Hyperlexia in Toddlerhood: It All Started with Letters...

A personal reflection on hyperlexia in toddlerhood and how it all started with letters.

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It was a set of thick plastic Sesame Street letters that my mother-in-law found at a garage sale that really led me to discovering my son's hyperlexic traits and love for letters. 

I mean I already knew he kind of liked letters at this point, but it was this particular set of alphabet toys that really cemented his love for letters.

They were bright and colorful, with slight texturing on them. And they featured a sticker of a Sesame Street character on each one (you can see them in the image below). Stickers that my son never really paid any attention to, I might add.

These chunky letters could stand up on their own and were fairly large. Especially when grasped in his tiny toddler hands. The number ones were even bigger and equally as loved.

But there's one particular day that stands out to me. Dressed in green camouflage pajamas and with a big curl of hair on the back of his head, he'd pick one of these letters up, hold it high into the air, and, with the biggest grin on his face (and with dimples on full display!), say the letter name. 

His H sounded more like the French pronunciation. 

His R like a pirate enthusiastically declaring, "Arr!" 

And his W sounded like "dubba dubba." 

Oh how I miss his tiny squeaky toddler voice saying these letter names...

Sometimes he'd hand the letter to me, while I laid quite pregnant on the couch, or he'd waddle over to the fireplace and temporary place them upright on the ledge that was, conveniently, the perfect height table for him. 

Then he'd scoop that letter back up, waddle back to the pile of letters laying on the floor, and squat down to swap it for a new one. 

Just like the previous letter, he'd hold the newly selected one high into the air, much like Mufasa held up Simba in the Lion King, and say its name.

We'd repeat this game day in and day out for quite some time, having absolutely no idea that a few short months later he'd spell words and start reading on his own. A big surprise to us all, obviously.

Perhaps like me, you noticed your hyperlexic child's intense fascination with letters in a similar fashion. After all, their letter fascination is one of the first signs of hyperlexia that many parents notice.

And perhaps like me, you're still holding on to that original set of alphabet toys many years later. It's only 11-ish years later, but hey who's counting...

I just can't bring myself to part with them. They simply hold too many happy memories for me.

Besides, I can't part with them because, unfortunately, letter L went missing years ago...

And you and I both know how well that goes over with hyperlexic kids.

A Simple Reminder About Parent Guilt

All parents experience parent guilt or mom guilt at some point. This simple reminder is for you.

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I think every parent encounters feelings of guilt at some point. We all ask ourselves questions like:

Am I doing enough for my child?

Am I failing my child?

Am I giving all of my children equal amounts of attention?

This list goes on.

Sometimes we know we need help, but sometimes we feel guilty asking for said help. This is something that I really struggle with.

So instead ask yourself this question: are my kids happy right now in this moment?

If yes, then you are doing enough. And no, you are not failing your children.

As hard as parenting can be, you've got this! You just need to reframe the questions and your expectations first.

**This post was originally shared on my Instagram account on March 15, 2019.** 
Click here to see the original post.

Other Resources You'll Love

Autism Resources for Parents

10 Things to Remember When Advocating

Advocacy Tips

If Only Advocating Wasn't so Darn Exhausting & Uncomfortable...

Advocating for your child's needs can be exhausting and uncomfortable. And it can be overwhelming knowing where to start when it comes to advocating for your child. Here's a personal look at getting support for my son at school.

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"I will be looking into this..." he says.

Thank goodness it's just a telephone call, because I certainly cannot roll my eyes hard enough as he spits out that sentence in the most confident, almost cheerful, tone he can muster.

But I don't believe him.

Not one bit.

My husband, on the other hand, is hopeful that things are being looked into as promised.

But me?

I'm a bit more cautious. Pessimistic even.

I mean I've heard lines like this before and, in the end, nothing really happens.

Maybe if my son was more aggressive or a flight risk, I wouldn't be where I am at the moment.

Maybe if my son had more behavior issues in the classroom, I wouldn't have to be making this phone call right now.

Maybe if my son had meltdowns at school every single morning like he did two years ago...

I could go on and one with these maybe ifs, but the reality is my son isn't aggressive or a flight risk or a "problem kid." He's sweet and quiet. He works hard like every other kid. He's smart and goofy. He's probably the first one done everything asked of him in his class.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't struggle or need support.

He still deserves accommodations and supports to help him be successful at school.

I am afraid he is flying under the radar because he's "high functioning" - and don't even get me started on that term, but that's for another time, another day.

It's not okay for his needs to be pushed aside because of budget cuts, priority, and whatever other canned response gets tossed my way.

It's not okay that I am back at square one trying to advocate for his needs. He's only been an identified student at this school since Kindergarten and he's in grade four now.

