This happens regularly to women who lose a pregnancy under 20 weeks gestation in Canada, at least according to my support group. It doesn't happen to women in Massachusetts or California or any of the other pro-choice states that have managed to write a law determining what should happen to fetal remains, literally thus: all women undergoing a D&C or a natural miscarriage or whatever, sign documents stating what they would like the pathology department to do after they do their mandatory examination of the contents of the uterus: either dispose of the remains as hospital waste, bury the remains as part of a compassionate hospital program, or help the woman to make arrangements of her own with a funeral home.
Those states respect all choices, even ones they don't understand.
No one respected my choice.
No one has the right to traumatize a patient and violate their rights. Ever.
I think I'll just leave the house and not be home today.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Overall not bad
We're still having some bizarre things happen here, but overall more good things than bad, so I am going to spend this Christmas focusing on the good. Considering what a blessing Julius is to our lives this year, I feel like I have to try.
An example? My husband blew up the microwave last night after accidentally setting it to cook with nothing in it. He's okay, but we're out replacing it right now. We also bought a Cuisinart to replace the blender he burned out. Normally I'm the absentminded one in the kitchen, burning food items hither and yon, but he seems to be taking the prize for 2008.
Upside: Now our appliances all match. Brushed aluminum and black.
I think I'll be posting more photos of the kids on Facebook instead of the blog because FB's a little more private, so if you want to see them, send me your name and I'll friend you. That way you can see the hysterical Santa photo and the even funnier trek to chop down the tree.
Yes, we chopped down our own Xmas tree. The ones at the corner lots are always pretty dry to me. We normally just drive out to the tree farm and pay some guy extra to do it for us so we get a fresh cut tree but don't have to schlep an axe, but Mr.Cotta and The Boys got it in their head that they had to chop it down themselves. Something about real men and woods and sharp objects.....I did not really listen much after that to be honest. Anyway, after marching through the snow for what felt like hours but was more like minutes, they picked a tree, and got out the knives and wrassled it to the ground and killed it good. The Boys then dragged it to the side of the road and tied it to the roof of the car. Chest-thumping and boasting of brave deeds ensued.
Seriously.
The tree itself is likely the ugliest most misshapen pathetic tree we have ever put up. Mostly because Kaz insisted on getting a red pine (My choice is always blue spruce) and Mac wanted it to be bushy on top instead of the bottom. (He says it fits more presents that way.) It is heavily tilted since all the lights are on the bottom on one side and the ornaments are all on the other side. It will likely fall over very soon.
But that's okay. You know why? Because my kids did it all, all by themselves. They put it up, and decorated it, lopsided bits and everything. They put in a great effort and did their very best. When you are 8 and 12 that has to count for a lot, right?
I will never have a perfect decorator tree, or a perfect decorator life. I will always be topsy-turvy. But on the upside, I'm never bored.
Another good thing? My husband noticed that since Julius came along, I have had hardly ANY nightmares. I used to wake up screaming and flailing regularly, but not anymore. Tiny normalish bad dreams, yes. But not like before. So when the baby wakes me up a lot, at least I know that I can go back to sleep.
Okay, I've been writing this post throughout the day adding little bits, but now I have to wrap up. After I put the baby down to bed, I have to go bail out the basement. It just flooded again. And we're having fifteen people for dinner tomorrow. And the kids were supposed to play there.
Upside---hmmm, well, now I have a real reason to buy a new rug and get a contractor to deal with the floor! Project for January! Yayyy!
Merry Christmas everyone! And even if it's not so merry, try to find the upside.
Or the scotch.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Still here
I just realized that I'd left that awful post up, and yes things were insane, but slowly, they are improving. Julius has a cold, but it's getting better, same for mine. I've done some shopping, and I need to do more but oh well.
Thing is, I gave my nanny a few days off this week because her mom is going to the Philippines at Xmas for six months, and she wanted to spend some time with her. So I'm going a little nuts all by myself. No my husband isn't here, are you joking, he's still closing friggin deals. Likely he'll still work on Xmas if anyone will let him!! Back to the nanny issue-I'm referring to my nanny as the Nanny, by the way, simply because I'm out of blog names. IRL I do call her by her first name, as she requested, just in case someone assumes I call her "Nanny" in real life, a ridiculous idea.
I used to be the big daycare fan, never was going to use a nanny, blah blah blah, but schlepping one child to daycare is a lot easier and cheaper than schlepping three around. Plus, you can only work 9 to 5, and daycare spots at a good daycare are as scarce as hen's teeth in this country and stunningly expensive. Crappy daycare I can find, but a good daycare? Very very difficult. When we had our first two in a great top flight daycare, it was literally more expensive than a mortgage on a 600K house. (I figured it out one day when I was bitter.)
I am so lucky I found my nanny, and she really helps make my entire life run a lot smoother. Lots of people have mixed stories about nannies and some hate them, and some love them, but I think it also relates to how you treat them and pay them. For example, it turns out that I am one of the few employers on the planet who actually pays overtime, stat holiday pay and vacation pay. We give her a bus pass and a cell phone, because we expect her to have one when she has our kids and is taking them on the TTC or to the park, or the drop-in. (Literally, we treat cells, etc. like work equipment, just like at my husband's business. He subsidizes his other employee's work equipment, why not hers?) We want her to drive, so we're paying for driving lessons, etc. And we make sure she has a break during the day and gets lunch. And if I'm not home to relieve her, I have found another nanny in the neighbourhood and I get them to trade off covering each other, and I pay for it, so they each get some break time.
Apparently, lots of people treat their nannies like slaves, and then are shocked when the nanny isn't their best friend. Now, sure some people don't get along with others regardless, and there will always be poor job fits, but still----why on earth would you ever mistreat a human being who is entrusted with your precious child?
I don't know, people who are crappy to nannies mystify me. I figure if she's happy, then she'll be great to my kids, and they'll be happy, and I'll be able to leave my house on occasion and not worry. Right?
So, that said, I have to run and shop, or Christmas ain't happening. Back as soon as I can be.
If you have the time and are so inclined, what do you do for childcare? Cost? If you couldn't stay at home, (or wouldn't want to) what would your dream child care option be?
Thing is, I gave my nanny a few days off this week because her mom is going to the Philippines at Xmas for six months, and she wanted to spend some time with her. So I'm going a little nuts all by myself. No my husband isn't here, are you joking, he's still closing friggin deals. Likely he'll still work on Xmas if anyone will let him!! Back to the nanny issue-I'm referring to my nanny as the Nanny, by the way, simply because I'm out of blog names. IRL I do call her by her first name, as she requested, just in case someone assumes I call her "Nanny" in real life, a ridiculous idea.
I used to be the big daycare fan, never was going to use a nanny, blah blah blah, but schlepping one child to daycare is a lot easier and cheaper than schlepping three around. Plus, you can only work 9 to 5, and daycare spots at a good daycare are as scarce as hen's teeth in this country and stunningly expensive. Crappy daycare I can find, but a good daycare? Very very difficult. When we had our first two in a great top flight daycare, it was literally more expensive than a mortgage on a 600K house. (I figured it out one day when I was bitter.)
I am so lucky I found my nanny, and she really helps make my entire life run a lot smoother. Lots of people have mixed stories about nannies and some hate them, and some love them, but I think it also relates to how you treat them and pay them. For example, it turns out that I am one of the few employers on the planet who actually pays overtime, stat holiday pay and vacation pay. We give her a bus pass and a cell phone, because we expect her to have one when she has our kids and is taking them on the TTC or to the park, or the drop-in. (Literally, we treat cells, etc. like work equipment, just like at my husband's business. He subsidizes his other employee's work equipment, why not hers?) We want her to drive, so we're paying for driving lessons, etc. And we make sure she has a break during the day and gets lunch. And if I'm not home to relieve her, I have found another nanny in the neighbourhood and I get them to trade off covering each other, and I pay for it, so they each get some break time.
Apparently, lots of people treat their nannies like slaves, and then are shocked when the nanny isn't their best friend. Now, sure some people don't get along with others regardless, and there will always be poor job fits, but still----why on earth would you ever mistreat a human being who is entrusted with your precious child?
I don't know, people who are crappy to nannies mystify me. I figure if she's happy, then she'll be great to my kids, and they'll be happy, and I'll be able to leave my house on occasion and not worry. Right?
So, that said, I have to run and shop, or Christmas ain't happening. Back as soon as I can be.
If you have the time and are so inclined, what do you do for childcare? Cost? If you couldn't stay at home, (or wouldn't want to) what would your dream child care option be?
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Just insane
I'm trying to keep up, but I have reached the conclusion that I am being thwarted by fate. Everytime I get a little ahead, I get behind. Way behind.
Like today? Everything that could break, has. Not just my internet, but my entire home network had to be reprogrammed, my breast pump got milk backing up into the motor and I think has burned out, my blackberry cannot sync with my computer, my fridge smells odd even though the entire thing has been cleaned and scrubbed and dumped, my furnace and humidifier don't work properly even though I have checked and readjusted them a dozen times, my new car is not doing what it is supposed to be doing, (like the locks don't work and some asshole rifled through it and stole a bunch of parking money from the console), the blender burned out when my husband used it, everytime I send emails to other parents in the kid's classes my emails get stuck in spam boxes and never arrive, I tried paying bills, but the amounts don't add up, plus the tax payment is off kilter, and now I have no idea how much money in the accounts is ours, and how much belongs to the government, and best of all, my uterus is playing games and I have just had the longest most awful period in the history of mankind.
Passports? Supposed to be ready weeks ago, they got completely screwed up, as I predicted, and the only reason we have them now, is because I sent in "The Man". ("The Man" btw, does not refer to an actual male per se, but to anyone who is a Boss, or powerful, and authoritative, and has the cojones/guts/wherewithal to stand up and tell others what to do, and then gets obeyed without question.) Sometimes I think the only reason Bay Street law firms exist is because they provide a venue for hiring "The Man" as a hired gun for people like me.
Anyway, finally got the passports after showing up with "The Man" in my case, an imposing white male over 40 lawyer in a thousand dollar suit. No one gave a shit when little ol' powerless stay at home mommy me showed up, but him? Nadda problem, YES SIR, NO SIR, SAME DAY OF COURSE SIR, MAY I KISS YOUR ASS SIR? I swear, this whole mess has me convinced that I should simply never ever cross a border again. Or at least not without someone like that tucked in my suitcase, you know? Weird thing is, I can do that stuff with Doctors. I have no fear of them. Lots of them have almost killed me, so really, what the fuck more can they do to me? But Governments? Especially the bureaucratic levels? Urghhhh.
I should set up some sort of exchange system. Like I will be "The Man" for any of you who need help making Doctors to do what you need health-wise, and one of you will cross borders with me, and help me fill out tax forms. Anyone game?
Then again, who am I kidding. At this rate, I will not be able to post this, because as I try, blogger will break, and then the internet again, and then I will really never make it to visit my friend who just had a baby. Dinner isn't even planned, and I'm late to get Mac from school.
And I haven't bought any Christmas presents.
P.S. Now I have a cold.
P.P.S. I'm sure the bit about "the man" sounds sexist, but life doesn't always work the way I want it to, and sometimes, you just have to play the game the way they make you if you ever want to go to friggin' Disneyland.
Like today? Everything that could break, has. Not just my internet, but my entire home network had to be reprogrammed, my breast pump got milk backing up into the motor and I think has burned out, my blackberry cannot sync with my computer, my fridge smells odd even though the entire thing has been cleaned and scrubbed and dumped, my furnace and humidifier don't work properly even though I have checked and readjusted them a dozen times, my new car is not doing what it is supposed to be doing, (like the locks don't work and some asshole rifled through it and stole a bunch of parking money from the console), the blender burned out when my husband used it, everytime I send emails to other parents in the kid's classes my emails get stuck in spam boxes and never arrive, I tried paying bills, but the amounts don't add up, plus the tax payment is off kilter, and now I have no idea how much money in the accounts is ours, and how much belongs to the government, and best of all, my uterus is playing games and I have just had the longest most awful period in the history of mankind.
