Happy Hallowe'en!!

This is Daniel's Hallowe'en poem that he made up last night.

He was supposed to write a story, but asked if he could write a poem instead. Sure, if it keeps him enjoying putting pencil to paper - I'm all for it. If the teacher has a problem with it, they can talk to me about it.

Write on Daniel!

Way to Go Coach!

Our Daniel has really been wanting to quit soccer, but we have persuaded him to hang in there for a little while longer, hoping we could stretch things out until his assignment to his permanent team to see if things would improve with a different coach and team of players. Wishing that he'd manage to hang in until the end of the season.

The season started out with such high hopes. In early September, Daniel was very excited to start playing soccer. As a family we've been playing ball with him at every opportunity - that soccer ball comes everywhere with us. He's been enjoying it - one would be hard-pressed to wipe the smile from his face. He passes, dribbles, runs up and down the field, steals the ball from me... You get the idea - he has fun.

However, his first coach clearly didn't inspire him, engage him, allow him to flourish on the field. Daniel would often remain stationary, watching as the ball rolled past, then he'd tilt his head back and raise his arms signalling defeat. When another child challenged him for possession of the ball, he would just relinquish it. A chase for possession would end two or three feet too soon, his cleats had suddenly applied the brakes. In frustration I'd call out "watch the ball Daniel", "RUN!!", "listen to the coach!" My opportunities for cheering were few, but when they occurred, I was over the top enthusiastic "great save!", "way to go!", "good kick!" I shared his feelings of defeat, futility and not belonging. After each practice and game I'd give him a giant hug and discuss any positives I could from the session.

Time marched on - we struggled through the month of September. We knew that each child in the league was being evaluated and that the teams were going to be assembled in an effort to evenly distribute talent. Over Thanksgiving weekend the children were assigned to their 'permanent' teams that they'd stay with until spring break. With difficulty, I resisted sending an email to the U9 coordinator to influence what team he would be assigned to. I didn't want to interfere, but I was fully anticipating having to step in if things didn't start to improve. This week we received the email announcing his team and new coach. Whew, it wasn't the same group as before.

His first practice with his new team as last night. We were the first to arrive at the field and met the new coach, Diana, and the team manager, Laura. Diana was immediately out on the field with Daniel, directing him to practice certain moves, keeping him moving, keeping him smiling and laughing. While she didn't encourage his robot inspired practice suggestions, she didn't shoot him down either. Gently, yet firmly she guided the team through the practice. I heard nothing but positive feedback from the parents and I didn't see a single child struggling on the field. The group interacted as a team, the boys calling each others' names out to pass, learning how to play different positions, absorbing the rules of the game.

In short Daniel's new coach, Diana, is wonderful. He was so excited to be playing; he was jumping up and down, waving his arms and loudly repeating every single word that came out of her mouth. Even from halfway across the field I could hear that he was hanging on her every word. Amazing.

I stood on the sidelines, thrilled to be witness to this transformation. What a difference a good coach makes!

A Balancing Act

I don't know how other mums do it. They manage to participate in almost every activity with their children, work full time, manage a beautiful house and garden and still have time to go away to some exotic location for holidays. They work out, maintain their own personal hobbies and manage to entertain friends and family on a regular basis. To an outsider the entire family looks perfect in their nice clean outfits, walking their tongue-lolling gigantic dog.

Let me be clear: I'm not that kind of mum. Nor do I want to be. While I do try to participate in Daniel's activities, my level of participation will be drastically pared back this year. I do work full time (thankfully), but managing the house and garden are quite frankly, beyond me. As for travelling, I'll let you know how our trip in November goes. Personal hobbies... does mending count?Entertaining... what's that? Although I'd love to have a dog, Daryle's allergies and my lack of energy just wouldn't work with a big pet, let alone the fact that our back yard isn't fenced. However, we'll soon have a goldfish for Daniel, I don't know why we haven't got one already - must add that to the to-do list.

Daryle and I have had a few discussions over the last little while. Some I remember, some I don't. (I'm rather disheartened that I don't recall some conversations in which, from what Daryle has told me, I was articulate, assertive, and my words struck a chord). This fall, as a family, we're focusing on my health and each other. We're also focusing on our home, making it a more comfortable, happy place to raise the boys. We're even considering selling the house and moving into another home that may be more manageable, requiring less maintenance, time and money.