It's not okay that I have to be that parent just to get things in motion year after year. The squeaky wheel gets the grease after all, right?

Honestly, it's exhausting.

My son's going to be advocating for himself one day and you know what?

I'm scared for him.

I'm scared for his future self that has to constantly battle the system.

I'm scared that he too will be constantly exhausted.

I'm scared that he will decide that the fight isn't worth the exhaustion or the frustration that comes along with advocating for his needs.

My sense of worry kicks in on this thought and is often the reminder I need to push through the uncomfortableness of it all.

Because yes, I need to be that mom who is constantly on the school's case. The mom that teachers warn fellow teachers about. I promise I'm still a nice person though. I'm just a pain in the butt sometimes!

And yes, I need to make these phone calls to the school board even though it often seems like a waste of time. At least it puts me and my son on their radar, though.

It's important to me to show my son that advocating is hard, but if we want to see change, it needs to be done. If he can see that I am a strong advocate on his behalf, then he can hopefully channel that energy and become a strong self-advocate for himself one day.

So the moral of the story?

Don't give up. Advocate hard. Be a pain in the ass. Because your child is watching you and depending on you.

How to Encourage Kids to Hold Your Hand

Wandering, bolting, and running away are all commonplace for kids with autism. And it's scary, especially in busy places like parking lots or airports. For most kids, taking their hand is enough to keep them close to you, but it's not always that easy with a child with autism.

My son rarely likes to hold hands when in busy places. However, there are instances where it is absolutely necessary for him to hold my hand in order to keep him safe. He doesn't wander like he used to, thank goodness, but it is easy enough for him to slip into his own little world and tune out his surroundings. And if he does that, he has zero concept of danger.

One day, it dawned on me why he might be pulling his hand away or letting go.

I wondered if he was truly aware that he and I were even holding hands. I didn't believe he was, so I decided to try something random to draw his attention to our hands.

It was that day that I discovered the one trick to get kids to keep holding your hand while walking. This trick should work with all kids, not just those with autism.

How to Encourage Kids to Hold Your Hand While Walking

The trick is to turn it into a game that encourages them to focus on their hands. 

First, I squeezed his hand tight, applying some deep pressure to his hand. While I did that, I said, "Squeeze." Then I loosened my grip and repeated. I then asked him to copy my pattern. So he went, "Squeeze, squeeze" while squeezing my hand as tight as he could.

Next, I introduced a forwards and backwards motion to the game. I would move our hands out and say, "Tick" and then move our hands back and say, "Tock," just like a clock. He copied the pattern back.

As we walk, I alternate between squeezes, ticks, and tocks and he copies the pattern back. Sometimes we speed up the patterns and sometimes we slow them down.

But, more importantly, his hand remains in mine as we cross busy parking lots or walk through crowded places. And he stays safe.

Other Things You'll Love

How to Get Fidgety Kids to Sit Still at Mealtimes

How I Got My Child with Autism to Try Something New

Why I Use Math to Connect with My Son

How to Improve Comprehension in Autism & Hyperlexia

Why I Use Math to Connect with My Son

"What's 39/100 + 61/100 equal?" I ask six year old J.

In a matter of seconds, a grin stretches from ear to ear as he bounces up and down, his arms wiggling like he's doing some herky-jerky version of the chicken dance, before gleefully answering with, "100/100 or 1 whole!"

He's back, I think to myself.

Thank you for coming back to me.

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To the bystanders in public who see me asking my son these types of math questions I must appear insane, which I likely am, so don't rule that out. But, while they may be temporarily dazzled by my son's brilliance, it is quickly replaced by judgment, assuming I must spend hours upon hours drilling my son with math flashcards. But that's simply not the case.

See, my son has hypernumeracy, which is a fancy term for saying he's ridiculously good with numbers.

While most two year olds are starting to assert their independence in everyday tasks, J, instead, was teaching himself how to tell time and skip count by obscure numbers. Somewhere between ages three and five he mastered multiplication, adding and subtracting fractions, percents, and a whole bunch of other math concepts. This past summer, for instance, at age five, he taught himself (and me!) Roman numerals. It was never my idea to help him learn what three million in Roman numerals is, but he learned it. And he drew them. And he lived and breathed them. Every loose part, toy, or crayon suddenly turned into Roman numerals.

Now that he is six, I'm not sure what kind of math he will be learning next, but it excites me. Not sure when I will be dusting off the good old calculus textbook, but I'm hoping it won't be for a few more years. Hopefully.

So yes, it appears like I am asking my son inappropriate math questions for his age, when his typical peers have just mastered things like counting to 100 or place value. He's just well beyond that and has been for years.

But there's another reason why you will find me asking him these kinds of math questions.

He has autism.

