Entertaining the Boys & Reinforcers

One of Owen's biggest reinforcers is to watch video clips on the computer. A reinforcer is a 'reward' that the boys choose when they have successfully accomplished a task. The computer is also one of the boys' options to choose as an activity from their selection of pictures in their PECS books. Quite often, it's Owen's choice 100% of the time. He prefers for us to go to the blog so that he can look at the pictures of his friends and family. Because blogger allows labels to be added to each individual post, it is very convenient for us to simply select 'video' on the left hand side of the blog, so that all of the individual posts which contain a video will be listed on one page.

So I figured that I'm going to start adding a lot more video clips that will appeal to the boys as well. Sorry for all of you who can't handle any more Sesame St. or The Wiggles. But in the words of one Brian Fuller... "how do you think I feel?"





This is the original closing credits to Sharon, Lois & Bram's "The Elephant Show" (1986):








A scene from our (Auntie Boom & my) favourite movie, Follow That Bird:

Now I Can't Help Myself...

Can you tell that we're a Jim Henson loving family? Classic clips...




And did you know that this one was sung by the Pointer Sisters?:

One for the Kiddies

Okay that title is a lie. It's really for the grown-ups. Old school Sesame Street. Wish I had Aunt Shelley's imitation of this on film...

Jon's Celebrity Look-alikes

I married a Clay Aiken look-alike?????


My cool celebrity look-alike collage from MyHeritage.com. Get one for yourself.

Jake the Snake

You know your 5 year old is too cool when he doesn't think it's important enough to mention to his mom that he had a Boa Constrictor wrapped around his neck when he visited the Dinosaur Museum last weekend.

Brave little man!

And this is what happens when you let that same 5 year old choose his clothes to pack for his overnight trip. A pyjama shirt 3 sizes too small in a "I'm trying to model for a Sears catalogue" pose. His buddy Josh obviously has more attentive parents who help their son to pack his pyjamas.

Waxing Nostalgic

I have come across some pictures of the boys when they were in their first months. I have to admit that sometimes I see photo albums around the house, or cd's that digitally chronicle my boys' short lives in pictures, but I don't want to look at them. Does that sound terrible? Because I feel guilty about it all the time, especially because I consider myself a scrapbooker..

I can look at photos of Jake and reminisce with the purest of thoughts. I can look at each photo and just remember. I can look at expressions on Jake's face and I am able to match the photo to the moment in time, to the stage of development that he was in at the time. It is easy to look at his photos because they are associated with nothing more than simply.. Jake.

It is difficult to admit but quite often, it is painful to see photos of the twins. Ever since we learned that the boys had autism and heard phrases like early intervention, early detection, symptoms, etc., it is impossible for me now to look at photographs without hearing those words. Now, in every photo, I am searching for those signs and symptoms. I am looking for the before and after photographs that might give us a hint to when - if there was a when - to when our boys changed. Did they regress? Were they developing typically then one day it all suddenly changed? Or were there signs from birth? I'll reserve my comments on what I think on that topic, for another post. But I think that it is safe to say that it's a painful experience to go through, just from looking at a photograph. Undeniably, it has to be one of the most disloyal feelings I've ever had. A mom who can't bear to look at her own children's photographs.

But as always, my boys have taught me to be positive. To look forward, not backwards. To find the joy in the moment and to have faith. Someday I will be able to look at the photographs without having one of those conversations.

So let's start today and ooh and aah over how adorable my boys are. Shall we?

Jake and his two new brothers - Owen & Not-Owen
Will (left) & Owen (right) at 3 1/2 months

And Still the Battle Rages on...

It still makes me so angry, I feel sick. I think about all that we went through in the past couple of years and the battle we had to undertake, just to get our boys the support that they deserved. I still feel in some ways that we bailed out of Ontario. But I know we had to put our family first. My prayers will always be with the families still fighting the fight and to others in the autism community, like Shelley Martel, who continue to hold McGuinty's government accountable.

