My daughter died while being delivered on Friday afternoon

Evangeline

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Evangeline, my daughter, died while being delivered on Friday.

My girlfriend’s water broke last Tuesday, while Evangeline was in her 22nd-week. The doctors and nurses at the Ottawa General did everything they could to keep Diane healthy, and Evangeline inside. If we could have made it to 24-weeks, when Evangeline’s lungs would have been better prepared, the doctors felt she would have a fighting chance.

Unfortunately there was an infection and they had to induce labour. If they had waited the infection would have killed our baby. In the end Evangeline was just too small, too fragile, to survive the delivery.

Diane was mostly alone on Friday, I wasn’t able to get to Ottawa until a few moments after they had removed Evangeline from the delivery room. But we’ve been together almost constantly since then.

Mostly she’s been quiet. She has friends who are worried, and who want to help, but Diane isn’t ready… she doesn’t have the strength to go over every detail multiple times. I’ve tried to tell her that no one will ask questions or expect answers that she’s not ready to give.

But she has to grieve at her own pace.

At the moment we’re working on what happens next. We meet with the funeral director at Hillcrest Funeral Home in Vankleek Hill tomorrow (Monday) — they’ve been great so far, they’ve already brought Evangeline back to Vankleek Hill. We have to decide whether to cremate or bury her. I think we’re both leaning towards burial, but cost might be a factor.

There will be a notice in the paper, and we’re not sure about a service yet.

The pregnancy was considered ‘high risk’ from the start. So was Victor’s. And so was Diane’s son, Andrew, from her previous relationship. He’s six-years old now. Diane was pregnant twice before Andrew, but neither came to term. For Andrew and Victor, Diane had a surgical procedure called a ‘cerclage’ performed. It’s basically a stitch through the cervix to keep it closed.

We thought it would work with Evangeline as well, and it did. Unfortunately there were other complications, which led to an infection around the cerclage.

Diane and I spent last summer discussing having another child. The final decision was both of ours. I don’t believe we’ll try again.

Evangeline was tiny. Part of the process meant having the nurse bring her back into the room after we had some time to recover from the loss. They had wrapped her in a hospital blanket, the same kind they wrapped Victor in, and dressed her in a tiny, pink wool dress.

She had long, slender fingers, I think she had my nose, she had full lips and definitely Andrew’s smirk. In her tiny face I could see Diane, Andrew, Victor, myself and my mother.

Diane put her finger in Evangeline’s hand, and I caressed her forehead and cheeks.

After a little more than 30-minutes the nurse took her away again. The next day they gave us a colourful cardboard box with the pink dress, and some other mementos. I haven’t looked in the box yet. I know it has Evangeline’s hand and foot prints.

She was so very, very small.

I think, on Friday and during the day on Saturday, we were both too tired to grieve. Maybe it was shock. But on Saturday night we both started quietly crying.

Personally I think this is going to get worse before it gets better.

…we still hadn’t decided on her full name. Diane wanted her to be a Landriault, I was leaning towards a hyphenated Lingley-Landriault. Her middle name was either going to be Rose, my great-grandmother’s maiden name, or Hallelujah.

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Posted in Evangeline's Week In Review, Health, Ottawa, Parenthood, Parenting, Pregnancy, Vankleek Hill, Victor's Week In Review, Writing | Tagged , | 7 Comments

Pregnancy Update: What happens when her water breaks far too soon

Copyright ImageEvangeline's first photo

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Diane’s water broke, so she has been in the hospital since Tuesday, and won’t be released until the baby is born.

The problem is she’s only 22-weeks into the pregnancy, which is far too early for a safe delivery. At this point the doctors are pumping her full of fluids and medications and steroids, trying to accelerate the baby’s development. Basically we’re just trying to get to the 24-week mark. Anything after that will be a gift.

We knew going into the pregnancy that there might be problems. Diane has a history of high risk pregnancies. She has what’s badly termed an “incompetent cervix”. Before Andrew was born six years ago Diane had two pregnancies that ended tragically. With Andrew and Victor she had a medical procedure done called a “cerclage”, which is a surgical stitch through her cervix.

