#IAmGrateful 30

Sharing

Sharing is caring! ...Unless you're a gingerbread man, lol!

A shared meal, shared conversation, shared joy, shared laughter, shared peace.

#IAmGrateful

#IAmGrateful 13

Gift

At first, I thought I might get all philosophical and abstract with today’s challenge word—y’know, the gift of time, gift of love, gift of life... But I feel like I’ve been living in the deep and philosophical a lot lately, and sometimes even I am just grateful for things at face value—like small gifts from a niece and nephew who know me just too well.

#IAmGrateful 12

Experience

7 Wonders has been a favourite board game amongst the grown-ups for years. What a delight to pass down some of that experience to a new protege this weekend!

SOTC 131/365

For those of you who think I'm dangling precariously in the top branches of this tree, you're wrong. I love climbing trees, but my position is 10ft away on the lawn.

Gorilla pod + remote shooting app = awesome.

In Loco Parentis

Several years ago (how is it several already?), N&S took then-infant A with them to the Angelman Syndrome conference in Whistler, BC, leaving me in charge of P&S for five days. I had the help of other respite providers and grandparents, but I was the main provider during N&S's time away.

I learned a lot of things about myself as a care provider that week. Respite in it's overnight, more long-term form is qualitatively different than short shifts a couple times per week, or even the natural routines I participate in now when I visit for an Aunty Gina weekend.

This past week, the other 'aunty', C, and I hung out with P in Saskatoon, providing respite, while the rest of the family took a much-deserved holiday in Maui*. I was very excited to spend my holiday time with my niece in this capacity.

The week was such a delight in so many ways.

• I enjoyed knowing that I had become so comfortable and familiar with Saskatoon--my second-home-city--that I could navigate to many spots without the aid of Google Maps. And as N said, "you know a place is starting to feel like home when you're running errands in it."
• I loved sitting out in "the Oasis" that is their back yard, sipping my morning coffee on the deck swing, and listening to the fountain trickle down into the koi pond. Don't get me wrong, I love my own back yard to bits, but theirs is no ordinary back yard.
• I loved having uninterrupted time with P. S&A are a delight to my heart, but it sometimes means that P becomes relegated to the background of activities.
• The weather--for the most part--was gorgeous. It meant sunny strolls, outdoor swims and water slides, bubbles in the back yard paddling pool, and many a meal in the late afternoon sun. Summer bliss.
• P's laughter is contagious like nothing else.
• My partner in crime this week, C, is a close friend, but we often have differing schedules that limit the time we get to hang out in Edmonton. So it was great to have uninterrupted time with her, as well. Plus, we make a great caregiving team together.

The week has also been a powerful learning experience, yet again. Among the sunshiney bliss of summer activities with my favourite twelve-year-old, this week has:

• Affirmed the value of two-parent families. By this, I don't mean to say that single-parenting isn't valuable or doesn't work--I am not undermining that dynamic at all. Quite the opposite, actually. Raising children is quite the task. Several times, C and I talked in awe of how N does it on her own when S is out of town on business for up to a week at a time. Where's the other adult to talk to? To share the load? To share the giggles? To give you a break? To help keep a sense of humour and a level head on the days when the diaper explodes, the child has pulled your hair half a dozen times, is refusing breakfast, and two loads of laundry have been washed and dried, all before 9:30am?** Single parents--especially those of children with disabilities--are my new heroes. I'm sure I could have done this week on my own. But certainly not as well. And I wouldn't have really wanted to.
• Re-iterated the necessity of subsidized respite for parents of children with special needs. Between home care and respite, N&S had something like 90hrs of funded care per month for P when they lived in Alberta, where respite hours are based on need.*** In Saskatchewan, respite is based on income. Given the relative affluence afforded by S's job, the family does not qualify for funded respite hours. While I appreciate that this approach attempts to ensure that families who struggle financially can still receive the care they need for their child, I have also worked with enough families to know that just because you make more money does not mean you need less help; nor does it mean you have the ability to pay out of pocket for the full amount of help you actually need.
• Made me appreciate even more this time of being single. Somewhere in the last couple of years, I recognized that I really am at true peace with being single in a world where marriage-house-children is still the expected path for women in their pre and peri-thirties. Perhaps I will be single for another year, another decade, or the rest of my life. I am okay with any and all of that. I have enough trouble brushing my own teeth every day. Perhaps I don't need to be responsible for brushing someone else's.
• Given me pause to consider the honour of being trusted to care for a child in this capacity. There are only so many people in a parent's world who they would consider to care for their child for a week. I feel as if that circle of people is narrowed when the child has a disability. I know I am aunty. I know I am considered family. But that doesn't mean I am not humbled yet again that I was trusted with one of their most precious people.

P often involves a lot of physical work and intuitive guessing. Paired with the right person, the right activities, and a space to balance that activity with rest, it makes for a lovely week--one I would do again in a heart beat.

