Solitude

Off and on I've been pondering the issue of solitude, of being alone, and how that can be joyful or sad depending on the circumstances.

Tonight I'm on my own. The kids are asleep and the kitties are off playing. Kevin's working late in TO so I have an evening free to do as I please. While I'm not exactly alone with the kids only rooms away, there's no adult company and no ongoing chatter.

I'm okay with this. Sometimes I wish it happened more often.

A friend once asked me if I was lonely living in the country. She's currently a city girl and we met while I lived and worked in TO. It was a fair question. I'm now a stay at home mom in a rural area where I used to be in the thick of it at the office and enjoying the bustling social life of an ad executive. Now, instead of cubicles around me, we have near infinite space. On one side, we have neighbours whose kids are grown. Beside them are a family with kids similar age to ours but not home during the day. On the other side, we have farm fields. Behind, we have conservation lands and across the road are more fields.

And I love it.

I'm a solitary being. I like my home, my space and my time.

I can relate to some of the single creatures around the homestead - the female marsh hawk that rests in our black cherry tree. She perches regally in the morning sun waiting for prey to make a mistake. As the fields warm, she soars, floating overhead. It's peaceful. Wholesome. Warms my soul.

And our lone coyote. Last winter it came through one day, just after breakfast. It wasn't the only time we've seen it, just the only time to capture it on film.

I felt I could relate to it. As a pack animal, it would've spent the time it needed with more of its kind but then spent time alone hunting... traveling...



Again, a feeling of contentment and a warming of the soul - that it is how it is meant to be.

But there are times when singularity brings tears.

A lone Canada goose flying overhead is powerful for me. A Canada goose mates for life and when migrating, they never leave another to fly alone. If one becomes sick or injured, another will stay with it. Most specifically, if a mate needs to land, to rest or recover, the pair land together.

A single goose in flight means another's life has been lost - the other half of a pair meant to be together for life.

It means both souls are now traveling alone.

Mid June update

This week has been stellar for the garden and the kids. And I mean that in the positive way - not loaded with sarcasm like usual...

Everything is looking lush - except the peas that were nibbled by the rabbit - and the beets - that were nibbled by the rabbit - and the chard - that was nibbled by the rabbit... The carrots are safely fenced. The rest has not been. Yet. The beets weren't a huge loss. They were the ones that wintered over. I was excited about harvesting the seeds as they were a hardy lot but if you have to loose anything, I guess it better those than the ones I wanted to eat!

The rest of the peas have been doing well and we've even had a mini harvest:



We would've picked more a but give them a couple days and they'll be extra plump.



Lauren likes to chomp them straight off the vine, shells included.



Roman, meanwhile, likes to pick the tiny sweetness out of their pods.



The zucchini plants are doing well and getting blossoms. I've wrestled with whether to pick the blossoms for stuffing or leave them be. It's a big deal that zucchini are even growing in our garden - after having worked zucchini harvesting as a teenager, I took a strong disliking to them just for the 'torture' they represented! Guess I'm finally over it.



The pear tree seems to be thriving despite its dramatic pruning in May. My mom has already placed an order for canning in the fall. Fingers crossed! Every time we walk under the tree (which is pretty much every day since it's between the house and the garden) Roman comments on the pears and how the bees brought honey to the blossoms to make them. Not too far off for a four year old.

Now we're hedging our bets on a cool-ish summer and have planted more peas. The carrots are finally showing some tips, the second planting of beans is thriving, the tomatillo plants are doing well (the ones that weren't munched by the rabbit that is) and the seeds I sowed on a whim are coming up. Basil is starting to show and even some special Thai basil in a pot has peeped up. In a way it all feels very late since we also had a few new red potatoes for dinner last night but then again, it is only the middle June.

Still many days of sun, weeding, watering and harvesting ahead. Roman has 4 more school days then I'm sure it'll be "Is the corn ready yet?"