It’s painful, but it kept both boys inside, safe and sound for the entire pregnancy — Victor was born six weeks prematurely.

So, on Monday morning, Diane called me to tell me there was some “leaking”, and that her father would be taking her to the Ottawa General to get checked. They sent her home, after telling her everything was fine. Then early Tuesday morning the leaking got much, much worse, so her father took her back to the hospital. They admitted her right away, and she’s been there since.

There is still amniotic fluid in the womb, just not a lot, but the baby is still drinking and her belly is full. Which, the doctors say, is important. The baby’s heart rate had been down for a couple of days but, as of today (Thursday) it was back where it’s supposed to be.

Diane’s movement is limited. The nurse wouldn’t let her even take a shower until Wednesday night. She’s only allowed in the wheelchair to get to her ultrasound appointments. The rest of her day is spent in bed.

She’s actually fairly relaxed. Victor and I were there today, and we’ve been talking a lot on the phone, and — maybe it’s having cable TV — she sounds like… like she’s not as worried as she was over the weekend when she was having discomfort and pain, and definitely more relaxed than she was when the water was breaking.

She was very excited to see Victor, unfortunately he was in an exploratory mood. After hugging his mom, Victor decided what he really wanted to do was visit with the new mom in the next bed. Then there was an entire maternity ward full of mothers to visit. So I spent most of our time there trying to corral him.

As we made our way through the hospital, on our way in, out and to the cafeteria for lunch, Victor waved at everyone from his buggy. He said “hi” to everyone on his level, so anyone in a wheelchair. Which was… inspiring to watch. There were a lot of older people, very depressed or quiet, in their wheelchairs either waiting for rides or just to be taken somewhere, who perked right up and looked about ten-years younger when Victor would wave and say “hi”.

So, for the foreseeable future, Victor and I are on our own. Which is okay, it just means I have to do stuff everyday because I can’t rely on Diane taking over for a few days.

The problem is, this happened so quickly I haven’t had time to prepare. So I’ve been feeding Victor out of cans for the past few days because getting to a real grocery store has been out of the question.

Normally I’d have enough food to last Victor roughly three days, then he’d go stay with Diane for three or four days and I’d have time to reload. But Diane went into the hospital at the end of my three-days of Victor Time.

I’ll be able to reload my shelves properly this Saturday, when Victor will have his first non-family babysitter. I’ve had a few friends offer their services as babysitter and to take me to Ottawa to visit Diane. Which I plan on taking advantage of… my step-father commutes to Ottawa every day, but he leaves Vankleek Hill at 5:30am and doesn’t get back until after 6pm. Which, after a few days, would kill me.

Diane has permission for me to stay overnight in her room, but that means sleeping in one of the most uncomfortable chair-beds known to mankind. Plus, I snore like a broken muffler, so I’m pretty sure anyone else sleeping in that room other than Diane and I would have difficulties, at least.

If everything works out properly I’ll be in Ottawa every other day. I do have some friends in the city who might be receiving a call from me, looking for a couch to surf on. Diane’s father will be bringing Andrew to visit a few times next week as well.

Here at home Victor and I will continue to spend our days reading about angry birds, walking to the park, pushing his buggy to the store, watching “The Cat In The Hat” cartoons (with Martin Short!?) and pointing at stuff, and waiting for his mom and little sister to come home.

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On a more ‘me-centred moment’, I’ve been almost entirely deaf since January 25, thanks to an ear and throat infection that went away after a week, but left fluid behind my eardrums. As of Sunday afternoon I finally have most of the hearing back in my right ear, but my left ear is still 90% blocked. But it is popping, which is good.

I finally have an appointment with an ear, nose and throat specialist in May.

I’ve also been prescribed medication for hypertension caused, mostly, by the diabetes. And my blood sugar — thanks to the stress from the hearing loss, and the pregnancy, and the blood pressure, and other things — has been entirely out of control since January. My average is back up into the low twenties.

Which is not good.

And, as long as I’m making a list, my kidney functions are down to 37%. Which is not good at all.

