Digging Deep and Asking For & Accepting Help

I've seen scenes in movies where the victim falls to their knees and cries to the heavens for help. They've hit their bottom. They have exhausted all options and finally succumbed to the last resort of begging for someone to hear them as they shout out to an empty room. Notice I said victim. Those movie scenes made me laugh inside. I'd scoff at the actors as they talked out loud to their Higher Power or their dearly departed, in whom they were now placing all their faith that somehow magically, their spirit would swoop down and solve all their problems.

I'm not a hard-core cynic. I believe that I've got some guardian angels of my own who have watched over me over the years. I have been known to silently say a prayer or two in my bleaker moments and pray that my Nan and Pop can help me through whatever tough spot I have found myself in. But have I truly believed that anyone heard my pleas? The ones that I silently uttered in the privacy of my own thoughts? - Not really.

Last Saturday I found myself in a scene from a movie. As I entered the darkness of my walk-in closet, I unashamedly found myself dropping to my knees, laundry basket falling to the floor, and I cried out. "Please! If you can hear me, Please help me! I need help. Help me dig deeper to find the strength to keep it together and to pull my family out of this hole. Please show me what I'm missing, what I can't see, what I need to do to figure out how to keep my boys safe. Please watch over Will and keep him safe." I am a little embarrassed to share that with the world, but you know what? I was at my bottom and when you're desperate, you do what you have to do.

The cause of my panic?
Toy Story. Will's most recent love and obsession. Watch this scene.



Seems harmless? Who doesn't love Woody and his bravery? Not so harmless when your eight year old son's obsessive compulsive behaviours are so extreme that he is driven to run away from the safety of his home, to dart out into traffic and hurl himself under MOVING vehicles to either reenact the scene above, or to search for his beloved Woody and Toy Story friends. Nothing can drive you to your knees in prayer like the sight of your son's bare feet sticking out from under a van, surrounded by strangers kneeling to look underneath. I thought he was gone from us. I thought he was run over. Someone was watching over him that day. And the day after when he did it again.

And after one of the most terror-filled and intense weeks of my life, of desperately shopping for, and installing even MORE locks that Will can't figure out, for every external door in this house, Will upped the ante again. So what caused the next horror in our home less than a week later? Could it have been this scene?



I am a woman who does not see the upper level of her home because she must have all eyes on her doors. I don't shower unless my husband is at home. I can go hours needing to pee, but don't because my guys wait for those moments. My twins might put themselves in harm's way, they might be naughty sometimes, over-zealous, opportunistic and too adventurous. But one thing they are not - is stupid. They are smarter than most adults that I know. They are uber-observant, their memories are SHARP, they are quick thinkers and they know what they want. Just when I think I've got a handle on things, they throw me a curve ball and remind me that I can't let my guard down for a second.
9am and my doorbell rings. I had just checked on Will and left him playing with his ipod on his bed in his room. A woman at my door frantically asks me "do you know that there is a little boy running on your roof?". My blood ran cold. Buzz Lightyear's fall from a window was the likely cause of Will's newest interest in my upper story windows.

What more can I say. I can continue to list the trials we have gone through this week. I can tell you that when we figured out a solution to secure our windows to prevent another escape, that I slept soundly for the first time in years - without the stress of waking from every creak or noise from outside, imagining that Will had escaped beneath our noses. I have dug deeper than I ever imagined possible. To find the strength to cope. To put on a brave face and smile with my children so that they don't know the terror I feel inside. To stay positive when talking with my husband so that we can keep each other from sinking into a permanent place of fear. I have shared this story. There is only so much phony "we're fine" lines we can sell. I'm sick of pretending we've got it all under control. In telling this story we've had offers of help and support from some of the most generous and kind people - people who barely know us. And I am learning to accept that help. Because I have to. Because it's for my boys. Because if I'm at a point when I am dropping to my knees and begging, I think it's time I take the hand that has been offered in response.

And in recognition to all of those who reach out a hand or a word of support when they recognize our need, here's a favourite scene from our beloved/cursed Toy Story movie...

Take a Peek Through Our Window

This morning I was up in my bathroom, brushing my teeth. I looked around my bedroom and thought to myself, "I've got a kick-ass bedroom". We've got the master bedroom of the house and it really is awesome. It's huge and takes up the whole depth of the house. It's blue.. a dusty blue that I love. We've got the most comfy king size bed that hubby invested in last year after our sleeping in a smaller creaky mattress that we'd had for 15 years. We've got cable tv on a decent sized tv (but I'd appreciate it if someone would buy a remote for it) and we've got a massive walk-in his and her closet. A huge bathroom with his and her sinks, a soaker tub, decent shower and even a built-in separate toilet with a door so I can brush my teeth without seeing hubby reading his sports mag on the throne. I even have the best chaise longue that sits in my window.

So why am I bragging about my bedroom? There's a flip-side to all of this. I NEVER GET TO USE IT! This isn't going to turn into an x-rated post, don't worry. I just realized how many little things make my life different than the lives of my friends and while brushing my teeth, I had a new reminder.