Moments

Sunday afternoon, my Jeep started to smell like hot metal [and I don't mean Metallica...] and there were loud squeaks coming from somewhere [would've preferred Metallica...]. Joy. I tried braking hard. No change. Open the windows. Perhaps it's someone else's hot metal... and someone else's squeak. No luck. It's the front passenger brakes.

Joy. Kevin spent a couple hours fiddling and cleaning trying to loosen it up and for Monday I thought he was successful.

Tuesday, as I'm on my way to complete some retail therapy, the squeak starts again. I take the next road home, call hubby to call the mechanic cause we're on our way there.

By end of day, the 'should take an hour' job had transformed into 'we need parts, they won't be here til tomorrow' job. This is not entirely traumatic for me. I'm a home body. BUT. My Tuesday things still hadn't been finished AND Kevin had to go to Toronto for the WHOLE day including dinner AND Roman would need to be picked up from school (he takes the bus in the morning thankfully) AND it was raining AND Lauren would have to come out to the bus with us because Kevin was in Toronto AND all our rain gear AND our umbrella were in the back of the Jeep.

Which is at the mechanic's.

Sigh.

Thankfully there's another umbrella. Which turns out to be HUGE! there's room for all three of us to huddle comfortably and mostly dry while we wait for the bus.

Which comes early.

Lauren and I return to the house and I start making calls for alternate arrangements in case I don`t have a car by 3 o`clock to pick Roman up from school. A neighbour graciously agreed to have Roman ride home on the bus with her kids if need be. (I wouldn`t be able to arrange for his ride home with the bus company without 24 hours notice...)

Half an hour later, I see a dealership truck drive in then hear our door bell.

The mechanic - Greg - and his boss - Enzo - came to drop off my Jeep. "Just drop by later. No rush. Don`t make a special trip..." Enzo said. What? Seriously? I was expecting to bundle Lauren into the Jeep and drive Greg back so I could pay before getting my Jeep to myself again. And here I was convinced customer service was dead.

I was so excited by their simple gesture I had to call Kevin just to tell him.

Then today I received a call from a beautiful woman whose daughter also has Noonan Syndrome. We talked for nearly an hour and it brought me joy. She had called to say thank you for the help I provided through the website we made about Lauren.

I am happy because it helped someone. It might seem strange but her phone call helped me. It told me that the openness we subscribe to about Lauren's syndrome is worthwhile. That sharing her with the world is doing what I intended it to do. Yes it's cathartic for me to blog but building thesweetone was all about filling a need we found when we were lost.

So thank you J for calling me. It means more to me than you know.

And of course, to balance out all these joyful moments, there's tonight with Lauren NOT going to sleep even though there was no nap and lots of fresh air today. Turns out she was too hot. I changed her out of her long "jay-jay's", as she calls them, and within minutes she was sound asleep on my chest.

Innocent, content and beautiful again.

Now Kevin and I will finally sit in front of the TV for a bit, maybe watch some "dancing fools" on PVR and drink some wine in toast to our 15th wedding anniversary. Think we'll celebrate next year. See you all for the 15+1 party next June...

All about regrets

When I wrote about our experiences having and parting with Cassie, I wrote about regrets - how I didn't regret the experience, just how it turned out.

And the concept of "regret" has come to the surface repeatedly since.

I don't want to regret the choices I make for me, for my children, for our whole family.

Another think I've written about frequently is how much I looooove waiting and / or "not knowing".

Add all these things together - regrets, waiting, not knowing - and the resulting blog entry is a bit of a doozy , perhaps a bit too much information? Even writing it was a debate - is this something to share or a privately held conversation? Ultimately it lands here because it's cathartic for me.

Since Lauren's birth, lurking in the back of my mind like a guest on a chat room, has been the decision regarding a third child. I always wanted three, Kevin was pretty sure he only wanted two but was, when discussed a year before, open to negotiations. The decision weighed on me. Not necessarily in constant thought but pretty close.

