The middle of February, Saturday, mid-morning. The neighborhood is quiet, echoes from children’s voices are silent, the park empty. Airplane engines rumble, a weed blower buzzes. Birds chirp as the sun is covered by a thin cloud. A cool breeze blows and a dog barks. It hasn’t rained in weeks; the drought continues in California. My dog sniffs around me, looking for a scrap of my tuna sandwich I just finished eating. My house is quiet. Jack and Fiona are at the park with their dad. I needed this break. The month of February this year has been a period of rapid change for me. Fiona’s ear infection is still not better, she still winces when I put her hearing aid in. The second bottle of antibiotics smells disgusting. Even before I open the bottle I get nauseous. Tomorrow is the last dose.
Last night we went down to do story time and bath time. Fiona took off her hearing aids to take her bath. Often, it’s so late and I only have energy to read one story before tuck in time. I usually don’t put back on her hearing aids unless we are going to be reading for a while. She asked me to put them on last night. “I want my hearing aids on” she said. We were all already sitting down and half way through the book. I was too lazy to get up and get the hearing aids. “Tell me about this page” I said. The book was Mouse Count and Jack and Fiona started counting the mice and telling me things about the pictures. I was able to sign the whole story. Fiona and Jack both paid attention to my hand shapes and Jack practiced the signs. Only a couple months ago whenever I would practice signing Jack would say, “No don’t sign mommy, don’t practice sign.” I think he was jealous because Fiona used to practice with me when I first was learning. It’s wonderful to see Jack using signs. He’s such a cool brother.
I am moving on to the Intermediate section of the SEE sign curriculum. I remember when Fiona was a baby and I was first introduced to sign I knew I wanted to become fluent. When I first started to learn words I said to myself, there is no way, I’ll never learn this, and take care of twin babies. It was difficult and frustrating. I always had one baby in my arms, at least! Plus, dirty laundry, or a diaper, or food. I tried to use my baby signs I was learning, but it was difficult. It worked best during a meal time when they were in their high chairs. The first three years while Fiona was in the Infant program for kids who are deaf, hard of hearing, blind, or have mobility issues I focused on the basics. I learned to get eye contact with Fiona any time I wanted to talk to her. I trained her to wear her hearing aids. There were periods, especially between one and two years old where she didn’t want to wear them, or she would take them off and take them apart. That was difficult. I had to crawl around on the floor listening for the buzzing sound to find them. I studied sign at Fiona’s school and learned many common words about daily routines.
When Fiona turned three years old she transitioned into the Early Intervention preschool program. I had to prove to the school district that she needed to remain in a Total Communication program, that sign was just as important as auditory education for my daughter and my family. One of the teachers came to my home to observe me, how I used Total Communication. I was so nervous I couldn’t remember any of my signs, I wasn’t very fluent as it was, at all! I had only been studying for maybe a year. I was afraid I would be forced to put Fiona in a typically developed preschool, the school board had emphasized to me how important it was for children with hearing loss to learn language from their peers at school. I visited regular preschools and knew Fiona would not be able to understand what anyone was saying most of the time. The environment was too loud and chaotic with one teacher to 12 kids. (they have an assistant teacher too) I proved my case and Fiona was admitted into the Early Intervention Preschool last February.
On Friday I have my IEP (individualized education plan). I am not nervous as I was last year. The sad truth is, what Fiona and I have discovered this month, is that she can’t hear. Well that’s not accurate, she can’t understand what people are saying to her unless everything is optimal. She makes due, she’s amazing. We have a birthday party to go to today and chances are she won’t understand what any of the kids are saying but she’ll understand enough to get by and have a good time. Her hearing aids help a lot, Fiona and I both are very aware of this. But the rule is, consistently if I don’t use all my tools I’ve learned in communicating to a deaf or Hard of Hearing person I will have to repeat myself to Fiona. It’s that serious of a hearing loss. I have a bad habit of talking to myself. Fiona asks, “What did you say” every time I do this around her. One of my good friends has hearing loss and when I talk to myself around her it drives her crazy! I must really work on this.