Hopefully I can get it all fixed soon, so Evangeline has a daddy at her graduation from medical school.

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Posted in Diabetes, Evangeline's Week In Review, Family, Health, Parenthood, Parenting, Pregnancy, Vankleek Hill, Victor's Week In Review, Writing | Tagged | 1 Comment

MoneySense magazine ranks Hawkesbury 150th out of 190 cities, people ask ‘what the fuck is MoneySense magazine?’

Copyright Imagedowntown Hawkesbury, Ontario

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For a few years MoneySense, a Toronto-based magazine, has been ranking cities in Canada from best to worst. For the third year in a row they’ve decided Hawkesbury is one of the worst places to live in Canada, and the absolute worst city for household income.

The rankings published in the Toronto-based MoneySense magazine are based on a points system in categories like employment rates, crime, transit, population growth, weather, air quality, culture, recreation and sports, housing, income, and health professionals — such as dentists and doctors. Then each city is ranked and an anonymous junior member of the editorial team, having never actually stepped foot in your city, gets to write 600 words on how your city is an incredible suckhole.

MoneySense is basically a ‘lists’ magazine. The Rogers-owned magazine comes out six times a year, and to increase circulation and advertising revenue it publishes lists. Like the ‘Top 100 Dividend stocks to retire on’, or the ‘Top 500 US All-Star stocks’, or the ‘Top 200 Canadian Stocks of 2011’, or ‘Canada’s best credit cards’.

List features like ‘the best / worst city in Canada’ take very little effort to compile, no matter what the criteria, but they attract the most advertising dollars.

In Hawkesbury’s case, the MoneySense editorial board has decided the city’s numerous problems can be reduced to:

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“Hawkesbury’s tree-lined Main Street is quaint [but] the town lacks basic attractions like a movie theatre*.”
’11 Worst Places To Live’; A helpful suggestion from MoneySense Magazine

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Overall, MoneySense ranked Hawkesbury at 150 out of 190 cities. Hawkesbury was close to the bottom in “low crime”, affordable housing and “culture”. The city ranked 23rd in “walk/bike to work”, Hawkesbury has an incredible number of doctors per capita, and the city ranked 55th in “weather”.

What the magazine doesn’t tell its readers is that, for decades, Hawkesbury has been abandoned by both the federal and provincial governments. Or that Hawkesbury sits in the middle of the most economically depressed region in Canada, ranking highest in illiteracy rates, depression, addiction rates and crimes of abuse.

Or that Hawkesbury, once a thriving mill town, is still recovering from losing the thousand good-paying jobs the paper mill provided when it closed down in the early-80’s. Or from the hundreds of manufacturing jobs lost over the past decade, taking millions of dollars more out of the small city’s already devastated economy.

Hawkesbury was founded in 1859, and quickly became the regional centre for the pulp and paper industry. It sits on the Ontario side of the Ottawa River, roughly halfway between Ottawa and Montreal. Eighty-five percent of the city’s current population of 10,550 speak French as their first language, making it the largest concentration of Francophone’s in North America outside Quebec.

Nine generations of Hawkesbury’s people worked in the paper mill, most of them either getting hired before high school, or right out of grade nine.

When the mill closed in the early-80’s there were hundreds of families in a city of less than 9,000 people who had done nothing else for 200 years. And then there was nothing for them.

If MoneySense, or anyone else, needs an example of what Hawkesbury would eventually end up like after the mill closure, take a look at Detroit when the car manufacturer left. It’s called institutionalized poverty. And it brings with it crime, addiction and paralysis.

Not the kind of things that can be fixed with a downtown, two-screen Multi-Plex* where kids get in half-price on Sunday afternoon. Not the kind of thing that can be summed up in a 600-word magazine piece calling your town a shithole that desperately needs some entertainment*.

To blame the people who live in Hawkesbury for the city’s current household income level is like blaming people for drowning when all the boats were swept away as soon as the levies broke.