"Autism's New Cash Drain

No matter how you spin it, the shameful treatment of some of the most fragile and vulnerable children in Ontario by the McGuinty government sits like a rock on the road to the Liberals' re-election..." (Source: TorontoSun.com)

Dinosaurs in Drumheller

Here is yet another perk of living in Alberta. How many kids can say that they got to sleep overnight in a museum with real dinosaur bones?

Jonathan and Jake spent last night in Drumheller with Jake's Beaver troupe, at the Royal Tyrrell Museum. It sounds like they had a great time, except for the fact that there were other groups there at the same time and Jonathan tells me they were sardined in their sleeping bags in one big room. Not fun.

But not according to Jake. He and his buddy Josh had a blast but didn't get a lot of shut-eye.

Lucky bums

Mountain Dance

What a great day this was.. Someday I'll find the time to write a proper post about Aunt Shelley and Michelle's visit with us in Calgary. Our theme song for the week was the Rankin Family's "Feel the Same Way Too". It's just one of those can't help but feel happy songs. As demonstrated by Aunt Shelley on our pit stop along the Trans Canada Highway on our way to Lake Louise:

Will & Jake Love Trash

This is a typical scene in our living room. Will loves to sing along to the television in his "humming" voice. Jake loves to sing louder than the people on the tv. Owen just likes to watch.

Coffee Dates & Honesty

Last night I spent at least an hour typing out a long post that subsequently got zapped into the black hole of the blogging world. I'll try to remember what I wrote.

I don't know what I would do if I didn't have Lisa out here with me. There is nothing like having a friend who really gets it. I've got great friends and family who have been through it all with us. They are so supportive and I never doubt their intentions. But there is something about having a friend who really understands where you are coming from. There are the obvious reasons for our compatibility as friends. We both have twins who are the same age and who go to the same school and are in the same ABA program. We both have children with autism. We both grew up in the same 'area' of Ontario and moved to Calgary at the same time for the same reasons. We both seem to have a very similar approach to parenting and to life in general. Most importantly, we both have the most charming husbands and she and I are both lovely, young and very beautiful. ;)

Lisa and I have managed to carve out some mornings where we can grab a cup of coffee and sit for a chat. Our husbands will likely roll their eyes and assume that we're just wasting time. But I see this time as vital to my happiness and success in keeping my sanity. I really do. Some mornings we just gripe a bit about how tired we are and how we are desperately in need of a shower. Some mornings we just compare our hectic lives and share ideas and thoughts on what we're doing with our kids in their programs. A lot of times we talk about how we should really try to talk about things other than autism, but admittedly, it always seems to come back to that.
I think what really makes my friendship with Lisa so special is that there is no one in the world with whom I can share my greatest fears about our future. Besides Jonathan, could anyone else really understand my feelings?

The truth of the matter is, no matter how much we try to blend in to the rest of the world and just *be* a typical member of society, going about our lives like everyone else, we are set apart because of this thing called autism. It makes us different. Not better. Not worse. Not unique either.. because certainly, every family has its own characteristics or issues that also sets them apart from the norm. But denying that we are different from most families would be like pretending I don't have a nose in the middle of my face. It's impossible to ignore. Autism has added a flavour to our family dynamics that most people just couldn't understand. It influences every single solitary decision that we make as a family. From where we should live, to what our grocery list should be, to how to discipline Jacob, to whether or not we should have pets, what colour paint can be safe to put on a wall, whether or not we can turn on the television, whether socks can be purchased that have seams in the toes, can we accept a dinner invitation, can we go to church, how we file our taxes, how we write our wills........ you get the picture. It colours how we see the world. The other day I talked about how we may not take for granted the same things that some other people might. I know that it affects my decisions in choosing my battles. Is it worth it to fight Owen and Will when they pull off all the cushions from my couch so that they can jump on them? Do I care that my kids are disrupting other fellow shoppers in the grocery store as they howl through the aisles? Should I strong-arm Jake and call him on every rule he breaks when I know how unfair his life is right now? Do we care that other people give us dirty looks when they see us letting Will drink the water from the pool?

