Eight is enough.

My favorite number is 13. But 8 seems to be a recurring theme just the same.

There were 8 specialists in the room when Noah was born...NICU nurses, pediatricians etc. Cause "somebody" wasn't so keen on all this 'breathing & pinking up' business that is just a basic requirement of becoming a low-level functionning member of the human race. I imagine now that it was just a little too much effort for him to be disturbed from his repose. Having finally decided to intake air, he went directly to food & pretty much has kept up the same eat-sleep-eat pattern since. Oh no, I forgot..first he urinated on the one who gave him the sternal rub (if you've never had one of those, trust me, it's worthy of pee.)

There were also 8 members of the OR staff (that we met) when Hannah had her first surgery, the pediatric urologist, his chief fellow, his resident, 2 anestetists, urology nurses...There were also students in the background cause it was a rare learning experience.

Today though, I was surprised at Isaac's Transitition to High School meeting. They really got it all together. 8. Each a 'specialist' in their own field of education, social services, special care councilling, resource...they really pulled out all the stops. And I must say, by meeting's end, I felt very confident that Isaac's high school experience was going to be a positive one with all the support & care available. Yes, if what I understand to be correct, Isaac will be the first autistic child to attend this high school...or at least the first "high functionning". I got the feeling from educators that he is very well understood & greatly appreciated, both for his abilities and his difficulties. The high school staff seem to want no less than to accomodate him while integrating him without singling him out.

So greatly do I appreciate everyone that took the time to attend to this meeting, be prepared and informed and at quite probably THE most difficult time of the year for all of them (as well as for us). Thank you all so much.

"We" also are eight. I know to this day that my siblings feel as I do. Ramona being gone, does not make us, nor ever has, seven. We are eight. 8 is a good number, it's nice and round & cuddly and it has no sharp edges to poke out an eye.

Quote of the day: (After 8 kids in 11 years) "Well we originally planned on 12, but then eight seemed to be enough" - My Mom.

Moving, Job Search, Shaking, Bears.

Today I got the nicest compliment in an email from a friend on his opinion of how i've done raising my kids, but I really can't accept total credit. They just sort of came to me already great and I was just left to allow them to learn. Having said that, it's still good to hear and something to keep in my files for evenings when I want Calgon to take me away !

Noah went for a job application at the guitar factory today and thought I was going with him. ( I gather he believed it a milestone to be shared) "well it's my first application, aren't you coming with me?" I said "No, I really don't think that potential employers would have a confident feeling about someone with 'Mommy' in tow." Unfortunately, as it turns out they aren't hiring students this year... Next year he'll go try again.

Instead, he's going to put his name in for that 911 camp at least. If he doesn't come up with a job, this camp is a great chance to explore a career in emergency services. Even if he never decides to go that route, having training in things like CPR is a good idea. I wish they took adults, I could use some refreshing !

Many people claim to have dust bunnies under their beds. I can honestly say that I didn't find any under Isaac's bed, probably because they had been frightened away by the dust BEARS! Grizzly situation. Pun intended. I will be very happy for the children's new beds once they are installed because I can't lift the ones they have here & I can't get the vacuum under them, so the choices are (in the past, ask for help) or push, pull,  shove & risk scratching the floor. The new beds will be great! But the little stick figure guy in the IKEA directions is standing alone with a sad and dismayed expression and  a big slash over frame one. In the next strip, there are 2 little stick figures with huge grins and a check mark. I take that to mean one of two things. Either the dude in the first drawing has no friends and no allen keys OR that they are suggesting this not be undertaken by one person (or stick figure, which in either case describes me) 

I really don't feel like i've gotten anywhere near packing enough yet, but I chalk that up to things always being worse before they get better. Still 2 full weeks but so many appointments this week and Isaac's grade 6 graduation that I expect it will only feel real and organized next week. It's a little bit intimidating sorting and packing through 24 years of accumulation, mostly because I am purging a lot of 'stuff' I'll leave much of the 'things' in favour of the people who mean the most to me in this world.

As for the shaking, well I just should not have had that 21/2 cups of coffee this morning.

Staff beats Staph any day.

First of all, much thanks to my sister & niece for coming to pick up the kids and treat them to supper at the cantine while I was in a meeting Friday night. (They could have stayed here under Noah's surveillance, but it was a nice time for them). Much appreciation, Brenda & Amanda, next time, you'll have to accept the money I left ! The kids very much enjoy the time spent with you all. I must admit that it gives me great comfort to know that extended family love my children as I do theirs.