Passports? Supposed to be ready weeks ago, they got completely screwed up, as I predicted, and the only reason we have them now, is because I sent in "The Man". ("The Man" btw, does not refer to an actual male per se, but to anyone who is a Boss, or powerful, and authoritative, and has the cojones/guts/wherewithal to stand up and tell others what to do, and then gets obeyed without question.) Sometimes I think the only reason Bay Street law firms exist is because they provide a venue for hiring "The Man" as a hired gun for people like me.
Anyway, finally got the passports after showing up with "The Man" in my case, an imposing white male over 40 lawyer in a thousand dollar suit. No one gave a shit when little ol' powerless stay at home mommy me showed up, but him? Nadda problem, YES SIR, NO SIR, SAME DAY OF COURSE SIR, MAY I KISS YOUR ASS SIR? I swear, this whole mess has me convinced that I should simply never ever cross a border again. Or at least not without someone like that tucked in my suitcase, you know? Weird thing is, I can do that stuff with Doctors. I have no fear of them. Lots of them have almost killed me, so really, what the fuck more can they do to me? But Governments? Especially the bureaucratic levels? Urghhhh.
I should set up some sort of exchange system. Like I will be "The Man" for any of you who need help making Doctors to do what you need health-wise, and one of you will cross borders with me, and help me fill out tax forms. Anyone game?
Then again, who am I kidding. At this rate, I will not be able to post this, because as I try, blogger will break, and then the internet again, and then I will really never make it to visit my friend who just had a baby. Dinner isn't even planned, and I'm late to get Mac from school.
And I haven't bought any Christmas presents.
P.S. Now I have a cold.
P.P.S. I'm sure the bit about "the man" sounds sexist, but life doesn't always work the way I want it to, and sometimes, you just have to play the game the way they make you if you ever want to go to friggin' Disneyland.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
huh?
Someone actually found this blog using the Google search term "small octopus inside vagina".
Ummm, errr, ummm,
No, just no.
speechless here
Ummm, errr, ummm,
No, just no.
speechless here
Tuesday, December 09, 2008
ok, crisis averted temporarily
P. my brother in law, has been admitted to a hospital in Europe and at least for now, all the sharp instruments have been removed from his reach, and all the antifreeze locked up, padded cell and all.
No, I'm not kidding.
You might remember last February when he was admitted after a suicide attempt, and we brought him back to Canada, and got him into a hospital here? He was physically, and mentally ill, and addicted to drugs and alcohol. Anyway, after he recovered and got sober he felt much better. So much better that he got pissed off at us for assuming he was ever ill to begin with. Denial I think they call it.
So he ran back to Europe without telling us and promptly forgot to take his meds, started randomly self-medicating and drinking again and burned through all the money he had saved up to live on.
Then instead of negotiating properly and legally with his wife, he started acting like an ass, and she did everything she could to bait him and egg him on to destruction, and well, it deteriorated from there. Before you say it, he was terrible to her the last two years, no question.
But she is probably the single worst life partner he could have picked. Simpering, spoiled, selfish, naive don't even begin to cover it. He treated her like a princess for their whole marriage, supporting her, showering her with love and care and gifts, and it would've worked fine if he had stayed healthy and rich. But he became ill and needed a heart bypass. When he could no longer pay for designer clothes, etc...and it turned they might have to live like middle class peons, and horrors she might have to get a job, she turned on him. He became depressed, she started complaining to her mother, who harangued him, he started drinking and got sicker and sicker, she still refused to work, even though bills were piling up and his industry was in the tank.
Finally she left him, taking the kids far enough away that he couldn't see them regularly, which she knew would kill him. She also took all the money and the assets and left him homeless, in poverty, and disabled and unable to work.
Not so shocking he wanted to die, eh?
Anyway, he is safe for the moment, but we have no idea what will happen next. Personally, I hope that country's government sends little miss rich bitch a bill for his treatment and makes her pay some support until he can recover. She might have to sell the mansion she is living in. Again she doesn't have to talk to him, or see him, but I do think that her continued policy of hoping he simply disappears will not work. He is the father of those children, and someday they will find out how she treated their Dad at the worst moment of his life. Is this how she wants it to look?
In light of the fact that feedburner is screwed up, this post may not get seen by very many of you, but if you're out there, thanks for reading my rants. I need to get this out.
Off to make a gingerbread house. Between that and politics and my crazy extended family, I have things to do peeps.
Smooch.
No, I'm not kidding.
You might remember last February when he was admitted after a suicide attempt, and we brought him back to Canada, and got him into a hospital here? He was physically, and mentally ill, and addicted to drugs and alcohol. Anyway, after he recovered and got sober he felt much better. So much better that he got pissed off at us for assuming he was ever ill to begin with. Denial I think they call it.
So he ran back to Europe without telling us and promptly forgot to take his meds, started randomly self-medicating and drinking again and burned through all the money he had saved up to live on.
Then instead of negotiating properly and legally with his wife, he started acting like an ass, and she did everything she could to bait him and egg him on to destruction, and well, it deteriorated from there. Before you say it, he was terrible to her the last two years, no question.
But she is probably the single worst life partner he could have picked. Simpering, spoiled, selfish, naive don't even begin to cover it. He treated her like a princess for their whole marriage, supporting her, showering her with love and care and gifts, and it would've worked fine if he had stayed healthy and rich. But he became ill and needed a heart bypass. When he could no longer pay for designer clothes, etc...and it turned they might have to live like middle class peons, and horrors she might have to get a job, she turned on him. He became depressed, she started complaining to her mother, who harangued him, he started drinking and got sicker and sicker, she still refused to work, even though bills were piling up and his industry was in the tank.
Finally she left him, taking the kids far enough away that he couldn't see them regularly, which she knew would kill him. She also took all the money and the assets and left him homeless, in poverty, and disabled and unable to work.
Not so shocking he wanted to die, eh?
Anyway, he is safe for the moment, but we have no idea what will happen next. Personally, I hope that country's government sends little miss rich bitch a bill for his treatment and makes her pay some support until he can recover. She might have to sell the mansion she is living in. Again she doesn't have to talk to him, or see him, but I do think that her continued policy of hoping he simply disappears will not work. He is the father of those children, and someday they will find out how she treated their Dad at the worst moment of his life. Is this how she wants it to look?
In light of the fact that feedburner is screwed up, this post may not get seen by very many of you, but if you're out there, thanks for reading my rants. I need to get this out.
Off to make a gingerbread house. Between that and politics and my crazy extended family, I have things to do peeps.
Smooch.
Monday, December 08, 2008
bury the lede
The government is prorogued and doing absolutely fuck all for the economy because Harper doesn't believe in government spending. I wonder how he'll feel when massive numbers of people on EI drain his damn treasury instead of contributing taxes for it? Or when they get depressed and go to health care providers and charge up the system?
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Also, the vast majority of Liberal Party bloggers, members, and the national media are utterly incapable of reading either the Elections Canada Act or the Liberal Party constitution. They just keep proposing ideas for a leadership process and panicking and shitting themselves. Instead of, you know, READING WHAT THE LAW ALLOWS. I for one, refuse to fucking keep clarifying it for them. Morons. If you ever wondered why I don't feed into Liblogs blog aggregator for my political posts, this inside baseball echo chamber is the exact reason. The national news media? Even worse. Double sourcing? Bah.
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Exams are coming up this week, and I'd love to post about how hard Kaz is working and how great his new school is, but I can't. He barely has to study. The materials, the subjects, hell the entire curriculumn is a joke.
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Julius is nursing a bit more, but really is screaming in terror into my breast as he goes to sleep. Lovely. My baby cries out in fear at the mere sight of his mother's chest. Just what I wanted for Christmas.
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I am exhausted and we have lots to do, but my husband, without asking me, keeps inviting his entire family over to dinner. Without asking me. They are lovely and sweet people and I don't mind hanging out with them, but why can't we ever just order a damn pizza? Why can't we go out to dinner to a restaurant?
Did I mention that he never even consulted me?
Yah.
Hard to slam him though, considering that his brother in Europe will either be dead or in a locked hospital facility by morning.
Say a prayer. Just don't ask me which outcome you should pick...personally I'm leaving it up to God. Let him decide--fucker seems to just want my BIL to suffer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Also, the vast majority of Liberal Party bloggers, members, and the national media are utterly incapable of reading either the Elections Canada Act or the Liberal Party constitution. They just keep proposing ideas for a leadership process and panicking and shitting themselves. Instead of, you know, READING WHAT THE LAW ALLOWS. I for one, refuse to fucking keep clarifying it for them. Morons. If you ever wondered why I don't feed into Liblogs blog aggregator for my political posts, this inside baseball echo chamber is the exact reason. The national news media? Even worse. Double sourcing? Bah.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Exams are coming up this week, and I'd love to post about how hard Kaz is working and how great his new school is, but I can't. He barely has to study. The materials, the subjects, hell the entire curriculumn is a joke.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julius is nursing a bit more, but really is screaming in terror into my breast as he goes to sleep. Lovely. My baby cries out in fear at the mere sight of his mother's chest. Just what I wanted for Christmas.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am exhausted and we have lots to do, but my husband, without asking me, keeps inviting his entire family over to dinner. Without asking me. They are lovely and sweet people and I don't mind hanging out with them, but why can't we ever just order a damn pizza? Why can't we go out to dinner to a restaurant?
Did I mention that he never even consulted me?
Yah.
Hard to slam him though, considering that his brother in Europe will either be dead or in a locked hospital facility by morning.
Say a prayer. Just don't ask me which outcome you should pick...personally I'm leaving it up to God. Let him decide--fucker seems to just want my BIL to suffer.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Assvice please!
Julius bit me while breastfeeding, and because I wasn't expecting it, I jumped a mile and screamed. Then he screamed.
It took a while but he calmed down and we snuggled and he was happy. Until I went to feed him tonight before bed.
He screamed in terror everytime I went near him with my breast. He completely refused to go near me. My husband had to put him down.
Nursing Strike maybe? The question is, now what the hell do I do?
Help?!?!
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Too tired
Too many things going on.
My tooth lost a filling last week and I went to the dentist to get it fixed. Spent too long in the chair Monday. Yesterday, I realized that my jaw hurt like a mofo and I went back.
Skin sores on the gums. Viral or maybe stress induced possibly. Blech.
It's all Harpers fault.
Ok, maybe I can't blame my dental issues on him. But dammit, if he gets to pick up his ball and go home just because he's losing the game, then all the rules are changed and weaseldom rules.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
Next thing, we wait until January to get a goddamn budget now. Only good point to me? The Conservatives are dead in Quebec, permanently for all time. After the Quebec bashing they just engaged in---they will never ever ever ever get another seat there. And lots of those middle of the road votes will come to the Liberals. And Harper is toast in his own party after all the dictatorial bullshit he has engaged in. You see, Steve does not play well with others.
Like since kindergarten.
So about my sore mouth? My dentist lasered away the dead tissue and it feels much much better. He says it should be healed by tomorrow. Yayyy lasers. Funnily enough, they are the same kind used to erase wrinkles and age spots. At least my mouth will be young and good-looking. Well, just my gums. Still....if that's how easy and painless it is, I think I'm really going to get some work done. Remove a few age spots, smooth out a couple of tired bits, maybe get that stress-free relaxed look. Honest, it was completely painless.
I should write more about Julius' new diet, we started him on solids, and no I don't follow those rules either. (Gee, big surprise, like I EVER follow the rules. Heh) They were all written by formula companies anyway. Have you ever tasted anything worse than baby rice cereal? I haven't! So I skipped it. Fuck that noise. I figure the Joy of Cooking is a better source for recipes that taste delish. I've got the slow cooker out, my baby food grinder, my blender, and my freezer trays and I'm cooking up a storm.
Since Sunday we've done baked sweet potatoes, fresh peas, green beans, avocado, squash, applesauce, blueberries, bananas, oatmeal, carrots, broccoli, mushrooms, and my special bean recipe. (Most of the veggies were steamed and mashed, or lightly sauteed in olive oil and cut up in teeny tiny pieces with my french knife.) Yes, olive oil for a baby, why not? I don't add salt, but I do add sage, thyme, maybe some garlic, etc. Applesauce is yummier with a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg, don't you agree?
