Silence

It's 10pm.  The house is silent.

But it really isn't. 

The dog is asleep on the floor.  I can hear him whimper in his sleep, his feet pedalling as he runs after something in his dreams.  He yelps occasionally, and even wakes himself up.  Not for long, and he settles back with a heavy, contented, dog-happy sigh.

It's Friday night. There are fireworks at the Falls.  I can hear the bangs, but can't see the show.  It is a comforting sound, a sound of summer I have gotten used to, and helps me remember the days of the weeks, even when I forget.

The fan overhead is making an almost imperceptible hum.  Constant, rhythmic.  I wonder how this sounds to Sebastian, with his constant bombardment of stimuli, that his autism won't let him keep out.  Maybe this is why he hums.  I don't notice it, until I do. And then I can't NOT notice it.

The highway is close.  I can hear a motorcycle rev its way along.  Cars drone and drone and drone.  It is the heart beat to a city, and it never ends.

Birds outside the window chirp occasionally, even in the dark.

A mosquito hums.

The curtain flaps slightly, and sighs with the breezes that lift it. 

These sounds are so different from what I hear all day.  I hear Sawyer's voice, non-stop, asking and yelling and talking and playing.  I hear the TV downstairs, repeating and repeating and repeating, as it soothes Sebastian's need to control the world around him.  I hear him hum and skip as he travels for more juice, more snack, for pictures, for Kleenex.  I hear the crash as the cats once again tumble into something or someplace they don't belong.  The feline grace inherent to all cats seems to have not blessed these two yet.  Maybe when they are older.

I hear children playing in other yards, radios playing in other cars, other lawns being cut by other people with their own lawnmowers. I hear everything. 

Right now, I am enjoying my silence, which isn't really quiet.  My full, round, complex silence.  It is a summer silence.  Winter silence is different; it is stark and beautiful.  Summer silence is humid, and thrumming, on the verge of bursting. 

My silence has stopped.  Little feet pad to the bathroom.  Lights are flicked on, and a questioning face appears in my doorway.  My silence is going to be filled with little girl sighs, and soft snores.  Flip-flopping limbs and sweaty brows. 

Good night, silence.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "night".

Excuse me, Miss. There's a bunny in your oregano.

For reals.

Actually, there are 3.

 

 

 

 

 

Rosie N. Grey

The N stands for "newborn bunnies".

Pool Drama

I love water.  My kids love water.  Geoff tolerates water.  Last year we got a pool when the kids finished school (and they were on sale at Walmart).  We set it up in the beginning of July and had a nice summer of swimming.  But where we had put it, it wasn't optimal placement. We weren't too worried about it, since we were working on other parts of the yard.

This year, however, we are working on that part of the yard.  We are building a beach area, with the firepit, we have ripped out the old garden and put new boxes.  We moved the trampoline and the kids' playset.  Adam redid the river, and we have planted some new plants.

 

We picked a new spot for the pool.  Adam helped out and laid some peat moss in a nice circle.  I spent one night with Sawyer put it up, and the next night cleaning out the accumulated gunk from a fall, winter and spring of storage.  Then, we started filling it up.  I told the kids they would be swimming by Sunday.  This was Friday.

Saturday morning, I got up bright and early, and got ready to head out and pick up some chemicals to get the water off on the right foot.  My dad was already here, putting a new load of sand into our beach area.  He told me that we had a leak in the pool.  Sure enough, a hole the size of a dime was in the bottom of the pool on the low end (I knew one end was a bit lower than the other, but not by more than an inch or so).  So Geoff and the kids and I went out looking for a patch kit.  My dad remembered that there were patches you could get that would work underwater.  We looked and looked.  Couldn't find it.  Finally after a couple of hours (we did other things too, it wasn't just a patch hunt!) I found some at Canadian Tire.  Trouble was, they aren't underwater patches. 

The instructions said to clean and dry the spot to repair.  How do I do that when it is under a foot of water?  Easy, I don't.  I patched the outside.  Easy Peasy (sorta).  It was a mess, I had to bury my hand in the peat moss (and the bugs that were in there too, I'm sure) and there was toxic glue all of the damn place, but I eventually got 2 patches on.  It seems to have held.  I say seems to, because after Sunday, it was hard to tell. 

So, Saturday.  Patch is on.  All is well.  I had my book club gathering that evening, a lovely night with my ladies.  We sat on the beach, had a fire, roasted marshmallows and had some bevvies. The whole time, I have the hose running, filling up my now intact pool.

