So, it happened.
Yep.
It sure did.
Our appointment with Dr. E went well. If by well, I mean that he told me to totally ignore neurology and go back up on her meds because he figures she's having sub-clinical seizures, which would account for every. single. weird. thing. we've seen in recent weeks, then it truly was an excellent appointment.
Yay.
Disappointing, but in my gut I know he's right. I knew that was probably the case weeks ago when we started noting the behaviour. I even thought I maybe saw the tail end of seizure a couple of weeks ago, but chalked it up to my overactive imagination.
Yep.
So we go home. And she promptly has a seizure.
Damn.
The good news? We haven't seen another one since Thursday night when this all occurred. Mind you, we've been dealing with Abby having the stomach flu, Joseph starting to crawl and discovering just how un-baby-proofed our house has become, and now Rachael having said same stomach flu. So we might have missed it. They're pretty subtle.
Wait and see.
Wait and see.
Damn.
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Friday, March 2, 2012
The Joke
Rachael is a funny, funny creature. Her world, her imagination, is something to be marveled at, envied even. She makes me laugh by just being her.
Those who know me "in real life" know I come from a long line of witty, funny people. I'm not quite the same caliber as my father and brothers, but I can see in Rachael that same sort of wit and desire to entertain.
So I decided it was time to start grooming her. To tell jokes.
Now, I've never tried teaching a three-year-old how to tell jokes before. Humour has been something that has eluded Abby until fairly recently, and even then she tends to gravitate to the very visual, slap-stick physical humour. Rachael, on the other hand, already enjoys word-play and has a very verbose aspect to her personality. How hard could it be? I thought to myself.
I decided to start with the classic knock-knock joke.
Me: Knock, Knock.
Rachael: deadpan look, no other response forthcoming
Me: Rachael, Mommy says "Knock, knock", then you say...?
Rachael: continues to stare at me
Me: Then Rachael says, "Who's there?" Okay? Let's try again.... Knock, knock!
Rachael: still nothing
Me: "Who's there?"
Rachael: It's Daddy! (giggles)
Okay, so maybe not your traditional knock-knock joke, but she thought it was funny.
Moving on...
I decided to try the infamous Chicken Crossing the Road joke.
Me: Rachael, why did the chicken cross the road?
Rachael: sound of crickets in the background
Me: To get to the other side!
Rachael: Was his family there?
Me: What?
Rachael: Was his family there? And the goat. It should be there too. [Insert three-year-old chatter about a family of chickens that have a pet goat.] And a car.
Me: A car?
Rachael: Yes, a car. They need to drive down the road to get home!
.......
I think I will try getting a book of kids jokes from the library.
 |
| Feeding the chickens. Or so she tells me. |
So I decided it was time to start grooming her. To tell jokes.
Now, I've never tried teaching a three-year-old how to tell jokes before. Humour has been something that has eluded Abby until fairly recently, and even then she tends to gravitate to the very visual, slap-stick physical humour. Rachael, on the other hand, already enjoys word-play and has a very verbose aspect to her personality. How hard could it be? I thought to myself.
I decided to start with the classic knock-knock joke.
Me: Knock, Knock.
Rachael: deadpan look, no other response forthcoming
Me: Rachael, Mommy says "Knock, knock", then you say...?
Rachael: continues to stare at me
Me: Then Rachael says, "Who's there?" Okay? Let's try again.... Knock, knock!
Rachael: still nothing
Me: "Who's there?"
Rachael: It's Daddy! (giggles)
Okay, so maybe not your traditional knock-knock joke, but she thought it was funny.
Moving on...
I decided to try the infamous Chicken Crossing the Road joke.
Me: Rachael, why did the chicken cross the road?
Rachael: sound of crickets in the background
Me: To get to the other side!
Rachael: Was his family there?
Me: What?
Rachael: Was his family there? And the goat. It should be there too. [Insert three-year-old chatter about a family of chickens that have a pet goat.] And a car.
Me: A car?
Rachael: Yes, a car. They need to drive down the road to get home!
.......
I think I will try getting a book of kids jokes from the library.
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Anger
Or was it frustration?
Either way, I'm upset. My Abby, my beautiful, wonderful, happy child has turned into a demon-monster. She was doing well in school. She was doing well at home. We were so happy as a family, had a good rhythm going, and was actually at the point were we could live a semi-normal existence. You know, one where you get to leave the house and do stuff with your kids. And they sort of cooperate.
And suddenly... poof!... she was no more.