Yes, Hawkesbury’s problems are mostly self-inflicted, but in the same way that a town recovering from a tornado has no timber or hammers to rebuild — they have to make do with the broken scraps that are left. Without outside help, without charity from surrounding cities, without government support, there’s no option but to fail in the rebuild over and over again.

Hawkesbury is an ugly, scarred little city with very little hope or prospects left. The best thing you can say about the place is, after all this time, there are still people living there who care enough to try and rebuild.

There have been attempts, big and small, over the past twenty years to make Hawkesbury a better place to live, and to visit — they have festivals now, they have street fairs. But it can’t be a surprise when some ideas end up in failure.

Ten years ago (or so) they had the chance to build a commercial and tourism destination along its Ottawa River waterfront, instead they handed the prime real estate, just seconds from downtown, to a developer, who then promptly built six ugly grey homes with an ugly privacy fence.

Instead of a walking and biking trail along the river, linking West Hawkesbury to downtown, and having a waterfront shopping and recreation district with open air food markets and a park extending from the McGill and Main Street intersection to the bridge, there’s nothing of value left along the river.

Downtown Hawkesbury is now completely isolated from the Ottawa River.

Then there was the decision to build a bypass around Hawkesbury’s downtown. Because Main Street turned into a two hour parking lot every weekend, a bypass was desperately needed. And built. But now most traffic never sees the trees and restaurants and businesses of downtown, except from the back.

The bypass snakes past all of the major downtown parking lots, and the back-ends of half the major downtown businesses, and, fifteen years later, still no one has put up one single sign giving anyone travelling on the bypass a clue as to what those businesses are.

Or put up new paint. Even if people know what business is in which building, just getting into the parking lots from the bypass is difficult. Some lots are blocked off entirely from the bypass, which doesn’t really matter, because there are no directions. No arrows, no signs saying “Pharmacy Parking here”.

See, we know what the problems are. We know what mistakes have been made, and we know they’ll be made again. Because for the past thirty years the people of Hawkesbury have been trying to rebuild their town using broken boards and bent nails.

And they deserve more respect than being told “you’re the worst” and then being given suggestions on how to improve by someone who, ten minutes ago, never heard of Hawkesbury, and really has no interest in the city beyond telling people what a failure the city is fills some space in their magazine.

In a magnificently tone deaf press release, Sarah Efron, the managing editor of MoneySense, blamed the decision to rank Hawkesbury as one of the least livable cities in Canada on Hawkesbury’s “negative population growth” and its “household income” — which, for more reasons than I just covered, remains the lowest in the country.

Well, with respect Sarah, what you and your magazine have done with this list is tell someone dying from asbestos poisoning that they look like shit, and maybe they should eat something.

Maybe, in next year’s best / worst list feature, your magazine can take a more serious look at the problems in Hawkesbury, and maybe bring those problems to the attention of people who can help.

Because, really, who gives a shit that Ottawa is the most livable city in Canada. Maybe, I don’t know, it’s the “bottom eleven” who deserve the most time, space, effort and attention in your publication.

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*There actually is a two-screen movie theatre barely a two minute drive from downtown Hawkesbury. $20 will get you two tickets to a new feature film, two regular bags of popcorn and two regular drinks. Surely having such a value so close to downtown should bump Hawkesbury up a few places.

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Posted in Canada, Champlain Township, Eastern Ontario, Hawkesbury, Journalism, News, Politics, poverty, Vankleek Hill, Writing | Tagged , | 12 Comments

Sunday Blues Spotlight: Derek Miller

Copyright ImageTrans-Am Apocalypse No. 2, 1993 by John Scott

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I first saw Derek Miller when he was featured on the live music TV program, ‘Arbor Live’, on the APTN (Aboriginal Peoples Television Network). Arbor Live is a fantastic show to catch great new and independent bands. Unfortunately the budget must be tiny, because they can’t afford to keep those TV labels telling you who’s playing, plus the song and maybe the album, up on the screen for more than a few seconds.

So by the time you realize the act you’re watching is totally fucking awesome, and you’d really like to find out more about them, the label is long gone and no one ever mentions the name of the band ever again.

