Recycled Canada Day Post ... Remixed [Thank U Canada | Alanis Morissette Cover - aka The Great White UP]

Is that a thing? Am I even allowed to that or does it violate some heretobefore unknown Canuck Rule?? 

Oh well...

Okay, this is might have been a little out of date back in 2018 [shh, don't tell anybody - seven weeks] but it's been less than week since Canada Day 2022 and 10 months since my post.  [Now, now there's no need to talk that way]. 

Hey, it's still my blog (I will challenge anyone who asserts otherwise) and I'll thank Canada if I want to, eh?


 

PS Just for the record, this also proves that I'm still STILL alive. Just in case anyone was wondering ...

* Still in honour of our amazing (and greatly-missed) friend, Neptunus Lex.

Strong-willed Child**

I may, perhaps, probably not have written here for a while (again), but hey, I'm back (at least for the moment) so ... whatever. It's my blog and I will post when I want to (said somewhat guiltily). But

moving on.

The Kit Kat is in her fourth year of university. The first three years she lived in the dorm, but this year she is sharing an apartment with a friend. And I have a few thoughts about that.

First, I thought she moved out on her own the first year of university. For her birthday prior to the first year, I bought a big (and I mean BIG) wicker laundry basket and filled it up with all the everyday stuff she would need to live on her own.Thought that was that - give them a good start and send them on their way, right? Maybe. But ... the first year she not only lived in the dorm, she also had a meal plan. So nothing to worry about as far as being fed or housed.

The next two years in the dorm, we skipped the meal plan (not worth the money) and for the first time in her life, she had to worry about actually feeding herself.

Fast forward to this year.

Now she not only needs to feed herself, but also to pay all those mundane every day month expenses like rent, power, tenants' insurance, etc.

I found myself shopping again before she moved into the new apartment. I mean, the place needed to be furnished, right? A nice lamp for the living room, some stuff for the kitchen. Wait a minute, I thought I had already been there, done that. After all, hadn't she moved out three years ago??

Yes. And no. In at least two different ways.

First, I think (hope, perhaps naively) that she is now officially adulting (as she likes to call it). Incidentally, there are some hilarious memes on FB about this process. Funny, how it didn't seem to be that big a deal for my generation (just something you went and did), but for these guys ... seriously?

There are at least two popular songs on the radio that attempt to document how terrible and disconcerting the process of growing us is. Which, they're pretty funny and I rather enjoy them, I must admit. My favourite FB meme goes something like this:

"That moment when something bad happens and you run to find an adult. Only to realize that you are an adult. But you need an adultier adult".

Heh.

But for the second aspect of this growing up and becoming an adult thing, I seem to be the one who has a problem. Okay, maybe not a problem but came to a rather jolting revelation the other day.

Her university is a little over an hour away. The first three years, I saw her at least every three weeks at a minimum. It wasn't planned that way - it was just that between the times she came home (Reading week, Thanksgiving, Christmas, another Reading week, summer, etc) and the fact that I am in Halifax a fair bit for work and appointments, we saw each other fairly regularly. Never thought too much about it; it just was.

And I was amazed to find that (quick, cover your ears) I didn't really *miss* her when she was away. Heresy, I know. Don't get me wrong, I loved having her home and really enjoyed that time with her  but when she wasn't home, well, I was busy living my life. And, yes, stalking her occasionally on FB as a means to check in and make sure everything was okay. As if I could actually tell how things were doing by what she posted.

This year? This year is different.

Not only did she work in Halifax for the past two summers, but she's working part-time now during the school year. And suddenly ... she's not coming home as much. Not over Thanksgiving because of her work and class schedule. Not during Reading week next month because she wants to pick up extra shifts at work. As if that wasn't bad enough, I seem to be in Halifax less over the past few months so not seeing her then so much either.

And it was bothering me. And her Dad. Yes, it was. The part about her not wanting to come home when she could. Until the other day, when  it finally hit me.

When I went to University, I moved clear across the country. From Saskatchewan to Nova Scotia; 4,379.4 km, for those that are counting. That's 2,721.2 miles, for those that are metrically challenged (which I must admit, I still am somewhat myself).