The bean recipe is really Teh Coolest Shit Evah. The purpose of the beans is to add some nutritious protein and fiber to baby style veggies which really have a lot of water and don't have any calories to fill the kid up. That baby cereal doesn't, and neither does fruit, so of course, until you add meat or milk products or a dense food like beans, the kid is still eating just as much breast milk or formula as they did before. And if you are going to pay for food and spoon it bit by bit in the kid's mouth, shouldn't it have some sort of purpose beyond making you work hard?
Anyway, I use navy beans, but you can use whatever kind you like. Before bed, I do the usual soaking overnight of beans, 3 cups water per 1 cup beans. (I make a big portion in my largest pot, so really I do 12 cups water for 4 cups beans.) In the morning, rinse them, add more water, toss in a bouquet garni for flavour, then cook for 10 hours on low in the slow cooker while you are at work or blogging or taking the baby for a walk.
When the beans are tender, but not mush, remove from heat, take out the bouquet, pour out most of the water, and start squishing. (You can add the herbs in as you squish if you prefer. I add mine just before serving.) For large quantities, use the blender or food processor, but with these beans, add water as needed, and mash in small quantities. They can be so thick that you will burn out the engine on your machine if you get too ambitious. You should have a good bean paste when you are done. Then stick small portions in ice cube trays and let it freeze. When it's frozen solid, pop them out and put the little cubes in Ziploc bags.
Then whenever you serve a cube of veggies like carrots or squash, add in a cube of beans. Same for fruit, or anything else that needs a boost. You may need to add a touch of water to smooth it out and blend it in, but it should work well. 4 cups of dried beans makes about 50 cubes of beans, which should last 6-8 weeks.
Tomorrow, I'm going to make him an organic chicken. I'm going to brown it in oil first, then cook it upside down in the slow cooker with onions, mushrooms, celery, herbs, and some broth. Then I'm going to debone it, and chop the meat very finely and mix it in with the broth and veggies. And again, portion it in my freezer. It should make about 4 weeks worth.
Next week, poached salmon with dill. And yes, so far he loves everything. Practically licks the bowl. And no he has no allergies so far either. I won't be doing anything like cow's milk or wheat for a little while, but other than that, I'm taking it one day at a time.
Ta toots. Time to sleep.
My tooth lost a filling last week and I went to the dentist to get it fixed. Spent too long in the chair Monday. Yesterday, I realized that my jaw hurt like a mofo and I went back.
Skin sores on the gums. Viral or maybe stress induced possibly. Blech.
It's all Harpers fault.
Ok, maybe I can't blame my dental issues on him. But dammit, if he gets to pick up his ball and go home just because he's losing the game, then all the rules are changed and weaseldom rules.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
Next thing, we wait until January to get a goddamn budget now. Only good point to me? The Conservatives are dead in Quebec, permanently for all time. After the Quebec bashing they just engaged in---they will never ever ever ever get another seat there. And lots of those middle of the road votes will come to the Liberals. And Harper is toast in his own party after all the dictatorial bullshit he has engaged in. You see, Steve does not play well with others.
Like since kindergarten.
So about my sore mouth? My dentist lasered away the dead tissue and it feels much much better. He says it should be healed by tomorrow. Yayyy lasers. Funnily enough, they are the same kind used to erase wrinkles and age spots. At least my mouth will be young and good-looking. Well, just my gums. Still....if that's how easy and painless it is, I think I'm really going to get some work done. Remove a few age spots, smooth out a couple of tired bits, maybe get that stress-free relaxed look. Honest, it was completely painless.
I should write more about Julius' new diet, we started him on solids, and no I don't follow those rules either. (Gee, big surprise, like I EVER follow the rules. Heh) They were all written by formula companies anyway. Have you ever tasted anything worse than baby rice cereal? I haven't! So I skipped it. Fuck that noise. I figure the Joy of Cooking is a better source for recipes that taste delish. I've got the slow cooker out, my baby food grinder, my blender, and my freezer trays and I'm cooking up a storm.
Since Sunday we've done baked sweet potatoes, fresh peas, green beans, avocado, squash, applesauce, blueberries, bananas, oatmeal, carrots, broccoli, mushrooms, and my special bean recipe. (Most of the veggies were steamed and mashed, or lightly sauteed in olive oil and cut up in teeny tiny pieces with my french knife.) Yes, olive oil for a baby, why not? I don't add salt, but I do add sage, thyme, maybe some garlic, etc. Applesauce is yummier with a touch of cinnamon and nutmeg, don't you agree?
The bean recipe is really Teh Coolest Shit Evah. The purpose of the beans is to add some nutritious protein and fiber to baby style veggies which really have a lot of water and don't have any calories to fill the kid up. That baby cereal doesn't, and neither does fruit, so of course, until you add meat or milk products or a dense food like beans, the kid is still eating just as much breast milk or formula as they did before. And if you are going to pay for food and spoon it bit by bit in the kid's mouth, shouldn't it have some sort of purpose beyond making you work hard?
Anyway, I use navy beans, but you can use whatever kind you like. Before bed, I do the usual soaking overnight of beans, 3 cups water per 1 cup beans. (I make a big portion in my largest pot, so really I do 12 cups water for 4 cups beans.) In the morning, rinse them, add more water, toss in a bouquet garni for flavour, then cook for 10 hours on low in the slow cooker while you are at work or blogging or taking the baby for a walk.
When the beans are tender, but not mush, remove from heat, take out the bouquet, pour out most of the water, and start squishing. (You can add the herbs in as you squish if you prefer. I add mine just before serving.) For large quantities, use the blender or food processor, but with these beans, add water as needed, and mash in small quantities. They can be so thick that you will burn out the engine on your machine if you get too ambitious. You should have a good bean paste when you are done. Then stick small portions in ice cube trays and let it freeze. When it's frozen solid, pop them out and put the little cubes in Ziploc bags.
Then whenever you serve a cube of veggies like carrots or squash, add in a cube of beans. Same for fruit, or anything else that needs a boost. You may need to add a touch of water to smooth it out and blend it in, but it should work well. 4 cups of dried beans makes about 50 cubes of beans, which should last 6-8 weeks.
Tomorrow, I'm going to make him an organic chicken. I'm going to brown it in oil first, then cook it upside down in the slow cooker with onions, mushrooms, celery, herbs, and some broth. Then I'm going to debone it, and chop the meat very finely and mix it in with the broth and veggies. And again, portion it in my freezer. It should make about 4 weeks worth.
Next week, poached salmon with dill. And yes, so far he loves everything. Practically licks the bowl. And no he has no allergies so far either. I won't be doing anything like cow's milk or wheat for a little while, but other than that, I'm taking it one day at a time.
Ta toots. Time to sleep.
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Schadenfreude
Once again, I am trying to listen to my better angel. Considering all the chaos with Liberal/NDP coalition and the Tories fighting for time, you can just imagine that I am glued to the television and computer and news reports. I am trying to be calm and content and wait and see, very mature and reasonable but really, secretly, I am giggling with glee and I want to do a victory dance!!!
AND JUMP UP AND DOWN LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD!!!
But I won't.
Bad me. Terrible. Very very immature. Must restrain self. Show respect for process.
WHILE FREAKING OUT AT HOW AWESOME THIS MIGHT BE!!!
Heh
Ok, on to other stuff. I was feeling a bit calmer because I had tweaked my hormones a touch. I added some progesterone because mine was close to zero, and it has made me feel a bit better. This is good because Friday night and Sunday night we had massive fights with Kaz, over pretty much nothing. Puberty in pre-teen son + premature menopause in mother = sucky house.
Julius' helmet is going well. We slowly upped the time spent in the helmet to 18-20 hours and he now sleeps overnight. The reason btw, that he wears it only 18-20 hours a day as opposed to 24 is because this particular design covers his head on top, except for some vent holes, an adjustable slot with a tightening band, and it goes down the back of the neck to just above the shoulders. This prevents tummy time and riding in some car seats. (Our car seat works with the helmet, not all do.) So he needs tummy time on the floor sans helmet in the morning for an hour or two, and then we do dinner, bath, and bedtime for an hour or two in the evening before it goes back on for sleep. Too much time in this kind of helmet can cause problems with sores on the head due to rubbing. Some helmets are open on top but his head has a pitch that is high in the back and slopes forward, plus we need to deal with the forehead, so this is the one we had to go with.
Have I mentioned the nasty superior comments that are slipping from the mouths of every parent who sees him. Sigh..."I made sure I changed my babies position regularly. Didn't you know to do that? You should have done that. Poor kid, too bad he has to suffer like that."
Nice.
If you see a news report about a woman with a helmeted baby randomly slapping people who speak to her, it's me. Raise bail please. Thanks.
Okay, really I can handle those people.~~~~~~~
(Yes, part of this post did disappear at some point....just in case anyone ever finds the blog. They are nice people I was talking about, just a little unwell in the head. In the meantime, rescue me from the schadenfreude, please.)
AND JUMP UP AND DOWN LIKE A TWO YEAR OLD!!!
But I won't.
Bad me. Terrible. Very very immature. Must restrain self. Show respect for process.
WHILE FREAKING OUT AT HOW AWESOME THIS MIGHT BE!!!
Heh
Ok, on to other stuff. I was feeling a bit calmer because I had tweaked my hormones a touch. I added some progesterone because mine was close to zero, and it has made me feel a bit better. This is good because Friday night and Sunday night we had massive fights with Kaz, over pretty much nothing. Puberty in pre-teen son + premature menopause in mother = sucky house.
Julius' helmet is going well. We slowly upped the time spent in the helmet to 18-20 hours and he now sleeps overnight. The reason btw, that he wears it only 18-20 hours a day as opposed to 24 is because this particular design covers his head on top, except for some vent holes, an adjustable slot with a tightening band, and it goes down the back of the neck to just above the shoulders. This prevents tummy time and riding in some car seats. (Our car seat works with the helmet, not all do.) So he needs tummy time on the floor sans helmet in the morning for an hour or two, and then we do dinner, bath, and bedtime for an hour or two in the evening before it goes back on for sleep. Too much time in this kind of helmet can cause problems with sores on the head due to rubbing. Some helmets are open on top but his head has a pitch that is high in the back and slopes forward, plus we need to deal with the forehead, so this is the one we had to go with.
Have I mentioned the nasty superior comments that are slipping from the mouths of every parent who sees him. Sigh..."I made sure I changed my babies position regularly. Didn't you know to do that? You should have done that. Poor kid, too bad he has to suffer like that."
Nice.
If you see a news report about a woman with a helmeted baby randomly slapping people who speak to her, it's me. Raise bail please. Thanks.
Okay, really I can handle those people.~~~~~~~
(Yes, part of this post did disappear at some point....just in case anyone ever finds the blog. They are nice people I was talking about, just a little unwell in the head. In the meantime, rescue me from the schadenfreude, please.)
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Woo-hoo
I have been feeling mightily ashamed at my technical incompetence on the blogroll front. So I buckled down today and fixed it the bit in my account that prevented me from getting blogroll code. Somehow or other I have managed to add my blogroll from bloglines, bit by bit.
Only one wee problem, I have not kept up to date with moving most of you around into different categories, so this may look a little goofy until I figure out that yes, you did have a baby and should be in the mom category, etc...frankly, I'm just amazed I didn't blow up the blog at this point, that having you all in proper categories would be too much for my puny brain!
So check out if I have a link to you and if you are in the right place. If not, leave a comment or email me, and I will add you or change you. FYI, a number of blogs have been moved to my "old outdated blogs" section because you haven't updated for a dog's age, but I still keep your feed, even though you can't see it right now and if you ever update or come back, I'll put you in the current area.
I think that may be the saddest part of this exercise, counting all the old friends who just haven't updated, or who shut down their blogs completely. Manuela at Thin Pink Line and 'Nilla, who are only on Facebook now, Meg at the Paragraph who I miss every single day, Thrice who I hope will come back, JJ who I hope will have good news, Casey my old bud....honestly, I really miss you all, even I know you had good reasons for no longer blogging. Sigh....