One of the greatest burdens that I now experience since autism has entered our world, is that I see other children in a different way. I call it a burden because it weighs on my heart. There are two sides to this. The first is that I now look at children with the eyes of a "been there, done that Mom of a child with autism". I hate having this role. It means that when I see parents dealing with tantrums or behavioural problems with their kids that they find insurmountable or frustrating, I can't help but think "that's nothing. What you're dealing with equals one hour of my life." It also means that I feel like I'm constantly checking kids for the signs. I am now hyper-sensitive to any sign of stereo-typical behaviours, speech delays and communication issues, sensory issues, social ineptness, etc. and I often want to say to their parents "have you noticed that your son does this... have you had him checked out with a developmental ped... ?". I don't ever say it, unless I'm asked or I know the parents really really well. But it's a tough role to play because who wants to be the one to point out to an unsuspecting parent that you think their child might have autism as well? The other side to it is that I am always comparing my kids to others of the same age. I don't think I need to explain how difficult this is for us. I hope that someday it won't be so hard to see other kids playing with other kids, or talking, or sitting quietly in front of a television, or telling their parents "I love you". But it is so hard. It's not always bad, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't suck. I remember a year and a half ago, I had a friend over with her daughter. LeeAnn had her daughter Emma over for a visit and it was shortly after we had received the diagnosis for the boys. I think Emma is a year younger than the twins. I remember looking at Emma, then looking at Owen. Watching Emma harass her mom with questions like "what's that" and "why?" and pointing and pulling at her legs. It took everything I had not to bawl my eyes out in front of that little girl. Because she could do things, think things, express things, that my boys weren't even close to doing. Things that my boys STILL aren't close to doing. It didn't take away the pride I felt for Emma and her parents, that she is growing into an adorable, inquisitive little lady. It just hurt. It's getting better and I am sure that one day I might stop feeling the "what could've beens" when I see Owen and Will's same-age peers.

Now back to my point. Can I talk this way to my friends or to my family? -Sure I can. But do they know how to respond to it? -No one does, nor are they expected to. Would I say the right thing if a friend of mine lost a child? Never. I can't relate and I pray to God that I never can. When I am with other parents of kids with special needs, I like that I don't have to put on the face that everything is fine and dandy all the time. I don't have to nod and smile when people tell me that everything is going to be fine, to take things one day at a time and not to worry. If I voice my true fears- the ones that make most people feel uncomfortable to hear about- friends like Lisa can just nod and smile knowingly, because they've thought the same things about their own kids. There is comfort in knowing I'm not the only one and there is peace that comes with feeling we're not alone. But thank God for the friends and family who aren't on the same side of the fence that we are. Because without those reassurances that everything will be fine, that we're doing a great job, that the boys are doing great.. without those love pats we would be in constant panic.

I read another blog yesterday and it prompted this little rant. It is called Autism Vox and it is written by Kristina Chew, the mother of an almost 10 yr old boy who also has autism. Kristina did a beautiful job of chronicling her family's journey with a post called "Did We Do Enough?: On ABA and Growing Up". Her words really spoke to me and Kristina seemed to voice so many of my thoughts and fears that I have never been able to verbalise. I found a lot of hope in her story because Kristina seems to be sitting in a place where I hope I can be in 6 years. She's speaking the truth and I respect it. I strongly, strongly encourage you all to read her post. I think it will give you a glimpse into the life of another family and what it's like...

"Hurry, hurry, hurry.

That was the message we kept hearing throughout the first six or so years of my son Charlie’s life, after he was diagnosed with autism in 1999, shortly after his second birthday. Get started on Early Intervention, intensive ABA for forty hours a week, and everything else you can—-the young brain is still plastic, those neural connections are still forming and if you do enough you may be able to rewire his brain. And so we did, from the forty hour per week in-home Lovaas ABA program to the gluten-free casein-free diet, to various nutritional supplements, to anti-fungal therapy—-not to mention speech therapy, OT, music therapy and, somewhat later, cranio-sacral therapy with a bonafide faith healer, and various other treatments biomedical and otherwise."

