It was 2009 and I’d already decided to buy my house. During the inspection, the real estate agent and I were poking around in all the nooks and crannies when we discovered that the inside of one of the closet doors had been used, for decades, as a place to record the growth of the children who grew up here. Click on the pictures for a closer look.
Some of the dates go back to before I was born
This is the oldest one I found. Judging by height, “Peri” was a baby.
Of course, I had to add my own.
It’s fun to find history displayed in public places. It’s even better when you come across it in your own home.
The wonderful Helen Espinosa has, this week, declared Song-Lyric Sunday’s theme to be a song that we love from a movie. (Please join in – it’s fun!) It was a tough decision, but finally I chose a song from the movie, Babe. It’s sung by Farmer Hoggett, played by the lovely James Cromwell, during the film and by the Field Mice in the end credits.
The song has quite a history. “If I Had Words” was first recorded in 1978, sung by Scott Fitzgerald as a duet with Yvonne Keeley. It became a hit in the UK. I imagine Scott Fitzgerald gave it lyrics, but I haven’t been able to confirm it. Considering the lyrics themselves, this is strangely ironic. The music was adapted from Symphony No. 3 by Camille Saint-Saëns, written in 1886.
The lyrics are simple but deeply profound to me, as a writer. They represent everything I would give to my children, every day of their lives, if I could.
“If I Had Words”
If I had words to make a day for you,
I’d sing you a morning golden and new
I would make this day last for all time
Give you a night deep in moonshine
*****
The music moves me as much as the words, so I’ll leave you with two sources. First the version from the movie, and second, the Symphony. The latter is 36+ minutes long, but the section in question, if you want to hear just that, begins shortly after 27:20 in the Youtube video. The whole Symphony is beautiful.
Oh, and what the hell: I’ll add the Mice version too, since it’s so cute.
You know what always pissed me off when I was working in an office? Smokers. They were allowed smoke breaks but because I didn’t smoke, I had to stay at my desk and work. It was unfair! Except in the middle of winter – then I used to laugh at them, outside in the cold, smoking their brains out.
I always said I never started smoking because everyone who did wanted to quit. What was the point of starting? Logical, right? But my parents smoke/d (my mother still does), their best friends smoked – practically everyone I grew up with did. I have asthma from breathing it in all those years ago. Back then they didn’t care if I was in the car, or the house, or where ever they were when they lit up. It wasn’t commonly known how much damage it could do. After I became pregnant for the first time (in 1994), my mother stopped smoking around me. I find now that when I smell smoke it bothers me more than it used to.
And you know what’s weird? If I’m sitting beside a smoker, the smoke always comes to me. If I get up and move to the other side of them, it follows me. I can’t catch a break. Unless I’m nowhere near a smoker of course.
So why did I want to go out and have a smoke break with the smokers? Oh yeah, to get away from my desk.
I spend way too much time on Facebook. The reasons I go there are to find things to laugh at, see pretty pictures, get world news (shake your finger at me if you must, but it’s where learn what’s going on), and get into arguments.
One of my most recent was over the gender bathroom issue. I’m talking about this here at the risk of sounding like I’m trying to validate my views. I’m not. I just really want to talk about it, because it’s been on my mind for weeks. Before I go any further, I want to go on record to state that I’m not against transgender people using the bathroom of their choice. I realize the chances of a transgender woman (male to female) getting beaten to death is much higher if she uses the men’s washroom than that she will abuse anyone in the women’s washroom. In fact chances are that she’s so self-conscious, it’s unlikely she’d even look anyone in the eye, let alone peek under a bathroom stall. I’m not here to debate whether it’s right or wrong for transgender people to choose a bathroom. If you are not of the same opinion as I, that is your right. If you comment just to state your opinion on which side you’re on, you’ll get a smile emoji and I’ll say nothing else. All I really ask is that you keep it civil.
