Archive for the ‘This is My Life’ Category

When I was a kid we always had a dog. But my parent always opted for terriers or other small lap dogs.

We longed for a REAL dog. You know. Something big. Something we could play with. Not something that would hide under the couch during a thunder storm.

When our terrier-crossed-with-god-knows-what died, we begged and pleaded to our parents.

“Please, please please, can we get a real dog now??”

A German Shepherd. A Border Collie. Anything that couldn’t be used as a dust mop if you suck a stick up it’s ass.

Then the day came when dad announced he was going to get us a new dog from the pound. A. Real. Dog.

OMG. We were over the moon. Finally!!

We sat by the door waiting and waiting (none to patiently) for him to come home with our new REAL dog.

Dad finally came in and we crowded around him to see what he had brought home.

*silence*

“What the hell is that thing?!”

There in my dad’s hand (it literally fit into his palm) was a shivering rat. Except that’s an insult to rats.

My dad had brought home a chihuahua crossed with a wire hair terrier. What little hair she had stuck up everywhere. She was ugly. And? Dad had a really funny idea of what a real dog was.

We contented ourselves with giving her mohawks and dressing her in my doll clothes, while still waiting for the day we would get a REAL dog.

It was a long wait.

I was in my late 20′s before I finally decided to get a dog of my own.

There was no doubt about what I was going to get.

It was going to be BIG.

Something no one could question was a dog.

And no one can question the fact that my big black hell hound, Spyro, is all dog.

He’s big, he’s loud, he looks like a wolf.

When he smiles at you, he’s all teeth.

I’ve had guys wearing gang colors cross to the other side of the street when I’ve been out walking him in the city (which might have made me laugh out loud).

When he was younger, my brother walked into my house without knocking.  I was upstairs with the dog.  Spyro heard the door and went flying down the stairs and launched himself, half way down, aiming for my brother’s jugular.  Luckily my brother had the presence of mind to say “Hey, Spyro, it’s just me!”.  As soon as Spyro recognized my brother’s voice, he spun, mid leap, to land at my brother’s feet.  Needless to say, my brother knocks before coming in now.

As I laid down in bed last night, Spyro curled up on the floor next to my side of the bed.  I realized that just his presence made me feel safer.

It’s not that he’s some big, bad, attack dog.  But, rather, the fact he looks like he is.  And the fact he can be if he really, really needs to be.

In this case, I’m OK if people judge a book by it’s cover.

Just as long as they don’t see him with his teddy bear.

It’s been my experience that many people who consider themselves ‘parenting experts’ are those who have managed to raise one or or more perfectly normal little children.

It’s rare to hear a parent of a special needs child refer to themselves as an expert in anything.

We quickly learn that what works for ‘most kids’, rarely, if ever, works for ours.

And so we’re left slogging through trying to come up with something, anything that will work.

Because what works today, probably isn’t going to work tomorrow, or an hour from now.

I can’t even begin to communicate the level of frustration that brings.

And yet for the solutions we do find that we manage to make work we are look down on and called out by parenting experts and even other parents.

YES MY CHILD WEARS A BACKPACK LEASH SOMETIMES WHEN WE GO OUT.

According to one of the parenting experts on twitter, this means I’m treating my child like an animal.

*insert tears of frustration here*

Never mind the fact that Vista actually LIKES to wear her backpack.  She often brings it to me and asks to wear it around the house.

Never mind the fact it’s an easy, no fight, solution to walking around busy places with lots of people.

It was suggested I use a ring-sling as a harness.  That would be great for 5, 10, maybe even 15 minutes.  But for a 1 or 2 hour walk with a 45lb Amazon 3yr old? With a child who often can’t bare to hold hands because of the feel of it? A child to whom a gentle guiding hand could cause a complete meltdown because I touched her?  A child who will wonder off and not even consider where mom and dad are?  A child who would walk off with a stranger without a second thought?  Uhhh….yeah….

But I’m treating her like an animal because I put her backpack leash on her.

Well parenting experts, you come spend a day with me.

You go through the 2 – 3 hour battle of the meds in the morning.  These meds are not optional.  She must have them.  Not taking them could result in seizures that could kill her.

You take a child with sensory issues, epilepsy, and other brain issues, for a lovely walk in a crowded place with just a ring sling.  Don’t forget the behind-the-head headphones to help her block out the sounds.  And a package of wipes just in case she accidentally touches something and starts screaming about her fingers being dirty.

Then come home and start battle #2 of the meds.

Now it’s time to fix dinner.  Don’t forget the bowl you serve it in cannot be warm or it’s considered hot and no food will be eaten.

Oh, no, you don’t get to eat dinner too.  No, this is where you sit and help the child with their spoon or fork, because at 3 years old they still aren’t able to manage it.

Now it’s time for battle #3 of the meds.

Tired yet?

