Life in progress


#JusJoJan 20/20 – The Best Medicine

I’d like to start by saying thank you to Sadje for her prompt word, “humor.” Thank you, Sadje! You can find her Just Jot it January post here. Go visit her and say hi, and give her a follow!

It’s true that sometimes laughter can be the best medicine. I use humor a lot to relieve the tension that goes with parenting, and that includes times like now when I have a sick one home from school.

Yep, Alex’s is truly sick with a cold. Still begging to go to the hospital, but I managed to avoid it again today.

Half of my problem is the language barrier. If he spoke English, I might be able to effectively explain to him that there’s nothing the hospital can or will do for the virus he has, and the likelihood of him getting even sicker just by going there makes the trip worthless. Worse than worthless, possibly deadly.

But, of course, I can’t say that either. Because without the nuance of language, he might assume that if he goes to the hospital, he’ll die, and then I’ll have the opposite problem I have now.

I’ll have to drag him there, kicking and screaming when he really needs to go.

I used to be able to scare him a little out of wanting to visit the emergency department by telling him he might have to get an IV. He hates needles, so that worked.

Until he turned 18 and discovered the nurses and all the attention was worth the pain. Now he’s begging me for an IV right along with everything else involved.

You know, sometimes I laugh just because it’s better than crying.

And you know what else? Sometimes that’s the best laughter of all.

Where would we be without humor, eh?

Sick, I tell you. SICK!


This healthy post is brought to you by Just Jot it January! Click the following link and join in! It’s fun!

Love quickens beneath the moonlight …

Get your free copy of The Magician’s Sire: A Paranormal Romance → Click here


#atozchallenge – Reflections times two

I learned a lot from both of my A to Z Challenges.

First, I wasn’t sure I had enough material to pull off the theme I chose for this blog, which was parenting a Deaf child as a hearing mother. I was afraid I’d repeat myself. I don’t think I did. In the process of writing it, I also learned that what I do without really thinking about it on a daily basis is extraordinary. Not to say that I believe myself to be special, but like anything we do until we are no longer conscious of the mechanics of it, whether it’s touch-typing, driving a car, playing a video game, or whatever it is we do well, if we take the time to break it down into steps, we can usually find ourselves awestruck that our brains can do so much at once. Putting it that way, I don’t think I’m any different than anyone. I just have a different set of circumstances.

At the same time, I hope by sharing my life and what it’s like to survive as a Deaf person, I’ve raised some awareness for those who may never know, but who might meet by chance, someone who cannot hear. They are everywhere. To find my challenge from the beginning, click here:

For my second challenge, I took on the task of showing rather than telling different characteristics of people in fiction. I learned that it’s not easy, when writing less than 200 words, and in some cases only 50, to pull a virtue or flaw out of a character and relay it sufficiently. I’m sure I failed a few times, but hey, it was an exercise to better my craft. We learn from our mistakes as well as our successes.  You can find the start of my fiction A to Z here:

As much fun as this year’s A to Z was, I admit I’m glad it’s over. As well as editing my epic paranormal romance novel, I’m also planning to self-publish my A to Z fiction (a romantic comedy novelette) from two years ago. I’ve promised myself the latter will be available for sale next month.  On a related note, as you may know, I plan to turn this year’s A to Z on parenting a Deaf child into a book. Therefore, I’ll be removing it from view on my blog at the end of this month. If you haven’t read it all yet, and want to before I compile it for publication, do it soon!

It’s been great meeting new bloggers through the challenge. I hope to participate again next year. It’s been a blast!


Zip – #AtoZ Challenge

Do you remember those infant’s toys that demonstrate the sounds all the animals make? Maybe you still have one laying around the house. Loads of fun, and a great teaching tool as well.

My first two kids played with one of those things until I was ready to strangle the turkey and eat it for dinner. Yet strangely, when Alex was born, I missed being able to add the detail of what an animal sounded like to its name. Or its sign, as was the case.

This has transferred to everyday life. The word, “zip” makes no sense to him in an onomatopoeic way. He processes impacts such as “bang” and “clap” in a very different way to those of us who can hear. He feels them.

Having said all that, Winston has a very loud bark indeed. Loud enough that it penetrates Alex’s profound, though not complete, hearing loss. I can finally have fun with, “The dog says, ‘Woof!'” once again.


