One of the thoughts I find myself having to reconcile with in the past couple of months is how the man who I used to have hours-long conversations with is no longer around. Dad's having trouble making it past a few sentences without losing track of what he was talking about. I realized this when Matt, Kara, and I had to take dad for part of a Saturday — a couple of weekends ago — while mom went to the E.R. to get her eye looked at (which is a whole 'nother "kettle of fish").

We picked him up and brought him with us to Kara's gymnastics class at Vellore Village C.C.. Dad and I sat for the majority of her hour-long class in the swimming spectator gallery, trying to have conversation. It was scattered. I doubt dad noticed, but it was glaringly obvious to me. I tend to be able to "roll with it" well, but it's still a bit of a trip to think back to how he was a year ago and compare it to now. Fortunately, the last 15 minutes of class were given over to exhibition time: Kara and her classmates did handstands/headstands and walked the beam.

This is undoubtedly the first of many smaller "deaths" I'm going to notice, but it's a big one.

Searching for a piece of history

About a decade ago, dad mentioned that — of the things he left behind in a storage locker when he left his childhood home — he wished he'd kept the war medal my grandfather got for his service in "The Great War". My grandfather was wounded by shrapnel during World War I, a fact which my recently-deceased aunt claimed left him struggling with discomfort, pain, and foul moods until his passing when my dad was a young child.

So it was that about a decade ago, I presented my father with a "scrubbed" British War Medal for WWI that I purchased off eBay. I know it's statistically unlikely that it's the same medal and, allegedly, many people melted them down to sell as scrap silver until people began to give historical and sentimental value to them. I wouldn't be surprised if my grandfather's medal suffered that fate, 'though I'm hopeful that it was sold or given to one of the many Laushway families that would have still lived in the vicinity of the storage locker.

Still, that didn't stop me from setting up a default search notification on eBay for new "British War Medal"s all those years ago, when I first learned of the existence of a medal for my grandfather. Sadly, I have never encountered a medal with my grandfather's name on it.

This leaves me in my current dilemma — checking the listings daily for this medal, knowing it's likely that finding it will mean nothing to dad, soon. Do I give up the search and admit that finding it, at this point in time, might do little to give dad a memento from his past, or do I continue looking for it, despite that fact?

Of course, this all plays into the issue that the man who looks like my dad is rapidly ceasing to be my dad — a subject which I've been wanting to write about for a while now, but which I've yet to explore fully. In the meantime, here's a melancholy post about treasured items from the past, and their increasing lack of significance to people who are quickly losing their sense of self.

Info-dump

I'm not even sure how many of the people I know even check this blog any more, but I figured it'd be a good idea to post here, regardless. This is a relatively quick way for me to write a mini-novella, and keep it reasonably structured.

I'm finding this year uncomfortably similar to the one in which I got married which — until this year — was unquestionably the worst year of my life (and no, the getting married part wasn't the bulk of it by far). It still "wins" that title, but I say so in full knowledge of the fact that this year isn't over yet.

First off, the ever-present doom that I have no control over: dad's got dementia and it's rapidly worsening. The fact is that most of the people who read (past and present tense included) this blog don't have a very good understanding of just how bad my immediate family's dynamic is and the only reason I haven't broadcast it completely is out of a sense of obligation to the my parents' generation of family — I feel there'd be a strong sense of embarrassment on their parts. That said, I've been tempted to come clean about it all. 40 is about 40 years too long to hold onto these issues without admitting how big of a piece of my life its been. So there might be more info to come on that front. This is all a very roundabout way of saying that when one's immediate family has long-standing, unresolved, and deeply hurtful issues left unaddressed, dealing with a chronic and debilitating illness within that dynamic doesn't do anything to help with the stress levels inherent in that dynamic. Mostly, Caty and I end up feeling helpless and resigning ourselves to the fact that my parents are effectively trying to end their existences in as painful and drawn-out a fashion as possible.

