Two years ago, our family sponsored a child in Costa Rica named Oscar Mario. He was the chosen one for very specific reasons – at the time, our family was a bit light in the boy department so we thought a male would even things out nicely. My eldest son was obsessed with Super Mario, so when we saw a child who had the name Mario, it was clearly a good fit.

The kiddos feel very connected with Oscar Mario – they send him letters and art work, and anxiously await his response. When they are all behaving like spoiled brats, I remind them of Oscar Mario and his life, and they humbly retreat back into humans I am proud to have birthed.

Last year for Oscar Mario’s birthday, our family sent off a package with stickers, cards and Mabel’s Labels. Some months later, it was returned unopened. I did what every good mother does – hid it from the kids and forged a letter of thanks from Oscar Mario.

I had been meaning to reach out to the agency to investigate the returned package. But our monthly donation continued to be withdrawn so I assumed everything was fine. Of course, following up on the package ended up at the bottom of my “to-do” list – tied in last place with about 20 other items.

Last month I got a letter saying we have a new sponsored child because Oscar Mario cannot be located. Not be located?! I started flipping out wondering how he just fell off the radar. Upon investigation, it seems that families commonly relocate without notifying the agency. So my next question was about where my money was ending up if my kid had gone MIA. I was told it went to his community. I do remember signing on and reading something briefly about how the money is distributed locally – I think the sponsored kid thing is more of a sales tactic.

It’s a sales tactic that worked very well on us. I’m pretty sad about losing Oscar Mario. For two years, we’ve been looking at his adorable picture on our fridge. He’s been my “go-to guy” when the kiddos need to be reminded about how privileged they are.

I have actually been putting off telling the kids about our now long lost friend. I’m torn between the truth (that he’s gone!) and telling them that his family won the lottery and Oscar Mario is busy managing his house staff in between private school tutorials and cello lessons. Suggestions welcomed.

When we have our babies, it is natural to transform into “mama bear”, stopping at nothing to defend and protect. For the mama who has a child facing additional challenges, this instinct goes into overdrive. Having a child with autism has made me respond to certain comments irrationally. I can be oversensitive – even when comments are said in kindness or without any intention of harm.

That is my disclaimer. If you’re curious about what common and harmless things you are saying that make my ears bleed, here goes:

1) “All I want is a healthy baby.”
I get that. It makes sense to me – health is the most important gift we can ask for. But, bring out my psycho sidekick self and you want to know what it hears? It hears that the very last thing you want is a child like mine. I know that’s not really what’s being said, but it’s what the little friend in my head is hearing!

2) “Your son was born to you because you are strong and can handle it.”
I understand and appreciate this is a compliment, but in those early and difficult days when I was digesting an autism diagnosis, I wanted to scream “So let me get this straight – I’m rewarded for being a competent parent by having a kid with autism?!” My rational self knows you are encouraging me but that little crazy me is turning red, stamping feet and yelling “it’s not FAIR” better than any 4-year-old you’ve encountered.

3) “He’s lucky to have you.”
The thing is, I’m lucky to have him. When I hear how fortunate he is to have me, it makes me feel like you see him as a burden. Please remember, I feel like I picked a four-leaf clover on the morning of his birth.

So next time you say something completely innocent, and I start frothing at the mouth and growling, you’ll know that it’s a simple case of mama bear gone mad.

Can you imagine saying something mean to that cute face? I did and it didn’t feel good.

Mornings around our house are always hectic. The other day, my five-year-old woke up excited that the long awaited kindergarten trip to the fire station had arrived. The best part – I was going along as a classroom volunteer. She is a real mama’s girl, so that was a pretty big deal in her little world.

This particular kid is a bit of a fashionista. By dumb luck, our kids ended up in a public school that has uniforms. As such, there is no real discussion about what kids are going to wear to school. However, my fashionista girl regularly express opinions about shoes, sweaters and coats.