Onward and upward though, can't think about that now, too sad. Need happy.
So go visit Angry Aliens - where the movies redone in 30 second with bunnies troupe lives! Cartoon bunnies galore! Hot Bun on bun action!
I am also ramping up my annual holiday obsession of acquiring any and all DVDs and tapes of Rankin Bass animated specials, toys, and what have you. (I own some, but not ALL. Must acquire ALL.) Rudolph and all his animagic friends make me so happy, I can barely think. There is supposed to be a new animated special this year all about the Heat Miser and Snow Miser, and it sort of looks like the right artwork, but I can't tell from the tiny screen?
Future post---more about the helmet and boys and my now calmer hormones, etc. etc., not to mention my glee and hilarity about the current government crisis here in Canada. Harper seems to be unable to count seats or remember the rules of a parliamentary govt. Heh.
Yawn, off to dreamland toots, baby will be up soon to eat.
Only one wee problem, I have not kept up to date with moving most of you around into different categories, so this may look a little goofy until I figure out that yes, you did have a baby and should be in the mom category, etc...frankly, I'm just amazed I didn't blow up the blog at this point, that having you all in proper categories would be too much for my puny brain!
So check out if I have a link to you and if you are in the right place. If not, leave a comment or email me, and I will add you or change you. FYI, a number of blogs have been moved to my "old outdated blogs" section because you haven't updated for a dog's age, but I still keep your feed, even though you can't see it right now and if you ever update or come back, I'll put you in the current area.
I think that may be the saddest part of this exercise, counting all the old friends who just haven't updated, or who shut down their blogs completely. Manuela at Thin Pink Line and 'Nilla, who are only on Facebook now, Meg at the Paragraph who I miss every single day, Thrice who I hope will come back, JJ who I hope will have good news, Casey my old bud....honestly, I really miss you all, even I know you had good reasons for no longer blogging. Sigh....
Onward and upward though, can't think about that now, too sad. Need happy.
So go visit Angry Aliens - where the movies redone in 30 second with bunnies troupe lives! Cartoon bunnies galore! Hot Bun on bun action!
I am also ramping up my annual holiday obsession of acquiring any and all DVDs and tapes of Rankin Bass animated specials, toys, and what have you. (I own some, but not ALL. Must acquire ALL.) Rudolph and all his animagic friends make me so happy, I can barely think. There is supposed to be a new animated special this year all about the Heat Miser and Snow Miser, and it sort of looks like the right artwork, but I can't tell from the tiny screen?
Future post---more about the helmet and boys and my now calmer hormones, etc. etc., not to mention my glee and hilarity about the current government crisis here in Canada. Harper seems to be unable to count seats or remember the rules of a parliamentary govt. Heh.
Yawn, off to dreamland toots, baby will be up soon to eat.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Histrionic
My life has never been so frigging nuts until lately. I really don't get it. Busy sure---but now I have no time to read the paper, shower, surf blogs. Hell, I haven't had a pedicure or manicure since Lala was here. And I'm "home" with a nanny. And I live a 3 minute walk from a nail bar.
Monday was a very unhappy day, and Tuesday was Julius' six month birthday, but as I ran madly from one place to another, I realized that it wasn't much of a way to celebrate. We got his shots, he's 20 pounds, and 27.5 inches I think. (Can't find the paper it's written on? Hopefully he's that big.) After speaking to the Doc I decided to delay starting solids for another week or two until we get him used to the helmet. I really don't want him to have any negative feelings about food, and if he hates the helmet, and then associates the two? Ughhh.
Anyway, it won't kill him to wait. Not like kids need solid food at this point anyway. Mostly just extra work for Moms, IMO. It's nowhere near the calorie content of breastmilk or formula so when my older two started it, they actually lost weight at first. Kaz got food allergies, and Mac got gas and indigestion, so hell, delaying a week or two is just fine by me.
Julius clung to me the rest of the day while I exchanged emails with people re. Kaz and Mac's assessments and appointments to deal with their medication, etc. etc.. Dinner, scooping kids to bed, yelling about homework, and chatting to Kaz about some minor incident with a basketball, and then I seem to have collapsed on my bed with my contacts still pasted to my eyeballs. Baby up a few times to eat, drag back to bed.
Woke up Wednesday morning, went into kids rooms with medication and glasses of water. Mac took his, went to get dressed.
I go into Kaz's room and he----completely fucking fell apart with a histrionic temper tantrum that blew the doors off half the house. He started freaking that he wasn't taking the higher dose, even though he has been taking it for a week and a half now, and he liked it so far. (Note: this is the first time ever, that he has refused to take his medication. Ever.) Apparently, the basketball from the day before, had hit him in the face, and he blamed the medication for making him so focused that he missed the ball. He figures that from now on, if he ever takes that dose of medication again, he will be injured, "just like with the basketball."
And if you can figure out that fucked up logic, I'll give you a gold star, because to this moment, I think it's stupid. Random events happen. Too much focus that means you can't focus? Wha? And if he had been that injured by a ball, I'd have gotten a call from the school, or an email, so was it really that bad?
I tried to tell him it was dumb luck, just a coincidence, highly unlikely to ever happen again. He however, had his mind set on it, and was crying, and yelling, and blowing snot out his nose, and running all over the house, screaming at me. The baby finally woke up, and I had to juggle him, and try to keep him calm while Mr. Puberty/OverSensitive hid in the corner of the bathroom snuffling and sobbing bitterly about his mother and how she JUST DIDN'T UNDERSTAND HIM!!!!
You know three year olds with tantrums make you want to rip your hair out? Wait until the little bastards turn twelve, and are as tall as you. You will seriously consider boarding school.
Mr.Cotta finally stepped in and prevented me from committing homicide or saying anything like, "You are grounded for life and Christmas is cancelled!" (I like to stick to what I say when I say it, but that would suck to enforce.) He made him take his medication, told him we don't debate that in the morning, but can talk about it later, and took him to school, and promised to pick him up so I wouldn't have to see his sulky little face. I was so emotionally wrung out after that, it took me hours to really calm down.
You see, Kaz picked today of all days, Julius' final helmet fitting day, to freak out. You know, the helmet for baby flat head, aka positional plagiocephaly, I spent almost the entire day at the hospital, getting the helmet, holding the baby while he screamed, waiting for the helmet to be cut and fitted, and sawed, and sanded. Learning how to put it on him and take it off, clean it and prep the baby's head....trust me, today of all days, was not the day for Kaz to go into puberty.
In the end, Julius got his helmet, and it fits nicely, and he isn't screaming when it's on. Mind you, we can't put it on him fast. It's a slow process over 3-7 days to avoid giving him blisters on his head. First, a few hours at a time while he's awake, then longer, then while he naps, then after a few days, while he sleeps at night. Eventually, we do 18 hours a day, maybe 20.
Sigh.
I have to go now and sleep before tomorrow's insane day starts. Fuck I'm tired.
Monday was a very unhappy day, and Tuesday was Julius' six month birthday, but as I ran madly from one place to another, I realized that it wasn't much of a way to celebrate. We got his shots, he's 20 pounds, and 27.5 inches I think. (Can't find the paper it's written on? Hopefully he's that big.) After speaking to the Doc I decided to delay starting solids for another week or two until we get him used to the helmet. I really don't want him to have any negative feelings about food, and if he hates the helmet, and then associates the two? Ughhh.
Anyway, it won't kill him to wait. Not like kids need solid food at this point anyway. Mostly just extra work for Moms, IMO. It's nowhere near the calorie content of breastmilk or formula so when my older two started it, they actually lost weight at first. Kaz got food allergies, and Mac got gas and indigestion, so hell, delaying a week or two is just fine by me.
Julius clung to me the rest of the day while I exchanged emails with people re. Kaz and Mac's assessments and appointments to deal with their medication, etc. etc.. Dinner, scooping kids to bed, yelling about homework, and chatting to Kaz about some minor incident with a basketball, and then I seem to have collapsed on my bed with my contacts still pasted to my eyeballs. Baby up a few times to eat, drag back to bed.
Woke up Wednesday morning, went into kids rooms with medication and glasses of water. Mac took his, went to get dressed.
I go into Kaz's room and he----completely fucking fell apart with a histrionic temper tantrum that blew the doors off half the house. He started freaking that he wasn't taking the higher dose, even though he has been taking it for a week and a half now, and he liked it so far. (Note: this is the first time ever, that he has refused to take his medication. Ever.) Apparently, the basketball from the day before, had hit him in the face, and he blamed the medication for making him so focused that he missed the ball. He figures that from now on, if he ever takes that dose of medication again, he will be injured, "just like with the basketball."
And if you can figure out that fucked up logic, I'll give you a gold star, because to this moment, I think it's stupid. Random events happen. Too much focus that means you can't focus? Wha? And if he had been that injured by a ball, I'd have gotten a call from the school, or an email, so was it really that bad?
I tried to tell him it was dumb luck, just a coincidence, highly unlikely to ever happen again. He however, had his mind set on it, and was crying, and yelling, and blowing snot out his nose, and running all over the house, screaming at me. The baby finally woke up, and I had to juggle him, and try to keep him calm while Mr. Puberty/OverSensitive hid in the corner of the bathroom snuffling and sobbing bitterly about his mother and how she JUST DIDN'T UNDERSTAND HIM!!!!
You know three year olds with tantrums make you want to rip your hair out? Wait until the little bastards turn twelve, and are as tall as you. You will seriously consider boarding school.
Mr.Cotta finally stepped in and prevented me from committing homicide or saying anything like, "You are grounded for life and Christmas is cancelled!" (I like to stick to what I say when I say it, but that would suck to enforce.) He made him take his medication, told him we don't debate that in the morning, but can talk about it later, and took him to school, and promised to pick him up so I wouldn't have to see his sulky little face. I was so emotionally wrung out after that, it took me hours to really calm down.
You see, Kaz picked today of all days, Julius' final helmet fitting day, to freak out. You know, the helmet for baby flat head, aka positional plagiocephaly, I spent almost the entire day at the hospital, getting the helmet, holding the baby while he screamed, waiting for the helmet to be cut and fitted, and sawed, and sanded. Learning how to put it on him and take it off, clean it and prep the baby's head....trust me, today of all days, was not the day for Kaz to go into puberty.
In the end, Julius got his helmet, and it fits nicely, and he isn't screaming when it's on. Mind you, we can't put it on him fast. It's a slow process over 3-7 days to avoid giving him blisters on his head. First, a few hours at a time while he's awake, then longer, then while he naps, then after a few days, while he sleeps at night. Eventually, we do 18 hours a day, maybe 20.
Sigh.
I have to go now and sleep before tomorrow's insane day starts. Fuck I'm tired.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Dunking in water
Some of you may remember that my husband baptized Julius in the NICU while I was still passed out cold getting stitched. And although technically it still 'takes' the same as if a priest does it, I like things done nice and officially. Or at least I like to have witnessed it after all the pain and agony to get the little bugger.
Well, yesterday we poured water on his head, and made him cry, just like good Catholics should. Priest and congregation all watched and witnessed. (Only bummer, they wrote my maiden/adoptive name instead of my married name on the baptismal certificate, bizarre considering I've never gone by it as long as they've known me, and am registered with the parish in my married name. WTF is it with people not calling me by the name I've decided to call myself? Anyway, they will fix it, and send us a new one.)
Then we had a huge party at the house, catered and bartended. We've always done this stuff ourselves, cooking and serving drinks and running around included, but this was easier what with 3 kids etc. That was the excellent part of the week.
Sunday we lazed around, made the kids do twenty minutes of homework, and then played Monopoly. I won! I never win! Kaz was a little upset when I forced him into bankruptcy, but he had landed on a property I owned and owed me major rent. Then he had refused to take the deal I offered him, which involved him giving me some of his properties and permanent immunity/free rent on Boardwalk and Park Place, which he would still own, with hotels. He could have kept his cash and lived to play another day, but he told me he'd rather die than give his mother his hard earned real estate, so the die was cast.
Yes, we take Monopoly seriously in this house.