Before and After Pics

Despite the nursery school teachers claiming that their hair was adorable, particularly Will's duck tail, it had to get chopped. Will's bangs were poking him in the eyeballs. Jake just had a haircut a couple of weeks ago, but we had his done as well to clean it up (no pics of Jake this time, sorry).

For the last few years, Jonathan and I usually tortured the poor kids by trapping them into their booster-high chairs, while we buzzed their heads as short as possible to help lengthen the time in between cuts. We knew they hated the sound and the feel of the clippers, but the alternative was to turn them into Chrystal Gayle look-alikes or to risk them getting cut by the scissors of a hairdresser who is dodging one of their kicks.

The move out here gave us opportunity to make a lot of changes. The transition from cribs to beds. The twins' sharing a room to a room of their own. No more high chairs. You get the idea. Haircuts were another one of those things where we figured that we might as well throw in another big change for the twins and start taking them for regular haircuts. We found our place. Beaners. It's a great franchise that started in Calgary and they've got people who have tons of experience with all types of kids, primarily all of those kids who hate getting their hair cut. The kids sit on cool coin-operated rides like racecars or animals. There are videos playing on several televisions placed around the shop and there is even a *ball*room where the kids can play while they wait. We always bring along our own portable dvd player with the boys' favourite vids. Next time I'm going to have to remember to bring a bag of m&m's as a reinforcer for Will. No matter how great the environment, Owen and Will HATE to get their haircut. But at least we don't have to worry that the hairdresser can't handle the behaviours that the boys will demonstrate. We've finally figured out that the easiest way to get the job done is to have Jonathan sit in a salon chair, under the cape while holding the boys so that they can't kick or punch anyone. Jonathan loves this job! :)

Here is pitiful Owen's before:

Here is his after (isn't he adorable?):

and here is Owen right after the after was taken:

(Owen's little tantrums crack me up. He really does make a great face, doesn't he?)

Here is the ragamuffin's old do:

and the after:

This photo cracks me up. I can't get over how much Will's body language looks like Jake.

The following two photos have nothing to do with haircuts. I just thought it was interesting to capture one of those odd things that Will does around the house. Will likes to jump on to the couch to watch tv in the mirror. Why? Who knows, but who knows why Owen and Will do the quirky things that they do.

Kid Stuff, Zoo and Steak

If I hear one more person say to me "Welcome to Calgary" in that sarcastic tone because I commented on the crazy weather... This past weekend was a fine example of how unpredictable the weather out here can be. We had a few feet of snow that had accumulated over the past few weeks and along came a Chinook and poof! All our snow was gone. We were up to 16 degrees Celcius this weekend and we took full advantage.

Lisa suggested that we join families and meet up at the Calgary Zoo for Sunday afternoon and it was the perfect idea. The weather was SO nice. The zoo was full of people in t-shirts and with the warm sunshine it felt like we were in the 20's. Unfortunately, we weren't the only people who had the idea to hit the zoo. The line-ups were insane and I think we waited over a half hour to get through the gate. Once in, I think the kids had a good time.

We got to see one of the zoo's newest additions.. Richard, the giraffe. Isn't he cute?

I have to include this picture of the wart hog just because I think they're cool. Who didn't love them in the Lion King?

Here are Jake, Owen M. and Ella pretending to be underwater in the Hippo tank. The hippos were being lazy, asleep outside at the time of the photo so the models in the photo were never in any real danger. :)

Our Owen and Will were pretty low-key. I think that the sunshine mellowed them out or something because they never really wanted to get out of their wagon. After seeing the giraffes, hippos, rainforest animals and best of all - the gorillas, we headed to the playground. We spent a good 45 minutes just stressing out trying to find the kids in the chaotic world of tubes, slides and little munchkins.