Hannah deserves kudos for volunteering not only at the set- up Friday afternoon for the school's bazaar, but also for working the entire 8 hours on Saturday selling items for her class table. When I picked her up at 4:00, her teacher said what a great worker she was, and how she dickered & bartered. (that's my girl ! )  She also won a baseball cap in the drawing. I won nothing. But unknown to me, she attended with cash in hand, so she also purchased *sigh* an enormous stuffed Yeti..& 2 pair of shoes. She wore the white heels ("I disinfected them Mom") to supper last night with her father...even put on a dress and came to me asking how I felt about white heels with a black dress. I told her, better go with the black & silver flats..but she wanted the 'click' of the heels. Hey, I was 11 once , so I get that. She'd draped her sweater over her arm in such a ladylike manner that I wasn't to fuss over white shoes with black dress.

Meanwhile, during her volunteering, her Dad went over to say Hi, and came back here afterward to continue his objectives, laughing. Told me how proudly Hannah held up her tag "Look Dad, I am 'Staff' " :D

When I picked her up, it was not beyond my notice that all the children who helped had their credentials slung by a string around their necks, but Hannah had clipped her's to her front jeans pocket.

 Keep on banging to a different drummer Hannah-Banana/Hollywood. Blue tartan pleated skirt, jean jacket, purple tuque, red leggings, one blue striped glove & one plain grey.

Have I mentionned that she's recently changed her long-held career choice from Urology to Fashion design?  Hats might be making a comeback, ladies. Scarves as belts certainly will be. Interestingly enough, my late Aunt Sunny was a fashion designer & both she & my mother were models for a brief period. My mother more on a Channel line, Sunny was actually one of the poster girls for RAF recruitment during WW2. I'd love to have one of those posters ! Cliff told me he remembered one hanging in Gunter's & believed it perhaps to be in the attic, but it proved to not be there.

I'm not a bacteriaphobe, but i'm careful & glad that the children understand to also be careful. Cause being staff certainly beats a staphlyococcus infection.

Mothers.

My children never knew my mother (Grammy) in a physical sense, she'd passed away from ovarian cancer 4 + years before even Noah's birth. Nor did they truly know my mother in law (Grandmama) although Noah has memories of her, they were very young when breast cancer took away their only remaining grandmother.

 I used to bring the kids every year to my own mother's grave. I'd spend some time pruning the rose bushes my brother planted, tidy up the area, chase the kids when they wandered too far...spend some time wandering myself, looking at the oldest stones.

A few years ago though, I just stood shivering in a late spring snow, the infamous Melbourne Ridge wind blowing down across the hill toward the St. Francis valley. There I stood. Staring at a piece of granite with "Amazing Grace" chiselled at the top. Her name below. Dates. A lifetime of existence carved precisely in stone with really nothing to say.

I took a good look around at my own children and how they felt about this tradition. What I saw was a lack of interest in some for stones and grass and fences. In another, what I understood was a concern for not causing upset to me. Then I turned back to the grave and what I saw was a stone, some plantings, some grass. And I understood. She's not here. She lives inside me, she lives in the stories I tell my children.

Since that day, I have continued the other tradition that I hold with my kids. I rejoice in having been given the opportunity to raise and hopefully release onto society 3 well-rounded independant adults. I pay special attention to make a great meal. I WILL & do wear my macaroni necklaces and dolphin bracelets. And I, to the utter delight of my children, tell stories of both their grandmothers and of my Nanny.

"More Mom, tell us about the time that Nanny saw her brother through the window... no-no tell us that sad story about the sleigh lady who came to tell Grammy that her brother died in Japan..it's my turn!! Tell us about the quilts...And who was the BEST at doing jigsaws? Grand-mama! And did Grand-mama ever scare the skin off you when she played hide & seek in the shower and you went in to go pee! Did Grand-mama hurt, Mom? Did Grammy hurt? Which one was the best knitter who never dropped a stitch? Grammy. Who taught you how to pick up a dropped stitch? Grand-mama. Who taught you to embroider? Nanny. Which one again was the pie lady? Who laughed like an owl? Why are my eyes blue & theirs are brown? Where in England or Scotland ? Are you going to leave your recipe box to me in the will? Am I dying soon? "

 ad infinitum.

Never tell me that children don't enjoy history.

And THAT is where our mothers live.

Quote of the Day:  I'd like to come up with something witty and interesting but it's just not coming to me so i'll stick with my standard "I still have many years left to entirely screw it all up. It will be a success to do something so wrong, so right."

I don't know, but let's find out.

