My life these days centres completely around my special needs children, Ethan, Emma and Eysiah.
They came in the second ‘shift”, adopted when I already had four ages 5 and up. At the time I didn’t know what I was doing, I was an idiot probably, starting over just as I got my youngest in school, but it was divine intervention and I will tell you about that next time. For those who do not believe in fate, or in prayers being answered, well I just might change your mind.
So without these three, I would be suffering a terminal case of empty nest syndrome. Given that I was an only child and really enjoyed that, you would think I would relish my solo existence once the kids were gone and the husband too (to greener pastures with a girlfriend older and uglier than me…love how that worked out).
But once you get used to cooking for eight every night, or inventing a sock-bin because there are too many people, twice as many socks and no way of possibly sorting that out other than a grab basket that seldom produced a match but at least produced two socks to keep your feet from stinking up your shoes (not mine, but my sons for sure) it is just impossible to go back. I cannot think of anything worse than coming home to an empty house, cooking for one, never running out of toilet paper or milk or gas and not being able to blame anyone but me.
But I am blessed. Not only do I have three young people who adore me, who light up my life, who complete me more than anyone knows, but I have a daughter and two sons who the world considers “different”, “handicapped”, who some people in the world call nasty names and think they are worth less than “normal people.”
Some morons call them retarded.
What’s wrong with the word “retard”? As recently as the 1970s, the word was acceptable in medical fields, even the Arbutus School for Retarded Children existed in Campbell River and was the start of something great, the Association of Community Living and Our Place.
And as far as I am concerned these kids bring brilliance to the world. They are the role model for humanity. They are always happy, they are always giving, they don’t judge anybody, they are not capable of bullying or bigotry or hurting feelings. They love. I am their mother. How lucky am I?
Until next time….strive for fabulous.
Sian Erith Thomson