After the zoo we drove back to Craig and Lisa's for dinner. I can't stress enough how beautiful it was out. For anyone who knows Calgary, we drove along Memorial Dr. and it was so nice to see the hundreds of people running, roller blading and strolling along the Bow River. With the downtown buildings on one side, the beautiful (still mostly frozen) river alongside it and all of the old stylish homes to our right, it was one of those days where you just feel happy to be a part of the city.

Once at Craig and Lisa's, Jonathan and I easily fell into our roles as lazy guests and let them do all the work at preparing dinner. :) It is so wonderful to know that we have friends out here, whose home feels as comfortable as our own for our kids to be in. I get so much pleasure watching our boys hang out with Ella and Owen. They are such cool little kids, with great dispositions and they're just as loving and affectionate as our guys are. We love being around them.

The highlight of our visit was managing to snap this photo of all of our kids eating at the same table.. at the same time! They sat for at least 5 or 10 minutes and I am sure that's a new record.

Us grown-ups were treated to a bbq steak dinner so you know we were happy guests.

Owen enjoyed biting off the tips of all of his french fries. Please forgive the shag hair-do's. I will soon post their new haircuts (as of last night!).

Taking Nothing For Granted

So I have to say that ever since Anne's funeral I've been really thinking about a lot of those issues that we just don't like to think about out loud. No one likes to talk about death or when their time will come. People tend to throw around the cliche expressions and distribute chain-letter emails reminding us to appreciate life and the ones we love, but do we really?

A couple of days ago, I came across a blog courtesy of Terri, another blogger that I like to check out. Jennifer Ireland's blog was started in January 2006 by her husband, Chris. Chris and Jennifer share two daughters under the age of 2 and at 28, Jennifer was diagnosed with colon cancer. What followed, was a year of treatment, courage and the public sharing of their personal experience of their battle, which sadly ended last month. Jennifer passed away in February and her husband's loving and positive journaling for the blogging world has moved me tremendously. Yesterday I read the blog backwards and re-traced their experience to the day when they first heard the dreaded diagnosis. My heart aches for this couple, their daughters and the friends and family Jennifer had to leave behind. What resonates in every post, is Chris and Jennifer's gratitude for what they shared together. For the daughters that they created. For the outpouring of support that buoyed them through the most difficult time in their young lives.

Another good friend of mine, Julie, recently shared with me her loss of a friend.. another young mother who died suddenly of a brain aneurysm. She left behind two little ones as well.

I don't want to, but I think about these women and other stories like theirs, all the time. My initial reaction is a torrent of feelings of fear and panic. If this happened to me, what would become of my children? Jonathan and I need to live forever because who will take care of Will, Owen and Jacob? These feelings warrant some practical planning to secure their futures, but panicking and spending nights lying awake in bed fretting over it, does nothing but cause me anxiety for something I cannot control. The lesson I am trying to take from learning of these women, is that I need to appreciate every moment that I have with my family. With the five of us.

Life gets busy. We get caught up in the details of our day. Packing lunches. Hoarding the kids into the van for the trips to and from school. Arguing over putting on a pair of socks or cleaning up the puddle of water under the water cooler, from the son who 'stimmed' on watching it flow. When you are sending your child to his room for a time-out after he told you "No. I am not eating that garbage", after you slaved over a meal, it's hard to remember that you are supposed to stop and enjoy the moment. When Will's foot kicks me square on the bridge of my nose because he doesn't like the sound of Elmo's voice on the television, it's hard to look at him with the warm glow of a mother's love. When Owen looks through me as if I don't even exist, it's hard to find the joy.

But you know what? There are moments that I cherish. Moments that I know most parents would never appreciate with their children, because quite frankly, they take those moments for granted.