This is to honour every teacher, parent, mentor or meaningful adult who ever told a child that their questions weren't stupid.

I had such a teacher in high school, Nick. He remains a great friend of mine to this day. First teacher ever to tell me that my natural inquisitiveness was a quality rather than an annoyance.

Sometimes things pop into my head, or someone asks me a question and I can't rest until I know. The entire Encyclopedia Britanica used to be housed in my bedroom but it was much to search through.

One that bothered me for months was " There is a plane flying over when a volcano erupts & it is heard on the plane. If you are flying the speed of sound over an area where a siasmic event occurs that is heard 100 miles away, will you hear that for 100 miles?"

But, I like tapioca. So one day I asked my mother what tapioca WAS? Like seriously what IS tapioca? She said wow, well, I think it's a starch?? Look at the box.

I looked at the box and it said , Ingredients: Tapioca.

Pissed me off royally, I couldn't find one person who knew what Tapioca was...Enter the internet, stage Wisconsin, (Brand spanking new) at our brand spanking new company. Dispatcher guy bragging that " I can find out anything about anything in the world, right here just by typing in this box"

So up I piped with "Okay, what is Tapioca?" And he just froze. He was like wow?! What IS Tapioca? Then he typed it in & VOILA! 

Today the "What is Tapioca Crown 2011" goes to Hannah, for asking me "What is Iodine"

I tell my kids they are always free to ask questions and if I don't know (which I often don't) I say "I don't know, but let's find out"

I often hear parents complain that parenting is a thankless job, that it isn't rewarded. Sometimes I also get frustrated, I admit. It certainly isn't a renumerated employment if you use a monetary scale.

Parenting rewards come through our children's successes, their achievments and sometimes you get the most heart-swelling instant rewards. I got one of those today.
Was telling the kids about a friend's experience with her son which made me giggle. As it happens, this friend's son is also named Isaac and is the same age as our Isaac and also has autism.

Noah asked me about the friend, if she was also similar to me in any way?

I said " No, no clearly she is nothing like me, she's educated and is an artist, while I am not artistic."

Noah said "Well Mom. You paint with words. So ya, you are an artist."

Need I say how flattered I was by such a statement?
That and their accomplishments are all the salary I need to make any sacrifice worthwhile.

Something to call to mind when they are bickering and driving me bonkers.

Now you see it, now you don't.

I feed whole peanuts to the blue jays in winter. Every morning I open the office window and put a few on the sill and within minutes they're gone. If I forget, the  jays come to the kitchen window and yell "hey, hey" at me.

So last week I figured I'll put out the last all in one shot--picked up the bag and lo & behold it was lighter than the day before..looked the bag over and found it had 2 holes chewed in it...uh-oh.

Last evening I was sitting reading in my solarium and a movement caught my eye. Sure enough, a mouse scuttled behind my philodendron. I called Hannah to come see.."look behind that plant" She moved the pot slightly and out runs Mickey. He ran under the heat register. I jumped into the kitchen, grabbed a plastic container and waited at the other end of the heater, Hannah shooed him from her end and he ran right into the container and right back out again, into the dining room and behind the china cabinet. By then we'd drawn a crowd.

Noah kneeling in front of the cabinet, Isaac standing back a few feet.
Again Hannah shooed him out and he ran again directly into my container, I slapped my clog on top quickly but it was too small and he jumped out of the only tiny space..right to the floor and right under Noah, well...HE JUMPED AND SQUEALED LIKE A GIRL !

Our furry little friend ran across the floor and behind the piano, marvelous, the only 500 lb piece of furniture in the room!

Meanwhile Noah's asking me," what are you gonna do with him Mom if you catch him?"

"I'm going to flush him down the toilet"

Well can you imagine the fuss? "Oh no you're not, there is no way i'll let you do that i'll catch him myself and put him outside, better he freeze or starve than to suffer a death by drowning, that's the worst way in the world to die"

So Mahatma goes in the basement and gets himself some work gloves.

I manage to push the piano a foot away from the wall, making a lovely scratch on the floor , grr. I say to Noah, "look, see his tail peeking out? grab him by his tail"

The movement makes Mickey turn and high tail it right straight into my container and right back out again. Then he disappears.

Hannah and I took advantage of the chance to dust and vacuum behind the piano.

This morning there is one dead mouse in the trap *insert smiley face here* but he must be disposed of before Gandhi is up. By the way afterward he claimed not to have screamed.  Isaac said "yeah you did, screamed like a girl." Noah said, well he ran over my bare foot. *shiver*

My Mom: You never have one mouse. If you have one mouse you have many.