Thankfully I caught a repeat of the Derek Miller interview and performance. And, having learned my lesson, when Derek’s performance started I grabbed my glasses and got to within a few inches of the TV, and there it was… “Derek Miller”, ‘Devil Come Down Sunday’. Fucking awesome.

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‘Devil Come Down Sunday’, The Dirty Looks (2006); Derek Miller

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‘Lovesick Blues’, Music is the Medicine (2002); Derek Miller

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‘Stoned for Days’, Derek Miller with Double Trouble (2010); Derek Miller

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Derek has incredible skills, and ‘The Dirty Looks’ is now one of my favourite albums. “Devil Come Down Sunday” is probably one of the best guitar-heavy Blues songs to come out of Canada since… I don’t know, lets say Big Sugar’s “Red Rover” in 2001. “10 000 RPM”, “Malibu”, “Shot o’Cake” and “Mystery Train” are also all excellent tracks. I’ve seen Derek live on Arbor Live, and on fan-generated videos on YouTube, and he’s someone I’d definitely spend money to see.

Unfortunately, for whatever it’s worth (and, unfortunately, it’s worth a lot), Derek’s social media / Web presence sucks dry donkey balls. He’s one of the 200 people left with a MySpace page, but it hasn’t been updated since March, 2011. He has an “Official” website, but it’s still pushing a documentary that played three months ago, and the trailer is “locked”.

The blog attached to the “Official” site hasn’t been updated since 2010, but it does have a great idea for ‘free music downloads’, all you have to do to get “Oh Boy” from his 2010 album ‘Derek Miller With Double Trouble’ is Tweet about it. Unfortunately I don’t Tweet, but there’s only the one song available for download so it doesn’t really matter.

Derek does have an active Facebook page (6,676 followers) and Twitter account (1,522 Twits), but his YouTube account has four videos and not much else. Which makes sense. Social media takes time, and even cash, and I don’t get the feeling Derek has a lot of either. Especially the cash part, what with him being a blues musician… from Canada. That’s not even a licence to print Canadian Tire money, let alone the real stuff. Still, it’d be nice if he logged into his accounts once in a while, just to keep those accounts relevant.

The man has played with Buffy Sainte-Marie, Double Trouble (Stevie Ray Vaughn’s backup band) and Willie Nelson, he has won a couple of Juno Awards and played the closing ceremonies of the Vancouver 2010 Winter Olympics.

His music can be found on iTunes, and his awesome 2006 album, The Dirty Looks, can be downloaded as a Torrent… not that I’d ever, ever suggest doing so. But, fuck, if there’s no HMV in your neighbourhood, and you’ve got no credit card, or you don’t want to supply your credit card number to a gagglesack of 15-year old hackers, how the fuck else are you going to make a mix-CD for your girlfriend?

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Posted in Canadian Music, Entertainment, Sunday Music Spotlight, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Pregnancy Update | she’s a girl.

Copyright ImageEvangeline's first photo

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Thronged were the streets with people; and noisy groups at the house-doors
Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossiped together,
Every house was an inn, where all were welcomed and feasted;
For with this simple people, who lived like brothers together,
All things were held in common, and what one had was another’s.
Yet under Benedict’s roof hospitality seemed more abundant:
For Evangeline stood among the guests of her father;
Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and gladness
Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it.

‘Evangeline, A Tale of Acadie’ (1847) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

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We’re having a girl, and her name will be Evangeline. She will be born during the fist week of August, which makes sense because August is an awesome month.

Diane, my girlfriend, chose Evangeline, so I’m currently working on a middle name, although I do have a super-secret and totally awesome one already. Choices other than my awesome but secret one include:

My great-grandmother was named Rose, which goes back a few more generations on that side of the family. My grandfather had sisters named Bernadette and Rita (who was also an actual Catholic Sister), her middle name was Gratia, or Grace. There are also a few Léa’s in my family history, so if George Lucus hasn’t copyrighted it that could be cool.

There’s also Arvilla, Hazel, Josephine, Annabelle and Eliza. My three sisters are in the mix as well, and so is my mother. Or I could go with Cooler, which is my cats name. Evangeline Cooler Landriault… it has a ring to it.