We were looking at selling our townhouse over the Summer, after I came to the realization, in May, that we'd be able to move to a detached home in the Barrie area, mortgage-free. I'd be lying if I said that my parents' situation was a motivating factor, but I think that being somewhere quieter, closer to our lake of choice and nearer to my in-laws (to say nothing of how much better off we'd be, financially, if we were mortgage- and maintenance-fee-free) would be genuinely and incredibly beneficial to our family unit as a whole. We saw several places we placed offers on, but either had them outright rejected or were unable to close the sale on our home in time. We ended up taking our place off the market and hope that sales will be strong in the Spring.

I had what seemed to be a digestive-based anaphylactic reaction to duck egg on the first day that Matt returned to work of Kara's Summer break. On the floor of the local Lowe's. During which I had to weakly crawl across the floor (with the attempted assistance of several staff members), collapsing every few "steps" in a sweaty, pained heap on the floor. When the contents of my digestive system had emptied themselves (I was able to make it to a toilet — yay!), I was still soaked with sweat and beet red, with bloodshot eyes. So this Summer included a referral to an allergist who was able to determine that all of the things I already knew I was allergic to, I am, but to not chicken or duck egg. I'm also, previously unbeknownst to me, allergic to rat dander and mugwort. My birch allergy is every bit as strong as I suspected it'd be — that test site swelled up like a full-blown mosquito bite.

I also seriously aggravated the mild case of plantar fascitis I've had since Kara was born. At its worst, I had to walk around with the weight applied only to the ball of my right foot. I'm mostly recovered now, but it took me about 3 months of fastidious, self-administered physical therapy to get to this point. I still sometimes have to prop myself up on the edge of the couch or bed when I take the first steps after allowing the relevant tendons and muscles to "go cold", but I can walk normally and for extended periods of time again.

Kara developed a bump behind her left knee just as her Summer vacation started, so we've had to see her pediatrician, then get an ultrasound (druing which, she cried), then have a follow-up with her pediatrician, then have an MRI (that was a week ago). We'll probably have to have another follow-up to get the results from that one. We didn't know until we arrived at Sick Kids for the MRI that she was going to need to have an I.V. inserted so that the dyeing solution to determine the presence or lack of blood flow to the affected area could be administered readily. Kara hates needles. It took about a half-hour of her crying, then screaming, and finally a firm grip on her while she did both, to get the I.V. inserted. It was miserable. She did well after it, but I think it's safe to say that the needle was traumatic for everyone involved.

Kara and I also had our optometrists appointment this Summer — Kara's first, in fact. She cried mightily when the pupil dilation drops were applied — the "stinging" scared her. So, you know, let's add another thing to the list of medical procedures that terrify her.

I'm looking into building myself my first ever desktop PC. I'm leaning towards going with a small form factor build and am basically waiting for Black Friday/Boxing Day deals to actually make the purchases. That's one of the few "bright spots" I've got going on.

And yeah, on top of all of this is the daily grind of being a homemaker with a husband at work and kid at school. I'm still cooking, cleaning, helping with homework and getting the medical appointments booked and attended. About a month ago, my guts exploded again, then I came down with a cold, then got my period. I basically haven't felt "normal" in a month. It's been awesome.

So far, this year has been busy and kinda Hellish. I'll be glad when it's over.

Sofia the First's crown

Finding one of these in real life which actually looks like the character's crown is next-to-impossible, so I made one for Kara's Hallowe'en costume this year with Adobe Illustrator, printable shrink plastic, scissors, an X-acto knife, a hole punch, silver-tone paint, acrylic gems and Krazy Glue.

Not bad for the first serious venture on the ice

Kara on bob-skates. She was frustrated that she wasn't an ice skating superstar, but her parents and Tita all agree that she did really well for a first skate.

Father's Day baked goods

In the tradition of baking something I've never attempted before on this occasion, I made a chocolate ganache tart this year. I wanted to use my previously discussed go-to pie crust, because I didn't want the crust to overpower my filling or make the end result overly sweet. This is the recipe I consulted for the filling, substituting the heavy cream with soy creamer, and omitting the pistachios. I'm pleased to say that this worked out fantastically, and I wouldn't hesitate to make it again!

"Love you, mummy."

...And with that, the exhaustion of a miserable day melts away. Rotten kid. :P

Can't catch a break...

