Life in progress

Category Archives: Parenting


by 42 Comments

Seeing Pink – Stream of Consciousness Saturday (Colour)

It happened again yesterday. I was sitting in a Tim Horton’s with my mother and Alex (my youngest son who is Deaf and doesn’t eat much by mouth – he’s g-tube fed), and my mother and I were eating and drinking coffee. Alex, in his usual sociable way was looking around and smiling and waving at the other customers. Beside us were a pair of elderly ladies. They were enamoured of Alex, which is par for the course.

One of them observed Alex as he took his Timbit (a doughnut hole, for those of you who haven’t been in a Tim Horton’s in the last 20 years) and put it back in the bag. He wasn’t really interested in eating it as I knew he wouldn’t be. He just likes me to buy him something so he doesn’t feel left out… and at 20cents, I can’t complain.

The ensuing conversation went something like this:

Lady#1: Isn’t he going to eat that?

Me: No, he’s not hungry.

Lady#2: He’s very cute.

Me: And he knows it.

Lady#1: Maybe he’d like something else. A sundae maybe?

Me: (thinking ‘I’m glad he can’t hear you.’) No, he’s okay.

Lady#1: (to Alex) Aren’t you hungry?

Me: (signing to Alex) Are you hungry? (note: I could have signed ‘Are you a chicken?’ to ensure he’d say no, but his laugh would have given me away)

Alex: (shakes his head, no.)

Me: (to Lady#1) Nope, he’s not hungry.

Lady#2: How old is he, six?

Me: No, he’s 13.

Lady#1: Does he know sign language?

Me: (thinking ‘No, we just flail at one another and hope for the best’) Yes, he does.

Lady#1: Isn’t that nice. (She then proceeds to perform the sign for ‘please’.) “Love,” she says to Alex.

Lady#1: (to Lady #2) That means ‘love.’ (she signs ‘please’ again.)

Alex: (smiles and nods even though he’s totally confused)

Having strangers tell you to feed your child, in front of your child, makes me see red on the best of occasions. But I’ve gotta say, this one was amusing enough that I only saw pink.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

This week’s prompt – “Colour.”

SoCS rules:

1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.

2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.

3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” or “Begin with the word ‘The’.”

4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people will come and read your post! The way to ping back, is to just copy and paste the URL of my post somewhere on your post. Then your URL will show up in my comments, for everyone to see. For example, in your post you can copy and past the following: “This post is part of SoCS: (https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/socs-stream-of-consiousness-saturday-the-rules/)” Also, you can come here and link your post in the comments. The most recent comments will be found at the top.

5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.

6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!

7. Have fun!


by 15 Comments

The Endless Circle

I need organisation. First, I must state that this post was inspired by our lovely Belinda at Idiot Writing. (You can find the post here: http://idiotwriting.wordpress.com/2014/03/14/organisation/ .) In it, she tells how much more organised she is than I.

When I do finally get a moment to myself to sit and write, I invariably get comfortable with my laptop and, before I begin, I look around the room. It’s a mess. I think to myself, “I need to be more organised,” but do I do anything about it? Of course not! I just got comfortable.

So I write, but in the back of my mind there is the mess I should be cleaning up. I’m unable to fully relax and enjoy myself. Why don’t I just clean it up? Because it will take hours–hours that I could be spending writing. And what’s the use when my darling children will just mess it up again anyway? Doing a little bit at a time is useless. I’ll just end up doing the same little bit again the next day.

It’s a vicious circle of discomfort for me.

I did, actually find something that worked for me once. When I was selling my house back in Gatineau, Quebec, I had to clean up the place to show it to perspective buyers. So I took a picture of the mess, one room at a time. I then worked my ass off, non-stop, until I was ready to take an “after” picture. I was truly amazed at the progress I was able to make, and I had a reward at the end to boot–a picture of my immaculate room.

MINOLTA DIGITAL CAMERA

Before

After

After

I swore I would do that again when I moved. I made a New Year’s resolution, four years ago, to make and keep this place clean. I did it again three years ago, two, one, and this year as well. HA! The difference? First, I’m not selling, and second, back then I wasn’t writing.

One of these days…

 

How do you deal with organisation? Or do you? I’d love some suggestions.


by 55 Comments

The Push

I sometimes wonder why I push myself so hard. My determination to write a post every day here on WordPress; my aspiration to finish my novel; my involvement in The Community Storyboard, HarsH ReaLiTy, and A Good Blog is Hard to Find; my ambition to read more, and write book reviews; my wish to help out friends by critiquing their unpublished works… the list itself is overwhelming. Most days I barely notice the work piling up. I love being busy with writing and the pursuits that involve it.