I called my mother mostly late at night (or was that very early in the morning?) after I had been out partying, had too much to drink and suddenly had a truck-load of perceived dilemmas that only my mom could help with. Other than that, she wrote once every few months (yes, Virginia, there actually was a time when we survived without email) and I sent a humorous greeting card every so often - used the card technique because there was only so much space to write in, unlike a letter, where the amount written would have looked pathetic (compared to what she wrote) on a full sheet.

The Kit Kat, you ask?

Yeah, I realize now that she is just acting/doing as she is meant to. Growing up, becoming an adult, leading her own (gasp) life. How dare she?! And I realized that, although I would still really like to see her more often, I'm okay with the fact that I don't.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about her father. He is constantly calling her (and getting annoyed when, the majority of the time, she doesn't answer her phone). I tried pointing out to him today what I had recently realized and even asked him how often he had called his parents when he moved out West for a few years at age 16. Not so sure I got through to him, though.

So, in addition to pointing out that the Kit Kat is now starting to lead her own adult life, I commented on the difference between her and the Blue Jay (the Kit Kat's older sister). Due to her disability, the Blue Jay, even though three years older, still needs us, needs to talk to us daily and needs to see us at least once a week. I pointed out that if the Kit Kat acted like her sister does at the moment, then we would have a real problem.





** For anybody wondering about the "strong-willed child" reference, let's just say ... she was.

Thank U Canada [aka the Great White UP*]

Okay, this is a little out date [ahem] - seven weeks after Canada Day and 10 months since my post [shhhh, I don't think anybody's noticed], but it's my blog and I'll thank Canada if I want to, eh?




PS Just for the record, this also proves that I'm still alive.

* In honour of our amazing (and greatly-missed) friend, Neptunus Lex.

A Letter From Heaven

Not sure if she's in heaven or not, but otherwise ... picture perfect.

I miss you, Mom. Always will.
 


It seems appropriate somehow that this popped up in FaceBook feed today.

I was just cleaning up some stuff around the house and found Vicks Vapour Rub (I haven't used it since long before I became an adult, so it must have been my Mom's) and a bottle of her Oil of Olay, which I don't use, but kept anyway. I don't know why ... okay, maybe I do, but ... I don't know why.

It will be nine years in a few short days (Nov. 29) - time to throw this stuff out and move on?

Perhaps, but that's okay ... I still have two of her dresses hanging up downstairs.

The Perfect Homage to my Favourite Show ... EVER

So. I haven't blogged here for ... ahem ... a little while. [Nothing to see here ... move on now.]

I guess it just took the right thing to motivate me. The right thing being watching the entire DVD set of White Collar (six seasons) twice. Back to back. Well, okay, I might have taken one night off in between ... I mean, it's not like I'm obsessive or anything.

 Goodbye Neal. We'll never forget you.

Goodbye for now anyway. I mean, I do still have the DVD set. I will give it a break for a while, but I picture the next go-around being slightly more selective ... only my (many) favourite episodes.

Looking Damn Good For 150, Eh

Happy Canada Day everyone!

How lucky are those of us who are lucky enough to call Canada home?

From Me & Mine to You & Yours & Yours & Yours ...

Melancholy

I stumbled across this today while looking for something else.

Feeling a little melancholy today, I guess.

Death is nothing at all, I have only slipped away into the next room. I am I, and you are you. Whatever we were to each other, we still are.

Call me by my old familiar name, Speak to me in the easy way you always used. Put not difference in your tone, Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. 

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. Let it be spoken without effort, Without the trace of a shadow on it.

Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was, There is unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?

I am waiting for you, for an interval, Somewhere very near, Just round the corner. All is well. Nothing is past; Nothing is lost. 

One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!" 

~ Canon Henry Scott-Holland, 1847-1918,Canon of St Paul's Cathedral

From spring cleaning to Christmas decorating in one fell swoop.

What can I say? We don't waste any time around here.

Out with the old. In with the ... snow.
BRRRR

Spring Clean UP Cleaning

Kind of speaks for itself, don't you think?

Time Passages

I suppose I could have just as easily titled this post "Transitions", but "Time Passages" sounds a little bit fancier, don't you think?

Whatever, I like it. And whether you call it time passages or transitions, there does seem to be a bit of that going on around here as of late. When I think back to this time last year, I couldn`t begin to picture where we are are today.