* For those of you whose spidey inclusion senses are tingling as you read that, please put your judgement away. This family's story means that leaving P in Saskatoon on this particular vacation was a more meaningfully inclusive decision for the whole family than taking her with.
** That was Day 5.
*** The term 'need' sometimes being assessed a bit too conservatively by individuals unable to step into parents' shoes, but by 'need' nevertheless...

SOTC 54/365

Mid Bike-Ride Snake Hunt (SOTC 54/365), a photo by gina.blank on Flickr.

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Keeping warm in Aunty's red coat. :)

344/365

Down in Cathedral Grove, there is many a log for climbing, scaling, ducking, burrowing in, and sitting on.

Irresistible OR 343/365

On a hot, sunny day at the beach with a camera, it is hard not to take a million pictures. I had taken pictures of the crabs, the horizon, the niece building in the sand, the nephew flying his kite, the friends walking out to sea.

In a moment when everyone was occupied in their own activities, I snuck away to focus on some other photos. A large (LARGE) piece of driftwood lay just down the beach a bit, and I had ideas.

Along with photos of the bleached, textured, driftwood, I was feeling particularly lovely in the summer dress I was wearing, and I thought the breeze might do nice things to it and my hair photographically as I stood on the log, looking out to sea.

After setting up about five or six shots, I heard a soft pitter-patter, pitter-patter in the sand. The sound of a child moving near by. I ignored it at first. I was in a photographer's zone. I did not want to risk making eye contact with some small person who wanted to explore the log. If I made eye contact, then I would see them waiting. And they would see that I could see them waiting. And then they would ask for a turn; if not verbally, then with their eyes. I've worked with children a long time; I know how this works. Selfishly, I set up for another shot, my back to the sound. I figured whoever else was interested in this log could wait just a few more minutes. But as the pitter-patter got closer, I eventually turned to the source of the sound. Fear that they would knock the camera off the log overtook worrying about having to give it up.

It was not just any small person.

"What are you doing, Aunty Gina?"


My heart melts and the selfishness dissolves. "I'm trying to take a picture of myself on this big piece of driftwood." He was intrigued by the fact that I was using a remote to take the picture without having to be behind the camera. "Want to try it?"

He nods.

Well, come on, then. Get up here with me.

"Do this, Aunty Gina," he says, arms out wide to catch the breeze.

How can I say no?

Fairness and Sameness

Traveling with a family with a child with special needs is a unique experience. My friends are veterans at modifying activities and schedules to accommodate each of their three children, including the eldest, eleven, who has a complex disability.

The language of special needs and inclusion is everyday in their household. The other two little ones (currently seven and four) have been able to pronounce their sister's five-syllable diagnosis since they were two.

Earlier this week, we visited Qualicum Falls as part of the day's activities. We discussed which adults would go with which children, because wheelchair accessibility only went so far down the trail.

I was one of the adults that went with my younger niece and nephew down the winding, stairs-and-hills trail to the falls. At one point, my nephew stated, "dis is not really uh-sess-ible* for P." We had a brief discussion about how it's really hard to make nature fully accessible because in nature, things just grow where they grow, and rocks and things just are where they are. At this point, the conversation ended for the 4-yr-old, but it still had me thinking a bit.

We try very hard where I work to encourage and implement universal design, so that communities, schools, playgrounds, and education are accessible for all individuals. Every stair case has a ramp or elevator near by; every book has a Braille or audio version available in the same library; every classroom is laid out and supplied to meet the unique learning styles of all its students.

Obviously, this is easier said than done sometimes. But on the whole, I generally think we're getting better.

And then there's nature.

The conversation with my nephew made me consider the idea that universal design and Universal Design might not necessarily be the same thing. The magnificent Creator--the Universal Designer--has blessed us with mountains, valleys, white sands, rocky beaches, a myriad of life on land and in the waters. Tall trees and low-lying shrubs. Calm winding creeks and rushing waterfalls. He has created it all for His glory. And yet, clearly, not everyone can access even such simple things as waterfalls and hiking trails

Would He really create a world that was not accessible to everyone who passed by?!

I stand at the edge of the trail, atop the gorge where, at the opposite end, a waterfall crashes. It's not a very big waterfall, but it is still mesmerizing to watch and oddly soothing to listen to. My niece in her wheelchair is maybe 500m away, down a 'lesser' trail, unable to take in any of it. And she's not the only one, I'm sure.

How is that fair?!

And then something my mother used to say to my brother and I echoed in my head:

"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"

Sorry?

"'Fair' does not always mean 'the same.'"

My mother used to remind us of this when one of us would exhibit envy over the other's invitation to a birthday party, or one-on-one time with a parent, or something like that. We were two very different people, and so we engaged in different activities and were shown love and care in different ways sometimes.

And in effect, universal design operates similarly. It's fair, but not necessarily the same. A child with a visual impairment may need to listen to a book on CD, while the other has a hard copy with pictures. And yet, I would never say that the audio version is the 'lesser' book (in fact, if it is well narrated, it may have an advantage over a book that a child reads inside his/her head). Fair does not always mean the same.

So why did it bug me in regards to the waterfalls?

Because I don't see the same outcome.