Oh well, you still have to give the kid a bath and put her to bed.   Don’t forget that no water can get anywhere near the face or it’ll be an epic meltdown.  Oh, and brushing her teeth will require a specific tooth brush (her choice, it changes daily.  But don’t use the wrong one or…yeah, epic melt down).  Oh, and if you pick the wrong toothpaste?  Then you’ve just extended bedtime by half an hour while you calm her down.

Yeah, good luck with that.

If you make it through the day without ending up in tears yourself, then maybe I’ll consider your advice.

But only maybe.

I was chatting with Karen on Twitter last night when she told me about entering a sponsorship opportunity, hosted by An Island Life and on Barefoot Mommies, for BlogHer.

My jaw dropped at the amount. Energizer is offering $2000 sponsorship for BlogHer expenses. OMG. This is the stuff that dreams are made of!

My first thought was ‘Thanks Karen. Well, here’s another nice mess you’ve gotten me into,” because, of course, now I have to enter it. That’s a lot of money when it comes to a conference on the other side of the continent and in another country. I know there’s no place like home, but who doesn’t want to experience NYC at least once?

So when I woke up this morning, I looked in the mirror and asked myself ‘Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”. Maybe.

But then again, what do I have to lose? I wish I had unlimited everything at my disposal, but it’s not like I’m Bond….James Bond or anything. And in lieu of a sports car with guns in it, $2000 would be awesome.

It would certainly help out more than just me. It’s not like I’m being greedy, even though greed, for lack of a better word, is good. $2000 would cover the room costs and give my three roomies some extra spending money too. Just think of how many martini’s $2K would buy (Shaken, not stirred, of course)

I could also use some of that money to buy a couple of Energizer Smart Chargers.  Because 4 people in a room, + 4 laptops, +4 cameras, + 4 cell phones, + 4 of a lot of other things = a lot of battery power.

But then I realized, Houston, we have a problem. I have to come up with something interesting enough to grab their attention.

I’m not the type to jump up and down on a couch screaming ‘show me the money!‘

I really don’t have any special amazing talents. It’s not like I see dead people (that’s Vista’s forte).

I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

So, I’m really hoping An Island Life and on Barefoot Mommies read this post and immediately think “You had me at ‘hello’”.

But even if I don’t win, we’ll always have Paris NYC

**I’ve hate asking you guys to retweet anything for me, but I’m asking now, cause, OMG, $2000!  Could you let Kailani and BarefootMomma know that they should pick me for one of the sponsorship opportunities and use the hashtag #energizer?  I’ll love you forever!  xoxo**

I just realized I haven’t posted in over a week.   I guess that’s what happens when everyone decides they want new blog designs for BlogHer.   Keeps me busy and out of trouble, but also off my own blog.

And it give me some up close and personal time with my Photoshop.

I have to say it’s probably my most favorite application on my entire computer.  I would cry, like seriously sob, if I ever had to give it up.

It’s an addicting application though.  Dangerously addicting.  There are so many little plugins and actions and brushes available for free on the internet.  It’s hard not to want them all.

My biggest downfall, though, is fonts.

I am a font whore.

There.  I said it.  Now my dirty little secret is out.

I have way too many fonts on my laptop.  It currently sits at 1,623.

That’s down from about 2,300 after I cleaned house and dumped a bunch of fonts that just didn’t tickle my fancy anymore.

Sometimes I’ll spend hours looking for the perfect font for a design.  And half the time I can’t find it in my 1,600+ fonts so I go download new ones.

I’m all about the free fonts on dafont.com

I drool over the font newsletter I get from MyFonts.com

Seriously.  I have issues.

When you spend so much time pouring over the perfect font you start learning things about them.

Like that it’s hard to find a font with a really nice capital K.  (I’m partial to Bickham Script Fancy 2 for that … I used it for Kim’s signature for her BlogHer at Home posts *cough* link NSFW (not safe for work) *cough*

Like how in a lot of script fonts the lower case L’s look like cursive B’s.

Like how so many fonts have flawed letter combinations.

Then there’s fonts that I love but doubt I’ll ever actually find a design I can use it in.  Like Fantastic Pete and Jellyka Castle’s Queen.

Yes, decorative fonts are my special weakness.

My ultimate search, though, has been for the perfect cursive font.  It’s a search that’s taken years and more hours than I’m willing to admit that I’ve wasted looking at different fonts.

Maybe I’ll add it to my bucket list.   Along with ‘Find the perfect decorative font for a tattoo of V’s name on my wrist’.

What?  Doesn’t everyone add fonts to their bucket list??

What fonts am I missing?  What’s your must have design font?  The one you just can’t live with out?  I need to know so I can go download it and feed my obsession.

I’m a total emotional eater.

I love my sinful indulgences.

Skittles are a simple pleasure.

Chocolates from Bernard Callebaut are heaven.

