Bully 2

 

     When I was a young girl and someone did and/or said something unpleasant to me, I was instructed by my parents to ignore the someone; my folks said that they would eventually tire of the lack of reaction from me and move on. It is the very same advice that I gave to my girls when they encountered unpleasant someones of their own. Subsequently it seemed that they were accused of leaving the bully out, of making them feel unwelcome. Wasn't that the point?  And let me be clear: I did not ask them to retaliate, or to be rude in any way. My husband and I gave the same advice: Smile, say hello and keep walking. Do we now reward bad behaviour by continuing to include the bully in our relationships regardless of the fact that this person is foul-mouthed, rude and lacking in even the most basic of social graces? Are the rights of the one now more important than the rights of the many?
     We are familiar with bullying. Our extraordinary-needs daughter encountered it in elementary school; my husband and I have had our own experiences both as children and adults. We have all been told that one of the reason bullies are bullies is that they have been bullied themselves. This may well be true but it does not let bullies off of the hook. They are responsible for their own behaviour and should therefore understand that other people may not want to spend time with them. And this is not just a school yard phenomenon; this happens with adults in the workplace as well,  There are bullies everywhere, in every walk of life, old and young. It is up to us as parents to model the behaviour we wish to see from our children and when we don't see it, to offer correction and guidance. There is help out there for people who need more than that.

#153

     I have enjoyed blogging much more than I thought I would. I can write and post a blog whenever I want, where ever I want, day or night, summer or winter, right or wrong. The cathartic effect of blogging is similar to that of journalling and therefore very good for my mental health. Before I met my husband I had journalled (which is not a word according to Blogger, but then neither is blog according to Blogger) for over twenty years. These books I keep in a very special Korean chest and this box is possibly the third most important thing that I would drag from our house if it were on fire, (My daughters being the first two of course.) Memories like the ones contained in those journals can never be replaced or even recalled at times by my almost fifty-nine year old brain.
     Paper, pens, photos, books, cheques even concert tickets and boarding passes are being replaced by temporary screen views saved to clouds and other forms of data storage. Children are being asked not to learn hand-writing while almost everyone has found ways to avoid buying postage stamps. The hand written journal is now almost certainly a rarity. And here am I writing this on a gray, rainy Saturday afternoon as a way to avoid vacuuming.
     The camaraderie and sense of community that I have derived from publishing these posts, meeting other parents who have kids with epilepsy or an intellectual disability on Facebook, emails or texts exchanged in advocating for our special-needs daughter have all been so beneficial to me and therefore to my family. I have learned so much about learning disorders and epilepsy from very many people; parents, kids, teachers, aides, advocates and doctors have all been so generous with their own knowledge, experiences, struggles and achievements. Not to mention that we have probably saved thousands on therapy thanks to this very blog, if not this post, post number one hundred and fifty-three.

     

Pipsiedoodle

   

     As some of you know, our precious Piper died this month. She was a bright, beautiful dog, eighteen months old; smart and silly with a remarkable ability to make us smile, laugh even. I cannot fathom how much I miss her; she was after all, a dog.
     Funny though how an animal, a pet can become a member of the family. I don't mind telling you that I miss her unique ways: the way she talked to us with a bone in her mouth, the way she helped round up our wayward chickens so well, yet so gently, the way she snuggled into her mistress, our daughter as if the bed was all hers and she was allowing her a tiny portion of it.
     I am very familiar with the path of grief. Personally I have been relatively fortunate in that regard but the experience of my previous work with hospice is never very far away. Life is change and change is loss after all. I have never been more aware of this than as a parent. As our children move through their teen years the calendar ricochets ever more quickly through the days, weeks, months and years. Time passes too fast.
     Today however I would like to sit still for a minute and fondly remember our Piper. She was a bright spark, too soon gone and yet still just a dog: a fun-loving friend, a cheerful companion, a relentless retriever of Frisbees all wrapped up in unconditional love--- the very definition of a dog.