Winston and Alex


Yielding – #AtoZ Challenge

In my post yesterday, about how difficult it is for my son, Alex, to play with the neighbourhood children, I mentioned that part of his problem is my fault. Thing is, the other kids tend to play from one side of the street to the other and up and down both sides. Kids, being kids, sometimes run across the street to beat the traffic. If Alex follows them but doesn’t see the car, (and of course he doesn’t hear it) the results are literally the stuff of nightmares for me. The traffic on my street should be going at 40km/h (25mph) but occasionally people speed down it as though they were the only ones on the road. On that account I’ve tried to get the city to put up signs, but they refused, saying they deal only with signs that meet provincial standards.

The signs I’ve seen in this province, in various towns and cities, include “Elderly Persons Crossing,” “Children at Play,” “Turtle Crossing,” and “Duck Crossing.” But they won’t put one up for my Deaf son. There are actually a couple of “Deaf Children at Play,” signs across town, but they won’t put one up here. They told me that perhaps they’ve been there since the guidelines were changed.

As parents, we all have to advocate for our kids, whether for their schooling, the services they need, their health… The list goes on. This is just one of the many I have to deal with. I need to find help, I think.

What have you advocated for on your family’s behalf and succeeded?


X-Exclusion – #AtoZ Challenge

One of the hardest things for me to endure, as the mother of a Deaf child, is the exclusion of Alex by the hearing neighbourhood kids. Admittedly, part of it is my fault. Explaining why would be going off on a tangent, however, so I’ll leave that for tomorrow’s post.

Alex does have friends at school, but they live all over the province. Some are in residence on campus, many live miles away. So it’s difficult for him to get together with them outside of school. But like any kid, he sees children his own age outside his own house playing and he wants to join in. There are a couple who will play with him as long as their friends aren’t around – understandable in a way, since once they start discussing what they’re going to do, it’s hard to include Alex in the conversation. But even when they’re alone with Alex, they eventually get frustrated with trying to communicate with him. So they stop playing.

Then there are the kids across the street. He went over to play with them once, but they had no tolerance for him. They complained to one of Alex’s friends that does play with him that he “gives them a headache.” I wonder where they got that phrase from. It’s not often you see a perfectly healthy 7 or 10 year old child with an actual headache. Since that one time, they’ve sent him away and left me to explain to him that they don’t want to play with him. Or worse, they’ve let him stay and made fun of him, thinking he can’t understand. As I’ve mentioned before, most of sign language is body language and facial expression. He understands just fine. Incredibly, I’ve even had one of them accuse him of hitting her so she could use the excuse that he was mean to her. She figured, I suppose, that he would be unable to explain to me what really happened.

It doesn’t seem to matter how much we teach our children tolerance (though the kids and their parents across the street could use a lot more), they will be kids. They have their own interests, which don’t always include being able to play with only minimal communication. It’s a tough issue. One I can’t see a solution for.


Windows – #AtoZ Challenge

Windows are wonderful, aren’t they? They keep us warm (or cool, depending on the season), and allow us at the same time to gaze upon the scenery outside. Through them we can watch our kids play… But windows are not that great when we want to say something through them, like, “Stop squirming already and come in for a pee!” Unless we know sign language!

I remember once driving up to a stop sign and seeing, half way up the street, my eldest son walking in the freezing cold.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“The mall,” he replied.

“Want a ride?”

“Sure, thanks.”

All from outside of yelling distance, and I didn’t have to roll the window down. Same thing when the kids had a play date in one of those huge indoor playgrounds. It didn’t matter that they were climbing through a kid-sized tube high above the floor and I was waiting for them to come down.

As soon as they looked at me, I signed, “Come down in 10 minutes for lunch.”

“What are we having?”


“I’ll be right there.”

Amazing, eh?

Problem was, it became a habit for me. One time that was particularly embarrassing, was when the father of one of my kids’ friends brought my son home. The dad didn’t get out of the car, he just let my son out and waved. Being the polite person I am, I signed “thank you.” He never spoke to me again. To this day I believe he thought I was blowing him a kiss.

Conclusion: sign language is a fantastic way to communicate, as long as everyone knows what you’re doing.


One-Liner Wednesday – It was a mispronunciation

I went out a couple of weeks ago and left Alex alone with my best friend, John. Apparently while I was out, Alex let the puppy outside and back in numerous times, giving the dog a biscuit every time he came in. Eventually, John explained (in sign language) to Alex that if he keeps giving Winston cookies, he’ll get fat.

When John recounted the conversation, he signed it to me the way he’d signed it to Alex, and told me that Alex had laughed and laughed… It was actually fun, in a wicked sort of way, to explain to John that he’d inadvertently told Alex that if he kept giving Winston cookies, he’d get pregnant.

Rubbing it in

Rubbing it in



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