I didn’t want to know the sex of the baby, but Diane wanted to tell me so badly she looked like she was about to burst. Just based on how she was bouncing around after getting back from the ultrasound I kind of had a pretty good idea it was a girl.

We started discussing having a second child almost immediately after our son was born, in 2009. And Diane always had a semi-secret smile when she talked about the possibility of having a girl.

She wasn’t the only one, her oldest son has been talking about having a little sister for a year now. And my mother has wanted a protege for a long, long time.

I’ve been telling Diane I was totally cool either way for our first, and for this one. But, honestly, the idea of raising a girl is freaking me out.

It’s probably not rational, but raising a girl just seems insanely complicated. And scary as hell. Not the clinical stuff, or at least not specifically the health stuff, but mostly teaching her how to be safe. Or how to be a princess.

To be honest I find most “girl” things are, mostly, ridiculous. Ponies? Gymnastics? I have to go to gymnastics meets now? Unicorns, I’ll have to learn about unicorns. And sparkles.

Teaching my (currently two-year old) son how to defend himself will be easy. People who meet him are all certain he’s going to be a large person, so teaching him to defend himself is basically going to be me showing him how to throw a punch from the shoulder. He’s already beating up his six-year old brother.

But I’m already starting to have nightmares about my daughter asking me how to defend herself against the insanely vicious self-esteem attack-games girls make on other girls. Jesus, what if she’s the first one in her class to “develop”? What if she’s last?

What if she asks me for advice on dealing with the ‘mean girls’ in her class and I screw it up? Christ, she’s probably going to want to date.

Obviously I’ll try my best to get her interested in sports, like real sports. There are soccer and rugby leagues in this region for girls, and also a mixed hockey league.

But what do I say when she asks me for advice on boys? How do I keep her safe from the ‘pornification’ of high school dating?

How long do I wait before explaining to her that people like Rush Limbaugh exist?

Thankfully there are a lot of women, alive and not so much, on my side of the family who will serve as excellent role models for my daughter. My paternal grandmother, for example, was a mathematician who worked on developing radar during WW2. My three sisters are all brilliant, strong women, who have lived interesting lives.

My mother had her poetry published when she was barely twenty. She went on to work as a book and magazine editor, and was the editor of the local paper. Her aunt became a Catholic nun when she was a teenager, and taught high school for forty years. She was also a brilliant painter and could kill a person with a stare at thirty paces.

So maybe, with living examples and stories about her ancestors, Evangeline might have a chance to survive despite my neophyte parenting skills…

There’s a young woman who works weekends at the gas station where I buy my milk and pop, she’s being raised by her single mom, she plays rugby and soccer, gets marks in the mid-90′s and is going to university next year to learn how to bio-engineer a cure for cancer.

I have to find her mother and interview her.

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Posted in Evangeline's Week In Review, Family, Humor, Humour, Parenthood, Parenting, Vankleek Hill, Writing | Tagged | 5 Comments

Little Victor Update | the TV zombie

Copyright ImageVictor the TV Zombie

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I think I’m about to find out how much TV is too much TV in the safe development of a child’s mind. My two-year old son can recognize Dog The Bounty Hunter’s voice, and has now started to respond to Dora The Explorer.

Dora is something new for Victor, we just started watching mostly-age-appropriate cartoons together a few months ago. But “Dog”, which comes on in the afternoons on A&E, and because there’s very little else on for his father to watch in the mid-afternoon, has been part of Victor’s life since he was just past his first birthday.

To be fair to his mom and me, Victor watches less than six hours of TV per week. I’d say it’s closer to four, and that includes DVD’s. But, for a two-year old, I do find it a little weird that he knows how to use the remote to turn on the TV, and change channels. He’ll also stop and look at the TV when he hears Dog’s voice. Which is one reason why I haven’t watched Dog in a few months.

But I’ve noticed recently, during those six or four or three hours a week, that his jaw is slack, his mouth is open and his eyes are glazed over. And that has me a little freaked out.

