House of A Writer

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

Anonymous 

There are times I put my ball cap on big sunglasses tuck my hands in my hoodie kangaroo pocket and hide out. Sometimes I do this at home or when I go out so I can remain anonymous. I might even look creepy in my incognito splendour, but I feel safe. I like to people watch there I said it, and this is a way I can do it casually. I learn so much about watching people. There’s an art form to it, a nuance that I appreciate. I don’t stare I just watch how people use their body language, talk in public, how they get absorbed in their “face in their phone world.” 

I have always enjoyed this past time and until now I’ve remained anonymous about it. People inspire me I can think up things to write just from seeing people interacting with each other. Sometimes I take notes while I’m sipping my Starbucks, and word prompts or blog ideas pop into my head. I used to go to parks while I was pregnant with my first and watch parents in action. I watched how they held their babies, what kind of strollers they used, how they cooed and kissed their precious bundles of joy. I enjoyed seeing them in those sweet, candid moments in love with their little family’s. 

I was so eager to learn and take mental notes about what kind of Mom I would be. Little did I know that the biological need kicks in whether you birthed your baby or were blessed with someone’s else’s. I just knew what my son needed whether he was comfortable in a football hold, or too hot from skin to skin and he would push his arms up and away from my chest. I would watch him for hours too just before I fell asleep while he was dreaming away in baby land. 

I could watch his body movements, the way his long eyelashes made his tender baby face look so beautiful. The roundness of his chubby cheeks, and the sweet way he pursed his lips like he was about to kiss me. I couldn’t get enough of baby watching when I had my babies. And I made friends with other Mom’s and I watched and admired their babies as well. My second baby loved to wiggle even when he was sleeping. He was in constant motion right before he’d drift off to sleep. His rosy cherub like cheeks looked like two little apples I could nibble on. His lips were always in a full pout, and his soft blonde hair I would stroke and admire his peacefulness. He was so angelic and since he wasn’t much of a steady sleeper I appreciated these moments even more. 

Watching my children while they slept made me appreciate their beauty, calmness, and the tender years that they were at. And how fast they were progressing as they grew from babies, to toddlers, to preschoolers, and off to Kindergarten and leaving my nest. As they’ve grown this made me want to study them as they play. As if I could capture this time of their lives and bottle it for safe keeping for my memory bank. The voices my youngest likes to use with his superhero characters makes me giggle. And the songs and dances my oldest uses to entertain himself and other amazes me with his talent. I also watch them watching me as I’m reading, cooking, or working out, asking me a hundred questions about what I’m doing, and when will I be done. 

As much as I enjoy people watching I’ve given birth to a couple of investigative people reporters. My son’s will give me updates on our neighbours comings and goings. As well as what his dog is up too, sleeping, eating, or sniffing as he sees my youngest staring at him through a crack in the fence. I have to remind my kids it’s not nice to stare at people in public. A passing glance is long enough and adding a smile if someone looks your way can make yours and their day. I’ve received compliments from other people watchers about my son’s. Which always makes me puff up my chest as a Mommy peacock strutting my parenting stuff. 

I’ve been told by little Grandma’s in the grocery store how polite and cute my kids are. How they must keep me giggling with their antics. I’ve nodded, agreed, and have added “yes laughing and a little hair pulling as well.” I used to feel so anxious if someone was watching me with my babies. Almost like they were trying to see where I was doing something wrong, or I would be judged for not doing something right. Igniting  the whole Mom wars debate that I wanted to avoid like the plague. 

It spoke a lot more to my insecurities then what people thought of me. Usually they just wanted me to hurry up in a line up when deciding what meal to order. They weren’t judging me they just were in a hurry with life. And there I was with my baby smiling away at them from my stroller. I got over that after my children started getting older. Now my oldest is quite a handsome boy with brilliant blue eyes, and an easy smile on his lips. 

He captures attention wherever he goes as he’s kind, polite, and always engages someone in conversation. My youngest he’s equally handsome and adorable, but where his brother is my quiet child he is my loud, wild, child. He is a boy very comfortable in his skin. He has no qualms of telling you his name, how old he is, and inviting  you back to our house for a play date. With him everything is an adventure, something fun and exciting waiting to be discovered by him. I love how he tackles life whether it’s scary or challenging  he wants to take a bite out of that experience. 