Lean In

     I am always blown away by our children. They are wise beyond their years and have taught me an immeasurable amount about so many things. Our youngest just wrote a very impressive list of "New Years Goals/Changes" which inspired me to consider my own. The most awe-inspiring entry on our daughter's list, which included improved dental hygiene, dog training and self-knowledge was the last one: "Give gifts of kindness." Three of the four words in that sentence would be in and of themselves enough of a list to be considered weighty and important. And when put together as a sentence, as the twelfth entry in a twelve year old's New Year's Resolutions, it is hefty, impressive and without match.
     I need to connect with others. I should be talking to my husband more. I could be making an appointment with my designated health care professional and/or my spiritual advisor. Or I can just read the twelfth entry on our daughter's New Years Resolution list: "Give gifts of kindness". And then do it.
     At a service in December, our pastor recommended that we lean in; connect with each other, with others, with God--- take someone for coffee, invite someone for lunch, listen. Whether delivered by a smart and funny adult man or a smart and funny twelve year old girl, the message is the same. My resolution is to follow their advice. And you?

Now

     At this point in the year, Christmas is everywhere. It started way too early for my liking, but that's another post. Winter can be a stressful time of year for everyone but also a time of great joy and togetherness. If we are alone we feel our loneliness more keenly; if we are with people we love, our love can feel rare and magnified. It can be a season of great highs and deep lows. It may be a time of unmet expectations or a time of dreams come true. Such extremes!

     In December, I am more aware of my idiosyncrasies: I like to get my cards out early, I want to get my shopping done in a efficient way, I find the crowds disconcerting and parking, a pain. There are way too many fattening chocolate treats around and my favourite turkey dinner is fortunately or unfortunately, in great supply. 
     At the same time, it is a great time to acknowledge and appreciate my loved ones. It is also a wonderful time for me to look around and notice the beauty and majesty of our surroundings. And the music--- when I am at church my heart is in my throat; all my favourite Christmas carols evoke such memories of Christmases past and hearing our daughters sing these joyous songs brings me such pleasure!           

     All is not right in the world. There is war, hunger and hate. But we can pray for peace, plenty and hope and that is my wish for you this season....Merry Christmas! And every good wish for your new year!   

Remembrance

     A gorgeously sunny Remembrance Day inspired memories of other Remembrance Days; my favourite one, when I had just found out that I was pregnant with our older daughter. It seemed to me that day that anything was possible and that this one would make it, finally. And she did, miraculously, amazingly, she made it. And my life was made gorgeous, always and forever.
     But Remembrance Day is not about babies or my babies anyway. It is about the men and women who have died protecting us, many of them, very young themselves. These folks stood up for us and our way of life and proclaimed it worth dying for. And many of them did die. So despite the happy memories my heart is heavy on Remembrance Day: always full of pride and gratitude for the country I live in and the people who died protecting it and sad that they are no longer with us.
    And now two days later there is another series of terrible attacks, this time in Paris, France. My heart goes out to the families and friends of all those who died or were injured in those cowardly acts of terror. I am sure that people the world over are holding their loved ones a little tighter today. When the world is mourning the way it is right now, all our grief from all our losses comes forward to be recognized. And we remember them, we remember them....

Sisters

     As a parent there is nothing more wonderful than seeing your children interact with each other in a gentle, loving manner. It can almost be surprising to witness this type of exchange, particularly when they were mercilessly, endlessly squabbling just minutes ago. It can hopefully give you a glimpse into their future relationship and makes the whole world seem like a more peaceful, caring place. I came across our daughters chatting with one another while one was taking a bath. Earlier one daughter had given the other a "makeover" and they had so much fun with it that you could not imagine a harsh word between them again. Just wait five minutes!
     When one of your children has extraordinary needs, your typical child must grow up faster. In our case our younger child has had to learn to care for and look after her older sister. She has timed seizures, brought medication and replenished water. The tables are turned, birth order becomes irrelevant and that does not always seem fair or right. A workshop a friend had recently attended featured a panel of siblings of special needs kids. One of the comments from a panel-member that stood out for her was the desire to have had a typical sibling as well as their special needs sibling: someone to share their experience with, to bounce ideas around, to talk about their lives. Those things are harder to do with a developmentally challenged brother or sister who may not want to or be able to engage in such philosophical or existential discussions.
     When I witness the love and affection that exists between our daughters I am gladdened and not so worried. As an older parent I am more than concerned about our additional needs child. I can save money for her future but who will look out for her, support her, give her help when I am gone? These are questions that I suppose must be left in God's capable hands. What cheers me is looking around my own kitchen table and realizing that He will have some help.