But, Spring Break. Yes, it’s that time of year again. While I’ve had much of today to do the things I needed to get done, I know it’s only a matter of time before Alex gets bored keeping himself busy. And just because the kids are home doesn’t mean the shopping doesn’t still need to be done – a task which requires me to leave my Autistic son by himself – and my paper route, and then there’s my mother’s appointments because I’m the only one who can take her… again, overwhelming.

I think everyone gets to this point occasionally. It’s the stage where we just have to start saying no, and not give in. While it’s exciting, and best of all not boring, there’s a limit at which one shuts down and curls up in a little ball with a straw and a bottle of one’s favourite Merlot.

So if I up and disappear at some point this week you’ll know why. And if I do manage to keep it all together AND keep my blog going without consuming a bottle of wine per day, well, give me a cape and call me supermom.

Just don’t push me off the side of a building to see if I’ll fly. I push myself too hard already.


by 19 Comments

Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS) Start with a Verb

Kicking and screaming is how they’re going to have to pry my cell phone out of my cold dead hand.

Okay, not really. But seriously, I’m not sure I could live without my cell phone. But it’s not only me, either.

Consider this: When I was young (a teenager) I used to go out with my friends. (Of course.) I’d have a curfew and my mother would be sitting in the kitchen waiting for me to come home. She made sure I had a dime in case I needed to call. I’m sure she must have sat by the phone as well.

Now (these days), when my son went out (he’s moved out now) I’d not have to sit by the phone – it would be in my pocket. He didn’t need a dime – he had a cell. I knew that at any given moment he could call me without needing to look for a payphone.

How did our parents survive back then? I’d be worried poo-less!

I can’t imagine having to go through all that waiting, and wondering, and worrying about my kids. I don’t worry as much about my own safety now either.

I suppose it prepared my mother for when I went to Japan by myself – I didn’t have a cell phone then. But in Japan I felt very safe.

Anyway, I’m starting to ramble. That’s what SoCS is all about though.

What do you think? Could you live without a cell phone? Would you let your kids out of the house at night without one?

______________________________________________________________

See the rules of Stream of Consciousness Saturday here: https://lindaghill.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/socs-stream-of-consiousness-saturday-the-rules/ and come and join in the fun!! 😀


by 20 Comments

Ahhhh

My day is winding down; I have just enough wine in me that I’m not sleepy. Contentedness folds over me like a warm blanket.

The sound is down on Mickey Mouse, because my son is Deaf–gone are the days of having to listen to a certain purple dinosaur, for whom I feel absolutely no love, and who I suspect doesn’t love me either. There are walls and windows between myself and my family, and the frigid winter air. My tummy is full of a simple dinner of pasta and canned tomatoes, with mozzerella cheese melted on top… What more could I ask for?

I love nights like this. It’s like comfort food for an exhausted soul.

Tell me, what is your perfect evening with family?


by 13 Comments

Giggling Bob – The Story of a Possessed Toy

For sale: One laughing ball

No, that’s not right. But I don’t know the actual name of the toy. Was it a “Laughing Bob”? The label is long worn off.

For sale: One Giggling Bob ball. Good for ages 1-4.

That’ll do. Sure, I feel bad selling it off to someone else. But I don’t know how else to get rid of it.

When I first bought it for the kids – I’m sure it worked fine in the store – I got it home and I couldn’t get it to work. According to the instructions, all you had to do was bang it and it was supposed to giggle. The kids loved the crazy high pitched laugh. I figured it would drive me nuts, but what the hell. Anything for the kids, right?

I tried changing the batteries. Nothing. Banged the hell out of it… no laughing (or giggling) Bob.

The first time I heard it go off, about a week later, it was 3:14 am. I got up to see if the kids had wandered out of bed, but they were fast asleep. And there was this stupid ball, laying in the middle of the living room floor. I just shook my head and went back to bed.

Next morning I kicked it. It didn’t make a sound. Maybe I dreamed it, I thought. Ha!

About a month after that, we were packing to move. One of the kids threw the ball into a box. I said we should just toss it in the garbage, but the kids liked it. They’d been using it to play catch, even though it wouldn’t make a sound. I said fine.

3:14 the next morning… Yeah. Giggling Bob was at it again. This time I got up and threw it in a garbage bag.