Sunday, I wake up and travel outside, a little hung over and thinking excitedly about taking a dip and washing the headache away. What I encountered was a pool with a very, VERY distinct lean to it.  Like, a lot.  I had maybe 2, 2 1/2 feet of water on one side and over 4 ft on the other.  The legs on the pool that had been straight up and down the day before were completely shifted and some had even lifted a bit off the ground.  Son of a B.  This isn't good.  The weight of the water had shifted what was a slight variance in level into a major one.  Now, we dealing with it potentially collapsing, hurting someone, and causing tons of damage.

 

I tried to think of a way to save it.  I googled "leveling a pool with water in it".  Yeah, apparently you can't do that. So..so...sadly, I had to pull the plug.  Literally.  I pulled the drain plug out of the high side of the pool and started the long slow process of getting thousands of gallons of water into my lawn.  And my neighbours' lawns.  Thank God for good drainage. 

We had Geoff's family for dinner on Sunday night, and the dogs got to enjoy running through the muck and the mud and the drained out water.  It was gross, but good fun. 

This afternoon, my brother and I started repairing the damage.  The pool had drained enough that the water had dropped below the drain.  We used 2 gallon buckets to bail out some of the water on the deep end.  Once we got it down enough, we pulled part of the pool apart, and folded down the side, and drained the rest. We picked  it up and moved it off to the side.  By then, my lunch break was over and I had to go back to work.  Adam got to dig out the dirt, in 37 degree heat, and started rolling it out and using his ingenious leveling tool. Tonight, the ground is settling, and tomorrow we will lay down some more peat moss, or sand or something, level it out, fill in the gaps, and then the pool can go up again.  Then we start the filling all over again.

 

Oh, I know, these are totally first world problems.  Rough life to have. And it will all totally be worth it in the end, when we get to have the kids in the pool, playing and learning to swim.  It should be fun. Once we finally get there.

Thank again to my brother for making shit happen.  I don't know what we would do without him.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stand for "not easy, but worth it".

Kicking Keto Ass

Geoff and I, in an attempt to be a bit healthier, have started eating keto. Now, before you freak out and tell me horror stories about the person that you know who's liver and kidneys exploded and their eyeballs melted, and they gained 40 lbs instead of losing, just save it.  First, whatever...why you being a hater?  Why sabotage me?  Trust that I am an intelligent person, have done a bit of research, have talked to people and have decided to go into this with an open mind.  Trust that if I start feeling horrible, I will stop.  Trust that I am still using common sense.  And trust that if you are feeling bad about yourself and kind of want to knock someone else down, I totally get that.  I have been there.  I have done that. 

But seriously, just cut that shit out.

So, we are keto now, for just over a week.  I have lost about 10lbs, Geoff has lost a bunch too. We try and eat 20 g of carbs a day or less.  Not easy, but doable.  And we are doing it.

Anyway, the other day, we were jonesing.  Geoff wanted chips, bad.  And something sweet.  He is a big time snacker, and is really not at all used to restricting what he eats (other than dairy, since he is lactose intolerant.  He gets to take pills for that though, that help him out and let him eat it, in moderation.)  I, a life long dieter, can do deprivation in my sleep. :)  I messaged our keto friends, Barb and Bill (who have been rocking this out for a while now.  Both of them have lost a bunch of weight and look amazing!) for help and advice on snacking.  They gave us some great ideas.  I also turned to Pinterest.

I found a couple of ideas there, and wanted to show you one that I implemented the other day (and again today, for my dinner/afternoon snack.)  They are basically mini pizzas, made on salami slices instead of bread.  You have to like salami, and as we have discovered, you have to use a sharper cheddar, or other equally strong cheese, to be able to compete with the strong salami taste.

Here it is:

Put your salami slices in a muffin tray, or flat on the baking sheet.  I prefer the muffin tin..it curves the meat a bit, so that it has some shape and holds the toppings better.  But flat is fine too.

Put your salami in an oven, heated to 350 degrees (I just guessed at this.  I don't know what a higher temperature might do, so feel free to experiment and see what happens!)

Cook the salami for about 5 minutes.  This will drain a bunch of the grease out of it, and hopefully crisp it up a bit.  If it isn't crispy enough, cook it a bit longer.

Take it out of the over and dress your pizza!  A little bit of sauce (I used left over spaghetti sauce, because a) it's all I had and b) I don't know that there is a difference between that and pizza sauce.   Add a pinch of your nice strong cheese, and add toppings. 

