Archive - March 2012

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Honk, Honk
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Lisa Leftover
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The R-Word
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Bowl Me Over
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As Plain As The Plane On Your Face

Honk, Honk

My husband helped run a March Break Sports Camp, which our son attended. They brought home some truly wonderful father/son memories but also, some weird bronchial virus. A week later Avery caught it. Her soft voice was soon replaced by what we call her “Jazz Singer” voice. My initial fear was that she had Cholera. What? She had been playing in the yard, frolicking and splashing in stagnant pond water. I thought maybe she had ventilated some bacteria. Sigh. I tend to jump to the most extreme circumstances.   It was just a virus. Mind you, a temperature of 105 is something to be taken seriously.  Also, when your child has a seizure disorder, any illness suddenly becomes extra alarming. What if this fever triggers another seizure? What if it’s a big one? These are thoughts that never go away once you’ve experienced the worst.  So whenever Avery is sick, we follow protocol. Daddy ships out of our bedroom and Avery moves in with me, and I assemble the “Medi Ready Over-Night Kit” — a plastic shoebox filled with supplies including: pre-dosed meds (because who can read the dosage in the middle of the night?), pen and paper to write[…]

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Lisa Leftover

Do you ever feel like you’ve taken on too much? With work, or life in general? Of course you do. It’s that universal and elusive quest for work-life-balance. Some days I have it all worked out. My house is clean (relatively, as long as you don’t look closely), there’s food in the fridge and meals planned for the week and I am caught up with work assignments. Some days. Other days, I’m spinning around in circles, wondering how I got myself into this predicament.  My house looks like hell, I’m wearing the same outfit for the third consecutive day, the kids are subsisting on Goldfish crackers and grapes, I haven’t talked to family or certain friends for ages (and they’re highly unimpressed) and I’m burning the midnight oil to meet deadlines. As I cradle my head in my hands I think, “Is this it?” Sure, I’m getting by — there’s a roof over our heads, I’m working from home (because wasn’t that the plan?) and I’m taking care of my family. But to what end? At the end of the day, there’s not much left for me. I’m tired and distracted and may not have left the house (outside of[…]

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The R-Word

  March 7th, 2012  is Spread The Word To End The Word Day, part of a campaign started by The Special Olympics to educate people about the offensive nature of derogatory terms like “retard.”  I signed the pledge and proudly display the badge on my blog. I’ve written about my feelings about the r-word and many others have blogged about it too. It boggles my mind that people (some who I’ve quietly un-friended online) continue to use the word, in jest. It’s not funny.  The r-word is “hate speech.” End of story.  Love that Max (written by Ellen Seidman) is a favourite link on my blog roll. In a recent post, Would You Call My Child A Retard Ellen offers up some of the idiotic comments people have made in defensive of using the word retarded. Unbelievable. In answer to your question, Ellen… ….no. I would not call your child a retard. I would call him Max. And it breaks my heart to think somebody would look at my child and without even knowing her, call her retarded. Her name is Avery. This is Ellen’s video. Please watch. 

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Bowl Me Over

If you’re sticking close to home this March Break, you may be looking for something to do with the kids. May I suggest something a little old school? Bowling baby! Five pin, ten pin, rolling pin, it’s all good. Mind you, you may as well have dropped a bowling ball on my toe the last time we went. Ouch — it’s far more expensive than I remember. So scrounge up a coupon or a Groupon if you can. I worried Avery wouldn’t be able to manage the ball, but I was happy to discover the “ramp.”  An adult safely puts the ball on the ramp. The little bowler pushes the ball down… …and awaits a STRIKE!! Note the sign that reads, “For your safety please do not cross this line.” That’s there for a reason. Avery stepped over the line to chase her bowling ball down the lane. I followed and we both landed flat on our backs. That waxy floor is mighty slippery. You have been warned. Another thing to watch out for is…little hands in the ball retriever. A hand caught between two balls could be crushed! (Yes, I’m aware of the joke to be made there but[…]

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As Plain As The Plane On Your Face

Planes can fly. Real planes. Not metal toy ones. Correction, toy planes DO fly, but not for long. Soon enough they’ll come crashing down. And, if you toss a toy plane directly overhead, chances are it will make a crash landing…on your face. Poor Avery learned this the hard way. The lesson was as plain as the nose on her face. Or in her case, as plain as the plane on her nose. Ouch.

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