Today was not so good. Today was the day that we met with the school regarding Kaz and what kind of work he can expect to get at his new school. Can they move him up a few grades, and give him more challenging work? Can they give him some help with creative writing? Help him stay organized?
Short answer--No.
In direct opposition of what the psychologist wrote, the school is dismissing the words gifted, because they figure all children at the school are bright. Not from what I have seen, maybe some are better than B students, but its pretty much average as students go. They also figure that their curriculum is very enriched as it is. I'm not sure how they figure that when it's just the same old crappy Ontario public school curriculum, unlike our previous private school, which was academic boot camp on steroids. But boy did this school official latch onto any and all learning issues she could find. She spent an hour and a half hacking away at my kid and everything she could find in the report. Any little thing she could latch onto that was negative was the sole focus of her recommendations. If he wants extra help, he'll have to go to her--a non-starter when she has nothing positive like more interesting work to offer. And because the Doc wrote the word gifted on page 2 instead page 6, she figured it wasn't part of the diagnosis, even though it SAYS IT IN THE REPORT. I had to insist to get her to agree that the word on page 2 spelled "G-I-F-T-E-D" actually was worthy of discussion. She actually said,"Well, this is a much better report than your old one because this one focuses on your sons many problems. The old one just talked about his abilities."
WTF? Neither report said that at all! Project much?
Seriously, as time passes, I am more and more convinced that she must have been smoking something before we came in.
We hadn't given her the version of the report that discussed ADHD. I had gotten a bad feeling from her, a whiff of prejudice, so I thought it prudent to just give her the edited version. Reality is that all ADHD issues/symptoms disappear in Kaz when he takes medication. (Same is true for most ADDers.) So as along as he takes long-acting medication, there is no need for the school to ever know. And considering the fight it appears I have on my hands, I am sooo glad I never trusted her. God knows what kind of crap she would have subjected him too. As it is, she kept asking and hinting and implying all sorts of things that were not written in the friggin' report.
I haven't given up completely. The psychologist is willing to speak to her on the phone and go to bat for us and do whatever he can to convince them that Kaz needs them to follow his recommendations. He was pretty mad when I told him the story, so I know that I have at least one ally.
Anyway, it all makes me cry. I can't believe the psychologist was right. He said that for any child who is different in any way, gifted, or LD, or amazingly talented or physically disabled, or musical, or geeky or whatever----high school will a test of endurance, a hellish experience of mediocrity and conformity to be survived until the longed for day when university can begin.
I thought that maybe things had changed. I guess not.
Crap.
In case you were wondering, no I don't recommend this school to anyone. The things I haven't written on this blog about this school would fill another entire blog. Seriously. And we can't transfer out. Ever. My poor sweet husband is so utterly totally devoted to the idea that his son will go this school, that he would never agree to change schools. Even if it is the absolute wrong fit for his actual son and not his projected fantasy child, he won't budge.
Remind anyone of the summer camp debacle?
Well, yesterday we poured water on his head, and made him cry, just like good Catholics should. Priest and congregation all watched and witnessed. (Only bummer, they wrote my maiden/adoptive name instead of my married name on the baptismal certificate, bizarre considering I've never gone by it as long as they've known me, and am registered with the parish in my married name. WTF is it with people not calling me by the name I've decided to call myself? Anyway, they will fix it, and send us a new one.)
Then we had a huge party at the house, catered and bartended. We've always done this stuff ourselves, cooking and serving drinks and running around included, but this was easier what with 3 kids etc. That was the excellent part of the week.
Sunday we lazed around, made the kids do twenty minutes of homework, and then played Monopoly. I won! I never win! Kaz was a little upset when I forced him into bankruptcy, but he had landed on a property I owned and owed me major rent. Then he had refused to take the deal I offered him, which involved him giving me some of his properties and permanent immunity/free rent on Boardwalk and Park Place, which he would still own, with hotels. He could have kept his cash and lived to play another day, but he told me he'd rather die than give his mother his hard earned real estate, so the die was cast.
Yes, we take Monopoly seriously in this house.
Today was not so good. Today was the day that we met with the school regarding Kaz and what kind of work he can expect to get at his new school. Can they move him up a few grades, and give him more challenging work? Can they give him some help with creative writing? Help him stay organized?
Short answer--No.
In direct opposition of what the psychologist wrote, the school is dismissing the words gifted, because they figure all children at the school are bright. Not from what I have seen, maybe some are better than B students, but its pretty much average as students go. They also figure that their curriculum is very enriched as it is. I'm not sure how they figure that when it's just the same old crappy Ontario public school curriculum, unlike our previous private school, which was academic boot camp on steroids. But boy did this school official latch onto any and all learning issues she could find. She spent an hour and a half hacking away at my kid and everything she could find in the report. Any little thing she could latch onto that was negative was the sole focus of her recommendations. If he wants extra help, he'll have to go to her--a non-starter when she has nothing positive like more interesting work to offer. And because the Doc wrote the word gifted on page 2 instead page 6, she figured it wasn't part of the diagnosis, even though it SAYS IT IN THE REPORT. I had to insist to get her to agree that the word on page 2 spelled "G-I-F-T-E-D" actually was worthy of discussion. She actually said,"Well, this is a much better report than your old one because this one focuses on your sons many problems. The old one just talked about his abilities."
WTF? Neither report said that at all! Project much?
Seriously, as time passes, I am more and more convinced that she must have been smoking something before we came in.
We hadn't given her the version of the report that discussed ADHD. I had gotten a bad feeling from her, a whiff of prejudice, so I thought it prudent to just give her the edited version. Reality is that all ADHD issues/symptoms disappear in Kaz when he takes medication. (Same is true for most ADDers.) So as along as he takes long-acting medication, there is no need for the school to ever know. And considering the fight it appears I have on my hands, I am sooo glad I never trusted her. God knows what kind of crap she would have subjected him too. As it is, she kept asking and hinting and implying all sorts of things that were not written in the friggin' report.
I haven't given up completely. The psychologist is willing to speak to her on the phone and go to bat for us and do whatever he can to convince them that Kaz needs them to follow his recommendations. He was pretty mad when I told him the story, so I know that I have at least one ally.
Anyway, it all makes me cry. I can't believe the psychologist was right. He said that for any child who is different in any way, gifted, or LD, or amazingly talented or physically disabled, or musical, or geeky or whatever----high school will a test of endurance, a hellish experience of mediocrity and conformity to be survived until the longed for day when university can begin.
I thought that maybe things had changed. I guess not.
Crap.
In case you were wondering, no I don't recommend this school to anyone. The things I haven't written on this blog about this school would fill another entire blog. Seriously. And we can't transfer out. Ever. My poor sweet husband is so utterly totally devoted to the idea that his son will go this school, that he would never agree to change schools. Even if it is the absolute wrong fit for his actual son and not his projected fantasy child, he won't budge.
Remind anyone of the summer camp debacle?
Friday, November 21, 2008
After the last post
Just a little message to the new political readers I seem to have picked up lately.
This is not solely a political blog like Liblogs and other aggregators and like many personal bloggers I do not just look at things from an objective point of view. So, when I post about a policy issue that the government needs to fix, it's not because I'm searching for something to say and found a news story, it's because in my own life, I have encountered a particular situation and perhaps have been dealing with it publicly or privately possibly for months. Even if I don't link to precise proof in a post, it doesn't matter, because I'm simply reporting what I as Jane average citizen have witnessed and my reaction to it. If you don't believe what I type, then google your own damn fingers away and find links, or fuck off. Real life is not a university essay, complete with credits and footnotes and bibliographies, and leaving comments asking for proof is high school. This is the real world, complete with dead babies, and live kids, and vaginas, and hot flashes, and discrimination and ridiculous encounters with government and business and neighbours and messy family situations.
So to the commenter, "Fact checker", I left you a comment afterwards with the links you so desperately desired. I assume that you will still doubt me. Your comment wasn't the thing that pissed me off, by they way, it was your name. Oh well, guess who doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think?
As to the subject at hand, the issue still remains and it needs to be said, that if Passport Canada really cared about protecting children from kidnapping and other custodial disputes, then they would require ALL children to present long form birth certificates, and then print those names in the passport of the child. That way a happily married dad could not simply sneakily pack up the kids and flee on a plane with those normal passports to say, the Middle East, and refuse to return the kids. As it is, he could just forge a letter from the "supposed" mom saying he has permission to go and without proof of who the mom is, they would just let the kids go. Poor mom comes home from work, and voila, too late.
No, this is about treating certain children like lower class citizens. If you disagree and wish to be an anonymous tithead, feel free to go back to LibLogs or the Blogging Tories and have fun there. They tolerate that shit. I do not.
Ok, done with that for today. Next.
My Doc called with my hormone levels from yesterdays blood test. Sigh....
FSH 19
LH 11
E2 683
Progesterone 2
I had a sort of AF a few days back. Not much. So this might be early in a cycle. Or not. I have been taking some estrace here and there to help with the hot flashes, but not much else. Debating lower doses of DHEA to help my hormones work nice, without making any eggies. I want to feel normal, but never ever ever ever ever ever get pregnant again. That delivery scared the shit out of me. I'm terrified of dying from another abruption, one that might not get caught in time. And of course, guess who doesn't feel like getting a vasectomy?
Yah
So looking at those numbers, no wonder I feel menopausal. Sooo, I'm going to try to take some progesterone with the estrogen and we scheduled an ultrasound to check on my fibroid. Hopefully it shrank after the c-section, but since it was all done so fast, no one noted it on the surgical report. Also, during surgery no one could find my ovaries. Apparently, they are missing. Should I send out an APB?
Seriously, I love advice from fellow infertiles. Any thoughts on what might be happening?
Is it the fibroid? The breastfeeding? The ovarian failure returning?
Where do you think my ovaries are? On vacation?
I bet they got a passport no problem.
This is not solely a political blog like Liblogs and other aggregators and like many personal bloggers I do not just look at things from an objective point of view. So, when I post about a policy issue that the government needs to fix, it's not because I'm searching for something to say and found a news story, it's because in my own life, I have encountered a particular situation and perhaps have been dealing with it publicly or privately possibly for months. Even if I don't link to precise proof in a post, it doesn't matter, because I'm simply reporting what I as Jane average citizen have witnessed and my reaction to it. If you don't believe what I type, then google your own damn fingers away and find links, or fuck off. Real life is not a university essay, complete with credits and footnotes and bibliographies, and leaving comments asking for proof is high school. This is the real world, complete with dead babies, and live kids, and vaginas, and hot flashes, and discrimination and ridiculous encounters with government and business and neighbours and messy family situations.
So to the commenter, "Fact checker", I left you a comment afterwards with the links you so desperately desired. I assume that you will still doubt me. Your comment wasn't the thing that pissed me off, by they way, it was your name. Oh well, guess who doesn't give a flying fuck about what you think?
As to the subject at hand, the issue still remains and it needs to be said, that if Passport Canada really cared about protecting children from kidnapping and other custodial disputes, then they would require ALL children to present long form birth certificates, and then print those names in the passport of the child. That way a happily married dad could not simply sneakily pack up the kids and flee on a plane with those normal passports to say, the Middle East, and refuse to return the kids. As it is, he could just forge a letter from the "supposed" mom saying he has permission to go and without proof of who the mom is, they would just let the kids go. Poor mom comes home from work, and voila, too late.
No, this is about treating certain children like lower class citizens. If you disagree and wish to be an anonymous tithead, feel free to go back to LibLogs or the Blogging Tories and have fun there. They tolerate that shit. I do not.
Ok, done with that for today. Next.
My Doc called with my hormone levels from yesterdays blood test. Sigh....
FSH 19
LH 11
E2 683
Progesterone 2
I had a sort of AF a few days back. Not much. So this might be early in a cycle. Or not. I have been taking some estrace here and there to help with the hot flashes, but not much else. Debating lower doses of DHEA to help my hormones work nice, without making any eggies. I want to feel normal, but never ever ever ever ever ever get pregnant again. That delivery scared the shit out of me. I'm terrified of dying from another abruption, one that might not get caught in time. And of course, guess who doesn't feel like getting a vasectomy?