I put some small mushroom bits on mine.

 

Note: if your salami has drained a bunch of grease, you might want to clean some of that up first, or change your salami to another muffin tray/baking sheet first.  Cooking it longer in the grease really doesn't help the grease not be in your food.  :)

Put it back in the oven for about 5-7 minutes, or until your cheese is nice and melty and your edges are nice and crispy.  I haven't tried the broiler for this part, but it would probably work great!

 

Take them out, let them cool a bit and enjoy!!  My carb count on these was very small.  The salami pieces I used had 0 carbs in them, the sauce had 8 g per 1/2 cup ( I used maybe 1 or 2 tbsp. for 8 slices) and the cheese has about 1 g per 1/4 cup (I maybe used this much for all of them).  You are using such small portions of everything, that the carbs really stay minimal.

If this is your thing, give it a try. If you think of any great alterations or alternatives, be sure to let me know...I am sure we will hit a new snacking crisis in another week or so!

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new recipes"!

Goin' Fishin'

This Sunday, I am going fishing with my dad.  We are doing a charter fishing trip for salmon, just like we did 2 years ago.  I am really looking forward to it.

 

My mom and brother went in on it this year (my dad is impossible to buy for, so everyone always jumps at a good idea.)  I booked it for 2 people, since I didn't want to assume that I would be the one going. 

However, at his birthday dinner, he did ask me to go.  Granted, I told him about 4 times that I was available.  And I brought up how much fun it was last time.  Oh, and did I mention that I was available?  Really, the man had no choice.  I should feel guilty about that.  I kinda do.  But not too much.

 

I think it will be fun, as long as the weather holds out.  Last time, the weather was gorgeous, and we had a terrific time.  We caught fish like crazy for the first 3 hours, and then the last hour was slow, so we got to enjoy the cruise on the boat, the sun, the wind and the company.

 

I have always fished with my dad.  I have lots of memories of fishing when I was a kid.  We caught giant channel cats down in the Whirlpool.  We caught sunfish and crappies in every little stream in our region.  We would fish for bass sometimes, and in the fall we would try and catch the salmon run.  In the winter, we would go ice fishing, in the spring, we would go on the smelt run.

Most of my memories of my dad revolve around fishing.

 

He has been taking my kids fishing.  Neither of them as into it as I was...but I think there were times when my memory of how interested I was in the fishing is a bit inflated.  I know there were times when the sand dunes at Queenston docks beat out waiting for a bite at the end of the pole.   Sawyer is getting to an age where I think it will start being more fun for her.  If she could only learn to keep the hook in the water for longer than a minute or two.

Fishing is a family tradition.  One that I gladly pass on.  I think this summer, I am gonna polish off my poles, dig up some worms, and take my kids fishing.

But Sunday, I am gonna let my dad take his own kid fishing.

Wish us luck.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "nets and hooks, worms and fish".

Bad Day

We all have them.  I just had me one.

The worst part is...nothing particularly bad happened.  I worked from home, Sawyer went to school.  Sebastian actually spent the morning away from the TV.  I stuck to my new diet, even though I am still learning.  I got a bit of cleaning done, and made a good dinner for the kids.  The house is *relatively* clean and the laundry is kinda caught up.

See, nothing horrific happened.  I still consider it a bad day though.

Work was....work.  Sigh.  It is frustrating and disorganized.  The people I work with, with very few exceptions, are exhausting.  I want so much more in my life, I hate that I am stuck here, spinning my wheels, being fruitless and fearful.

My frustration from work carried over into home.  Sawyer is trying on the best days.  She is at the stage where she very literally is never, ever quiet.  We play the quiet game with her sometimes.  Her record is 9 seconds.  She physically can't do more than that, without talking.  Sometimes, most times, she is funny and hilarious and I can just laugh at the ridiculous and amazing things that come out of her little brain.  But on the wrong day, her constant need for validation and recognition, her endless questions and attention seeking, her need for ongoing physical contact- it drains me (as I type this, she is beside me, fresh out of the bath, leaning on my arm so she can see the words I am typing, even though she can't read them.  I have an ice cube tucked in my elbow, because she says it needs to be there, because she is a doctor, oh wait, let's play school, my hair is wet, where is my spray....Do you see what I mean?)

After a day like today, when I am dealing with fully grown, and supposedly functioning adults that can't take care of themselves, the seemingly incessant needs of my children wore on my last nerve.  I found myself snapping at them, on the verge of yelling and real rage.  I caught it in time, and managed to make some space for myself, by doing laundry and cleaning the bathroom.  When I came back, I was better.  Not good, but better.