As a result, he withdraws into his autism bubble frequently, where he quietly scribbles endless sequences of letters and numbers onto his Magna-Doodle, while simultaneously chewing on the string that attaches the pen to the Magna-Doodle. Or he escapes with chalk. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with letting him seek the comfort of his own little world as I think we all benefit from seeking solace in our own ways, but there are times when I need him to be alert and focused on his surroundings.

In order to pull him out of his autism bubble, I need to connect with him through his love language of sorts. That love language being the concreteness of letters and numbers. He just thinks in numbers. They give J comfort because they never change.

Letters, symbols and signs are my closest allies because they never change. They just stay as they are, fixed in my memory. And whenever we're lonely or happy, in the same way that you might half hum a song to yourself, we summon up our letters. When I'm writing them out, I can forget everything else. I'm not alone when I'm with letters. Letters and symbols are much easier for us to grasp than spoken words, and we can be with them whenever we want. - Naokie Higashida, The Reason I Jump, p. 49

So when you see me asking what appears to be inappropriate math questions for his age to my six year old, you are actually seeing me, a tired mom, trying desperately to connect and engage her son with the world around him. You see a loving mom embracing her son's love of numbers and math. You see a mom who deeply cares about her son and embraces his quirks.  You see a mom speaking her son's love language.

But most importantly, I hope that you see that gleeful little boy who is accepted for who he is, autism quirks and all.

How to Get Fidgety Kids to Sit Still at Mealtimes

Meal times in our house have been a struggle for a long time.

During a typical meal time, whether it is breakfast or lunch or supper, I will have repeated myself to the point of exhaustion:

Sit on your bum.

Sit on your chair while you eat.

Come back to the table to eat.

Where are you going? It's suppertime.

My tone gradually becoming more terse with each plea. More frank. More frustrated. Whiny, even.

But perhaps the most frustrating part of all was dealing with the acrobatic feats that occurred on my children's chairs. I was tired of eating with upside down children and holding conversations with their flailing limbs. The constant grazing, walking to and from the table to take a nibble of this and then a nibble of that, was driving me crazy.

Was five minutes of non-squirmy children sitting on their bums to eat the dinner I so graciously cooked really too much to ask?

Apparently so.

But I am not one to be easily defeated.

This post contains affiliate links.

Why Sitting at Mealtime is Important to Us

Just to be clear, encouraging my children to sit during mealtimes isn't about obedience. 

It's about finding time each day to connect and bond. It is about fostering healthy relationships with the people we love.

See, I grew up in a small town, living just a few blocks from school. So I was able to go home for lunch everyday and have supper everyday with my entire family. Those mealtimes were a way for us to connect and enjoy each other's company. I have always wanted that for my family as well, especially in this digital age where we get sucked into our electronic devices and maintain a ridiculous busy lifestyle. So yes, sitting together as a family at mealtimes is important to me. It's an important way for us to slow down and connect every single day.

Furthermore, sitting at mealtimes is important from a safety perspective. My children were literally hanging upside down while chewing their food. I may as well hand them some uncut grapes while they jump on the trampoline. I need them to sit on their bums, at least while they eat, so that they will be safe.

Things That Didn't Work

My oldest son has autism and sensory issues, so he rarely sits still to begin with, but there had to be something that would encourage him to sit at the dinner table.

We tried visual cues like a timer. He likes numbers so in theory, it should have worked. Instead, it stressed him out and then he started playing with timer until it broke. Fail #1.

So we tried a social story. Social stories always seem to work for him, but it didn't this time. Fail #2.

We have tried verbal prompts over and over. Of course, understanding verbal demands are challenging for him due to his hyperlexia. Fail #3.

We have even tried a little game, which worked wonders for a different mealtime issue, but did little to help him sit and eat his supper for any period of time. Fail #4.


Rethinking Our Mealtime Struggles

I know my son needs to wiggle and move, so I knew that that was going to be the key to successfully ending our mealtime woes. I needed to tap into his wiggly nature and find a solution that would allow him to squirm, but keep him seated long enough to eat his meal without me losing my voice to my constant pleas.

We tried out our stretchy resistance bands on his chair with minimal success. It really only worked for the first day, but failed to provide him the sensory input that he required on subsequent tries.

Then one day when I was picking him up from school, I spotted him sitting on the Hokki wobble stool that he has in his classroom. But what I really saw was a child, sitting on his bum intensely focused on his work. He looked calm. He looked still. He looked almost peaceful. I was overcome with pride that my son was able to control his body in such a peaceful manner and it was definitely a light bulb moment for me.

I knew that I needed to provide that exact same sensory input at home.

But those stools are $120+ to buy.

