You've got Mail

The mail comes every day at noon.

What does that matter? You ask – well it doesn’t if you don’t live on our street, I suppose.

But it’s comforting to know that sometimes things run on schedule. Especially now.

So by 1300 I’m checking the mail. What else have I got to do?

Today there’s a package card. I’m not expecting a package.

After the deployment coffee break I head to the post office.

The trip into the post office is fast. Partly because I’ve got a lead foot and partly because I’m excited – the kind of little-kid-on-Christmas-Eve excited. Because I think I know who sent the package!

I’m an avid E-Bayer so the lady at the post office knows me. And she hands me this monster huge package. It must weigh 30 pounds and I can’t get my arms around it.

But it’s from Reid RT and my heart skips.

Getting it from the car to the house is a challenge. I’m half swearing about the size and weight of the package and scared to death I’ll drop it and break it so it’s a slow walk up the stone steps.

Panting by the time I get to the door I wedge it between me and the doorframe to rest my arms. What in the world is in this, rocks?

I half stagger into the kitchen and put it on the table with a thump. It looks even bigger here.

I check the clock. Sigh – not enough time to open it – I have to get the kids washed and jammied and into bed.

An hour later and it’s just me. I sit – staring at the box as if it’s the answer to some eternal riddle.

Scissors, a knife and a few cut knuckles later and the treasures are in front of me. Beautiful things. Colourful pashminas, a marble tea set, a marble chess set. He knows me so well that everything is perfect. As if I had been there with him to choose it.

I hope he calls tomorrow. Day 62

Finding Pollyanna

I’m a horrible parent.

Before you say “don’t be silly” - hear me out.

I’ve always felt like a horrible parent.

I think it started when Kate was diagnosed. I felt like I could have or should have done something to prevent her Autism. I know that’s foolish. My head tells me it’s foolish. My heart – well my heart tells me something else.

It wasn’t until I had Liam that I had proof that I’m actually a pretty decent mom. Parenting a child with special needs and one with normal needs is a completely different experience. Doing both together….well….that’s why I’ve got grey hair.

After going through all of the medical emergencies that come with a child with Autism, Cerebral Palsy and Epilepsy a little blood or scrapes doesn’t even rate on the Louise-stress-o-meter.

So when Liam comes in with a huge scrape and bruise on his belly from flipping over the handle bars on his bike I am unflappable. I clean up the scrape and put a dressing on it, give him some chewable Motrin, rock him a bit and put him to bed.

Several times in the night I hear him get up to use the washroom – nothing new. But early in the morning I hear him being sick. When I go to see what’s happening I’m gob smacked by his pallor. He’s the colour of cold oatmeal.

“Damn, damn, damn” I think. “I should have brought him to Emerge to be checked last night, Rick would have insisted we get him checked last night. I check the clock – 0815 – emerge is open – let’s go.”

Katie is actually compliant to get washed and dressed – a novelty. Liam goes like he is in a grey tee and pirate jammie bottoms.

We get right in – no waiting. My stomach is tied in knots. The doctor orders blood work. Directly under his injury is his liver. They think it’s in trouble. The room grows fuzzy as tears spring into my eyes. This is my baby.

Blood work then x-rays. Kate is hungry and is starting to get antsy sitting around doing nothing. If this is going to take long or if they admit him – what am I supposed to do? I can’t leave him in the hospital alone and I can’t leave her either.

My mind spins. I pick up the phone and call my friend. She’s on her way. I look at my oatmeal coloured boy on the hospital gurney and try not to cry.

I wish Rick was here. I am so horrible in these situations. He’s the better parent. He’s the calm one. He’s the one who wouldn’t be standing here bawling in the middle of the triage area.

Just as my friend arrives we’re transferred from Oromocto to Fredericton. They’re aware we’re coming and the surgeon will meet us there. My heart sinks. A surgeon.

My friend takes one look at my face and decides to accompany us to Fredericton. For the billionth time I thank God for that French Course.

A rat maze of rooms and checking in leads us to the ultrasound area. Liam is crying as she moves the gel-covered wand over his belly. I let him play with my hair and I use the singsong shushing thing that used to work on him when he was a baby. My nerves are frayed as I search the alien like grey pictures for damage – as if I’d know if I saw it.

Kate dumps a red Gatorade onto the floor in the waiting area. She’s had enough and wants my attention. I can’t be in both places.

His liver is bruised but here appears to be no further damage. The surgeon gives us the green light to go home along with a warning, if he starts passing blood to bring him back immediately.

The drive home is a blur – I don’t know if I’ve ever felt such relief.

Relieved for his diagnosis. Relieved for the discharge. Relieved that I have a support system of friends that can and will help me in times of need.

Maybe this is my Pollyanna time.

Day 57.

Strapping it On....

Thanksgiving.

I wasn’t prepared to feel this lonely today.

Usually I’ve got a house full of people laughing, playing cards, cooking, eating and yelling to be heard over each other. This year…..well this year I don’t.

I started the day determined to make it as special as possible. As the kids eat their cereal I make apple pies. I realize I’m concentrating too hard on blocking out my feelings when Liam yells at me “Mom! Look at me, will ya?” From his tone I guess he’s been calling to me for a while.