Maybe part of it is because I am tired.  I can't remember what it is like to not be tired.  Tired in my body, in my brain, in my soul.  I have had recurring dreams, where I lose my job, where I have to train my replacements.  I dream that I am going on a vacation, only at the last minute to find out that even though I was invited, no one bought my ticket, because they really didn't want me there to begin with.  I dream that I come home and my house is so full of junk, that FACS is coming to take the kids.

Yeah, it doesn't take a lot to read between the lines on these.  Feelings of insecurity, of inadequacy, of being out of control. 

I have been tackling things on my to do list.  Instead of feeling good about that, it makes me angry that it is still kicking around, waiting to be done.  My brother has pretty much finished his work in my yard.  I am incredibly grateful, but also disconcerted because there is so much left that I want to do.  No money or time to do it though.

So, yeah, pretty much a pity party all day long.  And then when I think that, it bothers me that I can't legitimately feel bad about some of the bad things that happen in my life.  I get resentful that I always have to be "fine", that things are "ok".  Sometimes they are, well and truly, and sometimes they are way, way better, right into the world of awesome.  But sometimes, they are not. 

So, anyway, I had a bad day today, for no good reason.  But I am going to try and remember some of the good things that happened.  Maybe it can change from bad, to not so bad.  God forbid, maybe even good.

- found $20 today
- found a winning lottery ticket
- Sawyer had a bath and let me wash her hair, without much fuss
- Sebastian has been pretty good today. He did outside time without fighting me
- The dining room table is cleared off
- I made it to the bus stop in time to sit in the sun/shade a little bit
- I got to work from home
- I stuck to my new diet
- I am not eating crackers right now, even though Sawyer is right beside me eating them
- I mopped the floors
- I vacuumed
- Sawyer's floor is clear.  Nothing else is clean, but at least the floor is
- I got to sleep all night in my own bed
- I got to turn the air conditioner off today and open the windows
- Dinner was pretty good
- Adam laid down mulch today.  It looks great

That's it for now.  Some days, you just have to cut your losses.  I am going to finish the laundry, start my new porch sign and go to bed early.  Tomorrow just might be a better day.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "nincompoop".

Last Day

Today was Sebastian's last day of this school year.   He was pretty happy about it, as would be expected, but not quite as happy as he has been in previous years.  He is just excited that he gets to spend tomorrow at home with me, as I am working, and he gets to watch TV.  I haven't told him yet that I am going to take him to a matinee this weekend to see Monster University as a celebration for finishing the school on a high note.  We will save that little tidbit for later, or I will never hear the end of it!

As you all know, Sebastian attends a private school called Julien School for Alternative Learners (previously known as the Little Brick Schoolhouse).  This was his first year there, and my first year dealing with tuition and learning the ropes of being outside of the regular public school board.

Every Friday is community day. 
One of their community trips was to Geoff's comic shop. 
How is that for an awesome school trip??

Working at the comic shop.

I have talked a bit in the past about his experiences with school- how much he hated it, and his teachers, the struggle, the fights, the failures.  This year was so different.

When you have a special needs child, you have lots of meetings.  Lots.  Most of them are useless, you really don't do much but reclassify your kid, so that the school board can get the funding that they need.  Or the teacher talks to you about how your kid doesn't do what he is "expected" to be doing, because of A, B and C.  Or how the goals they have set for your child, arbitrarily and without your input, are really reflective of what your child is capable of and how it isn't practical to expect too much or set goals too high.

I am sure this isn't everyone's experience.  But it seemed to be mine.  Pardon the cynicism.

But once a year or so, you have a meeting where you are asked to define your goals for your child.  I hate this meeting.  My goals were always simple.  Get him to pay attention and participate, even a little.  Help him read.  Get him to print his name.  Anything normal would do just fine.

Fast forward to this year at Julien School.  Our "goal setting" meeting rolled around.  And when they asked me what my goal for Sebastian for this year was, I was speechless.  I had nothing.  Nothing.  Everything I normally said, he was already doing. 

Me being me, tough and resilient, always prepared, did the only thing I could think of.  I burst into tears.  Of course I did.  Sheesh.

What I told them, was that I really had never had goals, not real ones, for Sebastian.  Goals mean looking ahead, and working towards something.  You have to have faith, and strength and hope to have a goal.  After only 3 years in the DSBN, I was out of that, where school and Sebastian was concerned. 

