Olympic Grey Areas

I've been thinking a lot about the Olympics and how I feel about them.  If you read Olympics for Poets, you will remember that I was contemplating why we privilege sports over other activities - I wondered if we ever put that kind of effort into celebrating our poets, surgeons, or teachers. 

It's not that I'm against the Olympics - it's just that my mind looks at grey areas of life - not the black and white.  So, while I can say, "yes the Olympics seem to be about more than sports - it's an opportunity to put our best foot forward.  To celebrate our national identity, while at the same time honouring all of the other nations involved. The Olympics are a wonderful event that bring together our musicians, poets, fashion designers, artists, reporters and photo journalists, etc. and blah, blah, blah..."I still wonder at how the Province of British Columbia can bounce back from such enormous output of cash.  Will we be feeling the economic repercussions for years to come?  Our schools and classrooms are pretty much stripped down to the bare bones (music programs, teacher-librarian's, reading specialists....gone. I notice this lack of richness when I compare the schools in Manitoba to those in BC.)

Only time will tell what the outcome will be.  For now, I'll try to enjoy the Olympics for what they are, and push these questions to the back of my mind.  I'll try to feel the joy through the eyes of my boys, and the kids at their school. 

Happy Valentine's 2010 to the Blogosphere!

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The Owl and the Pussycat

Have I ever told you how much the poem, "The Owl and the Pussycat" means to me? 

No?  Really?  Okay then, here goes...

I memorized this poem when the big boys were babies, and I'd rock them and I'd whisper it to them as they fell asleep.  I love the pea-green boat (did I mention my father was a sailor?).  I love the owl looking at the stars, playing a small guitar and singing about his love for the pussycat (I taught myself how to play guitar very badly, but it still was fun).  I love the idea of the owl and the pussycat sailing away for a year and a day to the land where the bong tree grows (some days I wish I could do that too).  And I love that at the end of the poem, the unlikely couple danced by the light of the moon (I have yet to do that). 

Then Aidan came along, and the poem helped me cope through the first five terrifying months of his life.  The times when the doctors had us thinking he had liver failure - and they put us on a transplant ward overlooking the crematoriam. Or when they said he probably had necrotizing entero colitis, and he was put in the NICU ward where we had to watch families grieving when their tiny babies did not make it. And then there was the news that he had three holes in his heart, and that we would have to watch him slowly go into heart failure before his surgery could be done. 

I started whispering or singing the poem softly to him during our hospital stays, heart clinic visits, and while he was recovering from his surgery.  When they poked him repeatedly (and on several occasions) trying to find a vein, I pulled the poem out from deep inside me and it gave me strength to hold him. 

The other thing that helped me tremendously had nothing to do with the poem exactly.  Or maybe it does.  Anyhow, I was sitting in the emergency room, completely stressed out.  Aidan in my arms while doctors came and went and scratched out one anothers orders and I couldn't think straight, and I couldn't breath deep enough ...so I finally closed my eyes and imagined my deceased family members standing behind me with their hands on my shoulders. My two grandmothers, my grandfathers, my father, one by one putting their hands on my shoulder.  Each one giving me strength. 

And I felt immediately calm again. 

Olympics for poets?

The Olympics are coming, and all the expense and effort that goes into it made me wonder why we privilege sports over everything else (including education funding, it seems! Aarghh, I'd better not get started.)

Still though, when was the last time that sort of effort was made to show off our nation's poets?
Our top surgeons?
Our greatest Kindergarten teachers?
Our Scrabble champions?

Is there much of a difference between Scrabble and Bob Sledding?  Do they not both require specialized skills?  (please note, this is meant to be a ligth-heart questioning, nothing more.)

A while ago I saw a battered truck in the library parking lot with a sign on it that read:  "2010 Olympics, a disgraceful waste of your tax dollars."  Someone I know and respect very well said that people like that would complain about anything.  She also remarked that the money that is spent on the Olympics would not be used for other causes anyway.  But, I'm not so sure.  I don't know how these things work, and life is too busy to go there right now anyway. 

So, the Olympics are coming.  I think I'll go write a poem about it.   :o)

How did I get so lucky?

That's what I want to know.  I mean look at my three lads - they're adorable if I do say so myself (and I say so . . . perhaps because they slept in this morning and gave me an extra few moments to think).

Back in my mid twenties I lived with my cousin in the woods in Northern Saskatchewan.  She's a teacher, and her husband was a Band Counsellor at the time - helping to build a health center at the Reserve.  They needed a nanny to look after their two little ones until the summer holidays.  I remember Sharon looking at Bethany and Daniel and a look of pure love and wonder would be on her face.  I knew I loved her kids, Bethany and Daniel were amazing little people, who have grown to be amazing young adults, but I didn't feel the depth of wonder that Sharon felt. 

I feel it now.  I look at the faces of my boys in this picture:  I glimpse a bit of the teenager that Liam will grow into.  I glimpse Aidan in his school years, with lots of love and support from his peers.  I see that Kieran is finding his way, and will continue to grow and become an exceptional young man - who might look back at this picture and wonder why he gave a goofy grin.  And I'll tell him that it was a stage he was going through.

And finally, I see James and me behind them every step of the way.

Thanks to my friend Nancy who gifted us with the amazing family portrait at our local Down syndrome society Christmas party.

I can't stop thinking...

I can't stop thinking about Haiti.  My mind goes there as I'm making supper and I think, man, we're lucky to have food right now.  I'm washing the dishes, and I wonder if Haiti has clean drinking water.  I spill coffee down the front of my shirt in the cafe and I tell myself I've got nothing to complain about.  I think of Haiti. Of the devastation, and all the people trying to make sense of their lives and their new situations - all the while in varying states of shock and grief. 

I also think of one person in Haiti right now:  Jesse.  Our cousin.  He works there for the UN - and thankfully was not in the headquarters when the earthquake happened.  He knew something was seriously wrong when he was driving home from work and the road collapsed in front of him.

We heard from his parents that he was okay.  A few days later we got an e-mail from him.  He spent over 40 hours awake in the beginning - 31 of them helping in a triage unit.  Now he's helping with the bodies. 

I e-mailed him:  "you're doing heroes work.... Stay well, it can't be easy". 

But I don't know.  I can't imagine the trauma.  I can't imagine how life will ever be the same after living through something like this.  I just pray that he'll be okay.  And I pray that somewhere in this awful horribleness of destruction, that all of the survivors will be okay.  That they'll have strength and support to rebuild and keep living.

(Jesse kindly gave me permission to post about his experience.   He also set me straight about my facts...amazing how the facts get skewed as the story moves from one person to the next.)

Glasses Day

Well, Kieran got his new glasses today, and he's so proud. They look a little big in this photo - but in real life they look better.



He showed us how he cleans them (which he did about 20 times already), and how neatly they fit into his flip-top glasses case. James and I were quite surprised at how strong the prescription is. Poor kid, we had no idea.



We took Aidan with us as we wanted him to get interested in putting glasses on his face. I have been carrying an order for his glasses around in my purse for over a month. Every time we are near a glasses dispensery we go in and I encourage Aidan to try them on. Today was the furthest we got with him. The young woman working with us was so good with him:


Aidan just loved her. So much in fact that he actually put them on his chin, which is a big improvement from throwing them over his shoulder.

I'm so grateful to this young woman for her help. We didn't order the glasses yet - she invited us to keep coming in until we find the right pair for him, and to help get him comfortable putting them on.

Maybe between Kieran (being so happy and proud with his pair) and this very helpful and friendly professional we'll get him wearing glasses before long.

A mom can hope.