I do not like thee, 8am
'I do not like thee!' shouts this femme.
I did not like 2, 4 or 6
Nor 1am, thrown in the mix.
I do not like your dull grey light,
I'd much prefer the dark of night.
Under my feet, the tiles are cold
My aching back makes me feel old.
Last night's 'sleep' has left me weary
My eyes make all the world seem bleary.
The house is still, and quiet too
But soon it will resemble a zoo,
The older kids will start to stir
The heating will begin to whirr,
The sound of breakfast cereal's pour,
The crunch of it upon my floor.
The smiled requests for one more drink
While dishes pile up in my sink.
Yes, this is just a simple day,
I would not have another way,
But couldn't its beginning wait?
At least 'till maybe half past eight?
Sunday 21 February 2016
Thursday 18 February 2016
Another step on Little One's journey
Little One is a toddler. He is cheeky and cuddly, handsome and helpful. He is also deaf.
He won't always be a toddler, I hope he'll always be helpful, but he will always be deaf.
Having had hearing aids since he was three months old, our clever boy was doing great up until last Spring. Then we noticed he wasn't talking anymore. Or responding to his name. Further hearing tests were inconclusive, but we had a good idea what was going on.
To help ease frustration, we all learned a couple of signs while we waited for conclusive testing. He still couldn't hear us, but he could ask for food or a drink. He figured out that we could be led to the things he wanted; the press where we keep crackers, the stairs when he wanted to take a nap. He started smiling again. A lot.
More hearing tests, more questions. We asked for a referral to the cochlear implant team and our audiologist worked late that night to get the letter out straight away.
We worked for weeks to get a vocal 'no' and celebrated like it was a Nobel. We learned more and more signs and Little One figured out how to use these with gestures and facial expressions to 'talk' to us.
The cochlear implant team told us what we already knew. He is now profoundly deaf. As profoundly deaf as can be. Hope that we hadn't realised we still held was extinguished, but mostly the news was a relief. We're not crazy, he's not stupid. And he's a candidate for cochlear implantation.
There is no cure for deafness. But cochlear implants, if successful, can give our gorgeous boy access to sound.* When he takes off his processors at night, when he needs a rest after a particularly hard day of listening, he will be deaf. When he has his processors on, he will be a deaf boy who is listening carefully to digital sounds.
It's an exciting time in our house. We're all learning more and more sign language, which is essential for his developing brain as well as providing a foundation for communication and speech. We're playing important games and reading books and making plans.
And yesterday, we got the call. The Call.
Little One will receive his implants in a matter of weeks. A few weeks after that the processors will be switched on and then the real work will begin. Tuning and adjusting the 22 electrode arrays to provide sound without discomfort, learning how to listen again, building listening stamina and, hopefully, using all of that to develop speech.
It's been a tough few months for our little guy. And he's got a long journey ahead. But he's happy and engaged and just a little bit of a show-off, and that will serve him well. He is, as we have always known, simply perfect.
*For anyone wondering what the difference is between 'hearing' and 'access to sound', this video gives a good approximation
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SpKKYBkJ9Hw
He won't always be a toddler, I hope he'll always be helpful, but he will always be deaf.
Having had hearing aids since he was three months old, our clever boy was doing great up until last Spring. Then we noticed he wasn't talking anymore. Or responding to his name. Further hearing tests were inconclusive, but we had a good idea what was going on.
To help ease frustration, we all learned a couple of signs while we waited for conclusive testing. He still couldn't hear us, but he could ask for food or a drink. He figured out that we could be led to the things he wanted; the press where we keep crackers, the stairs when he wanted to take a nap. He started smiling again. A lot.
More hearing tests, more questions. We asked for a referral to the cochlear implant team and our audiologist worked late that night to get the letter out straight away.
We worked for weeks to get a vocal 'no' and celebrated like it was a Nobel. We learned more and more signs and Little One figured out how to use these with gestures and facial expressions to 'talk' to us.
The cochlear implant team told us what we already knew. He is now profoundly deaf. As profoundly deaf as can be. Hope that we hadn't realised we still held was extinguished, but mostly the news was a relief. We're not crazy, he's not stupid. And he's a candidate for cochlear implantation.
There is no cure for deafness. But cochlear implants, if successful, can give our gorgeous boy access to sound.* When he takes off his processors at night, when he needs a rest after a particularly hard day of listening, he will be deaf. When he has his processors on, he will be a deaf boy who is listening carefully to digital sounds.