There had to be a more affordable option that would work for this scenario. Then I recalled my days of working as a nanny for a boy who had sensory processing disorder. He had a bright blue slanted wedge cushion to sit on at school and at home. Why hadn't I thought of that before?

But again, those wedge cushions aren't cheap either.

So I started exploring other options that were similar in design, but perhaps weren't marked as an occupational therapy tool or sensory tool, until I found the perfect compromise.

And I did.

But more importantly, it has revolutionized our mealtimes. He sits for long periods of time and eats his supper. I no longer have to eat alongside those acrobatic gymnasts who loop their legs around the table's wooden frame or who dangle their bodies sideways and upside down on their chair. I no longer have to see patterned socks fluttering back and forth in the air. Instead, I see my children's beautiful faces, smeared with sweet and sour sauce or a pink-hued smoothie mustache. I get to actually hold conversations with them while they eat and my husband and I finally get to relax, even just for a few minutes, without having to remind the children to sit on their bums.


How We Got Our Kids to Stay Seated at Mealtimes

Now this idea itself isn't revolutionary by any means, but it has made a huge difference in our daily life. And I know others may be in the same situation as us, especially if you have fidgety, sensory seeking kids like my son. So you may be searching for a quick, practical solution to your mealtime woes and this tip may be just what you need.

The answer: a balance cushion.

This balance cushion provides the exact sensory input he needs, letting him wiggle and squirm all he wants, while staying seated in his chair and eating his meals. It worked from day one and has continued to work since then.

Not only did we end our mealtime battles, but we did it without spending a lot of money. The balance cushion cost us less than $20 CAD versus the $35-45+ we would have spent on a sensory cushion (likely more like $50+ here in Canada because there are so few places to actually buy these kinds of sensory tools from) or the $120+ on a wobble stool.

Now to tackle the next mealtime hurdle: encouraging the kids to try new foods.

Hahaha...good luck, right?

Dear Hyperlexia

Dear Hyperlexia,

We've been friends for five years now, but only knowingly close friends for about 6 months because up until then, I did not know that you even existed. So I think it's time I tell you a few things.

First, I wish you were better understood. I wish there was more awareness so that parents like myself wouldn't have to fumble for years, trying to figure out what is going on with their child. And where are the resources for parents? I honestly feel like I was pushed out of the door with a message of "good luck and see you in a few years" after my son's diagnosis. It left me even more confused. I guess I was eagerly awaiting some random pamphlet like "so your child has hyperlexia...now what?" I even pictured myself being handed one of those ridiculous pamphlets like you see in the TV show Glee. I think any basic pamphlet would have been better than simply seeing your name written on a single piece of paper and then kicked out of the room.

I also wish you were a stand alone diagnosis. I do believe you could be one. Dyslexia is the opposite end and it is its own diagnosis, so why can't you be? After spending the past few months immersed in reading everything I can about you, which I must admit, isn't much to begin with, I feel like you deserve to be free from other diagnoses. Besides, I have even seen the autistic like symptoms in my son "disappear," so does the autism diagnosis really fit him? I feel like it was slapped on him simply because he fit the description of hyperlexia to a T (pun intended) and because hyperlexia often diagnosed alongside autism.

I find you isolating, hyperlexia. I really do. There seems to be no local community for me to join. No hyperlexia support, except for a few small online groups. I feel like I have to advocate ten million times more for you than I do for autism, simply because the educators and support people I do encounter have never even heard of you!

But you know what, hyperlexia? I am completely fascinated by you.

The gifts that you have given my son (and that I see glimmers of in my younger son) are really astonishing. To see a small child decode written words like he does, makes me pause and wonder. It makes me realize how special he really is. You alone make me realize how different he sees the world than I do and I think that's really awesome. I appreciate his literal view of the world. I appreciate his honesty. His rawness.

I love how things like math and spelling just come so naturally to him because of you. Sure I have to teach him other things like social skills and how to talk in first person, but he will never struggle with math, spelling, or learning to read like most kids his age will. And that is fascinating.

You may frustrate me many times per day, like when my son is rattling math question after math question and I am tired of answering them, but you also make me appreciate letters as an art form. Swirly fonts, chunky fonts, bubble letters, and more. He writes in them all. He mimics the fonts he encounters in the books that he reads. Clearly, he sees each and every single letter as a mini work of art because of you. Before you came along, I just thought all letters and words were merely just a means of communicating. But you have shown me that there is beauty in appreciating little things like fonts.

You have also taught me to slow down, observe, and appreciate.

And most importantly, you have taught me how to best connect with my son and I am forever grateful for that.