I don’t dare look in his direction. The tears are still welled up in my eyes. I’m thinking of the times when holidays meant our family crossed the street and celebrated together.

But home now is where the army sends us. I don’t even know my neighbours.

“Strap it on, woman”, I think. “They can’t see you like this.”

“Yeah Buddy, what do you need?” I respond.

“Will Daddy have turkey and pie in Ganistan?” It’s the closest he can come to saying the name of the country.

“I think so, Dude.”

“That’s good.”

The dog noses the back of my knee. I can still smell the faint whiff of skunk. I sigh. I hope the smell doesn’t spoil the turkey dinner.

Turkey. For me and two kids. The dogs are going to eat well tonight.

The pies are done. Crust crispy and golden. I don’t have my mother’s knack – but they’re passable.

I try to pull a Pollyanna – think about the positives. It’s harder than I thought.

I reach for the phone and then decide I don’t want to drag down anyone’s mood and set it back it its cradle.

It scares me that I feel like this on Thanksgiving. Especially in the daytime. Especially when I’m busy.

If I feel like this now – how am I supposed to make it through Christmas? Day 52.

Lead, Follow or Get Out of the Way!

I’m at a loss.

I know I’m going to do it – but to who? Who do I trust?

Who do I trust with everything?

Usually Rick and I would sit and discuss anything this important. We debate – (a polite way to say we argue loudly) the pros and cons of the issues and come to some sort of consensus and stick to that plan.

This time the whole thing seems both more monumental and more insignificant than anything before. Monumental because Rick’s life, not just his livelihood, is on the line this time and insignificant because of the choices themselves.

I’ve watched, with varying degrees of amusement and annoyance, the mudslinging between the parties. But I’ve yet to see one genuine sliver of real emotion from any of them.

They’re political Milli Vanillis. Mouthing what they think we want to hear. Looking us in the eye and making promises while keeping their fingers crossed behind their backs. It’s mentally exhausting to watch them carrying favour with the special interest groups.

Harper lost my respect last spring with the “retirement” of Canada’s top soldier. I guess Steve couldn’t take the fact that there was a real leader in his midst.

Dion never had it. He comes across as one of those people who would wring their hands in the face of a crisis instead of forging through. As far as I’m concerned it’ll take the Liberals a long time to recover from his proposed Carbon Tax. I’m from a place where two income families had to go to food banks last winter because they couldn’t afford the heating fuel for their homes and he wants to add a tax to that???

I like Layton’s social policies. Hate his stance on the military. Maybe if I smoked more marijuana in college….

And May? Well, I think the environment is important too – but not more important than people.

So where does that leave me? In a perfect world I’d use genetic splicing - I’d smash May and Layton together and use Rick Hiller for glue – maybe then we’d have someone worth voting for.

One of my husband’s favourite quotes is “it’s better to die for something than to live for nothing.” A brave statement from a brave soldier. I just hope whoever wins next week can appreciate the fact that there are people from this country willing to do whatever they’re asked by the people who spent the last month accusing each other of plagiarism, heavy handedness, stupidity and more.
Pony up boys and girls. You’ve got my husband’s life in your hands. Day 49.

Welcome to the Madness

It’s been a busy week.

Well, I’ve been on the go a lot – can’t really say I’ve accomplished much.

Things seem to be happening for the better. I’ve got that anticipatory feeling that you almost don’t want to breathe for fear that it’ll disappear.

The MFRC came through, thanks Shelly, and the home care company is sending over a lady to meet us.

I’ve cleaned the house twice. I know I’m not supposed to be this nervous. If she doesn’t work out they’ll send someone else. But it’s always like this when I meet someone who is going to work with Kate.

I brush her hair and whisper to her about who’s coming and what they’re going to be doing here. I pray she doesn’t act out. I don’t know why I always feel like we’re going to be rejected when it comes to things like this. My stomach is doing flips. Please like us.

Kate squeals from her perch staring out the window. She’s here. Liam makes it to the door before I do. Terra and Scrunch run past his legs. I run to call them back. I hope she’s not afraid.

Dogs barking, me yelling at one, Liam yelling at the other, Kate squealing – oh yeah we’re making a great impression. “Please see through this madness,” I think in her general direction. “We’re really not that bad.”

Kate takes to her right away. She holds her hand and brings her some things. She even hides her purse. One issue out of the way. Kate likes her. I was worried about that, because Kate is a person who either likes you or she doesn’t. And if she doesn’t – then watch out!

We talk about expectations, availabilities, cancellation policies, and I’m watching. Watching for the fear that so many people have shown when Katie is near. If she exhibits fear then she’s not the one for us.

I used to only be able to see the fear in children. But since Katie has grown I now see it in adults and it saddens me.

It’s not there! I expel a long breath. Issue two – check.

I’ve not had respite for so long that when she asked me about schedules I look at her dumbfounded, madly scrambling to come up with somewhere to go, something to do. I guess it really has been a long time since I had time to myself.

We’ve decided that she’ll come on Tuesdays. That way I can go to deployment coffee breaks, or shopping, or to see my friends. Is it wrong to be this excited about two hours to myself?

I can’t wait to tell Rick. I can’t wait for next Tuesday. Day 42.