows in the paddock aren't pestering the father in question for names for their offspring.
Why, in the middle of the busiest time of the year, 3-4 months out from the due date is finding a sutible name for our baby a pressing concern?
Well that is just how things can be a bit different, when you have a champion little boy with autism. You see Cam doesnt handle change or surprises very well. We would rather have not discovered the sex, shes a girl! However, Cam had it set in his mind that he would be having a wee sister and would hear nothing of it being a boy. Thus we felt it was best to know so that we could prepare him in case he was getting a brother. And of course, a name is essential in this process. Wendz, being the sensible one, picks all the nice names to choose from, Isla, Lily, Alyssa and there were others but during All Black season, I dont really listen that well. Naturally, I exclude the names of ex girlfriends, girls that shunned me at some stage of my life for a Brad Pitt and all other names that sound wholesome and sweet while trying to focus on some names that come with certain stereotypes. Stereotypes that are gauranteed to get a reaction from my dear wife.
Apologies in advance if you bear a name of exotic origins, no offence is intended but I felt Porsche, Mercedes or even Candi were worthwhile mentions for no other reasons than I would get the desired reaction from Wendz. And when Mum growls at Dad, Cam laughs so of course, I keep fishing for bites from Mum to get more laughs from Cam. We,(her) have decided on a name and a week ago, if you asked Cam who was in Mummys tummy, he could tell you. But I adopted Porsche and would constantly deny the intended name, much to Mum's protest and shout out 'Porsche' Now Cam kind of thinks his sister is going to be named after a sports car or a stripper, depending on if your from Remuera or Hamilton. And in doing so, I have, to a degree, undone the good intentions of mum. So that lead me to thinking, 'whats my role'?
I broke the role of a Dad down to 5 core tasks.
1. Teach the little bugger to drive
2. Make him laugh lots.
3. Teach him how to carry a rugby ball with both hands in front of him.
4. Teach him when to play the back foot cover drive to a left arm pace bowler and...
5. Ensure he grows up with respect for Mum and does what she says.
The rest, toliet training, making his bed, cleaning up, manners, mowing the lawns, brushing his teeth, cleaning behind his ears, blah blah blah are all Mums domain. Of course, in any family where the children dont have extra burdons placed upon them, my ideas on being a father do not pay enough respect to the role. In a family like ours, well it's fair to say some things have to change.
There are a lot of courses avalible to parents of children with disabilities. You can learn different methods of teaching to a 'disabled' child, how to handle your child if they are having a bad day and how to help them adjust to different social settings. I'm pretty sure though, that there were no courses on how to handle the balance of seeing your son at the end of a long day, when your dogtired and you just want to have some fun with him without confusing simple issues. Sometimes you just learn by trial and error and hope that the errors arent to significant to fix. After all, thats what Mums are for...kidding.
As you might have guessed, training is tough at the moment, its not happening as often as it needs to and it's not being performed at the quality it needs to. Joey Yovich said to me once that sleep was overrated, it might be time to take that advice and just work harder for the next two months as I want to exceed expectations. Every day might be Monday on the farm but it's easier than having Autism.
I'll tell you what else isnt romantic at this time of year, going for training runs at the end of 15 hour days. Nor is the thought of sitting my backside on a painfully thin bike seat at the end of the day. Actually, romance it'self or rather 'business time' also isnt so romantic during this period. That could explain why very few children of farmers are born in the months of April/May. Wendz is expecting our second addition to the family in November, I think it's November 14 but who knows, I've yet to meet a father who really remembers dates like these. Clearly, it's safe to say that nine months prior to that date, we had no cows calving. It's also safe to say that the cows in the paddock aren't pestering the father in question for names for their offspring.
Why, in the middle of the busiest time of the year, 3-4 months out from the due date is finding a sutible name for our baby a pressing concern?
Well that is just how things can be a bit different, when you have a champion little boy with autism. You see Cam doesnt handle change or surprises very well. We would rather have not discovered the sex, shes a girl! However, Cam had it set in his mind that he would be having a wee sister and would hear nothing of it being a boy. Thus we felt it was best to know so that we could prepare him in case he was getting a brother. And of course, a name is essential in this process. Wendz, being the sensible one, picks all the nice names to choose from, Isla, Lily, Alyssa and there were others but during All Black season, I dont really listen that well. Naturally, I exclude the names of ex girlfriends, girls that shunned me at some stage of my life for a Brad Pitt and all other names that sound wholesome and sweet while trying to focus on some names that come with certain stereotypes. Stereotypes that are gauranteed to get a reaction from my dear wife.
Apologies in advance if you bear a name of exotic origins, no offence is intended but I felt Porsche, Mercedes or even Candi were worthwhile mentions for no other reasons than I would get the desired reaction from Wendz. And when Mum growls at Dad, Cam laughs so of course, I keep fishing for bites from Mum to get more laughs from Cam. We,(her) have decided on a name and a week ago, if you asked Cam who was in Mummys tummy, he could tell you. But I adopted Porsche and would constantly deny the intended name, much to Mum's protest and shout out 'Porsche' Now Cam kind of thinks his sister is going to be named after a sports car or a stripper, depending on if your from Remuera or Hamilton. And in doing so, I have, to a degree, undone the good intentions of mum. So that lead me to thinking, 'whats my role'?
I broke the role of a Dad down to 5 core tasks.
1. Teach the little bugger to drive
2. Make him laugh lots.
3. Teach him how to carry a rugby ball with both hands in front of him.
4. Teach him when to play the back foot cover drive to a left arm pace bowler and...
5. Ensure he grows up with respect for Mum and does what she says.
The rest, toliet training, making his bed, cleaning up, manners, mowing the lawns, brushing his teeth, cleaning behind his ears, blah blah blah are all Mums domain. Of course, in any family where the children dont have extra burdons placed upon them, my ideas on being a father do not pay enough respect to the role. In a family like ours, well it's fair to say some things have to change.
There are a lot of courses avalible to parents of children with disabilities. You can learn different methods of teaching to a 'disabled' child, how to handle your child if they are having a bad day and how to help them adjust to different social settings. I'm pretty sure though, that there were no courses on how to handle the balance of seeing your son at the end of a long day, when your dogtired and you just want to have some fun with him without confusing simple issues. Sometimes you just learn by trial and error and hope that the errors arent to significant to fix. After all, thats what Mums are for...kidding.
As you might have guessed, training is tough at the moment, its not happening as often as it needs to and it's not being performed at the quality it needs to. Joey Yovich said to me once that sleep was overrated, it might be time to take that advice and just work harder for the next two months as I want to exceed expectations. Every day might be Monday on the farm but it's easier than having Autism.
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