Sincerely,

Bubble D, swirly Y, bold A, and chunky font N

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5 Things I Learned About Autism from A Night with Dr. Temple Grandin

The other night I went to hear Dr. Temple Grandin speak. I knew it would be a fantastic opportunity to hear her perspective on autism. And there were so many things she said during that short period of time that I wish I could have scribbled notes down in a little notebook. Unarmed with any sort of writing utensils, I just sat and absorbed her reflections on autism and laughed along with the crowd to her amazing sense of humor. And I also got annoyed by the young woman beside me who texted throughout the entire presentation. That young woman seriously missed out on a fantastic presentation by Dr. Grandin.

Anyway, as an autism mom, Dr. Grandin was a delight and an inspiration to listen to. I found myself nodding along to a lot of things she said and I thought I would share some of the most inspiring points from her discussion. I've also included a free printable about these points. The link to download the printable is at the end of the post.

This post contains affiliate links for your convenience.

1. Teach Social Skills Like They're Living in a Foreign Country

Social skills are something kids with autism struggle with. My son certainly does. Dr. Grandin emphasized that we have to teach these kids social skills as if they were learning the rules and norms for a foreign country. We have to physically teach them these social skills.


2. Stretch These Kids!

We're not talking about doing stretches to warm up your body for exercising here. Instead, Dr. Grandin stressed the importance of stretching the kids to do things outside of their comfort zone. Pushing them to try different things. Dr. Grandin shared a story about how her mother was going to take her to her aunt's ranch. Dr. Grandin didn't want to go. So her mother gave her a choice: go for one week or go for the entire summer. Not going was not an option.

This concept of stretching is something my husband and I discuss a lot. We love to push J to try new things and have successfully pushed him outside of his comfort zone before (see here for an example). I have to admit though, that before J received the hyperlexia diagnosis, we struggled finding appropriate ways to stretch him. Now I know to use his hyperlexia to our advantage and help us guide him to try new things.


3. To Touch is to Perceive

Dr. Grandin also emphasized hands on sensory experiences for kids. I could feel her passion about this topic when she spoke and, obviously, sensory play is something I am passionate about too. Kids need to touch, feel, and experience objects in order to truly understand what they are.


4. Wait! Give Them a Chance to Speak

"Wait!" Dr. Grandin shouted. She said that waiting is one of the best things you can do to help your child learn to speak. You have to give the kids a chance to express themselves.

I like to think that I already do well with this point. I always give J an opportunity to answer a question. I wait for him to say something, even if it's not an appropriate response, because it is giving him the confidence he needs to learn how to have conversations. And it shows that I do value his input. And it shows that I will wait for him to try expressing himself on his own.


5. Use Short Concrete Narratives to Improve Comprehension in Kids with Hyperlexia

After the presentation, I had the chance to meet Dr. Grandin. I waited patiently to buy a copy of one of her books and I waited patiently again to get it signed by her. But what I was really hoping for was a chance to pick her brain, no matter how briefly, about hyperlexia. A few times throughout her presentation, Dr. Grandin made references to kids with dyslexia. References to dyslexia always seem to agitate me. Probably because in my head I am shouting, "And what about hyperlexia?!" Anyway, I was really hoping she could offer some insight into working with hyperlexic kids.

So I asked her, "What do you know about hyperlexia?" Dr. Grandin spouted off a very precise, textbook definition of hyperlexia. Then she went on to explain the importance of short, concrete narratives for these kids. She told me to avoid the abstract questions and focus on asking concrete and specific questions to help with comprehension. It may have only been a 1-2 minute discussion, but it was enough information for me to feel confident in raising a child with hyperlexia. She was truly inspiring! And so incredibly smart.

Don't forget that you can grab a copy of this free printable!

{Click here to download the free printable}

Thank you to my friend's husband who snapped the photo below. I had no idea that he was taking a picture, but I am so happy that he did!

Having a brief heart to heart about #hyperlexia with Dr. Temple Grandin. #autism

A photo posted by Dyan @ And Next Comes L (@andnextcomesl) on Mar 11, 2015 at 8:41pm PDT

And look! I got a personalized autograph from Dr. Grandin in a copy of her book The Autistic Brain: Helping Different Kinds of Minds Succeed.

I will be spending the day reading my autographed copy of "The Autistic Brain." #autism

A photo posted by Dyan @ And Next Comes L (@andnextcomesl) on Mar 12, 2015 at 6:26am PDT

Twas the Night Before Mother's Day

Tomorrow is Mother's Day.  So I'd like to show you why, even though I am a mom blogger and "one of those Pinterest moms," I am still, first and foremost, a regular mom who does regular mom things.  And if that wasn't enough, I was in the mood for some rhyming...  

Twas the Night Before Mother's Day

by Dyan Robson

Twas the night before Mother's Day and I would like to show you
That there are some things that I certainly don't do.

The paintbrushes are air drying by the sink with great care,
In hopes that I'll put them away, leaving the counters all bare.