The child who listens to an audio book and the child who reads her own copy both still end up experiencing the same story. By the end, they both know that the Hungry Caterpillar ate a lot of food one week and turned into a butterfly. They both know that Harry gets the Philosopher's Stone before Voldemort does. They both know that Romeo and Juliet kill themselves to be together.

But P doesn't know the waterfall that I know. So she didn't see the falls--OK. But she couldn't even really hear them from where she was. Totally not the same outcome.

But fair does not always mean the same.


Not the same means, but certainly it should mean the same end?


Fair does not always mean the same.


I don't understand.


She should be able to see the falls. She should be able to hold the starfish at the beach. These are relatively simple, yet meaningful, things.


Meaningful to her or to you?


Well, there's that. But certainly there is someone, somewhere, in a wheelchair, who can't see the falls and wanted to.


...Fair does not always mean the same.

I still don't understand. I don't understand why You would paint a glorious sunset that not everyone passing by the beach that evening would be able to see. I don't understand why you would reveal the knotted roots of a massive fallen tree that not everyone walking by could leave the trail to touch.

But I do have peace knowing that, while experiences of God's creation may not be the same, they are fair.

That is good enough for now.

*accessible

327/365

♥ to bursting!

313/365

Technology meets good old-fashioned play: when was the last time YOU Skyped from inside a fort?

251/365

"Can I take a picture?"

235/365

My nephew decides that watching Little Bear on his mom's iPhone is quality Skype conversation.

It's the Little Things OR 221/365

What was lost has once again been found. I could kiss this little black box.

At roughly two inches long, this little electronic has been a huge asset to my photography--both in and outside of my 365 project. It is the remote control for my camera. It allows me to both focus and shoot from up to fifteen feet away. It has an optional 2-second delay, meaning that I can aim it at the camera and still have enough time to drop my hand before the shutter fires. It is responsible for the great self-shots here, here, here, here, and here, JUST to name a few.

It has been a saving grace when even the slightest camera shake is detrimental--allowing me to take photos without having to touch the camera at all. Like here, here, and here.

Needless to say, when it went missing earlier this week, I was annoyed, frustrated, and disappointed all at the same time. The look on my face as I expressed my initial concern was the tipping point between "seriously..." and "seriously?!"

I had been using it all afternoon last Saturday to take photos of old-fashioned cars at the Reynold's Alberta Museum in Wetaskiwin. In between photos, I was consistently putting it into the pocket of my hoodie for safe-keeping. That evening, I stopped to see my kidlets at their grandparents' place where they were staying for the weekend. It was a satisfying Saturday all around.

When I went to take my blog pic the next day, I noticed the remote wasn't around, but didn't think much of it. Probably still in my hoodie pocket. But I didn't really need it for the photo, so I didn't check. The next day, I did want it for my photo, so I checked the pockets of my hoodie. Not there. Hmm... Checked the pocket of the jeans I'd been wearing. Not there, either. Hmmmmmm... Well, I probably tucked it in a "safe place" as I was leaving the museum--so safe I can't remember where (you know you've done it, too). The remote would have been nice, but still not entirely necessary for the photo at hand, so I called off the search for that evening.

The following day, I was rocking a super-cute outfit, and wanted to capture it on film (on pixel?). I tried to take the shot a few times without a remote--substituting in brooms to serve as the focal point while I was pressing the buttons at the camera. But it just. wasn't. working. So, after I took my hand-held photo of frustration instead, I resumed the search. Every pocket of everything I'd worn that day, and all the bags I'd carried. I even emptied the laundry basket in case it had fallen out of the pocket into the greater realm of crumpled clothing. Nothing. All signs indicated that the remote probably fell out on the floor or parking lot of the museum. Great.

Unless........

Could it have fallen out at the grandparents' house? Maybe? As I set down my coat and bags in the front entry? ...Well, worth calling grandma first before I called Wetaskiwin.

Sure enough, it had been found at the house some time after I'd gone. During the conversation, grandma informed me that they'd found it in the living room.

The living room? How would it have gotten over there?

And then I remembered.

I may have put my relatively big hoodie on my relatively tiny nephew and tied the arms around him like a straight jacket. And then tickled him silly on the floor as he tried to escape.

Apparently, remotes can fall out of pockets that way. Who knew?

180/365

Tonight's Skype conversation: PD Days, new outfits, and vegetable metaphors.

 

159/365

Movie night. I can taste the butter and salt as I type :)

158/365

If you put the dreidel song in their heads, they will want to make a dreidel. When you ask if they have clay, they will say they can use play dough. When you ask if there is currently play dough made, Mom will say no, and she will make a new batch. They will ask what Hanukkah colours are. You will say "blue and white" but when the food colouring actually comes out, they will want every colour. You will show them how to mix the food colouring into the play dough; you will end up with a rainbow all over your hands.

In the end, you will make three unique dreidels.

You will be so touched that your niece and nephew enjoy a custom from your own culture. And you will have rainbow on your hands to remind you for the next several days. :)

126/365

124/365

Arrived just in time for bedtime stories :)