The day before Kara's birthday kicked off what seems to be an unending stream of illness around our house. First, Kara had an ear infection, then Matt and I came down with colds. I had a bout with what may or may not have been food poisoning last week, while Matt came down with another cold. Imagine my joy when yesterday's bout of allergies turned out to be much more fatiguing than allergies. Yup, I've got a cold. As of today, so does Kara. Naturally, she managed to avoid napping, just to add insult to injury. And it seems she'll be cutting her molars soon, just in case we were all feeling just too well-rested recently. It's been a fun month.

Happy, happy birthday, baby



Kara and I slept in on the 11^th — an almost unheard-of occurrence around here. She seemed to be in good spirits when she woke, so I gave my parents and sister the All Clear to come visit, despite the fact that she was clearly still sick. We went out for lunch and Kara enjoyed playing on the playground. I put her down for a much-needed nap after my family left.

Then things went sour. Kara woke unusually early and clearly upset. She was clingy and seemed to be in pain. By 4:30 pm, I was sure she had a recurring Urinary Tract Infection; she was in discomfort when I changed her diaper and was prone to crying fits (which she never does any more) at what seemed to be random intervals. When Matt came home, I got us back out to the ER at NYGH.

Long story short, 6 hours, a urine collection sample and narrowly avoiding a catheter later, we went home with an antibiotics prescription for Kara's first ear infection. We've also been giving her Advil and Tylenol to keep the fever in check and to help her manage the pain.

She napped twice today, each for the duration she does for a single daytime nap, when she takes one. She was exhausted by bedtime. Everyone's completely wiped and we'll all been eating poor excuses for food for days.

Yesterday we had the plumber in to fix the elbow joint in the kitchen sink which gave out when Matt was cleaning up at 12:30 am, following our trip to the ER.

It's been a helluva week and I'm sad to say that I don't think anyone feels we gave Kara a "proper" birthday celebration. At least she had fun for the first part of that day, I guess.

F7U12

A rundown of how today's gone so far:

• Kara's calling for her dad just before 1:30 am, asking for milk and/or water
• Matt goes downstairs to bring her water to her and finds her with a high fever
• Matt brings Kara back upstairs with him to update me
• Matt checks Kara's temperature with the ear thermometer and gets a 38.7° C reading
• yet another trip to NYGH's luxurious ER!
• no traffic, fast processing, small victory
• 3 ½ hours later, toddler is playing with the hospital gurney's paper liner and the attending doctor tells us it's likely a virus and we should manage it with Tylenol and Advil and can leave
• everyone's back in bed by 6:15 am
• Kara, ever the early bird (who's kid is this?), wakes at 9:15 am
• I haul my massively sleep-deprived ass out of bed for the twelve billionth time to see to her and hope that Matt gets enough uninterrupted sleep to function manageably for the rest of the day
• Matt relieves me at 11:00 am, I head back upstairs to nap until almost 2:00 pm
• Kara goes down for her first nap of the day shortly after I head back downstairs

And tomorrow she's two!

Another wrinkle of experience for Kara's brain

Apparently, running around all day, every day, without any regard for whether or not one is tired leaves one open to developing a case of Pneumonia. Who'da thunk?

It's been a fun weekend around here (and at North York General Hospital).

Kara decides to go for another two milestones in a day

Today, Kara learned how to go up a small flight of stairs unassisted (I was sitting on the second step to help her if she needed it).

Also, today's the first day that — for no reason in particular — she decided to forgo a nap altogether. She even made it to bedtime. Before this, she'd only ever accomplished a feat of stamina of this magnitude on the day of my birthday gathering, and she ended up crashing an hour before her usual bedtime.

I'm considerably less excited about the second development than I am about the first.

Another milestone in the life of Kara

It would seem that the week-and-a-half of miserable night sleeps is due to the fact that Kara has cut another tooth.

Hey, know what's fun?

Trying not to sound passive-aggressive when you're so hormonal, massively underslept and fed-up with the fact that your mother just holds up clothing up to your baby to make sure it looks "pretty" on her in the midst of a North American bedbug infestation that you finally send out an email to your immediate family to tell them to cut that shit out.