Here are a couple of lists of fun and exciting things to do this fall:

For myself:

• Start taking my new medication. This will involve a lot of wincing, cursing, money flying from wallet and general discomfort
• Focus on establishing a daily routine. Crawl out of bed, work, stagger to and from activities, fall back into bed. Repeat
• Establish better sleeping habits
• Stay connected with friends and family. I don't know what I would do without you all. It would be a sad, bleak world

For the family:

• Get Daniel to soccer games and practices
• Practice soccer drills with Daniel throughout the week
• Get Daniel to his Cub meetings and events
• Participate in Cubs meetings as a helper
• Get organized for Christmas ahead of time (I know I won't have the energy to deal with it at the time)
• Spend time reading with the boys in the evening
• Spend time with Daniel while he does his homework
• Pick away at projects around the house
• Oh, and buy a goldfish and necessary goldfishy stuff to keep it alive

Together, I'm sure we can manage the items on these lists this fall. They're too much for me to handle on my own, but with Daryle's help and the being able to say "no" to requests of our energy/time/money we'll manage. Hopefully.

The Run

For once I feel at ease in my own skin. I'm running comfortably, easy in the knowledge that each stride is bringing me closer to safety. I can sense that I'm near the end, very close to being safe. Steady now, I just need to keep focused. Just a few more turns...

My heart and mind are both racing. My thinking is clear, my body doesn't hurt, I'm enjoying the run despite being chased. "Catch me if you can!" Always looking a few feet ahead, so far I've been able to overcome all obstacles in my way. Jumped over rocks, skidded down gravel slopes, manoeuvred around puddles and outrun the foreboding shape following me.

Twigs snap underfoot, gravel crunches and the sky darkens rapidly. Nearly there. Over and over I tell myself "keep going, you can do it." In time with my breathing, my feet hit the ground, the drum-like rhythm keeps me focused. Glancing over my shoulder, I can see that the shadow has almost caught up to me. I feel a chill as it reaches out to grab me. I regret having looked back. Now I'm distracted, panicking. Faster, I need to run faster. There must be a secret to getting away. I cut sharply to the right then to the left, zig-zagging in the hopes that it can't corner very well. As luck would have it (or not), the shape follows me, easily taking the course changes in stride. The shadow's right behind me and yet I'm so close to being safe. My odds of either being overtaken or escaping feel equal.

My breath doesn't come as easily now, stiffness sets in as my legs begin to ache. I push myself hard to get away, I will not give up. Never. My God this hurts...

Without warning the ground disappears from underfoot. Suddenly I'm airborne. Falling rapidly towards the river below. I try to scream, but no sound comes out. Frantic now, I...

G A S P ! ! ! ! !

I bolt up in bed...

Thump thump thump thump. My heart continues racing as I become aware that I've been dreaming. My run wasn't real. The shadow wasn't real. My pounding heart certainly is though. At 2:00am I know that there's no chance of falling back to sleep again tonight.

And Now For Something Completely Different

It was one of  those opportunities that you just don't say no to. Chances to appear in a documentary don't come along every day. And I just couldn't say no, given that I find allergies and our seemingly compromised immune systems incredibly interesting. And with all my goofy health issues this year, it was sure nice to focus on something completely different.

However, when Bruce and his team from the Nature of Things first arrived at the house, I wondered if I had made the right decision accepting the invitation to appear in the program. They wanted shots of the house, shots of the playground, shots of our living room, shots of me. Sheesh, I don't know if I'm relaxed and confident enough to just accept both the house and myself as we are and be set free, so to speak, in a documentary. With any luck they'll be able to edit out all of my perceived nastiness. What the heck, it's my home and I should be happy with it as it is.

So... Bruce and his crew filmed the boys playing on the playground and playing with bubbles. Then we all traipsed inside to watch Rosita, the woman in charge of sample collections with the CHILD allergy study, "collect" dust samples and pretend to take Andy's diaper. It felt so odd, I had a difficult time believing anyone watching the documentary was going to buy into our awkward "Here's his diaper, thank-you for coming" interaction. I'm definitely not an actor, this became glaringly clear as they filmed. The sound guy's microphone hovered ever closer as Rosita and I spoke at the door. Sound? Really. My goodness - I'm definitely outside my comfort zone. I'll be absolutely shocked if our brief conversation makes Bruce's final cut for the documentary. But the reality, way back when Andy was an infant, was actually remarkably similar to what was so terribly re-enacted.

During Rosita's sample collecting spree, Bruce commented on how cute and natural Andy was in front of the camera. Wondering what exactly he was referring to, I looked over and saw Andy sucking on the end of Rosita's vacuum cleaner. Cute? No, I don't think so. Disturbing? Yes.

After Rosita had packed up her things and left the house, we had to get down to business and do the dreaded interview.

Of course now I've had time to think. I could have said some intelligent things like: "I think, as a species, we've messed with Mother Nature too much and our immune systems no longer know how to react." or "I hope that we'll soon figure out where we've gone wrong and will be able to reset our immune systems, and in effect reduce or eliminate diseases like type 2 diabetes, MS, Parkinson's, rheumatoid arthritis and others that are considered to ultimately be autoimmune disorders." Shamefully, in reality I told Bruce "no, I don't have anything else to add."

However, what's done is done. I should be content that Andy behaved like an angel and Daniel enjoyed himself. As for me - I'm just glad it's over.