Last August, we (myself and two other families) had just started negotiations with the Department of Community Service for the Blue Jay and two of her friends (young men she has grown up with and who are in Special Olympics with her) to live in their own home, with the support they would need to be successful as part of a government pilot project.

Those negotiations were long and painful - nine months long, in fact, and nearly as painful as giving birth to a baby. But by the end of December, we had a lovely house rented and the three young adults were able to live there on weekends; unfortunately, only weekends at that point because we didn`t yet have the government funding to do any more than that.

But then, as of June 1st, the Blue Jay and her friends have been living in their own home full-time five days a week; unfortunately, we never did manage to get enough funding for them to live in their own home full-time. The other two days per week, the young adults return to their family homes.

For the past two months, there have definitely been a few huge bumps along the way - it`s definitely a process and we`re learning as we go (both the young adults and the parents). The beauty of this, though, is that it is neither a group home nor a small options home - in both those situations, you are placed in the home with other adults, often strangers. Instead, the Blue Jay has been able to choose her own roommates.

Another major difference from the old way of doing things is that we don`t have staff; instead, the Blue Jay and her friends are supported by ``house buddies``, who, for the most part, are pretty much peers (chronologically) - thank goodness for our local university and its SMILE program, which pairs up interested students one-on-one with children and youth with special needs. The Blue Jay has been in the SMILE program since she was 3 or 4 years old - in fact, that is where she learned how to swim (and she`s quite a good Special Olympics swimmer) without any formal lessons.

Last but not least, the house is not being run by either the government or a private agency - we, the parents, are the home`s administrators. Trust me, that can be both good and bad, depending on the day. It`s a lot of work for us, but an ideal situation for the young adults. Or, at least, hopefully it will be once we finally get all the bugs worked out.

Life has not always been easy for the Blue Jay or for us, her family. It`s been a long, often hard road at times, but she is finally getting some of that independence she so desperately wants and needs.

By the way, did I ever mention that she is also working part-time (two days a week) at a local Tim Hortons, something she has wanted to do since was a little kid? She also does some volunteer work and in one of those places, she gets to run a cash register in a small second-hand clothing store - something else she has wanted to do since she was little (run a cash register, that is).

So there`s that.

And then last, but very far from least, is the fact that we moved my youngest daughter, Kit Kat, to Halifax and into the dorm at her university of choice.

It's so hard to believe that my baby is starting university. Definitely mixed emotions there - proud, nostalgic, a little worried and a little sad; not much different than those faced by any parent who sends one of their children off to university for the first time, I suppose.


I am very, very proud of my two girls. They both continue to face challenges, but they have grown into amazing young adults and, in many ways, those challenges have helped shape who they are today. I guess we all must have done something right.

Election Season

Election season. I can just feel it coming.

The most wonderful time of the year. 

NOT.

"Since a politician never believes what he says, he is quite surprised to be taken at his word."~ Charles de Gaulle

Spring Has Sprung

Spring has sprung ... a bit later than usual perhaps (admittedly both outside my window and on this blog).

It's a good thing the seasons change, I suppose, else you might never see me around these here parts. Hey, what can I say? Sometimes the truth really does hurt.

Okay, I need something witty now for the ending.

Anybody? Any ideas?

Anything at all?

Crickets. 

Damm, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It is, after all, that time of year.

Three Weeks Years On

It's hard to believe that it's been three years since I've heard Lex's voice. Actually, in some ways, it feel like much longer.

March 6th was the appropriate date - the anniversary of that sad event. I should have written then, I suppose.

But you see, March 6th is also my youngest daughter's birthday. And, interesting story there - on the first anniversary of Lex's death, I was painfully aware of these two polar opposite events occuring on the same day. On the second anniversary, the fact that March 6th was both the Kit Kat's birthday and the day Lex died was most definitely on my mind from the moment I opened FaceBook. But this year was different.

My baby turned 19, you see (and, by the by, what the hell is up with that?!) and, I am sad to say, the fact that it was also an anniversary of another, much sadder sort slipped my mind. Slipped my mind until I read a Face Book post written by a good friend who, appropriately, I never would have met but for Lex. And then, once again, I experienced that jarring sensation when that juxtaposition caught me unaware and struck me hard - the date my baby was born was also the date that Lex died.