Could we handle it? What if Lauren never improved? What if the third child had complications? What if the third child had more complications? Would that be fair to Roman? Would not having a third because of fear be fair to Roman? To me? What if the child didn't have complications? What if it was perfectly "normal"? If it was a boy, it would be good but how would Roman adjust to sharing a room with a child so much younger? If it was a girl and "normal" with normal growth and normal features and normal everything, how would that affect Lauren? How would that affect their future relationship? Could I even physically endure another pregnancy? Especially if it was a girl! Add a dozen or more questions along those lines, running in constant loop and you'll start to experience my late night / driving time thought process. Line ups started to form for the pro-con debate with some items jostling for positions on both teams.

Ultimately, though, would I regret having a third child? Would I regret NOT having a third child?

I needed to get it out of my system. It was haunting me. I could rationalize it in so many directions - pro three, pro two (pro zero some nights!!) and, in the nights when Lauren was our own in house howl-fest I could spend a lot of time obsessing about it. The same arguments over and over and over...

Eventually I set a "decide by" date. It factored in how old each kid would be, what time of year the third would arrive and how old I would be upon said arrival. I'm already older than most though younger than some but having a third as I'm approaching 40 was less than appealing.

"By the end of May it has to be decided one way or the other"

Theoretically, this should have put my mind at ease. I had a target date for decision. On the contrary. The months leading up to May were just a fraught with indecision and angst over what the right choice would be. May itself became a test of my mind's multi-tasking ability. On one side, the tasks and chores of every day life. On another, the complexities and decisions regarding Lauren's Noonan Syndrome related issues. On one more, this still niggling undecided issue looming.

May also brought with it illness within the household. Nothing dramatic but how can I ask hubby to make a potentially life altering decision while hopped up on cold meds and limited sleep. Come to think of it, maybe I should have made him decide then!

Mother's Day came and went. Our birthday's came and went. Weekends came and went and the end of the month rose on the horizon like a thundercloud.

Finally, one night after the lights were out I said, "I'm going to ask you what you want to do about a third child. I don't need a decision right now but it needs to be decided."

The next night, to his credit, the TV did not go on once the kids were in bed.

And I asked. "Finances and health related issues aside, do you want a third child?"

"I'm not sure I could do two more years of sleep like this."

"That's not what I asked. Do you WANT a third child? like with Cassie. We decided to get a dog. We decided it was a great idea but we never ever said we WANTED a dog. I know we could do it. If something happened and we had a third, we could and would do it. But do you WANT a third child?"

and his simple, honest answer was "No."

Our conversation continued. I didn't try to change his mind. I didn't argue that we should or shouldn't but did outline my reasons for and my fears against.

"I don't want to regret, five years from now, not having a third child. It will be too late then...."

And in the end, the decision stands.

Of the two possible regrets - that of having a third vs NOT having a third - the "Not Regret" is easier to live with. Having a third then finding that all the cons come true, with or without the pros, could be devastating for all of us, especially for Child #3.

The idea of not having makes me sad. Or it did that night.

Now, I'm actually feeling the closure I needed. The decision has been made so there is no more need for the late night ponderings, no need to hang on to all that kid gear Roman and Lauren have outgrown. There will be only the two fabulous kids I have now and I find myself enjoying them more and cherishing the moments with a bit more clarity.

The best word of all

She did it! She really did it! and the grin on Roman's face shows just how important it is to him that his little sister can FINALLY say his name.

It took bribery on my part but it worked. Lauren wanted more chocolate milk while we were looking at her personal word book. It has pictures of all the important things in her life - Mama, Papa, Roman, her animals, blanket, book, favourite toys, etc.

We were on the Roman page where normal she points to his pizza, "pee-dah", when she asked for her refill. I said, "I'll get you more choco-munny* if you tell me his name"

"Woh-mee" she said.

A few more tries and she made it even clearer - "Woh-man!". Sometimes she would even catch herself... "Who's this?" I ask, pointing at the picture. "That gu... Woh-man!" she would reply.

When I told Roman Lauren said his name, he didn't say much but the light in his eyes and the huge grin on his face said everything.