Now she's aggressive, unhappy, uncooperative. She hits the other kids. She repeats words for 45 minutes or more at a time. She's unable to cope with loud noises, engages in self-stimulating behaviours, and whole nine yards.
*sigh*
Talked to doctor. He says it might be neurological. We've been cutting back one of her meds, with the hopes of weaning her off one (she's been almost 2 years since a seizure).
Talk to neuro. No, no, no, they insist. It must be physical. Don't worry about it. Keep tapering her meds.
So back off to Dr. E we go. I've got five pages (2 from teacher, 3 from me) outlining her changed behaviour. In a small font. Including her attacking another kid with scissors today.
*sigh*
I hate this merry-go-round.
Have I mentioned that Autism sucks??
Either way, I'm upset. My Abby, my beautiful, wonderful, happy child has turned into a demon-monster. She was doing well in school. She was doing well at home. We were so happy as a family, had a good rhythm going, and was actually at the point were we could live a semi-normal existence. You know, one where you get to leave the house and do stuff with your kids. And they sort of cooperate.
And suddenly... poof!... she was no more.
Now she's aggressive, unhappy, uncooperative. She hits the other kids. She repeats words for 45 minutes or more at a time. She's unable to cope with loud noises, engages in self-stimulating behaviours, and whole nine yards.
*sigh*
Talked to doctor. He says it might be neurological. We've been cutting back one of her meds, with the hopes of weaning her off one (she's been almost 2 years since a seizure).
Talk to neuro. No, no, no, they insist. It must be physical. Don't worry about it. Keep tapering her meds.
So back off to Dr. E we go. I've got five pages (2 from teacher, 3 from me) outlining her changed behaviour. In a small font. Including her attacking another kid with scissors today.
*sigh*
I hate this merry-go-round.
Have I mentioned that Autism sucks??
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Roads
I know.
Don't say it.
I've been a bad girl.
I haven't posted in, literally, forever.
Is this something I need to go to confession about?
How has your journey been?
Mine's been interesting. Different. Divergent. I feel like I'm on the cusp of something wonderful, and large, and momentous.
Okay, I often feel like that. And maybe someday it will come true.
I guess I'm thinking about a road because of a couple of conversations I've had recently. About where we're going, not only as individuals, but as a people. As a society.
We build our futures one block at a time. Really, where we build them is totally up to us. Or is it? How much are we the products of our own choices, and how much are we the products of our socialization? Who would we be, really, if we could be anyone without that tearing down and building up that is our sociological upbringing? Without the blatant commercialization of everything in our day to day lives?
Our lives are something that requires a great deal of navigation. Some of us, I suppose, navigate like we drive a car... by the seat of our pants, never stopping for directions, relying on instinct, intuition and just blind luck to arrive at our destination. Or just going for a leisurely cruise, seeing where we end up.
Others need a map. A detailed map. Like a CAA Triptik, with all the rest stops preplanned, all the sight-seeing meticulously marked, and a detailed milage log kep. There is a specific destination in mind that must be arrived at by a specific date.
Which one am I? I don't know, a little of both. I don't really know where my destination is anymore, and I'm mostly okay with that.
I have more thoughts about this, but really need my destination to be bed right now. We'll chat more later.
Don't say it.
I've been a bad girl.
I haven't posted in, literally, forever.
Is this something I need to go to confession about?
How has your journey been?
 |
| Grand Valley |
Okay, I often feel like that. And maybe someday it will come true.
I guess I'm thinking about a road because of a couple of conversations I've had recently. About where we're going, not only as individuals, but as a people. As a society.
 |
| One block at a time |
 |
| Negociation is key |
Others need a map. A detailed map. Like a CAA Triptik, with all the rest stops preplanned, all the sight-seeing meticulously marked, and a detailed milage log kep. There is a specific destination in mind that must be arrived at by a specific date.
Which one am I? I don't know, a little of both. I don't really know where my destination is anymore, and I'm mostly okay with that.
I have more thoughts about this, but really need my destination to be bed right now. We'll chat more later.
Random
Checkin' in.
That's all.
 |
| Opening Christmas Stuff |
 |
| A favourite activity - piled into the chair |
 |
| Cheezy |
 |
| Smiling for Mom |
 |
| My beautiful babies <3 |
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Stuff
Pst.
Hey.
You.
Yes, you.
Happy New Year!
Okay, enough of that.
This is a story about stuff.
Not, not that Story About Stuff.
This one is my own.
In this case, it's the story about MY stuff. You know, the stuff that accumulates in the recesses of a house.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have been purging. And purging. And purging. And a month or so later, I'm finally starting to make a dent.