The whole Facebook argument started when I came across a meme on a friend’s page concerning not only the bathroom issue, but whether or not transgender people should use change rooms in gyms. I wasn’t aware that this was an issue, so my comment was something like, You mean they’re allowed to use public change rooms too? Okay, yes I probably could have worded it better. I was called out for using both the word “they” and the word “allowed.” I had to explain that I didn’t mean I think transgender people are inhuman, but rather I was speaking in a broad sense the same way I would speak about men vs. women. I don’t consider men to be inhuman, even though I call them “them” when differentiating between my sex and the sex that isn’t mine. Also, I didn’t mean to say that they’re any less human by saying they’re not “allowed” to use the women’s washroom, any more than I’m saying cisgendered men are lesser beings because they’re not “allowed” to use the women’s washroom. They’re not. Right? I just love over-sensitivity.
So on with the actual discussion. I told the woman I was speaking to (we’ll call her Mary) that I wasn’t necessarily against transgender women using a change room where she could feel comfortable. I agreed it was important that she not have to change in front of men. But in all the gym change rooms I’ve been into, everyone gets naked and I wouldn’t be comfortable changing in front of a person who is, no matter how she identifies or feels deep inside to be, is still physically a man. And I wouldn’t want my daughter (if I had one) to be confronted with a grown man’s penis. Mary asked me what there was to be afraid of. It’s just a penis.
I tried to explain to her that the sex education of my children should be up to me, that I should be able to decide when the time, the place, and the mode of teaching is appropriate. I believe it is both my right and my responsibility as a parent to choose how and when my children learn certain things. No one should make this choice for me, whether it’s a person with the physical attributes of a male in a change room or a flasher on the street. She disagreed, telling me that it would be the perfect opportunity to teach a young daughter the difference between boys and girls. She said it was the same as when her daughter asked about her infant son. She then went on to tell me how much of a bigot I am, and how I’m part of the problem.
The next day I went to my government’s website to see how we deal with this situation in Ontario (Canada). I found out that my government does its best to accommodate transgender people. They state that it’s necessary for all businesses to have a safe place for everyone to go to the washroom, change, and shower. Most facilities already have family rooms that are well-partitioned and/or are for single-person use. This, to me, is the perfect solution and ensures that everyone is comfortable. Still, I’m seen as a bigot.
It seems there is a line between common sense and entitlement. Political correctness, not wanting to offend anyone and over-sensitivity overrun our society to the point that there is little logic left in the world. Society runs on emotion, and that is the case for Mary who, as I found out later in our discussion, is the mother of a transgender girl.
I believe until we, as a society, are able to think with our brains rather than our hearts we will always be in conflict. But hasn’t it always been that way?
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: https://lindaghill.com/2016/04/01/all-about-alex-atoz-challenge/
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: https://lindaghillfiction.com/2016/04/01/apathetic-a-z-april-blogging-challenge/
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!
What makes one a parent? Is it the simple act of creating another life? Or is it having days like the one I’m having today? It started with coming out of my bedroom to find the kid at the top of the stairs holding a dog biscuit up above his head and the dog about to jump up at him from the stair above (the kid was one step down from the top) and about to knock him down the entire flight backwards.
Said kid has been frustrated all day by one thing after another, and screaming his head off (as he is now) and testing my limits as he does it.
The second time he tried to kill himself today (I’m saying this is the second, because things come in threes and I want it to be over already) he decided he wasn’t going to eat today. At all. I had visions of him ending up in hospital hooked up to an IV because his heart can’t handle dehydration.
And then (you’ll really get a kick out of this one) he pulled the power cord out of his laptop (still plugged into the wall) and decided it might be yummy. He actually put it in his mouth before I noticed. !!!!!
If being stressed out means being a parent to a child who doesn’t realize how self-destructive he’s being, and actually staying with him while he practically kills me, then apparently I’m a parent.
I actually thought about recording him but I don’t want my audience to hate me. You’re welcome.
P.S. In case you’re not sure how to take this post, I’m still smiling. Smile with me. We’re all still alive.
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.
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?
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.
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