- I spend no time in my bedroom or anywhere upstairs, unless I'm cleaning, because I need to shadow the twins at all times. I can't shower unless the kids are asleep, in case they roam the house, break into the cupboards, or make a run for it. We have to sleep with the bedroom door (and one ear) open throughout the night in case Will decides to take a run to the river. In other words, it's like living in the newborn stage six and a half years later.

- we had to install a security alarm system in our home, not to prevent burglars from coming IN, but to keep Will from running out. I can't remember if I've blogged about it before or not, but we have gone through some pretty terrifying experiences with our little runaway. One time Will woke up before the rest of us and left the house in his pyjamas, running all the way to the Bow River (it isn't a teeny stream, either).

Fortunately some guys cycling on their way to work caught him before he got in. Another time, he ran away right under our noses and this time he made it IN the river. A stranger walking by happened to see him go in and he jumped in afterwards. So scary. Hence the alarm that now goes off everytime the exterior doors AND Will's bedroom door is opened or closed.

- I have a child who hasn't eaten solid food in two years. Prior to that, Owen's foods were self-limited already to just a handful of different items. But since all foods stopped, he has been on a special, gluten-casein free meal supplement drink. It doesn't come cheap. Neither do his diapers and pull-ups and wipes. It's an expensive thing, having kids. But I do realize I'm preaching to the choir here... sorry..

- There are things that I think many other families take for granted. It can definitely be a struggle to pack up the kids and go grab groceries. It can be embarrassing if your kid cries in a store. But when you've got twins who are both too big to put in the cart and who both take off and bolt in opposite directions, shopping is not an option. Owen and Will are both hyper-sensitive to loud noises and we can't pinpoint what acoustic environments can send them into a melt-down tantrum. Owen drops to the floor into a turtle position, shoulders up and arms covering his head and specifically, his ears.

OR he does the opposite; screams and cries and crumples to the floor in dead weight. If Owen drops to the floor, Murphy's Law can guarantee that Will will likely take this opportunity to bolt. Trips to the grocery store are not an embarrassing inconvenience, but a safety concern. I remember an occasion where hubby was out of town and it was in the heat of the summer. The kids were practically living in the backyard, so they could escape the heat and play on the waterslide that we had set up. The city was doing some cable work in our backyard and had upset several wasps' nests. I am allergic and was unaware if the boys had inherited my allergy, so was obviously in a panic. I was desperate to get to the store to buy some wasp killer, but knew I couldn't go with the twins. It was the most frustrating feeling to know that I couldn't run a simple errand. This little rant didn't even include the fact that Owen refuses to set foot in a public washroom (this one many of us can relate to as well, I'm sure). Really limits the length of time we can be out in public if we can't use the bathroom.

- Will's OCD can drive a family crazy. When Willy's going through a phase of high anxiety and sometimes this can last for months, his Obsessive Compulsive Disorder can get out of control. He can be playing in the other side of the house and hear the television or radio turn on and he'll sprint through the house to scream for it to be turned off. If he hears you say the word "to/too/two" he will run and plant himself in your face and insist that you repeat the word back to him. Again. and Again. and Again. and Again... If you turn the lights off, he wants them off. If you throw his comforter across his bed, he wants it left folded a specific way on the footrest. He refuses to get out of the tub until the last drop of water has gone down the drain. He won't let you wear short-sleeved shirts in winter, because he'll tug at the sleeves to pull them down to your wrists. If you typically wear your hair down, he'll try to pull out your hair elastic to make it right. He carries around armfuls of stuffed animals and if they are wearing t-shirts he brings them to you to take them off.

Then put them on. Then take them off. Then put them on. Then off... Any effort made to stop the behaviour in its tracks or not fulfill his irrational request will guarantee a tantrum that will not stop or disappear. Will can be put to bed after one of these episodes and wake up at 4am, immediately searching for the stuffie's t-shirt, or standing above your bed asking you to say the word "two". He doesn't forget.

- Owen's latest stim: ripping and eating paper. His target: every dvd and cd insert he can get his hands on and every book or photograph he can find. This has meant that my library room has become Owen's favourite place to be. You can shadow a six and a half year old as much as possible, but they always find a way to evade you. The result is the destruction of at least 60 of my books and countless photographs. I can't begin to tell you how devastating this is to me, but I am certainly grateful for digital photography. I'm not even mentioning the damage he has done to Jake's room and his bookshelves. It's difficult as the grown-up to not get angry at the situation, but how can you expect an eight year old to be understanding when his brother has destroyed his dvd's and books.

For the record, we are continuously working on teaching the boys the skills they need to tackle each of these issues. But this is just a taste of the extraordinary little quirks that you'll be witness to if you look in our window. I don't tell you this to whine, as much as to explain why we might be a little more harried than the average parent, or unable to come to the phone, or broke because of the extraordinary expenses, or on edge because we're exhausted from the constant battle, or we have no drink to offer a guest because we couldn't get to the store. Have a little compassion for the people around you, because you never know what's going on behind the curtains unless you peek through their windows.