Well, a small one anyway.
It never fails to both fascinate and horrify me that we can accumulate so much stuff. My husband and I don't consider ourselves materialistic people. We only have one income. Yes, we have three children, but our ability to acquire is seriously hampered by our financial situation.
So where does stuff come from?
Well, a lot comes from friends and family. I am so grateful for them. They alone provide me with enough hand-me-down clothes to comfortably clothe my children. My parents give gifts to us and our children, all year round. We are very blessed in that regard, that we never have for want our material needs.
But there's a catch. I hoard.
Yes, there it is. I admitted it. I tend to hoard.
I went though all the kids clothes. I gave away 12, yes 12 garbage bags of clothes and shoes that no one will wear because we simply have so much. I lent out 8 boxes of clothes to friends who have babies/toddlers and Rachael has outgrown her clothes. I still have clothes coming out of my ears!
Yeshe. That's a lotta stuff.
I realized something today, however. What's the deal with me hoarding? Am I not trusting that God will provide for us? I mean, it's reasonable for me to hang on to Abby's clothes that she's outgrown at this point as Rachael will grow into them in the next couple of years. But do I really need six boxes of clothes in size 3X? I needed clothes for Joseph. I ended up with 4 people giving/gifting me clothes from their own kids for me to pick through. I kept a box or two of each size of the nicest stuff, and gifted the rest on.
Sorting though box after box after box of... junk.. I realized that a lot of stuff I was hanging onto "just in case". Or sometimes it was "in case someone needs it someday". We have never wanted. God has always provided. Or, at least our family and friends have.
My new year's resolution? To let go. To not let my stuff hold onto me like that, and to trust that I will find what I need when I need it. It's also to know the limits of our stuff. Joseph doesn't need four giant diaper boxes full of infant toys. He "needs" one, and a small one at that because his sisters' toys are much more interesting anyway. Do we really need hundreds of books when there's thousands for free at our fingertips at the library? Do I really need all those fancy dishes that have never seen the light of day? Do I need those trinkets that have sat forgotten in a box since moving over two years ago?
What are your resolutions? And what is your "stuff"?
Hey.
You.
Yes, you.
Happy New Year!
Okay, enough of that.
This is a story about stuff.
Not, not that Story About Stuff.
This one is my own.
In this case, it's the story about MY stuff. You know, the stuff that accumulates in the recesses of a house.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have been purging. And purging. And purging. And a month or so later, I'm finally starting to make a dent.
Well, a small one anyway.
It never fails to both fascinate and horrify me that we can accumulate so much stuff. My husband and I don't consider ourselves materialistic people. We only have one income. Yes, we have three children, but our ability to acquire is seriously hampered by our financial situation.
So where does stuff come from?
Well, a lot comes from friends and family. I am so grateful for them. They alone provide me with enough hand-me-down clothes to comfortably clothe my children. My parents give gifts to us and our children, all year round. We are very blessed in that regard, that we never have for want our material needs.
But there's a catch. I hoard.
Yes, there it is. I admitted it. I tend to hoard.
I went though all the kids clothes. I gave away 12, yes 12 garbage bags of clothes and shoes that no one will wear because we simply have so much. I lent out 8 boxes of clothes to friends who have babies/toddlers and Rachael has outgrown her clothes. I still have clothes coming out of my ears!
Yeshe. That's a lotta stuff.
I realized something today, however. What's the deal with me hoarding? Am I not trusting that God will provide for us? I mean, it's reasonable for me to hang on to Abby's clothes that she's outgrown at this point as Rachael will grow into them in the next couple of years. But do I really need six boxes of clothes in size 3X? I needed clothes for Joseph. I ended up with 4 people giving/gifting me clothes from their own kids for me to pick through. I kept a box or two of each size of the nicest stuff, and gifted the rest on.
Sorting though box after box after box of... junk.. I realized that a lot of stuff I was hanging onto "just in case". Or sometimes it was "in case someone needs it someday". We have never wanted. God has always provided. Or, at least our family and friends have.
My new year's resolution? To let go. To not let my stuff hold onto me like that, and to trust that I will find what I need when I need it. It's also to know the limits of our stuff. Joseph doesn't need four giant diaper boxes full of infant toys. He "needs" one, and a small one at that because his sisters' toys are much more interesting anyway. Do we really need hundreds of books when there's thousands for free at our fingertips at the library? Do I really need all those fancy dishes that have never seen the light of day? Do I need those trinkets that have sat forgotten in a box since moving over two years ago?
What are your resolutions? And what is your "stuff"?
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