Yah
So looking at those numbers, no wonder I feel menopausal. Sooo, I'm going to try to take some progesterone with the estrogen and we scheduled an ultrasound to check on my fibroid. Hopefully it shrank after the c-section, but since it was all done so fast, no one noted it on the surgical report. Also, during surgery no one could find my ovaries. Apparently, they are missing. Should I send out an APB?
Seriously, I love advice from fellow infertiles. Any thoughts on what might be happening?
Is it the fibroid? The breastfeeding? The ovarian failure returning?
Where do you think my ovaries are? On vacation?
I bet they got a passport no problem.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Blueish
I'm a bit down right now. My hormones seem to be a bit off. I don't know if it's my thyroid again, or my estrogen but I'm dragging my rear I tell ya.
It could also be the lack of sunshine. Or the overwhelming sense of anxiety I feel today.
Last Saturday we went out to dinner with a very nice couple we like, but they started to bicker over something minor at one point, and my husband and I jollied them out of it, but now, I haven't spoken to her at all this week, and I'm beginning to wonder if something went wrong? Everyone seemed happy?
Monday Julius got measured for his helmet. It was unpleasant to say the least.
Nothing like draping a baby in wet slimy plaster to induce screaming in him.
Hell, nothing like presenting mommy with a bill for $1500 to induce screaming in her.
(Yes, this is considered cosmetic, and therefore not covered by public health insurance. Because children with funny looking bent heads will never be bullied on the playground....eyeroll....issue #873456137 on my list of shit to fix in government....)
Tuesday I finally got the paperwork in for my passports and the childrens' passports. With absolutely no fucking help at all from my husband, who had promised me that HE WOULD HELP. Grrrrr. Anyway, I spent the entire time in the Immigration building convinced that I would be stopped by the guards and given a *special* government cavity search. Mostly because every single time I have ever been in a government building Very Bad Things have happened to me. (I was shaking, polite, and whispering the entire time, hard to believe, but true, I don't rant every second of the day.)
At one point they insisted that I need to have my adoptive name on my passport, except of course for that whole "legal" name change to another name. Ummm, HELLO, I changed it!?! I swear, if it comes back wrong, I'm going to change my last name to "Passport Canada sucks donkey balls" and then get THAT on my passport. That'll show em, right?
Ok, maybe not.
Actually, I'm more concerned right now about Julius' photo. There was a teeny little wrinkle in the background blanket behind him which may screw the photo. His expression was perfect, and blank, and fit all the regs. Yes, I got a baby to behave perfectly and pose nice, no drugs involved. But apparently that is not good enough. Teeny tiny babies must BEHAVE dammit. Here's hoping the wrinkle in space passes scrutiny.
Poor Kaz, though has the worst end of the stick. He alone will be required to carry his long form birth certificate at all times, or his passport will be invalid. The other children, will not have to do that. The reason, as I've discussed, before, is that we were not married when Kaz was born. We got married afterwards. The rules say that all children born to unmarried parents, aka bastards, must carry proof of parentage, because the department believes they are at higher risk of parental kidnapping than children born in wedlock. There is no statistical proof of this, by the way. Lots of parents get divorced and have custody issues, none of which the department can ever discover unless an opposing lawyer notifies them. Basically, they treat common law couples like criminals in waiting, and married couples like they are always perfect and innocent.
This leads to the bizarreness that says that my husband and I are quite likely to kidnap and transport across the border our oldest son, but fuck the other ones, who cares about those little buggers, right? We'll just dump them in a ditch, correct? Sigh...in case you are wondering, I asked, and they will be placing a note on Kaz's passport that denotes that he is different from the other children and must carry a long form birth certificate, along with notarized letters attesting that we "share" custody.
We don't have to do that for the other children.
Even though Kaz can speak and discuss and argue points as perfectly as an adult can. He stays in the house by himself. He has a cellphone. He can go on the subway by himself. He has his own bank account and manages his own money. If a cop or a customs officer asked him if he was with the right person, he'd answer properly.
Even though Mac is pretty naive at eight, not old enough to stay alone even for five minutes, and Julius is small enough for someone to pick up and carry away---no one will ever ask who their parents are or if they are at risk for being kidnapped.
None of it matters, because their slutty mother wasn't married before she gave birth to the first kid. Sigh....well at least I'm in good company. heh
I pick up the passports on December 2nd. Supposedly. We'll see.
Final bit o anxiety....I made the mistake of trusting someone I've known for years in the meat world with my add diagnosis. I came out and it was a dumb mistake, now they won't speak to me. Won't return emails or phone calls. I'm no longer a person to them. Back in the closet for me. Just praying this person won't out me now.
Scuse me, I need to go be scared of my own shadow now....
It could also be the lack of sunshine. Or the overwhelming sense of anxiety I feel today.
Last Saturday we went out to dinner with a very nice couple we like, but they started to bicker over something minor at one point, and my husband and I jollied them out of it, but now, I haven't spoken to her at all this week, and I'm beginning to wonder if something went wrong? Everyone seemed happy?
Monday Julius got measured for his helmet. It was unpleasant to say the least.
Nothing like draping a baby in wet slimy plaster to induce screaming in him.
Hell, nothing like presenting mommy with a bill for $1500 to induce screaming in her.
(Yes, this is considered cosmetic, and therefore not covered by public health insurance. Because children with funny looking bent heads will never be bullied on the playground....eyeroll....issue #873456137 on my list of shit to fix in government....)
Tuesday I finally got the paperwork in for my passports and the childrens' passports. With absolutely no fucking help at all from my husband, who had promised me that HE WOULD HELP. Grrrrr. Anyway, I spent the entire time in the Immigration building convinced that I would be stopped by the guards and given a *special* government cavity search. Mostly because every single time I have ever been in a government building Very Bad Things have happened to me. (I was shaking, polite, and whispering the entire time, hard to believe, but true, I don't rant every second of the day.)
At one point they insisted that I need to have my adoptive name on my passport, except of course for that whole "legal" name change to another name. Ummm, HELLO, I changed it!?! I swear, if it comes back wrong, I'm going to change my last name to "Passport Canada sucks donkey balls" and then get THAT on my passport. That'll show em, right?
Ok, maybe not.
Actually, I'm more concerned right now about Julius' photo. There was a teeny little wrinkle in the background blanket behind him which may screw the photo. His expression was perfect, and blank, and fit all the regs. Yes, I got a baby to behave perfectly and pose nice, no drugs involved. But apparently that is not good enough. Teeny tiny babies must BEHAVE dammit. Here's hoping the wrinkle in space passes scrutiny.
Poor Kaz, though has the worst end of the stick. He alone will be required to carry his long form birth certificate at all times, or his passport will be invalid. The other children, will not have to do that. The reason, as I've discussed, before, is that we were not married when Kaz was born. We got married afterwards. The rules say that all children born to unmarried parents, aka bastards, must carry proof of parentage, because the department believes they are at higher risk of parental kidnapping than children born in wedlock. There is no statistical proof of this, by the way. Lots of parents get divorced and have custody issues, none of which the department can ever discover unless an opposing lawyer notifies them. Basically, they treat common law couples like criminals in waiting, and married couples like they are always perfect and innocent.
This leads to the bizarreness that says that my husband and I are quite likely to kidnap and transport across the border our oldest son, but fuck the other ones, who cares about those little buggers, right? We'll just dump them in a ditch, correct? Sigh...in case you are wondering, I asked, and they will be placing a note on Kaz's passport that denotes that he is different from the other children and must carry a long form birth certificate, along with notarized letters attesting that we "share" custody.
We don't have to do that for the other children.
Even though Kaz can speak and discuss and argue points as perfectly as an adult can. He stays in the house by himself. He has a cellphone. He can go on the subway by himself. He has his own bank account and manages his own money. If a cop or a customs officer asked him if he was with the right person, he'd answer properly.
Even though Mac is pretty naive at eight, not old enough to stay alone even for five minutes, and Julius is small enough for someone to pick up and carry away---no one will ever ask who their parents are or if they are at risk for being kidnapped.
None of it matters, because their slutty mother wasn't married before she gave birth to the first kid. Sigh....well at least I'm in good company. heh
I pick up the passports on December 2nd. Supposedly. We'll see.
Final bit o anxiety....I made the mistake of trusting someone I've known for years in the meat world with my add diagnosis. I came out and it was a dumb mistake, now they won't speak to me. Won't return emails or phone calls. I'm no longer a person to them. Back in the closet for me. Just praying this person won't out me now.
Scuse me, I need to go be scared of my own shadow now....
Friday, November 14, 2008
Mother of the Year
Julius is teething like mad this evening, quite inconsolable. I rock him and shush him and swaddle him for a long long time.
He is very tired but can't sleep and I'm in his room nursing him for what seems like forever.
Finally his body goes limp and he dreams. I gently lay him in the crib and step back.
Directly onto my glass of wine.
My baby nursery smells like a cheap boozecan.
Lovely
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
I don't want to do anything
I have paperwork and organizing and emailing and a zillion other things to do, and frankly I'd rather not do any of it.
Is it bad that I just want to curl up and pretend the universe isn't doing anything, and it doesn't matter if I ever get my calendar and contacts up to date?
And I'm behind on blogs too, because I just can't keep up with NaBloMoPo reading, never mind commenting, and I haven't even started in on Christmas preparation. I am annoyed at how my blog looks and I'd love to do a makeover and update my blog list and what have you, but that would be risky and require concentration and I'm just plain out of that. (Even if I hired someone to do it, they'd likely want me to tell them what to do, and I have NO creative ideas right now, none.) My husband wants me to get some things done around the house, like get the dining room chairs repaired, but that requires an entire day long separation from the baby or schlepping him around to fabric stores, plus he wants me to go buy a new stove, but he doesn't want to pick it out. Which means I will likely buy the wrong one. And I am having more passport trouble, and I can't find a decent vacation place for Christmas for five, everything is for four. Unless we skip school and go in February or January. Crap....
I think I'm also in a bit of a bad mood because lately, I've been taking some risks and telling people what I think, gently and politely phrased, but still, being honest, and it's not always a good idea. I think the world appreciates liars better.
Mostly, it's the hot flashes. My estrogen wasn't supposed to drop this quickly while I was still breastfeeding exclusively, and yet, here I am, sweaty and hot and having temperature issues and cranky and irritated. I had some estrogen and started taking it again, but then I ran out and now I can't see my GP til next week to get a new scrip. (It's not exactly an emergency in their books...I get it, but still, crap!) Ovarian failure sucks, and not just on the pregnancy front.
Plus, the baby is up teething, or something....he just doesn't want to sleep. I can handle him getting up once at night, but 5-6 times is killing me. I don't know if his room is too cold, or the Grobag is letting his arms flap in his face. He broke out of his swaddle blanket a few weeks ago and I switched him over to the Grobag, but other than making an extra large swaddle blanket with industrial strength velcro, I have no idea what to do. He's nineteen pounds and strong as an ox, but he can't quite roll over both ways all alone, so I doubt anything will work that I buy. (He can roll over from front to back, but not quite back to front. Almost.)
Okay, I have to go do some stuff for the baptism party we are planning for him. The party I have NO motivation to plan for, but have to do since it's coming up.
I just feel like crap.
Is it bad that I just want to curl up and pretend the universe isn't doing anything, and it doesn't matter if I ever get my calendar and contacts up to date?
And I'm behind on blogs too, because I just can't keep up with NaBloMoPo reading, never mind commenting, and I haven't even started in on Christmas preparation. I am annoyed at how my blog looks and I'd love to do a makeover and update my blog list and what have you, but that would be risky and require concentration and I'm just plain out of that. (Even if I hired someone to do it, they'd likely want me to tell them what to do, and I have NO creative ideas right now, none.) My husband wants me to get some things done around the house, like get the dining room chairs repaired, but that requires an entire day long separation from the baby or schlepping him around to fabric stores, plus he wants me to go buy a new stove, but he doesn't want to pick it out. Which means I will likely buy the wrong one. And I am having more passport trouble, and I can't find a decent vacation place for Christmas for five, everything is for four. Unless we skip school and go in February or January. Crap....
