Brrr!

It's been cold here -- -25 C cold. One might think, even, that I live in Canada. Above is the view from the living room window. Maybe I jinxed the weather by hanging out the festive snowflakes? (There was fun to be had at 10,000 Villages). After -20, it really doesn't matter how cold it is -- it's just damn cold. Cold enough to hurt to breathe and to instantly freeze the snot in your nose into sharp shards. Those of you who know are nodding sagely right now.



And this is the way our windows look when it's cold. Our lovely, 1947 uninsulated house. Dan broke down and taped plastic over the windows in the bedrooms because there was a serious breeze blowing there. I lay in bed wishing I had put on a toque (in addition to the long underwear and wool socks ... tres sexy). "Net Zero" house -- maybe if the "Zero" is referring to insulation.

And with cold, comes .... snowsuits and gear. Wrestling both kids into coats and boots and hats and mitts makes one seriously reconsider why everyone is leaving the house in the first place. The whole reason Robert Muensch's "Thomas' Snowsuit" is so funny is because it's true. I know I am supposed to relax and make the moment a teachable moment. Something like, "Francis, where is your arm? Can you please put your arm in your coat? Good. Now, where is your other arm?". Instead, it's more like;

Stella: Looking at Francis
Francis: NOOOOOOOO. NOOOOO coooooooat ....
Denelle: Honey, it's cold out. You need a coat.
Francis: NOOOOOOO (running away)
Stella: WAAAAAAAA (Francis' screaming scared her)
Denelle: Francis! Jesus Christ, Francis! Come here!

Ah, yes, Dalai Mama indeed. Anyway, let's close this post with an adorable picture of my beautiful children. Stella bathing in the sink -- how easy is that? Why didn't I try that with Francis? Maybe that's my motto -- why make things easy for oneself?

Tomorrow's Another Day

OK, this photo is blurry, (Dan hates blurry photos), but I love it. I even love the blurry-homemade-ness of it. The human-ness of it .

You'll have to forgive me right now, I'll just scraping the bottom of the barrel, energy-wise. I'm exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically. Ever been mountain-climbing? When you are slogging up some never-ending scree slope, taking one step forward and sliding back three? I am fighting with Dan, fighting with Francis, fighting with the social workers. I am fighting Francis' eczema, Stella's ear infections, and with the endless clutter. I am fighting with TransAlta to let me go back part-time.

I think the kicker, though, is that FSCD has denied Stella aid services. I have spent months finding Stella daycare and support, which has been very time-consuming and surprisingly difficult. Most programs do not support children as young as Stella. (Surprisingly, no? Since the earlier the intervention, the bigger the impact?). DDRC has a supported childcare program, Providence has an outreach program (once a week), and even PACE has agreed to come into the daycare (5 days a week!). But FSCD says that they can only support aid if a parent is physically present.

OK, seeing as the therapist don't work evenings or weekends, what does this mean for me? According to Lisa Lo at FSCD (supervisor of the Marlborough Office), this means that I should stay at home with Stella (which, according to Ms. Lo, is what "most" parents of children with special needs do). Ms. Lo says that I "should" be able to find part-time work that I can schedule around Stella's therapy "in Calgary's economy". Ah, yeah, at Starbucks??? (Hello? OECD says that 79% of Canadian mothers with children under the age of 6 work???)

I am angry. I am frustrated. And I am very, very tired.

Tomorrow's another day.

Thumbs Out!

Here you see Stella ... USING HER THUMBS! Oh, glory day. She's got both soft and hard splints now to try to teach her to bring them out. I know she wants to use them -- her aspirations reach far beyond her capabilities with a thumb-less grasp.

AND ... (hold your breath, people) ... Stella has TEETH! Two, in fact. All the better to chew with, my dear. Remarkably, she likes my cooking. (Francis never has. Even as an infant he would turn his nose up at my home-purees and howl until a store-bought jar was produced). This kid eats. She is eating 4-12 oz of purees a day, plus tidbits off my plate. (She likes feeling like a big, big girl and can grab the fork herself). Right now (for what it's worth, since the doctors don't use the new WHO charts) her height right now is in the 50 percentile and her weight is in the 25 percentile. But she is SOLID. My little chuck roast. My little black hole. And ya wonder why I sling her?!

It's been a hard week -- fighting with the social worker (from Family Support for Children with Disabilities). Or rather, trying to track down the social worker (think,"Where's Waldo", but with social workers). She appeared for a home visit on June 7, 2006, never to be heard from again, despite repeated emails and phone calls (I think on my last message I actually cried out right in frustration). Finally I have contacted Ms. Young's supervisor -- apparently our case has been transferred to another work in September without anyone actually notifying us. Oh, great. (Um, has anyone there noticed that it is now November?) Meanwhile, I am going back to work full-time in January, and looking for services for Stella. PACE kids has a great program and will spend 10 hours a week (!) with Stella, but they need the approval of FSCD. Apparently, FSCD can't get their ... policies (substitute word here) ... in order to say yeah or nay. Or, phone me back.

Being Stella's advocate takes up so much of my time, it's really mind boggling. But, she's my princess -- my teethy, thumby girl.

Holler-ween

Sometimes when I am struggling with Francis, trying to persuade him to do something that is "fun", I have the presence of mind to ask myself whether I want to do do the something for him or for me. Like music lessons. Like playdates. Like Hallowe'en.

Francis has been having anxiety attacks and nightmares about Hallowe'en for about 2 months now. He was freaked out last year (it took 2 of us to wrestle him into his lion costume, and we only perserved because it took me 2! months! to sew the damn thing!) but I didn't fully grasp just how freaked out he was until the anxiety attacks started about it. He was so relieved when I finally clued in and told him that if he wanted, he could just stay home. But, see, Francis is a boy conflicted. Because although he is terribly afraid of the dark and of teenagers in Dark Vader costumes, he is seriously in love with sugar and candy in all forms. He dreams of treats with additives ending with the suffix -ose.

So. Off we went (Francis, Stella and I) down the hill to celebrate Hallowe'en with a friend in Bridgeland. All was good, Francis was having fun playing with Vanja's toys until we tried to go out trick-or-treating. Monika wrestled Francis (literally) into the lion costume (I did make him a new costume! a king! and he wasn't interested -- apparently Hallowe'en = lion now). And we dragged the kids along for about 2 blocks. We went out later than I had hoped, as I had wanted to avoid the (scary!) big kids and the dark-darkness. And it was damn cold, as per a Hallowe'en in Calgary.

The photo above is the only picture I have of Francis for this Hallowe'en. He really enjoyed the pumpkin carving. (He drew pictures of how he wanted the pumpkins to look and I "interpreted"). I was too busy negotiating with one child or the other to take pictures this Hallowe'en. Here is a picture of Stella, in the bear costume/bunting that her brother wore for his first Hallowe'en.


Big bear and little bear. How I love my baby bears!