My boys are asleep in their very own beds,
While I zip through the shower, finally able to hear thoughts in my head.

And daddy is on the couch, and I on the floor,
He watches basketball, while I edit photos and more.

When out of my phone, there arose some vibrations,
Oh goody!  Another handful of notifications!

"Now Pinterest!  Now email!  Now, G+ and Facebook!
On twitter I'm not!  On Facebook again!  On writing my ebook!

To the dashboard of Blogger!  To write my new post!
Now dash away!  Dash away!  Here's what you miss out on most."

See, my kids think I am supermom and that is okay,
But I certainly don't want you, my readers, to view me that way.

Wait you think my house is actually that clean?
That's because I kick stuff into a corner when setting the scene.

And the stains on my carpet I make disappear
By using Picmonkey clone tool to keep it all clear.

Then there's the plants in my house that look just plain sad,
Hopefully my friend Lisha, who gave me the plant, won't be too mad!

While me and the kids spend the day together in play,
The laundry waits to be folded some other day.

Wait are those ski pants and a winter hat too?
And I even spot some books, a Christmas one or two.

And yes, I realize that it is now May,
So perhaps I should put those winter things away?

I also suck at dusting, take a look at the piano.
The grubby hand prints are a nice added touch, no?

And on a random Tuesday, I may play hide and seek poop with my boys,
Because really, in the eyes of a child, poop is better than toys.

On this particular day, during a midday toilet tryst,
I found a diaper in a drawer.  In the garbage was poop as big as my fist!

Did I mention that this happened a few minutes before my piano student was due?
Good thing grandma and grandpa were here to help too.

Then there's the photo they took when said child unlocked the door,
Where toilet paper clenched between cheeks hung down to the floor.

I love blogging, but it takes a lot of work and time,
So hopefully you'll have noticed, through my awesomeness of rhyme,

That I am just a regular mom doing regular mom things,
Who just happens to blog about crafts and even DIY swings.

But on this special day, you'll hear me exclaim, before I put my laptop away,
"Happy Mother's Day to all and to all a good day!"



Be sure to read the other "Behind the Blog: Mother's Day Edition" posts from these great kid bloggers:

And Next Comes L | 3 Dinosaurs | Hands On: As we Grow | Kids Play Space | Life Over C's | Makeovers & Motherhood | Not Just Cute | One Time Through | Play Dr Mom | Southern Girl Ramblings | Still Playing School | Teaching Mama | The Chaos and The Clutter | The Craft Train | The Educators' Spin On It | The Measured Mom | The Mommy Talks | Third Stop on the Right | This Reading Mama

Remembering Auntie Jan

Six years ago, an amazing woman left this world way too early.  Her name was Janice and she was my aunt.  

Auntie Jan was always supportive of my love for writing, so I think it's appropriate that March 11th will forever be dedicated to remembering her.  So today I am putting aside all my creative posts to focus on celebrating her. 

Last year I wrote this particularly powerful post in remembrance of Auntie Jan.  It is easily the most heartfelt and personal post on my blog, but it is the one that I am most proud of.  I cannot read it without ending up in tears.  It is raw and emotional.  Please consider reading it before continuing to read today's post.

When I wrote about her last year, I mentioned that I have little hints of her hidden throughout my home.  Two of my favorite things that remind me of her are the ring she gave me before she died and her handwritten chocolate chip cookie recipe (pictured below).

I admitted that I did not remember the story behind the ring, but thankfully, my grandpa and his cousin Lloyd were able to fill in the gap.  The ring is a family heirloom.  Apparently, the ring can be traced all the way back to my grandpa's great grandmother.  For generations it was passed down to the youngest daughter in that family.  However, my Great Grandma Bing only had sons, so the ring was then passed down to the youngest daughter of her oldest son.  That daughter was my Auntie Jan.  Jan also had three sons and no daughters.  She was then free to pass the ring down to whomever she chose.  Jan had decided to give the ring to me as I am the youngest female in my generation.  My grandpa informs me that the ring is probably worthless in terms of monetary value.  However, it is a constant reminder of Auntie Jan, which makes it worth something, at least to me.

Another constant reminder I have of Auntie Jan is the recipe book she put together for a bridal shower gift.  More importantly, there's a handwritten recipe for her delicious chocolate chip cookies in the book.  Every March I whip up a batch of these cookies.  Okay, I whip up a batch on other occasions too, but I do make a point to make some every March.  It is my way of connecting with her, even if it's just through seeing her words written on the page.

In celebration of my Auntie Jan, I am going to share the recipe so that you can enjoy a cookie or two or three of your own.  Seriously, these are the best chocolate chip cookies ever.  They are moist, chewy, and so fricking good.