Garbage day was four days later.

Have you ever taken the trash to the curb and had it laugh at you? I’d have tossed it with no problem, except the kids (who I was taking to the bus stop at the time) caught me red-handed. Since the toy was in a trash bag with a pile of carpeting, and not with anything disgusting, back Giggling Bob went into the house.

Well, moving day came and went. Giggling Bob made it into a random box that, four years later remains unpacked. And I swear to God, if I am woken up at 3:14 again…

One Giggling Bob ball. Good for ages 1-4. Free to a good home.

That’s better.

Note: This story is semi-fictional, only in that I haven’t tried to sell the possessed ball yet. Yet.


by 5 Comments

Not Listening

somebody

For all you parents out there who think their young kids take advantage, consider this:

A Deaf child who doesn’t want to go to bed, really can act like he’s not listening if he refuses to look at you…


by 30 Comments

Making Everyone Happy

They say you can’t make everyone happy. But what if you can’t help trying?

I’m okay to a point. I can say no to people if I feel that what I’m saying no to is in most people’s best interests. Or if what they’re asking for is impossible. Take Alex, my youngest son, for instance. He asks me to take him to the toy store a minimum of ten times a day, every weekend. I tell him I don’t have the money to buy him a video game every weekend and I stick to it… mostly. On average he somehow ends up with about six a year.

On Friday my mother moved into a retirement home. She is of course not happy – I’m told that it’s rare anyone is, for the first little while. If she lives alone it will be up to me to get her groceries, take her to her appointments, make sure she’s safe and healthy, and all this from the other end of town. Granted, it’s not a big town. But when I’m faced with dragging a kid around who may or may not be hooked up to a feeding pump and leaving my Autistic son, Chris, at home alone for an indeterminate period of time, it is a big deal for me.

Having her in the home where she can be supervised 24/7 is a huge worry off my shoulders, both because I know she’s safe and I know she’s eating well. And yet I can’t stop thinking, What’s one more thing? I can handle it… make her happy and let her live alone.

How do I convince myself that I matter in all this? I have to stay strong.


by 23 Comments

Shhh! Don’t Tell My Mom

The last thing I want to do is worry my mother, so I’m keeping this quiet. I can tell all of you though, because she doesn’t read my blog.

I think her car is trying to kill me.

I went out in it today to pick up some groceries, for myself as well as for her. As I came up to a stop sign I put my foot on the brake and the engine started to rev. The more I pushed the brake, the faster the engine went – and the faster the car went. Luckily there was nothing coming (and there were no cops around) because I blasted through that stop sign.

Since then I’ve started putting it into neutral when I want to stop. That’ll teach it.

But in the meantime, would someone please tell it I was only going to buy her cookies?


by 33 Comments

Awareness

Child abuse is a subject that keeps coming up around me of late, and not only because I’ve recently re-released my semi-biographical story, “Boy Series – One through…” A few minutes ago a glimpsed on Facebook a photo which made me want to throw up. I refuse to describe it – it’s one of those things that once seen cannot be unseen, and I’m sure I will have nightmares because of it. It’s worse in my mind than anything I could have imagined by myself, and in many ways, so is my series.

I’ve made the decision for a few reasons, to reveal the man behind the story. It’s not a big secret, and I don’t claim to be the one-and-only person to know… but I think having all the information that I’ve researched in one place will make the true story that much more interesting. I’ve been working, therefore, to compile links to interviews and decide what of his work might be most relevant to the story of his life. Strangely, something he said in one of the interviews I read last night cemented the decision in my mind to do this – it was almost as though I received a sign to say that it’s okay to go ahead.

The excerpt from the interview spoke of a song that he wrote about the tragedy of war. He has written several. He said that, (paraphrased) although there is little we can do about it, just spreading awareness that it exists and what it is like for those who are a part of it, whether it is their own decision to be or not, might cause someone to act differently.

And so I believe it is the same for my story of abuse. The more we are aware that it happens, even in our own neighbourhoods, the more we may look for the signs. Though we may not be able to help all of the children everywhere who suffer, if we can be kind to a child who we think may be abused, it might mean the world to that one child.

To Nav, John, Willow, and to all the people who had a hard time reading my series, I thank you for your perseverance. It was as heartbreaking to write as it is to read, just as it was for me to hear of it originally. I hope you’ll all stick around to learn the truth; to see that the man who was the boy has done well for himself despite the odds, even though he still bears the scars of his own, wretched war.