Wednesday, December 22, 2010


Wow, just great being home for the holidays. Temperatures ranging from -8C to 1C, snowbanks piled up to five feet high everywhere. Glistening white snow, and all the houses of my friends and families that aren't tweaked in the least for a boy with CP. Wow. I didn't realize just how much Roxy and I have planned everything around Blue and his "situation."
So, to make it a little easier for us, we used a kaboodle of our 'Avion' points to pay for part of the hotel; and here we are on night 3 of 11 in a small, fully furnished hotel. I must say, the things we're learned over the years about food prep, facilitated movement, and communication; it all comes into play now almost somewhat desperately.
It was most interesting to see my nieces stand respectfully around, watching Blue sitting on my lap as if he were some fragile creature. Nobody really loosened up until I began rolling about in the living room a little with Blue. What can a guy do? Last time we visited without Blue,making the impression that we can run, jump, and play about like a typical Aunt or Uncle. This time, we're with Blue; and everyone has to kind of start over again re-learning who he is and how we is with him. Very interesting. I probably shouldn't even be blogging here, because how that process is working out is something I can't really explain yet.
All I know is that it filled me with peace and happiness driving my Dad's mini-van back to the hotel and looking across so many snow-covered yards to see Christmas trees lit up and sparkling in the front windows of so many cozy homes. Just having all three of us there to enjoy it was/is wonderful. Ahhh. Home.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Goldfish Again

Holy smokes, would you ever think your friendly, little, "community" tank would become a place of predation? No. But the goldfish, being the biggest fish in the tank, and hungry all the time, began eating the other littler fish. Ha! Am I surprised? Not a whit. IF the goldfish serves as a metaphor for conductive education (because it survived every other fish as the tank cycled through its various concentrations of biology)then what else would one expect it to do?

Being surrounded by a lot of bureacratic brown-nosers and wimps extraordinaires - the goldfish probably said to itself, "Right. Well, if this is as far they can go, I shall eat them." Seems fair to me. But, what must I do as the keeper of these stupid fish? After three had been eaten, I had to do something, and in true form, there's no way I am going to give over the goldfish. I bought a "divider." The goldfish remains in the same tank with the others, but there is a big plastic, permeable wall keeping it away from the other fish.

Maybe I should follow through and get rid of all the other fancy, wimpy, loser fish and give the whole tank to the goldfish. If it is to serve as an allegory for my journey with CE, that would be the way to do it. On the other fin, if it is to serve as an allegory for this odd world in which I swim, I ought to rename all the other animals after the various 'therapists' involved in my son's life. And sadly, I continue to protect them from the consuming power of conductive education because politics demands no less. Humiliation, separation, and loss: but none of it matters in the end because my boy is sleeping peacefully in my arms during those afternoon naps. My God, if Anne-Christiane wasn't here, I'd go nuts. Truly, round-the-bend, bonkers: nuts.