Crave cupcakes are a peaceful reprieve to my chaotic life.

My mom’s chocolate chip cookies take me back to the innocence of my youth (and we won’t talk about the Nanimo bars she makes at Christmas).

Basically?  I’m never going to lose weight until I lose this sweet tooth… or they start making Crown Royal calorie free.

There are some days when a regular cup of coffee is just not enough.

Days when Vista decides to get up at 4am would be a prime example of this.

Rather than get in the truck and drive all the way to the next town to get a Starbucks (because, let’s be honest – I’m too lazy and Starbucks isn’t open at 4am), I resort to a glass of Ca phe sua da. Also known as Vietnamese iced coffee.

Only problem is – I don’t have the nice little setup to brew it the traditional way.  So at home I  resort to:

Jenn’s Ghetto Vietnamese Iced Coffee

• Make some espresso.  Or a pot of really strong coffee.  Or go super ghetto (like me at 4am) and just make double strength instant coffee.
• Put about 2 tablespoons (or more if you like it sweeter) of sweetened condensed milk (NOT evaporated milk.  You need the sweet thick stuff) into a glass.
• Add a little bit of your coffee to the milk just to dissolve it a bit.
• Fill the glass with ice cubes.
• Pour the rest of your coffee over the ice cubes.
• Stir and enjoy.
• Make it through the day sane.

You’re welcome.

While Vista napped this afternoon, I sat in my favorite chair in the living room, surrounded by a sea of scattered toys, jotting down updates and notes in her Care Notebook.

Next month will be her third birthday.

Three years of test results, assessments, letters from doctors, and all her Early Intervention visit records sit in this binder.

I have pages full of names and numbers for doctors, nurses, and therapists of all kinds. Lists of things to ask and review with her pediatrician at our appointment tomorrow.

It has been a hard fought battle to get where we are today.

But I finally feel like we are in a good place.

A place where we’re being heard.

A place where Vista is getting the support she needs.

When I noticed she woke up again with tremors, something she hasn’t had since starting her anti-seizure meds, I was able to place a phone call to her neurologists office, discuss it with them, and get her meds adjusted over the phone.

Thursday I’ll be attending a parent orientation session for a 9 week preschool child development treatment program that Vista’s been accepted into.  This will give us access to an Occupational Therapist, a Speech Language Pathologist, a Physiotherapist, a Child Psychologist, and a Social Worker, on a weekly basis.  These people will work with Vista and give her, and us, the tools we need to help Vista with some of her sensory and behaviour issues.

We’ll be working with this team and with Vista’s doctors to try and qualify for government funding so Vista can have an aide to help her at school.  She may qualify on a medical diagnosis because of her seizures, but that’s going to be a wait and see game.  I’m hoping it’ll go through, so she can go to preschool a few days a week in the fall.

And thanks to the wonderful people at the Calgary Cerebral Palsy Association, Vista now has a bike to ride this summer.  It’s wonderful to see her be able to do some of the peddling on her own as she squeals “Look at me, Mommy!  Look at me!”

I’m looking, baby girl, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come.

This morning started off nice and leisurely.

Vista got up, I made her breakfast, had a coffee. We were just kicking back.

I pulled up the weather site. Checked the temperatures. Cool. Hmmm… well, maybe if I bundled her up and threw her in the stroller we could go for a walk, since I’ve been saying for the last 6 months 2 months couple weeks that I was going to get out and start exercising.  Then I could have my shower once we get back while Vista’s having a snack.

My nice little plan was starting to take shape – then the unthinkable happened – the phone rang.

I know?  Who the hell calls at 8:45am?  Even if they do know I’ll be up.  Even if it is a weekday.  Still.

Jenn:  Hello *sounding a tad irritated*

Cindy:  Oh hi Jenn, it’s Cindy.  We have a 9am appointment for Vista and I just wanted to make sure we were still on.

Jenn:  Oh of course!  Come on over.  We’re ready and waiting!

Cindy:  Alright, see you in a few minutes!

I looked around at the living room, that hadn’t been vacuumed in two days, scattered with toys.  Glanced to where Vista was sitting, still in her pajamas, hair not combed.  Realized that I was wearing ratty house clothes, I hadn’t showered, teeth weren’t brushed, had an epic case of bed head and a ginormous zit had taken up residence on my chin.

And Vista’s early intervention worker was going to be here in 15 minutes to work with her.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiit.

I sprinted down the hall and grabbed the vacuum and did a 10 second tidy of the living room and hallway.

Grabbed some clothes out of Vistas drawers (matching is for pussies.  And if Cindy says anything I’ll say V picked out the outfit.  Yes.  I’ll LIE).  Threw them on the girl who was still sitting there watching me, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.  Her hair.  Oh geeze.  Thank goodness she’s obsessed with hats.  Grabbed one and threw it at her as I sprinted down the hall to my bedroom.