I think I'm also in a bit of a bad mood because lately, I've been taking some risks and telling people what I think, gently and politely phrased, but still, being honest, and it's not always a good idea. I think the world appreciates liars better.
Mostly, it's the hot flashes. My estrogen wasn't supposed to drop this quickly while I was still breastfeeding exclusively, and yet, here I am, sweaty and hot and having temperature issues and cranky and irritated. I had some estrogen and started taking it again, but then I ran out and now I can't see my GP til next week to get a new scrip. (It's not exactly an emergency in their books...I get it, but still, crap!) Ovarian failure sucks, and not just on the pregnancy front.
Plus, the baby is up teething, or something....he just doesn't want to sleep. I can handle him getting up once at night, but 5-6 times is killing me. I don't know if his room is too cold, or the Grobag is letting his arms flap in his face. He broke out of his swaddle blanket a few weeks ago and I switched him over to the Grobag, but other than making an extra large swaddle blanket with industrial strength velcro, I have no idea what to do. He's nineteen pounds and strong as an ox, but he can't quite roll over both ways all alone, so I doubt anything will work that I buy. (He can roll over from front to back, but not quite back to front. Almost.)
Okay, I have to go do some stuff for the baptism party we are planning for him. The party I have NO motivation to plan for, but have to do since it's coming up.
I just feel like crap.
Monday, November 10, 2008
This could be hilarious, or not
I have had an anxiety ridden week, and today didn't help. I spent the morning trying to get the final reports for the kid's schools. (For that much freakin' money, you'd think typos would be verboten, no? Guess not.) My nanny called in sick at the last minute and Julius is teething and cranky and tired. Plus, I was still recovering from my overindulgence Saturday night at a friends' cocktail party, which is a hell of a story actually.
I had only had a glass or twoish to drink and was gossiping and laughing and enjoying myself until I made the mistake of talking politics with two young obnoxious Liberal types. After that conversation I HAD to get hammered.
Don't get me wrong, I was once a young Liberal, and I certainly had my moments, but honestly, these two were beyond reason.
First they were startled to hear that I knew their former political boss, since they figured I was some nobody mommy, and was good friends with a staffer they worked with, then----they actually had the fucking nerve to start putting down my friends job, acting like she was beneath them! Meanwhile, the friend in question is a hell of a lot more senior than them, and still employed there. Best part---when they lectured me on the job titles and responsibilities as if I was some moron who'd never stepped inside Queen's Park.
Such class. Amazing she's unemployed, eh?
It got better. I won't say which exact Leadership campaign they were with, but they were with either the Micheal Ignatieff campaign or the Bob Rae campaign. You guess. It will be difficult, you see both sides are once again pursuing a scorched earth policy in their desperation to win. The top guys themselves profess to be friends and are willing to vote for each other if the other falls off, but who's kidding who. Based on what I'm witnessing---these guys forgot to inform their devoted followers.
"Oh you can't vote for so and so, he's a [ insert hack hack hack, vicious dig, nasty rumour, shitty comment, mean-spirited name-calling ]."
As I told those two incredulous teenage louts, if you want my vote, you have to give me a reason to vote for your candidate. I will burn my ballot before I vote for someone who only hacks the other guy. We set up an entire leadership process based on everyone having to get along, because you want the other candidates second ballot support. Being nasty about your opponents is the surest way to lose with this process, which by the way, is why they lost last time.
So once again, Iggy and Bob are going to screw themselves. Sigh---I am so sick of hearing about how they each deserve to win just because:
a. they have highbrow parents and grandparents and brothers and pedigrees (this one drives me round the bend. I just have this visceral reaction, and I start yelling, "You aren't better than me you fuckers") Not a logical reaction, but the one I can't get rid of. It likely stems from the whole bastard unmarried parents raised in poverty thing, but it could just be that I'm not an imperalist.)
b. they were supposed to win last time. (WTF? I missed the secret voting koolaid, sorry.)
c. if they had won leadership last time, then we would have won the election. (HAH, double HAH, the Tories had $30 million dollars to blow on ads and to hire the most vicious Republican campaign consultants money can buy, and honey, for $30 mill, those guys can make you think your own grandmother is a serial killer. It will happen to everyone who runs. Except Jesus. By-the-by, did I tell you the rumour that Mary wasn't really a virgin? New ad: Alleged Terrorist and insurrectionist Jesus Hussein Christ seen pallin' around with slutty teen. There are Youtube videos! P0rn!)
d. They "look like" Prime Ministers. (Umm, I think Obama may be rewriting that rule dudes.)
Anyway, I can actually forget all this and move on, if any of the leadership candidates, Bob or Iggy, or whomever runs, can tell me why I should vote for them in the future. Like, screw the past, what have you done for me lately?
Like are any of them willing to pull an Obama and put forth a bill on Stillbirth Research and data gathering? Considering we have some of the poorest statistics gathering on maternal-fetal health in the world it might be reasonable to say--count them. We count cancer tumours and bacteria through public health. We track them like mad. But pregnancy loss? Oh no, must keep head in sand. Barack Obama, in the middle of running for President, sponsored that bill in the Senate. He isn't afraid of deadbaby mamas.
So maybe this time, when I pitch each and every one of the candidates on infertility and pregnancy care and maternal infant fetal health, they could stop and think and respond a little. Instead of running away freaking out, "Ahhhhh, dead baby lady, ahhhhhhhh" I mean, it's not infectious.
Anyway, this should be an interesting ride. Convention is in May, in Vancouver. At minimum, I'm going to get to meet some of my fave bloggers. I'll keep you all updated about the reactions I get to my pitches.
I can see it now, "Hi, I'm Aurelia, and if you want my vote, we have to talk about vaginas, and I'm sorry to say, not in the fun way." Yep, they'll be lining up to see me, hehe.
I had only had a glass or twoish to drink and was gossiping and laughing and enjoying myself until I made the mistake of talking politics with two young obnoxious Liberal types. After that conversation I HAD to get hammered.
Don't get me wrong, I was once a young Liberal, and I certainly had my moments, but honestly, these two were beyond reason.
First they were startled to hear that I knew their former political boss, since they figured I was some nobody mommy, and was good friends with a staffer they worked with, then----they actually had the fucking nerve to start putting down my friends job, acting like she was beneath them! Meanwhile, the friend in question is a hell of a lot more senior than them, and still employed there. Best part---when they lectured me on the job titles and responsibilities as if I was some moron who'd never stepped inside Queen's Park.
Such class. Amazing she's unemployed, eh?
It got better. I won't say which exact Leadership campaign they were with, but they were with either the Micheal Ignatieff campaign or the Bob Rae campaign. You guess. It will be difficult, you see both sides are once again pursuing a scorched earth policy in their desperation to win. The top guys themselves profess to be friends and are willing to vote for each other if the other falls off, but who's kidding who. Based on what I'm witnessing---these guys forgot to inform their devoted followers.
"Oh you can't vote for so and so, he's a [ insert hack hack hack, vicious dig, nasty rumour, shitty comment, mean-spirited name-calling ]."
As I told those two incredulous teenage louts, if you want my vote, you have to give me a reason to vote for your candidate. I will burn my ballot before I vote for someone who only hacks the other guy. We set up an entire leadership process based on everyone having to get along, because you want the other candidates second ballot support. Being nasty about your opponents is the surest way to lose with this process, which by the way, is why they lost last time.
So once again, Iggy and Bob are going to screw themselves. Sigh---I am so sick of hearing about how they each deserve to win just because:
a. they have highbrow parents and grandparents and brothers and pedigrees (this one drives me round the bend. I just have this visceral reaction, and I start yelling, "You aren't better than me you fuckers") Not a logical reaction, but the one I can't get rid of. It likely stems from the whole bastard unmarried parents raised in poverty thing, but it could just be that I'm not an imperalist.)
b. they were supposed to win last time. (WTF? I missed the secret voting koolaid, sorry.)
c. if they had won leadership last time, then we would have won the election. (HAH, double HAH, the Tories had $30 million dollars to blow on ads and to hire the most vicious Republican campaign consultants money can buy, and honey, for $30 mill, those guys can make you think your own grandmother is a serial killer. It will happen to everyone who runs. Except Jesus. By-the-by, did I tell you the rumour that Mary wasn't really a virgin? New ad: Alleged Terrorist and insurrectionist Jesus Hussein Christ seen pallin' around with slutty teen. There are Youtube videos! P0rn!)
d. They "look like" Prime Ministers. (Umm, I think Obama may be rewriting that rule dudes.)
Anyway, I can actually forget all this and move on, if any of the leadership candidates, Bob or Iggy, or whomever runs, can tell me why I should vote for them in the future. Like, screw the past, what have you done for me lately?
Like are any of them willing to pull an Obama and put forth a bill on Stillbirth Research and data gathering? Considering we have some of the poorest statistics gathering on maternal-fetal health in the world it might be reasonable to say--count them. We count cancer tumours and bacteria through public health. We track them like mad. But pregnancy loss? Oh no, must keep head in sand. Barack Obama, in the middle of running for President, sponsored that bill in the Senate. He isn't afraid of deadbaby mamas.
So maybe this time, when I pitch each and every one of the candidates on infertility and pregnancy care and maternal infant fetal health, they could stop and think and respond a little. Instead of running away freaking out, "Ahhhhh, dead baby lady, ahhhhhhhh" I mean, it's not infectious.
Anyway, this should be an interesting ride. Convention is in May, in Vancouver. At minimum, I'm going to get to meet some of my fave bloggers. I'll keep you all updated about the reactions I get to my pitches.
I can see it now, "Hi, I'm Aurelia, and if you want my vote, we have to talk about vaginas, and I'm sorry to say, not in the fun way." Yep, they'll be lining up to see me, hehe.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
nope, not me
I'm not blogging about the US election, since every last personal blogger I read has already written about it. For once, the shoe is on the other foot, and I am secretly full of glee about it. See, I know that every time I blog about politics, you all roll your eyes and wonder, "What the hell is she talking about now?" and "Not again, can't she just talk about her vagina like the rest of us do?"
So about my vagina....
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HA FOOLED YOU.
No vajayjays here. Move along now.
*Chuckle at own joke*
Got that out of my system, now can I just say that this helmet business is no fun? My darling babies' ears are uneven and his head slants forward slightly and there is a dent in the back. I know because many measurements and pictures were taken, and then a very nice Orthotics person at Sick Kids explained to my incredulous husband that it was a moderate dent, (as opposed to mild or severe) but definitely there and that Julius would look like this for life if we didn't do it, and that he would never properly fit bicycle helmets or hockey helmets without extra padding and fitting, and that yes it was cosmetic, but it is so noticeable that it would not be covered up by hair.
Now picture me and the nanny sitting in the corner looking at each other in horror because we can't believe that could happen to OUR Julius, and we can't believe the grilling that Mr.Cotta is giving to the guy, like somehow Ortho's in it for the profit and is running around sticking helmets on perfectly good heads just to make a quick buck. Gah.....not that I want a helmet either, but once the guy confirmed that the aggressive head positioning we were engaged in was doing nothing, *weeps* I decided to just say do it. And in the end, so did Mr.C.
So what if we have to spend the next 6 months hidden indoors praying that no one ever looks funny at us. Or points their fingers at us. Or laughs at us. Or makes my mother bear instincts come out. Cause I'm bad like that. I'm the woman with the tire iron in her purse who goes nuclear if someone looks mean at her kid. Sigh....not cool. *Must control self*
Oh, and about my last posts---after much researching, and talking to a few people IRL I have discovered that when the word "gifted" comes up many many many people begin to act like assholes and apparently the advice I'm supposed to follow is to never talk about it IRL, but instead only on firewalled passworded forums so that random trolls do not call me a grasping/boasting/stage/managing/faker/elitist/pushy mother. (Yes, some people actually say that mean shit!)
But since I'm already the adoptee who talks not so nicely about adoption, and the infertile who talks about vaginas, and the grieving mama who talks about dead babies, and the pro-choice woman who aborted a wanted & loved but dying child, and the crazy hyper chick with ADD who gladly takes speed and tells the world that ritalin rocks and trolls everywhere haven't kicked my ass off the net just yet---oh fuck it, I may as well talk about this here too.