It's an exciting time in our house. We're all learning more and more sign language, which is essential for his developing brain as well as providing a foundation for communication and speech. We're playing important games and reading books and making plans.
And yesterday, we got the call. The Call.
Little One will receive his implants in a matter of weeks. A few weeks after that the processors will be switched on and then the real work will begin. Tuning and adjusting the 22 electrode arrays to provide sound without discomfort, learning how to listen again, building listening stamina and, hopefully, using all of that to develop speech.
It's been a tough few months for our little guy. And he's got a long journey ahead. But he's happy and engaged and just a little bit of a show-off, and that will serve him well. He is, as we have always known, simply perfect.
*For anyone wondering what the difference is between 'hearing' and 'access to sound', this video gives a good approximation
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=SpKKYBkJ9Hw
Monday 8 February 2016
Bored? Not this mother.
I was asked recently if I was 'very bored staying at home all day?'
It was (I think) meant in the true spirit of curiosity. Having been in full-time employment since the age of 18, how could I possibly stand to do nothing? If I'm completely honest with myself, I have to acknowledge the days when I feel 'wasted', or underemployed. But there simply is no space for boredom, and goodness knows I've had paid jobs where my value was wilfully under-utilised.
I think that for many, the value of work done by a parent at home isn't recognised. What can there REALLY be to do all day? Well, quite a bit actually. The early years of a child's life are of huge importance and lay the foundations for later life from academia to social skills and self-esteem. An average day in my boring little house includes the following activities and lessons.
Object permanence: The ball was under the blanket the whole time!
Cause and effect: Your voice can turn on the lights.
Physical therapy: Blowing out candles.
Building neural pathways and secure emotional bonds: Cuddling for all ages.
Independent play: The importance of self-discovery, risk-taking and letting Mammy have her coffee.
Gross motor skills: Mammy Tiger's going to catch you!
Vocabulary and memory work: Object matching/Songs with actions/Constant chatter while walking around Lidl.
All of this is to say nothing of three daily trips to 'big school', homework supervision, the constant influx and egress of bodily fluids, meal preparation, laundry and the Sisyphean task of sweeping floors.
So yes, it's worlds away from high heels, deadlines and meetings but preparing four children for life in the great wide world is certainly no less important and is never boring.
It can be difficult to do work that never seems to get finished and can't be submitted for award or promotion, but despite the first lesson of the day, nothing is permanent. One day, as I try to motivate an office full of people to take pride in their work I'll think fondly of the days of reading Roald Dahl down by the river, and accepting heaping praise for making beans on toast as a treat.
Life as a modern woman means that I can have it all, just not all at once. That, and I'll never be bored.
It was (I think) meant in the true spirit of curiosity. Having been in full-time employment since the age of 18, how could I possibly stand to do nothing? If I'm completely honest with myself, I have to acknowledge the days when I feel 'wasted', or underemployed. But there simply is no space for boredom, and goodness knows I've had paid jobs where my value was wilfully under-utilised.
I think that for many, the value of work done by a parent at home isn't recognised. What can there REALLY be to do all day? Well, quite a bit actually. The early years of a child's life are of huge importance and lay the foundations for later life from academia to social skills and self-esteem. An average day in my boring little house includes the following activities and lessons.
Object permanence: The ball was under the blanket the whole time!
Cause and effect: Your voice can turn on the lights.
Physical therapy: Blowing out candles.
Building neural pathways and secure emotional bonds: Cuddling for all ages.
Independent play: The importance of self-discovery, risk-taking and letting Mammy have her coffee.
Gross motor skills: Mammy Tiger's going to catch you!
Vocabulary and memory work: Object matching/Songs with actions/Constant chatter while walking around Lidl.
All of this is to say nothing of three daily trips to 'big school', homework supervision, the constant influx and egress of bodily fluids, meal preparation, laundry and the Sisyphean task of sweeping floors.
So yes, it's worlds away from high heels, deadlines and meetings but preparing four children for life in the great wide world is certainly no less important and is never boring.
It can be difficult to do work that never seems to get finished and can't be submitted for award or promotion, but despite the first lesson of the day, nothing is permanent. One day, as I try to motivate an office full of people to take pride in their work I'll think fondly of the days of reading Roald Dahl down by the river, and accepting heaping praise for making beans on toast as a treat.
Life as a modern woman means that I can have it all, just not all at once. That, and I'll never be bored.
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