I cursed the fact that, of all days, I had to pick today to forget to check my calendar.  Then made a mental note to thank Bil for throwing on a load of laundry, so I at least had clean clothes and made the mad dash into the bathroom.  Blow dryer in one hand, toothbrush in the other.  I realized I’m not that coordinated when I just about ended up with toothpaste in my hair.

I gave up on both and resorted to copious amounts of styling product and hairspray, and a good rinse with mouthwash.

Check the clock.  2minutes.  Crud.

I critically examined the zit that was attempting to become a micronation.  Grabbed the cover-up and did what I could.

Looked at the rest of my makeup… another glance at the clock.  Dammit… guess I’m going au natural.

Ran out to the living room and got Vista to help me herd the animals outside.  She’s giggling hysterically thinking this is great fun.  Yeah….laugh it up chuckles… just you wait til you have kids…oh gawd…I’m becoming my mother…

Try to get around Vista who’s meandering back to the living room.  Gave up and ran the other way around the kitchen island, jumped the steps down to the front door, and pulled it open as Cindy was coming up the walk.

I pasted a big smile on my face and welcomed her in while calculating in my head how many calories I just burned, because, really?  I think I deserve an award… made of chocolate.

Raise your hand if 99% of the doctors appointment you’ve been to since having kids have been for them.

I’m totally guilty of this. I spend at least a portion of each week running to this appointment or that therapy session for Vista. And I would never, ever, ever forget her nightly meds.

But when it comes to doctors appointments for myself, or even remember to take my daily dose of happy, it sort of falls into the ‘I’ll get to that eventually pile’.

I’ve had a doctors visit on my to-do list for the past two-and-a-half years. It just hasn’t been that big a priority. It’s not like I was dying or anything. I simply am getting headaches and migraines more often. It’s been like that since I first got pregnant with Vista. But, in the grand scheme of things, it just wasn’t life altering enough to actually bother with the hassle of organizing a visit to the doctor for myself.

The past few month have been worse, so I finally got my act together and made an appointment.

Sitting in the office today, I felt sort of silly whining about headaches. I mean, really? But he nodded, raised an eyebrow when I mentioned how persistent they were and the occasional dizzy spell. He whipped out the handy-dandy blood pressure cuff and took a reading, and then a second one…. and a third one to confirm the first two. 150 over 90. That? Is not good. And that would probably explain the headaches.

I used to have perfect 120/80 pressure. But once I got pregnant with Vista, my blood pressure started creeping up. The day I finally went into labor it hit 160/115.

But after I had her, I got busy with new baby stuff. And there just didn’t seem to be time for anything else.

I’m realizing now I should have made the time. And I know most parents are guilty of that. We neglect ourselves in favor of our children.

So, I walked out of the doctors today with a prescription for blood pressure meds, two prescriptions for migraine meds, and a lab requisition form with almost every other box checked off. Evidently my doctor thinks draining every last drop of blood from my body will somehow help things.

But I will give him points for being thorough. He wants to make sure there’s nothing else I’ve neglected. So I’m getting the full panel – Electrolytes, glucose, cholesterol, vitamin B12, vitamin D, thyroid, protein, and a bunch of others I have no idea what they are for. Oh, and a bonus ECG, just for the fun of it.

I think we need to remind ourselves every once in a while that our own health is just as important as our kids. It doesn’t help them if we leave things too long and end up sick ourselves. So the next time you think ‘Oh…I’ll get to it…eventually…”, just go do it. That’s the voice of personal experience speaking.

People who know me in passing seem to have this image of me as a bit of a wild child.  And while I can be when the occasion calls for it, I’m much more likely to be found curled up with a book or crafting when I’m not catering to Vista’s every whim.

But this weekend, I’m taking off for a girls scrapbooking weekend.

I know a lot of people are cringing at the thought of spending 3 days laying out pages, cropping pictures, and adding embellishments, but for me it sounds like heaven.

It appeals to my inner Martha Stewart.

I did offer to Bil this morning to cancel my trip, since Vista is sick right now, and it can be a lot to deal with a coughing, puking child on your own.  But he’s told me to go, so I’m going to take him at his word and enjoy myself.

Enjoy not having to wake up at 4:30 am with my early bird 2yr old.

Enjoy being able to relax and put my feet up.

Enjoy having someone else cook the meals all weekend.

This will also be a good test run for my NYC trip this summer, as this will be the first time I’m away from V for more than one night (trying very hard not to hyperventilate just from writing that).

I know she’ll be fine with Daddy, and he’s hands on enough that I don’t feel I have to leave a list of ‘to-dos’ for him.  He knows her medication schedule and how to give her the inhalers. And really, other than that, she’s a pretty easy kid.

So I’m going to go, enjoy some adult conversation, maybe have a drink or three, and scrapbook my little heart out.