There are those days I want to be anonymous when he raises hell with being uncomfortable or panicked about something in his environment. This is something he has no control over with his neurological disorder. If sets him off sensory wise then we have some drama to contend with. Those are the times I want to crawl underneath the table and hide under my hat and dark sunglasses. But I don’t, I’ve taught my kids to never shy away from life. I just do my best to handle the situation and regulate my son as quickly as possible. Then we can leave as quietly as we came in or I can be the people watcher, and say “take a picture to remember us by.” Which actually happened in a McDonald’s as there were a few judgey Mcjuderson’s in attendance. Oh to be anonymous, incognito, say what you say, dream what you dream, feel what you feel without a care in the world, and be free. Now if you will excuse me it’s time for my weekly people watching session at Starbuck’s. ?

This has been my Sunday confession with the loveable More Than Cheese and Beer. Head on over and check out her anonymous Sunday confessions. And all the lovely ladies who linked up today. Thank you,  smooches. ?

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Theft  

I’ve put my heart and soul into the words I write. I have spoken and written the truth. It’s the way I live my life, and it’s what I teach my children. But what if I’m asked “Mommy are we going to be ok?” Are we going to find Daddy? How do I answer that when I don’t really know, I’m honest, truthful, as I’ve just said but not this time. The theft of my conscience in that moment rocked me to my core. 

It started out as a wonderful night of my husband and I surprising our kids. We were going into the city and going to see our first live Lacrosse game. We drove to the train station and started on our journey. My youngest son loves trains, and we’ve watched Thomas on Netflix on a continuous loop. To say he was excited is the understatement of the year. We started out on our train ride while talking about the sights we were seeing before us. 

Half way to our destination we found out the train route was being redirected and we would have to take the bus. So we went from excitement to a new change, which my youngest son doesn’t deal well with it at all. We boarded a very busy bus and sat in our seats. I sat behind the bus driver and my son got really upset because I sat in his seat. I picked him up and set him on my knee, which caused him to really panic. As he was freaking out and flailing in my arms, my husband stood up and I moved him back to his seat. 

Everything was under control as I checked in with my oldest son who has problems with being in close proximity to people in crowds. He was coping the best he could, because he could see his brother was struggling. Then I hear a woman talking she says “I wouldn’t have let him have the seat. I did that before and it ending badly.” I looked at her surprised she was even talking to me that’s when the theft of my patience happened. I said “he has autism, back off!” She replied that her son had it too.

 I had to stay my tongue even though I was boiling inside. I wanted to say “bitch you take care of your own backyard, and stay out of mine!” But I grumbled to my husband while the ignorant woman’s daughter listened to my every word. We finally reached our destination and the weather was bitterly cold so we ran to the arena. I was very relieved to find our seats and to sit down and wait for the festivities to start. The game was very exciting, action packed, and loud. By the third quarter my son’s were done. So we packed up to leave and started out for the train. It was getting ready to leave so my husband said jump on with the kids, so we did just that. He stayed at the ticket booth and we sat down to wait for him. 

The theft of my heart crushed me as I watched the doors close behind me. I tried to open them but the train was moving and the button wouldn’t engage. I sat with my son’s as they began to cry and wail for their Daddy. My own heart was breaking with their pain and anguish. I held them and tried to calm their fears and still my own. We had to get off the train and a woman was telling me instructions on what train to catch. I got out and waited for my husband and after 15 minutes he hadn’t shown up. My oldest began to cry so I hugged him, then my youngest wanted to be held. There was two security guards nearby and they asked how they could help. 

I told them of our situation and they radioed security at the last station with my husband’s description. We waited inside the bus terminal and then a man got the hackles on my neck rising up. So I went outside to stand with the security guards. The one was a wonderful British man who started talking to my son’s about sports. He was giving them a great distraction and me the tired Mama, a break. He got the call back and they couldn’t find my husband, so I made the decision to take the train home. 

I had told my son’s I wouldn’t leave the city without their Dad. But it was getting late and colder and I believed this was the best decision. When I’ve been lost before I’ve always remembered that if you go back to your original destination, that’s where you’ll find your beginning. As we boarded the train I silently thanked God for protecting us and held my son’s closer. What is it about the late nights that bring the creepy people out?!! Ugh creepy guy at 1:00, as my Mama bear is on high alert. My oldest is squeezing my hand so tight my knuckles are turning white. Yet I don’t say anything but “I’ve got this son, we’ll find your Dad and I have friends that live by the train station.”

He seemed to relax a little knowing that so we start counting the stops and coming up with rhymes. I’m doing my best to occupy his mind as his little brother is loving being on the train. We finally arrive at our destination and see my husband walking towards us. My heart skips a beat and I see him smile with relief. Our son’s run to him and I almost collapse with relief!  We get to our truck, warm up my seat and head home. Hoping that I will never have to go through that theft of loss again. 

This has been my Sunday confession with www.morethancheeseandbeer.com. Please check out her anonymous confessions on her Facebook page. As well as all the other talent who link up. Thank you for popping by. ?

  

  

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