I am "lucky", I supppose, (if that be the right word) ... yes, I *still* miss Lex; but, perhaps not to the depth, to the degree some do. I refer not, of course, to to his "real world" family and friends (no contest there, I am sure), but rather to the more faithful (for lack of a better word) Lexicans, as witnessed on the Neptunus Lex Super Secret FaceBook page.

I still read semi-regularly over there (if reading the first four or five posts at the top of the page a few times a week counts as semi-regularly) and pop up with a comment or post occasionally (okay, very, very occasionally), but ... actually I kind of wonder how people (not just my NepLex friends but all my FB friends) manage to find the time to spend as much time as they seem to on social networks while still meeting the other obligations and needs (including their own) that our reality entails. But that be another story for another day ...

At any rate, I just popped in here to say .. what?

Hmmm, strangely I don't really know. Perhaps just to state that not just as is so evident on the Nep Lex page and elsewhere on the interwebs, Lex is still missed by many significantly quieter voices in the blogsphere (including those who can really can only be counted as semi-irregular regular bloggers, at best).

Fair winds and following seas, Sir ...

Never Forgotten

A FaceBook post by a friend really struck home tonight. She was reposting one of Jann Arden's posts that started like this

I had a break through of sorts a few days ago, right after I had a mini 'breakdown'.... I asked my mom if she thought she would ever forget me and she said, "Well, my brain might, but my heart won't". Those eight words took my breath away. 

"Well, my brain might, but my heart won't " ... those words really struck home for me.

When my Mom was so sick and struggling with dementia, I was very lucky in that there was only one occasion when she didn't know who she was when I came to visit in the hospital.

I bustled around the room, doing my thing and yakking away and suddenly realized something was off. So I sat down on the side of the bed and asked if she knew who I was. "Of course I do" she replied. "No you don't". "Yes, I do". "Okay then, who am I?". The moment of truth ... she looked at me with such peace and warmth in her eyes and simply said "someone who loves me very much". I still tear up just to write of it.

A few months later, after popping up to the hospital for a quick unexpected visit one evening, I told her that I had to leave to pick up my youngest daughter (insert name). It had been a particularly bad day for Mom (they had moved her to another room and her mind had just totally shut down) so when something didn't seem right, I asked "You remember Kit Kat, right?" "No, I don't think I do... ".

I took my daughter's framed school picture out of the closet where they had put it after the move and placed it in her hands. "Now you remember Kit Kat, right?". "No, I'm not sure". I left her with the picture, dropped the subject and started talking about something else. When I turned around and looked at her, she was repeatedly softly stroking my daughter's face on the photograph and once again she had the most peaceful look about her.

When I left that evening, she told me that she had been so afraid that I wouldn't find her because they moved her to another room. I replied, much like you would to soothe a child's fears, that no matter where they moved her, I would always find her. She stopped, seemed to consider that for a moment and then responded, "Yes, yes, I believe you will". Her face visibly relaxed when she said it.

I still miss my Mom desperately even though it's been over six years since that horrible day. But remembering (and writing about) moments such as these, while they pull my heart strings and bring tears to my eyes also bring a smile to my face (albeit a sad one) and a feeling of warmth.

On that note, I came across this poem shortly after Mom died. It, too, spoke to me, which was surprising because I am really not a poetry person.

Which, yeah, I believe I shared that with you before. But maybe I'm wrong, maybe, just maybe when it comes to times of loss, I am. At any rate, I will bid you a fond adieu and leave you with this poem.

And the sentiment that, no matter what, I am so glad that I have this blog that has captured, in perpetuity, such important moments in my life. Because even in reliving rereading such terrible moments of pain and hurt and loss, I can still find love, warmth, (occasionally humour) and a sense of connectedness.

Death is nothing at all, 
I have only slipped away into the next room. 
I am I, and you are you. 
Whatever we were to each other, we still are. 

Speak to me in the easy way you always used. 
Put not difference in your tone, 
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow. 

Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together. 
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was. 
Let it be spoken without effort, 
Without the trace of a shadow on it. 

Life means all that it ever meant. 
It is the same as it ever was, 
There is unbroken continuity. 
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? 