Now she doesn't stop. It's like a flood gate was opened. Her dialogues have lengthened and become more complex. Her John Madden syndrome (you know, where they tell you every little mundane thing that's going on) is in full swing and her most commonly used phrase is "Woh-man Stop!"

* We have Nestle quick in the brown bunny bottle. This makes the beverage not 'chocolate milk' as it is for the general population but 'choco-bunny' or, in Laurenese, choco-munny'.

What to say?

All is pretty quiet on the home front these days. Nothing dramatic with Lauren than can't be chalked up to toddlerhood. Her language has really taken off. Today's word is "delicious!". Yesterday's was "cute". Everything was cute. Even Mama's clean laundry was "cute".

Lauren has asked for a purple towel for after bath time. "buy pur-ble towow kute" she says.

We almost had her sleeping through the nights... for about a week she would wake once - sometimes for a moment, sometimes for an hour - then sleep through til about 6am. I swore I would not tell a soul. I was NOT going to jinx this one. I decided it would be big news if she could do it for 3 weeks. At that point it *should* be habitual enough that telling someone would escape Murphy's radar.

I did not, however, have this discussion with hubby. When asked by friends or family how things were going with Lauren, he was honest and said she'd been sleeping better.

Sigh.

Yes. You know what happened next.

Every night since has been a disaster.

Some of it has been pain related, some has been potty related, some has been attachment related. Regardless of why, our nights have gone back to sleepus-interuptus.

Meanwhile, daytime has been fun. Roman is a bit unpredictable in his mood swings but I'm going to attribute that to being 4 1/2. When he's his normal self, we get some amazing moments. While I was making dinner yesterday, he convinced a very willing Lauren to grab their animal flashlights and hide in the hall closet. All we could hear was giggling and the occasional thumb when a flashlight hit the wall. The closet isn't that big after all. We opened the door to find them sitting in the grocery buckets:



Who knows what today will bring. Hopefully less time-outs for Roman and more fun moments for all of us.

Oh, as for pre-school for Lauren, her registration goes in next week. I've expressed my concerns to the co-ordinator regarding Lauren's short stature but the name Noonan Syndrome has not yet made it into conversation and won't be making an appearance on her registration forms.

I question whether this is true to our perspective on her disorder but know that it is the right decision for getting her schooling off in the right direction.

As Kevin put it, how is Noonan Syndrome relevant? At this point at least he's right.

Rough day at the office?

Lauren fell asleep while playing a game on the computer.

Oh I love a rainy night...

Imagine our surprise when Roman and I went to check the garden this afternoon following last nights steady, much needed, rain.

It started out being a ploy by me to get Roman outside after too much TV. And we found this...The pea plants have shot up and are starting to blossom. This photo is
Roman's:


and this photo is mine simply because Roman hasn't figure out the macro focus on my camera yet:


Our bush beans went from nothing, to this:




overnight!

and Roman's favourite... CORN!


Now the corn looks a bit more impressive here than it does in real life. In the actual garden it looks much more sparse. We planted it with pole beans and squash but I think I underseeded the corn. We only had one packet and I knew we needed at least four rows. In most places the corn was two to a divot. In many places, as the bean swelled it pushed everything out of the ground and they had to be popped back in. We see how it turns out and have already learned for next year.

Meanwhile, the potatoes have grown tremendously while the carrots haven't even shown a tip yet. Something has been eating our tomatillo plants and the early seeded spinach is threatening to bolt. Thankfully the latter seedings haven't progressed as far and get some afternoon shade.

Each time we go to the garden, Roman checks each thing to see how it's doing. He's been a touch disappointed the carrots aren't showing yet so fingers crossed they'll peep up soon. They're interplanted with parsley which also hasn't come up yet so I'm confident they're simply taking their time.

We've harvested some more radishes, lots of mixed greens, some spinach and tonight, some cilantro for thai curry (which was a disaster. I need to try it again because I KNOW I can do it right. Things just didn't go as they should have. I'll start with this... don't use your mexican mortar and pestle unless you'd like to have sandy bits of volcanic rock in your curry paste that aren't actually noticeable until you start to eat dinner...)