I have tried modifying the recipe in the past to make them healthier, but after protests from my husband, I now know not to mess around with Jan's recipe.  As my husband says, "If I'm going to have a chocolate chip cookie, then I do not want it to be healthy.  I expect it to be full of sugar."  

So here are the best damn chocolate chip cookies you'll ever taste, sugar and all.

Auntie Jan's Chocolate Chip Cookies Recipe

Serves: one or ten (her words, not mine)

Ingredients:

• 2 squares of margarine - soften
• 2 eggs - beaten
• 1 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 2 cups white flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 1/4 cup chocolate chips (I often do 1 1/2 cups!)

Directions:

1. Soften margarine in the microwave for approximately 40 seconds).
2. Add sugars and eggs.  Mix well.
3. Add flour, baking soda, salt, and chocolate chips.  Mix well.
4. Drop from spoon on to greased cookie sheet.
5. Bake at 350° for 10-12 minutes until very light brown.
6. Enjoy!

Remembering Jan: More than the Disease She Battled

If you read this post, then you'll know that my Auntie Jan battled ovarian cancer.  Of course, I want her to be remembered for more than just the disease that took her life.  She deserves to be remembered for her love, her sense of humor, and her delicious chocolate chip cookies, which you can now enjoy anytime you'd like.  

However, I cannot carry on her legacy without educating others about ovarian cancer.  Breastfeeding can help lower your risk and it is just one of the ways that I hope to protect myself from the disease.  I will be celebrating 4 and a half years straight (or 54 consecutive months, but who's counting?) on March 13th.  Each day and month helps to lower my risk.  

So please educate yourself on the disease.  The faces of ovarian cancer are our mothers, grandmothers, sisters, daughters, and aunts.  

For more information on ovarian cancer and prevention methods, please check out these resources:

• Ovarian Cancer Canada
• References on Breastfeeding & Ovarian Cancer on Kellymom.com
• Overview of Ovarian Cancer on Mayo Clinic Website
• Ovarian Cancer on American Cancer Society Website

Celebrating my Blog's First Anniversary

Today marks the first anniversary of my blog.

*throws confetti into the air and starts dancing*

I can hardly believe that an entire year has passed.  It has certainly been a whirlwind of a year.   And honestly, I had no idea that my blog would grow like it did.  As a result, I have to take the opportunity to thank the people that have helped to make this year unforgettable.

Thank You!

First, thank you to my absolute biggest fan, my husband, Josh.  He reads my blog everyday and happily listens to me as I rave about my latest milestones or go on and on about my disappointments.  He also helps me go through photos for the blog when I just can't decide which images to keep and which ones to get rid of.  And he has been a trooper, helping me out with my crazy wild ideas.  The most crazy of all being the homemade light bright tabletop.  So to thank him I am going to fulfill my promise of writing about something extremely important to him.  So...bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, bacon, BACON!  Love you.

Of course, I should thank Randi and Sheila for pushing, prodding, bugging, encouraging me to just jump on in and write a blog.  I'm so glad that I listened to you.

Then there's my best friend, Lisha.  She's my biggest supporter on my Facebook page, which I am grateful for.  In case you didn't know, Facebook is a jerk.  Facebook likes to show my posts to only a very small percentage of my Facebook fans so every single like and comment that she has given me has been greatly appreciated.

Then there's the amazing women behind the following blogs that have been there to support, encourage, work together with, and laugh together with.  I encourage you to visit every single one of their blogs because they are all incredibly talented.  And because I'm anal, I have put them into a nice alphabetical list.

• Craftulate
• Fun at Home With Kids
• Happily Ever Mom
• House of Burke
• Lalymom
• Learn with Play at Home
• Still Playing School
• Teach Preschool
• Teaching 2 and 3 Year Olds
• Where Imagination Grows

And finally, I have to thank YOU, the reader.  You have no idea how much I love reading your comments and emails.  I also love to see pictures of when you try one of the ideas found on my blog.  It's such a huge compliment!

Looking Ahead...

Now that I'm done my long list of overdue thank yous, I'd like to share what I'm looking forward to in my second year.  After numerous requests, I will be starting to work on making printable templates for my felt board activities and quiet book pages.  I also am planning to start including some of my non-kid crafts on to the blog.  Mama's gotta craft too, right?  It's something that I have been wanting to do for awhile now and I am excited to share what I've been up to!

And perhaps you've noticed my nice new blog design.  I decided to start my second year of blogging with a complete overhaul and I am completely in love with the new look!

Now be nice and leave me a delightful little congratulatory message below.  I really do enjoy reading your comments and I take the time to respond to each and every single comment on my blog!  Don't make me celebrate alone...please.

Okay, now I'm off to eat some virtual cake.