On the day of the school trip, the morning was madness. I had to get the kindergarten kid and the three biggies out the door. The baby was screaming for breakfast and the pre-schooler had to get dressed for nursery school. I was under pressure for time since I had to get myself organized in order to be at school on time for the field trip. I handed my kindergarten kid her sweater with instructions to put it on and head out the door for the bus. She started fussing, complaining and carrying on about not wanting that sweater. I snapped. Out of my mouth came something that stopped her in her tracks. I said “If I get any fuss about this, I will not be going to the fire station”. She looked startled and quickly put the sweater on.

I consider that statement to be a perfect example of lazy parenting. Did I really just threaten to take away something so special to her – spending time with me? Did I really just serve up a threat I would not have followed up on? Yep and yep.

Half an hour later I was driving to the school with tears streaming down my face. When I arrived, my daughter’s little face lit up. I gave her a hug and told her I was sorry about the sweater incident and that I wouldn’t have missed the school trip for anything. She laughed and said “I know, mama!”

I’ve still got a lump in my throat as I type this, but I’m trying to remind myself that if my dear, sweet five-year-old can forgive me, maybe it’s time to forgive myself.

I posted a blog recently about the value of saying “No” to kids. The gist was:

1) Your kids will be fine if they don’t get what they want all the time.
2) If you’re going to say “No” then be sure to follow through – unless you like to lead the double life of parent and white noise machine.

I just discovered another good time to say “No”– when it comes to buying them nice things. Ya know why? Because they don’t care.

Months ago, in spite of my no pet policy, my cheeky friend promised the kids a fish. She arrived at the house with a tank and all the fishy trimings. We negotiated that a fish could join us only after we moved into the new house in March.

March arrived and we moved into the new house. It is just lovely – big enough to suit our family, sitting on a quiet court and backing onto fields and ravines. The kids’ days are full of road hockey, catching tadpoles, chasing deer and trampolining. Soon summer will be here and they’ll be passing their days basking in the pool, enjoying all the water fun summer has to offer.

On moving day, the kiddos had all been shipped off to various locations. When they arrived home to their beautiful new house that evening, they screamed in unison:
“Did we get the fish??”

Daddy-o and I looked at each other, rolled our eyes and thought: we just bought a new house, and all they care about is that stupid fish!

And that is not the end of it. I had decided (OK, my bank account decided) that we would not be buying new furniture for the house. I made one little exception. With the three girls sharing a room, I thought it would be nice to ditch the garage sale beds they had been using, and replace them with three new little beds with fresh and fun bedding. They excitedly picked out the beds that were being used by the athletes in Olympic village.

So you can imagine my frustration when I go into their room at night and this is what I find:

So if you are the kind of mama who worries about your kids doing without stuff, I think you can stop. Just go buy them a fish and let them to sleep on the floor. Clearly, that is all they need.

People often tell me I make things look easy. I think the reason I make things look easy is because they often are. A perfect example is the neighbourhood Easter egg hunt I recently organized. Please note that when I say “organized”, I am using the term very loosely. I sent out an e-mail to everyone on the neighbourhood e-mail list. It was the same e-mail I sent out last year.

So I managed to get some cred and kudos for doing pretty much nothing.

The e-mail included information about how many eggs to stuff per kid in your family, what area of the park to hide the eggs in (based on kiddo ages) and what time to have it done so that we would be ready to start on time. Oh, I also told egg hiders to bring plastic bags with them in case they came across some dog poop or other park treasures.

That’s it. That is me organizing the egg hunt. Note what I didn’t do:
- I didn’t stuff eggs for kids in the neighbourhood;
- I didn’t hide eggs for kids in the neighbourhood;
- I didn’t go and clean up the dog poop in the park before the egg hunt.

Surprisingly, with all that I didn’t do, I still got a handful of e-mails from highly appreciative mamas. They all mentioned how remarkable it was that with six kids and a business I could find time to organize the egg hunt. I reminded them that forwarding the e-mail from last year took me about 15 seconds. Regardless, these appreciative mamas unanimously came back with “Well, someone had to send it out – so thank-you!”

Perhaps a case can be made for the old expression: “if you want to get something done, ask a busy person to do it”. Maybe all of us busy folks have just figured out the real trick – don’t just make it look easy, make it easy!