When it comes to milestones, my kid doesn't mess around

While Kara and I took a moment to relax on the couch this morning, she grabbed my finger, opened her mouth and stuck it inside. This is a behaviour which she used to engage in considerably in the past, but which recently subsided. She stuck my finger into the back of her mouth, presumably to massage a spot for her. It was only when I started feeling around that I noticed a hard protrusion at the lower-front and left of her gumline. A quick peek showed that what I felt was — in fact — Kara's long-awaited first tooth!

Then, as we were finishing up dinner, she decided to do some of this:

I hear that this sort of thing is a pretty big deal a video by flickr.ghanima on Flickr.

Milestone-time!

When I looked down from what I was reading at the dinner table at where Kara was, on the floor, she was standing up unassisted.

When I got kinda squealy about it, she thought I was upset with her and hid under my chair for a while. I had to clap my hands and give her a hug to get the message across. Silly baby. :)

Longest stretch yet



Kara just spent a little under 9 consecutive hours awake — her longest stint yet. Fortunately for me, this was during a day in which I took her out in her stroller for about an hour and a half early on, then had a visit from my parents. Undoubtedly, her show of stamina can be attributed to all of the excitement today, but still, damn.

Disappointing

I still haven't managed to kick this cold. I've gone through one "family-size" jug and two large cartons of orange juice this week. I hate juice. I've had uncountably many large cups of ginger tea. I've gone to bed early every single night. I'm still snotty and prone to dehydration. I'm hoping this phase is its death-throes.

Also, the double-batch of the vegan crumb cake I just made had a depressingly sandy crumb topping — that was not what I was going for. I'm going to have to consider making just the cake itself in the future.

In good news, Kara (and I) really enjoyed getting into the sunshine today, socializing with random people in our townhouse complex and exploring the smatterings of nature I allowed her to handle freely.

Sick like dog

Mental note: the next time my body tells me it has enough energy to make pancakes, pie crust dough, 2 quiches, 4 homemade hamburgers, a rack of ribs and roast potatoes, I must really be preparing for a dirty, rotten, completely-exhausting cold.

The good news is that Matt was able to take on enough of the baby-watching duties over the long weekend that I was able to get 2 extra naps per day, both today and yesterday. I'm hoping that I'm over the worst of it, 'cause feeling like this as Kara's sole caretaker wouldn't go well.

A year in review



Today is Kara's first birthday!

In all honesty, it's been the most physically and emotionally stressful, challenging and full-on exhausting year of my life. As little as a half-year ago, all I could think about was getting to this milestone in Kara's existence. I didn't start to feel like I was achieving some tiny semblance of my own life until Kara was 15 weeks old.

From there, it wasn't until Kara was about 8 months old that I felt like I could count on my day-to-day life to be consistently good. It's only been a little more than a month since anybody in this household could count on getting more than 5 hours of sleep at a stretch. I still don't feel like my brain has fully recovered from the beating it took for those 11 months — my memory is still shot, most of the time.

So, while I would have liked to have had a sibling for Kara, I still don't feel that I'll be capable of forgetting the "bad times" enough to be able to have more children.

All that said: Kara is still the most delightful person I've ever had in my life. It really is a joy to be with her daily. Having a child is the most dichotomous thing I can imagine anyone experiencing.

Super-cool milestone(s) update

On Saturday morning, Kara came with me up to our bedroom for her morning feeding and waved at me following it. I greeted her with a, "Hello,", which was met with a, "Halla,". Kara spoke her first word!

The next morning, she addressed her daddy, "Dada,", which beats the, "A-da," she was calling him for months. At dinner yesterday, she mimicked my, "All done," by saying, "Alda".

Kara has been signing the words "Milk," and "More," for weeks now, so I didn't think much of it when she signed "More," on Sunday morning. Still, I started singing and signing, "The More We Get Together". This was met with her signing, "More," "Together," and "Happier" along with me! She also signed "All done" during the dinnertime in which she spoke that phrase (which Caty pointed out, she probably thinks is one word).

So, we've had something of a flurry of communication around here for the past few days!

Kara's not walking yet, but happily uses the dining chairs as walkers. She doesn't stand unassisted unless she isn't paying attention — she's strong enough and has the balance to do so, but isn't confident enough to try it. For now, she's still zipping along by crawling her odd one-knee-up-in-the-air crawl, which she's gotten adept at and greatly enjoys doing.

*Credits to Caty for the photo*