I am waiting for you, for an interval, 
Somewhere very near, 
Just round the corner. 
All is well.

Nothing is past.
Nothing is lost. 
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!"

And So This is Christmas ...

Christmas is, hands-down, my favourite holiday on the calendar. Maybe (most likely) it was the fact that we didn't celebrate Christmas when I was a kid that accounts for a lot of my delight and enjoyment now.

So what is my favourite thing about Christmas, you ask.

This might sound rather strange, but what I love truly love about the season can be summed up in very few words ... I think in large part it`s the beauty, the visual appeal of the season that really gets to me.

True enough, when my daughters were younger there was a great deal of pleasure and fun in watching their response to the run up to Christmas and their full on excitement on Christmas day. It was both contagious and priceless.

There were also family traditions that developed over the years that gave me a warm, comforting feeling. And, as a parent, I appreciated the chance to try to model and teach to my children in various ways that there truly is more pleasure in giving than in receiving.

In fact, to this day, I would love to adopt some little ones just for this time of the year, to share the magic with them, to watch their faces light up with delight and excitement, to be a part of that again.

But what I really appreciate about Christmas now is the sheer beauty of the season. I could easily sit for hours, staring into a Christmas tree, letting my mind simply roam free and I absolutely love adore the sparkle of lights shining on the snow, the spectacle it creates.

You might have figured out by now that despite the fact that, perhaps, it *should*, Christmas does not have a strong religious connotation for me. I credit that with the fact that I grew up as a Jehovah's Witness and even though I am very much not one now, there seems to be some core beliefs (doctrinal points) and values that stick with me. Okay, in all honesty, not just stick with me but by extension, exclude the inclusion of other things.

Yes, to me, Christmas is more or less a secular holiday, but from my point of view, that diminishes its importance not one bit. Because whether your view be religious or secular or some mixture of both, the Christmas season is a time for family and friends, a time to bring your family close around you and hold them tight, a time to take a break from the insanity that is life and refocus on what is really important.

Yes, I adore the Christmas season.

The only problem is, I can never figure just why, exactly, it has to end.

My Life Story

Canada's Rocket Man

I am currently reading (actually listening to - thank you Audible) "An Astronaut's Guide to Life on Earth: What Going to Space Taught Me about Ingenuity, Determination, and Being Prepared for Anything" by Chris Hadfield. 

It's a really good read listen - generally, I'm not much of a fan of non-fiction but this is one of the few exceptions. I was first taken with Chris (Yes, that's right, we are on a first-name basis. Thanks for asking.) when I saw him briefly on a television news show with Stephen Harper, answering questions from school children. Yeah, Harper, let's just say Chris didn't have that much competition. But still, there was something intriguing about him.

Then I saw this video ** and the rest, as they say, was history.  I was hooked.

 


Now, I must admit that I have never had any particular interest in space travel. Flying fighters, sure, but space travel, not so much.

But I have been wanting to read An Astronaut's Guide to Life for some time now and I am very happy that I have finally gotten around to it. It's an autobiography of sorts but more than just listening to Chris tell his life story (one of the many advantages to audio books - very rarely, the narrator is the actual author and, even more rarely, they make a good narrator), it really does impart a lot of life lessons.

In fact, a little over halfway through the book, I realized that Chris reminded me of someone else I deeply admire. Those who know, know that is high praise indeed. Different countries, for sure, but they had a fair bit in common, even if Lex never made it to space.

And because I aspire to be a giver, here is a nice in-depth (or as in-depth as you can get in 15 minutes) look at Chris and what he does.



Canada's Rocket Man, indeed.

And last, but certainly not least, there is an interesting story here about the Space Oddity video.

Me Like

It kind of speaks for itself, dontchya think? :D

HAPPY BELATED CANADA DAY!!

I hope you and yours enjoyed a great one.

As for me and mine, I am happy to report that Yours Truly managed to not just celebrate our great country and spend some bonding time with my youngest daughter, but I also dotted all my i's and crossed all my t's ... that's right - I finished up the last of the paperwork necessary to finalize the change back to practicing status.

So please welcome my firm, MMC Legal Services, into the big bad world. And spread the word, this particular firm only serves the disability community.

Cross-posted at A Primer on Special Needs and the Law