A few days ago Jonathan and I were sitting together on the couch, watching something on tv. This in itself is rare. Out of nowhere, Owen came running over to us and jumped in between us for a cuddle. He wasn't there to be squashed.. something he normally seeks out to feed his need for deep pressure. He sat perfectly still in between us for a whole five minutes. He wasn't watching the tv, he wasn't looking to be entertained. He just looked from my face to Jonathan's and smiled that sweet smile of his. It was a moment that I cherish because I experienced the conscious thought that I was blessed to have my sons. I was thankful that Owen.. Owen who is not yet capable of saying the words "I love you".. not even always capable of expressing that love with any physical expression of a hug or even a look.. Owen showed me that he loved us. His grin also showed me that he loved being part of our family. He loved the closeness of his mother and father and he was happy to be a happy kid.

This might sound wishy-washy to you, but these moments with my twins are rare. When I find myself in the midst of experiencing a flash of understanding with my boys, a little burst of connection where I know they 'feel' me.. I feel so much love for them that I feel like the word autism never existed. It makes it all worthwhile.

Jonathan and I getting to go out together since we've moved to Calgary.. it's not only a rarity, but it's really only a faint memory of the days where we had babysitters. (We miss you Bronwyn and Diane!). Last week Emma was here for a visit and we etched out an evening to spend some alone time together. Thank you Emms! What marked it as being an unforgettable experience, was not only that we got to spend some grown-up time together. Time where we could talk about stuff that wasn't weighed down with topics of responsibility, obligation and stress. It was time to laugh and make fun of each other (something we're good at!). Time to eat good food at a new restaurant (all you can eat Mongolian Grill and Sushi-bar). Time to make grown-up conversation with our waitress, as she just might be the only grown-up I'll speak to all week who isn't connected with my kids. We even enjoyed the 60 minutes we spent together strolling slowly through the aisles of the Co-op grocery store afterwards, grateful that we didn't have a deadline or kids screaming in our shopping cart.

The BEST part of our night was the moment we walked out the door. Jake gave me one of his fiercest bear hugs ever, with an "I love you" that implied that he might never see me again. I knelt down to illicit a verbal "buh-buh" from Owen with a wave, and a "byee-byee" from Will. When Owen and Will both kissed me goodbye, how was I to know that they would both begin to howl and cling to my legs? Did I feel bad about it? Did I regret that I forced them to say goodbye instead of doing the silent, unnoticed sneak out of the house? Not at all. I was thrilled. So happy that they noticed that I was leaving them. I was elated that they even cared. It was a first for us to have all three of our boys in complete awareness of what was not only happening around them, but for them to have the awareness and to feel how it emotionally affected them. It was another moment that I will file away in my treasure-box of memories. And I'm sure it was a moment that most parents would resent or find frustration in.

Gratitude for what you have, does not always have to be expressed with a thank you. I believe that it can be shown in paying it forward. I have often shared my thoughts on how much I appreciate all of the people who helped to enable my family to be where we are today. It would be impossible and unreasonable to make daily phone calls, to express our thank you's verbally. I believe you can show it in your appreciation for what you have. Every morning when I drive my kids to school, I drive down a road that gives me a clear view of the Rocky Mountains. Some days I see only the peaks as their bodies are enshrouded in clouds. Some days I only have the knowledge that they are there because I saw them yesterday. Most days I'm fortunate enough that the Alberta sunshine is our norm and I feel like the mountains never end. Every morning I say thanks to those mountains. The mountains are a gift from God and my reminder of everything that is beautiful in my life. For every guest that visits us in Calgary, I feel like I have a responsibility to share that gift with them. When I am questioned by others for why I am driving my zillionth mile out to Banff to share the experience with our guests, I silently answer that I owe it to them. I owe it to myself to share this beauty with others. It is an expression of my gratitude.

Ian shared with us how ever since his mother suffered a heart attack five years ago, his family cherished every moment spent with his mother until her death a couple of weeks ago. I don't want to wake up one day with the regret that my children didn't know I loved them. If I found out that I won't wake up tomorrow, I don't want my friends or family to feel that I did not appreciate them. I don't want all of the people who have supported us to feel that I took it for granted.