Specially since my real life friends are having funny reactions, and God do I need to vent.
One lady--lovely kind, encouraging.
Next one--helpful, kind of vague, then started telling me how that's the new "in" thing, and was this a new trend? Is that why I "did it?" I'm like--"Did what? Huh?"
Another---jealous beyond description and so desperate to compare numbers against her own kid and herself, that she started to breathe funny. Then starts to tell me how she knows EVERYTHING about gifted kids and everyone in her family is gifted and they are all experts and I must do it all HER way and this is the perfect school, not the one we are in. Froth is forming at the corners of her mouth....I back slowly away.....
An education professional---tells me I should give up on the entire system and homeschool. Commence eyerolling. I would suck at that. I know me well enough to know that for sure!
For me, it's sort of like I thought my kid was a duck, a nice little duck, and then one day I take him to a Doctor and he turns out to be a completely different animal like an octopus, but everyone around me is saying, hey great, he's like a swan! But he isn't a swan, he's an octopus.
Meanwhile, I have no books and no training on how to raise an octopus.
Like that list of things I did that are not PC to talk about---I mostly wrote that because I wanted you all to laugh, and to know that I'm not the crazy pushy mom, and no one has to be. My kids do some sports at school, but not rep hockey or competitive swimming or anything extensive like that. They go to camp in the summer, they go to church occasionally. They eat sort of crap and sort of good. They've never done Kumon or anything like that. They go to a private school, but it's nothing fancy, they have good academics, but it's not a crazy homework place. My kids just sort of came out like this, and damned if I know how. My only enforced rule with them is that the most important thing is to be kind to others. (Ok, and no wrestling near the china cabinet.)
And really, of all the things that mystify me about this situation, it's the world's refusal to believe that the universe makes some people different, different in ways we don't understand completely, but still real, still standing here in front of me. Some of us are mentally ill, and some of us are calm and even as still waters. Isn't what matters most, what people do in the world with their very different brains?
Cause some of us have bent heads and some of us have round ones.
And some Presidents are white and some Presidents are black, but what really matters in the end is if they are kind to others, right?
Right.
So about my vagina....
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
HA FOOLED YOU.
No vajayjays here. Move along now.
*Chuckle at own joke*
Got that out of my system, now can I just say that this helmet business is no fun? My darling babies' ears are uneven and his head slants forward slightly and there is a dent in the back. I know because many measurements and pictures were taken, and then a very nice Orthotics person at Sick Kids explained to my incredulous husband that it was a moderate dent, (as opposed to mild or severe) but definitely there and that Julius would look like this for life if we didn't do it, and that he would never properly fit bicycle helmets or hockey helmets without extra padding and fitting, and that yes it was cosmetic, but it is so noticeable that it would not be covered up by hair.
Now picture me and the nanny sitting in the corner looking at each other in horror because we can't believe that could happen to OUR Julius, and we can't believe the grilling that Mr.Cotta is giving to the guy, like somehow Ortho's in it for the profit and is running around sticking helmets on perfectly good heads just to make a quick buck. Gah.....not that I want a helmet either, but once the guy confirmed that the aggressive head positioning we were engaged in was doing nothing, *weeps* I decided to just say do it. And in the end, so did Mr.C.
So what if we have to spend the next 6 months hidden indoors praying that no one ever looks funny at us. Or points their fingers at us. Or laughs at us. Or makes my mother bear instincts come out. Cause I'm bad like that. I'm the woman with the tire iron in her purse who goes nuclear if someone looks mean at her kid. Sigh....not cool. *Must control self*
Oh, and about my last posts---after much researching, and talking to a few people IRL I have discovered that when the word "gifted" comes up many many many people begin to act like assholes and apparently the advice I'm supposed to follow is to never talk about it IRL, but instead only on firewalled passworded forums so that random trolls do not call me a grasping/boasting/stage/managing/faker/elitist/pushy mother. (Yes, some people actually say that mean shit!)
But since I'm already the adoptee who talks not so nicely about adoption, and the infertile who talks about vaginas, and the grieving mama who talks about dead babies, and the pro-choice woman who aborted a wanted & loved but dying child, and the crazy hyper chick with ADD who gladly takes speed and tells the world that ritalin rocks and trolls everywhere haven't kicked my ass off the net just yet---oh fuck it, I may as well talk about this here too.
Specially since my real life friends are having funny reactions, and God do I need to vent.
One lady--lovely kind, encouraging.
Next one--helpful, kind of vague, then started telling me how that's the new "in" thing, and was this a new trend? Is that why I "did it?" I'm like--"Did what? Huh?"
Another---jealous beyond description and so desperate to compare numbers against her own kid and herself, that she started to breathe funny. Then starts to tell me how she knows EVERYTHING about gifted kids and everyone in her family is gifted and they are all experts and I must do it all HER way and this is the perfect school, not the one we are in. Froth is forming at the corners of her mouth....I back slowly away.....
An education professional---tells me I should give up on the entire system and homeschool. Commence eyerolling. I would suck at that. I know me well enough to know that for sure!
For me, it's sort of like I thought my kid was a duck, a nice little duck, and then one day I take him to a Doctor and he turns out to be a completely different animal like an octopus, but everyone around me is saying, hey great, he's like a swan! But he isn't a swan, he's an octopus.
Meanwhile, I have no books and no training on how to raise an octopus.
Like that list of things I did that are not PC to talk about---I mostly wrote that because I wanted you all to laugh, and to know that I'm not the crazy pushy mom, and no one has to be. My kids do some sports at school, but not rep hockey or competitive swimming or anything extensive like that. They go to camp in the summer, they go to church occasionally. They eat sort of crap and sort of good. They've never done Kumon or anything like that. They go to a private school, but it's nothing fancy, they have good academics, but it's not a crazy homework place. My kids just sort of came out like this, and damned if I know how. My only enforced rule with them is that the most important thing is to be kind to others. (Ok, and no wrestling near the china cabinet.)
And really, of all the things that mystify me about this situation, it's the world's refusal to believe that the universe makes some people different, different in ways we don't understand completely, but still real, still standing here in front of me. Some of us are mentally ill, and some of us are calm and even as still waters. Isn't what matters most, what people do in the world with their very different brains?
Cause some of us have bent heads and some of us have round ones.
And some Presidents are white and some Presidents are black, but what really matters in the end is if they are kind to others, right?
Right.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
Still chewing this over
About Kaz being severely gifted....still weirded out. I thought that the psychologist sort of made this word up, but no, apparently it's a real thing. Once again Dr.Google is being most helpful. As are all of you. (Thank you thank you thank you----I love my friends in the computer!) I think I'm just not sure what the hell I'm supposed to do, and a lot of the information from Google I've found is American. Mostly because if there is information in Ontario, it's not loads. (Yes, I did find the link Lori mentioned, one bright lite!)
Why would we do anything about it? Well, so far I'm reading that there is a lot of evidence that kids like this can end up with serious socio-emotional problems if they are not challenged and encouraged the right way. (Question still to be answered: What is the right way?) For example, lots of them are so scared of sticking out of the crowd, they hide their gifts and pretend to be average just to fit in. Others become bored as hell and get in trouble. Many become perfectionists and get so anxious about their academic performance they become paralyzed and end up not even getting an education.
I went to the Ontario Ministry of Education website, and found sweet dick all. Apparently there are a lot of resources for the other end of the spectrum and lots for anyone who is average range of intelligence and has various LD, but almost zero for a kid who could do an entire credit of math in one day, instead of the minimum mandated 110 hours. Even if the psychologist, and we as his parents, and he himself, and the teachers and the principal all agree, it's hideously difficult to do. Apparently things are a little rigid that way....
We're not making any decisions yet, but I'm a little disgruntled to discover that some options are less easy than others. Then again, why should anything be easy?
Good things about this diagnosis:
I no longer feel guilty about the forceps at birth, the meconium, the untreated reflux, the time I dropped him, the time my husband dropped him, the times I didn't run fast enough to get him when he cried, the times I couldn't pump enough breastmilk for cereal or babysitting and he had to have some formula, the times he had diaper rash because I didn't change his diaper often enough, the eczema he had that I had forgot to rub cream on, the time he fell down the flight of stairs, the home daycare I left him in, the casual neighbourhood babysitters I left him with before that, the really great daycare centre I left him in that was still DAYCARE aka Teh root of all evil, the times when I was a stay at home mom who didn't know what the hell I was doing, the excessively lengthy amount of children's and adult television he watched, the insane amount of time he spent in the car commuting, the playdates I neglected to set up, the piano practice he had to do while Mac screamed at the top of his lungs, the playground visits we didn't do as much as the neighbours did, the times I worked outside the home, the times I stayed at home, the wine I drank, the germs I gave him, the genes I gave him, the McDonald's/pizza/transfat-ridden/allergy-infested fast food insta meals I fed him, the ritalin/concerta/adderall aka Teh second root of all evil that I gave him, the time he spent playing computer games, video games, gameboy games, and of course, making him go through all of our fertility and babyloss adventures when he was old enough to know what was going on.
And yes, I'm kind of making it sound funny/weird, but really, these are all things I have felt guilty about. Sort of why I always tell all of you to stop feeling guilty when you blog about this stuff.
Sigh....all that crap, all that stress, and somehow in spite of the fact that he's the kid we made all the mistakes on, he's got game.
Thank God, because Julius is going to see the helmet people about his bent head Monday morning and I'm so nervous I feel sick. But maybe a flathead won't matter either?
Why would we do anything about it? Well, so far I'm reading that there is a lot of evidence that kids like this can end up with serious socio-emotional problems if they are not challenged and encouraged the right way. (Question still to be answered: What is the right way?) For example, lots of them are so scared of sticking out of the crowd, they hide their gifts and pretend to be average just to fit in. Others become bored as hell and get in trouble. Many become perfectionists and get so anxious about their academic performance they become paralyzed and end up not even getting an education.
I went to the Ontario Ministry of Education website, and found sweet dick all. Apparently there are a lot of resources for the other end of the spectrum and lots for anyone who is average range of intelligence and has various LD, but almost zero for a kid who could do an entire credit of math in one day, instead of the minimum mandated 110 hours. Even if the psychologist, and we as his parents, and he himself, and the teachers and the principal all agree, it's hideously difficult to do. Apparently things are a little rigid that way....
We're not making any decisions yet, but I'm a little disgruntled to discover that some options are less easy than others. Then again, why should anything be easy?
Good things about this diagnosis:
I no longer feel guilty about the forceps at birth, the meconium, the untreated reflux, the time I dropped him, the time my husband dropped him, the times I didn't run fast enough to get him when he cried, the times I couldn't pump enough breastmilk for cereal or babysitting and he had to have some formula, the times he had diaper rash because I didn't change his diaper often enough, the eczema he had that I had forgot to rub cream on, the time he fell down the flight of stairs, the home daycare I left him in, the casual neighbourhood babysitters I left him with before that, the really great daycare centre I left him in that was still DAYCARE aka Teh root of all evil, the times when I was a stay at home mom who didn't know what the hell I was doing, the excessively lengthy amount of children's and adult television he watched, the insane amount of time he spent in the car commuting, the playdates I neglected to set up, the piano practice he had to do while Mac screamed at the top of his lungs, the playground visits we didn't do as much as the neighbours did, the times I worked outside the home, the times I stayed at home, the wine I drank, the germs I gave him, the genes I gave him, the McDonald's/pizza/transfat-ridden/allergy-infested fast food insta meals I fed him, the ritalin/concerta/adderall aka Teh second root of all evil that I gave him, the time he spent playing computer games, video games, gameboy games, and of course, making him go through all of our fertility and babyloss adventures when he was old enough to know what was going on.
And yes, I'm kind of making it sound funny/weird, but really, these are all things I have felt guilty about. Sort of why I always tell all of you to stop feeling guilty when you blog about this stuff.
Sigh....all that crap, all that stress, and somehow in spite of the fact that he's the kid we made all the mistakes on, he's got game.
Thank God, because Julius is going to see the helmet people about his bent head Monday morning and I'm so nervous I feel sick. But maybe a flathead won't matter either?
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