I Miss Her

There are many reasons why I chose to breastfeed my children.  There are tons of health benefits for both the child and the mom.  One of the benefits for nursing mothers, that stands out for me, is a decreased risk for ovarian cancer.  Ovarian cancer.  Two very simple words with a huge impact, at least for me.  I have seen what ovarian cancer can do to a person and their family.  So if I can decrease my odds against the disease, I will.  Here is why...

Today marks five years since my aunt lost her battle with Ovarian cancer.  Sure, I am incredibly sad, but at the same time I am proud and humble.  She was like my second mother, especially during the summer when I worked 6 hours away from my own parents.  She treated me like her own daughter.  She was an incredible person.  Overly direct sometimes, but still someone I admired.  Someone I loved.  Someone I was proud to have in my family.

She was always there for me.  When I was younger, she used to send me beautiful journals at Christmas to encourage my love of writing.  She also helped me and my husband get a mortgage together for our first house almost 8 years ago.  While I attended Queen's University, she was always an instant message away.  We used to spend many hours chatting away on MSN Messenger (BTW, I wonder, does anyone still use that anymore?).  I miss those conversations terribly.  And she was one of the few people, other than my husband, to know that I was planning on transferring universities before I worked up the courage to tell my own parents of the decision (Mom and Dad, if you are reading this, surprise!).  And, of course, she made sure I always had someone to talk to or a good meal or even a ride to my grandparents' house when I lived and worked at the lake all summer.

Yes, I miss her and, as a result, I am particularly reflective today.  I keep thinking about the last time I saw her.  It was the weekend before she died and my mom, my husband, and I made a road trip to see her.  My dad was already there with her, helping take care of her during those last few weeks.  He had stressed to me that it would most likely be my last chance to see her since her condition was deteriorating rapidly.  And he was right.  She passed away two days after I last saw her.

My dad tried to prepare me as best he could for my visit with her because frankly, I used to be an emotional train wreck.  Honestly, anything would make me cry.  He warned me that she looked a lot different.  I tried to brace myself for the worst.  I remember when I tried to go into her bedroom to see her.  I was not prepared at all.  I saw her and absolutely panicked.  I had to turn around.  She looked nothing like I had been expecting.  She looked worse.  Unfamiliar.  I needed more time to prepare myself.  I absolutely hate that my first reaction was to turn around.  And I am sure it would have been heart breaking for her to see my reaction, which I am not sure if she did or not.  My dad stopped me.  Hugged me.  He reminded me that she was still who I remembered.  He probably made a stupid corny joke too.  I don't really remember.  I just remember that minutes later I went into the room, determined to get past the shock and fear I was feeling.  Soon, we were chatting and things seemed almost normal for a bit.

The next night after having supper, she wanted to see me.  Just me.  I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I had to tell her the most important things: one, that I loved her and two, I had to thank her for being, well, just her.  She had her own agenda as well.  She wanted to give me this beautiful ring and told me the background behind it.  I am embarrassed to say that I don't remember anything she said to me.  It is all a blur.  And I don't remember the background story for the ring at all (I am sure my family will fill me in after reading this), but I remember what I was able to say to her and I remember how she made me feel during our last visit together.  She made me feel loved and special.  I knew how proud she was of me.  I think it is that feeling alone that made her passing that much more manageable.

Looking back, I realize how fortunate I was to be able to tell a person everything you want to before they pass.  I am grateful for that opportunity.  It gave me closure, knowing that she knew how I felt and, in turn, how she felt.  We exchanged our I love you's and our goodbyes and never turned back.

Just two weeks ago I was reorganizing our photo album and scrapbook collection when I came across the guestbook she made for my wedding.  I forgot about the message she had written in the back.  Just seeing her handwriting makes me tear up. 

And don't get me started on what hearing certain songs does to me.  I was asked to play the piano for her funeral.  I thought it would be impossible for me to follow through with her wish of me playing that day, but I did.  However, the songs "Hallelujah" and "Bless the Broken Road" tug at my heartstrings.  Every.  Single.  Time.

And then I thought I would have a difficult time when I helped to spread her ashes.  I didn't.  I was helping to set her free.

I have these random little reminders of her throughout my house, including the ring she gave me and the Dr. Seuss book with her handwriting in it that I found in a box of books my grandparents sent me.

I wish she was still here.

I think of her often and how she would have loved to meet my boys.

I miss our hilarious conversations and her helpful advice.

I think of how her struggle with ovarian cancer has taught me to take any necessary precautions to avoid that disease.  And I am.  I am approaching the three and a half year mark of continuous breastfeeding, and that includes an entire year (and a day) of tandem nursing.

Sigh...

I miss her. 

Category: Breastfeeding, Life Lessons, Personal Reflections

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