I love my boys, I love my family and I love my life. I am lucky and I am grateful for all of it.

Goodbye Anne

A few weeks ago, Jacob and I took a trip back to Ontario. *Details of our escapades will follow shortly in another post.* While I was there, the mother of our dear friend, Ian, passed away in her 64th year. Less than three weeks before, they had discovered an inoperable tumour. Anne Kruis' four children and their families made camp in the hospice where she would spend the last of her days. She was embraced and supported by the love of her children and grandchildren as they gracefully held her hand through the last of her journeys.





Beautiful words were spoken at her funeral in remembrance of a woman who filled her life with volunteering at local charities and community events, spending every free moment cheering on her family members in their sports and activities, knitting beautiful baby blankets for countless new moms (a group to which I am honoured to be a member of). Anne was a passionate woman who voiced her opinion but you could be assured that her heart and the best of intentions were always behind her words. She was a loyal friend and was loved by many, as exemplified when her dearest friend of many years travelled from Holland to join Anne's family in saying goodbye in those final days. She was a doting grandmother who left behind many wonderful memories and lessons to her grandchildren. Finally, Anne will forever be remembered as a fiercely loving mom and an incredible parent. Ian is not only our friend, but he is truly one of the kindest, most compassionate, generous people I know. People throw attributes like that around all the time, but if you know Ian, you know I speak the truth. I tell you this because Anne obviously did something right.

I will always remember Anne for her generosity and compassion towards our family from the day my first child was born. Baby blankets and good ole' fashioned advice on how to tend to a newborn were much appreciated. When the twins arrived (amid our trepidation and fear of how difficult it would be to parent three children under the age of two), Anne was cool in her reassurance that it would all be fine. Her very demeanour suggested that millions of women had done it before me and millions would follow and there was nothing to worry about. When our twins were diagnosed, Anne was there again to assuage our panic with anecdotes of people she knew who were struggling in the same way, but who were doing okay. Whenever we would see her at the Farm, she would rush to ask how things were going. Anne and her entire family played a HUGE role in the planning and in the success of our fundraiser which was organized by Jenny, Ian and other friends and family at the Farm in September of 2005. I will never forget her generosity and her support.


Ian's eulogy for his Mom had my sister and I sniffling uncontrollably through its entirety. Anne's life example made her children proud and they want all of us to know it. Anne courageously went back to high school to get her diploma in the late 80's. I will never forget the sound of Ian's voice as he proudly shared this information with us. Nor will I ever forget the message he ended the eulogy with (but forgive me if I don't have the right words). Goodnight, God bless. Words that his mother spoke at the end of every conversation with those that she loved. Because you never know when it might be the last time you speak with them. Please let her life be a reminder to share your feelings with your loved ones. Tomorrow is not a guarantee.

Thank you and Goodbye, Anne. You will be missed.



Obituary for Annechien “Anne“ Kruis

KRUIS, Annechien “Anne“ - Peacefully at the Stedman Community Hospice with her family at her side, on Tuesday, February 13, 2007, in her 64th year. Beloved mother of Gerard and Brenda Kruis, James and Heather Kruis, Teresa and Patrick Scarlett and Ian and Jennifer Kruis. Cherished grandmother of Erica, Travis, Emily, Benjamin, Leah, Riley, Jared, Bryce and Isabella. Anne was born in Dunoon, Scotland on May 26, 1943. Predeceased by her parents Jan Feiken (Dec. 1992) and Teresa (Curran) Feikien (March 1995). Anne was a longtime member of many church groups, fair committees, the International Villages and the Dutch Club.

Flames Fans

Doncha just love them?

It's a rare occasion that we get a photo with all three boys smiling in a photo, but Aunt Sally pulled it off on a recent visit to their house for dinner. The hats were gifts from Sally and Greg. Blame them! (We're still Leaf fans.. don't you worry!)