They clucked at me, and soothed my frazzled self.  They understood but also chided me, gently.  "You set your expectations too low.  You need to change that.  You need to let Sebastian surprise you, you need to challenge him and let him rise to that challenge.  He doesn't achieve, because you don't expect him to achieve."

And as incredibly hard as it was to hear that, they were absolutely 100% correct.  So, we have been trying to change that. 

So, here we are, 10 months later, at the end of his first year of his new school. He is amazing.  He surprises me every day.  I hope I am surprising him too, with what I expect.

Through the summer, I am setting a curriculum of learning for him, to keep him in the habit.  This will hopefully give me a bit of a taste of what homeschooling is like.  There are a million resources available for free online. It will take a bit of work, time and dedication (not to mention a printer) but I think I can put together some lessons, to help keep him sharp.  Keep him learning.  Keep my expectations high.

Recently, I was asked by the president of the school to speak as a Julien School parent, at their recent rebranding celebration and enrollment drive.  I agreed, and was the only parent speaker (that caught me off guard!  I expected to be one of many!)  The other speakers covered everything important- what and how they teach, the reasons behind it.  Their flexibility and experience. The costs.  Just before me, one of the assistant teacher spoke and read a piece she had written on change, and how change, seen so often as a horrible thing for autistic kids, is really an amazingly positive force of nature for the Julien  School kids.  (yeah, I cried again. I recognized when she was talking about Sebastian, of course.)  I got to go last.

If I do say so myself, I brought the house down. In a good way.

I started by saying that while there had been a lot of amazing and important information shared with them already that night, I was, in my own humble opinion, the most important speaker they were going to hear.  Because I was them.  I was the parent sitting out there, absorbing, trying to make the right choice, for my child, for my family.  And wondering just how the hell I was going to make it work (they laughed here, so I knew I was good to go. :)

I spoke a little about Sebastian's journey towards the Julien School- how we started therapy at 18 months, transitioned to the Niagara Children's Centre for fulltime therapy and school when he was 3, and for the first 4 years of his education, we were spoiled rotten.  Then we moved to the DSBN and things when downhill.   I was good, and didn't name names, or point fingers, but said that Sebastian and public school weren't a good fit, for a number of reasons. 

First day of school
Julien School, Sept 2012

And then I talked about my conversation with Camille (the president and founder of the school.)  I said that we were into Sebastian's 3rd year at school, and things weren't going well.  We wanted to take him out, but didn't know what to do.  I didn't feel qualified to homeschool him, and didn't have the time.  We were lost.  And one day, in December, Camille, who knew everything about Sebastian- his strengths, his weaknesses, everything, started talking to me about an idea she had.  An idea for a school.  And as she talked, it sounded better and better.  And (I said), I will never forget what she said to me next.  She looked me in the eye and said "Anita, Sebastian would be perfect for this."

Up until this point, Sebastian had never been perfect for anything.  He was always too slow, too different, too unfocused, too young, too old, too..whatever.  He didn't fit anywhere, except with us, his family.  And now?  Now, he was perfect.  For something. 

I hadn't even checked with Geoff yet, but I was ready to sign him up.  If I had had to, I would have given her a check that day. 

When I shared this story with the group, I cried.  A little.  They cried too.  A lot. 

mother effing fractions. 
Slice of fried gold.

I talked about the changes.  How he couldn't print his name when he started.  Now he prints for fun.  Just cause he can.  I talked about how on his last IEP, one of his goals was to count to 20 (ridiculous I know.)  The night he brought fractions home as homework, I literally sat at the kitchen table with him, and cried.  I wept, because I never thought I would see that.  I wept because someone, somewhere, was expecting my son to do great and powerful things. Like fractions.

By the end of the speech, people in the audience were crying right along with me.  The lady sitting behind me, touched my shoulder and told me that I had sealed the deal- she was enrolling her son that night.  Strangers hugged me and thanked me.  The teachers were thrilled.  Camille told me she wanted to take me on the road with her.  I told her my appearance fee could come off the top of my tuition. 

And now, it's over.  For a while. 

For the next 2 months, I don't have to think about school.  I don't have to pack a lunch (which, irrationally, I hate doing.)  I don't have to rush in the morning to get him up and dressed and fed and out the door.  For one whole month, I don't have to worry about tuition (first cheque is due August 1.  Yippee.) 

I am grateful for this year.  I am grateful for this break.  All and all, I am just completely and totally grateful.  For Sebastian.

 Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "next September is soon enough."