TV is definitely not Victor’s surrogate parent, or even his bored high school-aged constantly-texting babysitter. He spends most weekdays with me, in my apartment, and the TV is almost always off or on one of the news channels — which, for the most part, are really just poor quality versions of Dora and Dog… which are really just poor knock-offs of Bugs Bunny.

Which is what makes the glazed look all the more… disturbing.

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One of the biggest changes in Victor’s life over the past couple of months is how much time he has running free. His mom moved into a new house, with wide open spaces and a long hallway, for Victor to roam around in. He finally has lots of space to ride his little vehicles and, in the spring, there’s a great backyard for him to play in.

I’ve also started to trust him to not run into the corners of my tables, or bring down my bookcases, in my apartment.

When Victor is loose, he’s a running, laughing stamina-filled, oatmeal-fueled machine. His balance and coordination have improved so much over the past couple of months. Just last November, when he was out of his ‘play area’, I felt I had to follow right behind him at all times. It was the only way I felt secure enough having him whipping around my apartment.

But now I’m confident enough in his abilities I can just set him down and get back to writing — after making sure the exacto-knives are out of his reach, of course. I also have to unplug the PS3 so he doesn’t trip over the wires… but then he tries to plug them back in.

The kid is crazy like that. He’ll take an empty pop can off my coffee table, and bring it to my recycling bin. He’ll pick up a DVD case off the TV table, walk around with it over his head, then put it back exactly where he found it… like, exactly. He’ll even nudge it a little with his finger to get it right.

He seems to know, or remember, exactly where everything goes.

If I tell him, without pointing, to put whatever he’s carrying on the table, he’ll put it on the table. When his mom says “give it to daddy”, he goes out of his way to find me and hands me whatever it is he was carrying. My favourite is “where’s your bottle?”, then he runs off and finds it. I just find that fascinating, that he understands what we’re saying, without having the words yet.

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His favourite word of all time, or for the past few months, is “ball”. Or “bahll” / “bawl” / “ball-e”. It’s also his favourite thing, and his favourite shape. He has a giant yellow bouncing ball, a rubber Christmas ball that’s roughly the size of a softball, and a hacky sack.

They’re almost like a security blanket for him. He can live without them, but once he realizes he doesn’t have access to them it can be a problem.

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…something Victor doesn’t really have is a security blanket. Until recently he refused to sleep under a blanket altogether. And he barely tolerates the two little teddy bears we leave in his crib / playpen — although, if I hug one of his teddy’s, he’ll hug the other and say “teddy”. As long as he has a pillow, and access to a full bottle at 2:30am, he’ll sleep right through the night.

The only reason, as far as I can tell, that he has started to use the blankets is because my slumlord landlord won’t fix the windows in my apartment so, in the winter, when there’s a wind, there’s a -10C draft from every one of them.

I leave the heat on all night when Victor is here, and the baseboard heater is just a few feet from his crib, but still… when there’s a wind, the curtains move.

Which also freaks the cat out.

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One other thing Victor loves doing that blows my mind is stacking stuff. He loves stacking thing on top of other things, or putting things into other things.

He’ll take a box, like an empty diaper box, and walk around picking up his toys and random objects — empty water bottles are a favourite — and storing them in his box. Then he’ll carry his box around my apartment for a little while, then take stuff out of the box and stack the objects on my shelves or tables.

He can unscrew the canister his bum cream comes in, he can turn my printer on, he knows how to turn a juice box into a squirt gun, and he loves to dance to everything from Muddy Waters to The Weeknd.

But my my favourite thing Victor does is when he lifts his arms over his head, his hands all balled up with his thumbs sticking out, and he yells “YAY” with a big grin… except when I’m carrying him and he buries his head into my cheek. That’s definitely my favourite thing, by far.

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Photos Of Victor’s Week(s):

Victor's Week

Victor's Week

Victor's Week

Victor's Week

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Posted in Family, Humor, Humour, Parenthood, Parenting, poverty, Vankleek Hill, Victor's Week In Review, Writing | Tagged | 2 Comments