The recent ear infection has affected Fiona’s hearing more. It’s like that ear is almost deaf now. It’s been frustrating and emotional for Fiona. So, at the IEP next week, I want Fiona to continue in her current class. It’s very important for her to be in a total communication class. But she’s turning four this month, only one more year of preschool. It’s scary, I know she’ll be fine and she’ll do great at regular school. Most kids with hearing loss do fine in school. But it’s a hard road, it’s not easy and auditory only, unless the child has a mild hearing loss and the amplification really helps a lot, I don’t think is a good idea ever. There’s a lot of focus on speech therapy, which is awesome, but I still notice in the way many of Fiona’s words sound that she’s deaf. Every word that has a letter that has a frequency she can’t hear, she says the way she hears it. She can’t hear many letters even with her hearing aids on, I think. Speech therapy trains children to memorize the sound of those words so the child can pronounce them correctly, and spell them too. It’s a lot of work. I haven’t been the best at focusing on Fiona’s speech at home, I feel like I’m pestering her, or pressuring her.
I use the signs to reinforce those letters, like F and P. I use signs to reinforce what I’ve said. Sometimes I say the sentence first. Jack always understands the first time. Then I repeat for Fiona, then I use my signs to reiterate a third time. This always does the trick. In the real world there won’t be many people who will take the time to communicate with Fiona in this fashion. I even get frustrated and exhausted keeping up with this every day all day long. But then I feel guilty. Poor little girl, she’s the one with something different than everyone else. Something that makes life that much more challenging. So, I guess I’m not as nervous about this IEP because I know what Fiona needs and I’m sure she will be able to finish preschool at Early Start. This is the best thing for her. I also know that I will continue in my sign language studies becoming fluent with Jack and Fiona right there with me. As they get older our house will be a Total Communication household just like I planned from the beginning. Fiona will always have a safe place to come where people understand and support her.
Category: art
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The moment I walk into my studio I know this is precisely what I need to be doing right now. I am still out of white paint, so I need to think outside the box. I go in with a peach colored crayon. Then iridescent pearl, black, cerulean blue, green gold, a saturated bright, yellow, ink and collage. I’m a good painter. Today, in my messy, messy, closet, before I went to my studio, where I searched and searched for a lost check at the same time I tried to figure out how I am going to make money or cut expenditures somewhere else, so I can afford my fairly new eye brow artist and hair Styling Team. My new spa and salon prices are double what I’ve ever paid in my entire life. I think it’s inflation. I also decided not to go grey gracefully. I stopped dying my whole head of hair several years ago. I was letting the grey grow in and just adding highlights. I don’t have much grey hair, but recently I’ve noticed a ton on the top of my head. They grow in crazy, like cork screw sheep’s hair. It’s super expensive to get a full dye job nowadays! The only other alternative is to shave my head. I’ve done it before. I could just keep it super short. Like a monk. I thought letting the grey grow in was being a good feminist. Maybe it is. But I can tell you I’ve successfully weened myself off wearing bras, putting sugar in my coffee, and taking anti-depressants. I also thought of a possible solution to my salon situation. While my color was processed, I noticed several paintings hung up in the processing area. It’s a neat space for viewing paintings. Hanging was a series of Valentines inspired work on canvas. I enjoyed looking at the paintings. I had brought a notebook to re-write a story for my new book, so I did that and drew some sketches and looked at the paintings. I think I should hang a little show there of my older work. The customers who go to this salon could afford a piece of art and I bet the salon doesn’t take a cut. I can use the money from sold paintings for my hair do’s?

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Blue and Turquoise, abstract color play, figures, gardens. February painting. I never stop doing what I love, painting. I always paint, it’s consistent and will remain so until I die. In the last two weeks I have found myself not taking celexa. At first, it wasn’t a conscious decision to stop, I was sick, missed a few doses. Then I consciously decided not to take it anymore. That night we were in the kitchen, I was preparing dinner. I told Alan, “I have something to share with you”. I can’t remember what detail I went into about how long and what drugs I’ve been taking for the past three years, but I said, “I’ve decided to stop taking my Celexa, I didn’t do it right, so I don’t what’s going to happen.” Alan knew I had tried some things for PMS and Insomnia. He told me I should try to do it right, go back and ween off the pills. I didn’t listen because I’m so impatient. I really can’t tell which discomforts I’m feeling are from the celexa withdraw or my flu. I had questions about what would happen when I quit, but painting in my studio just now I realized I’m just like always, I always do the things I love, no matter if I’m depressed or not. This week I’ve also been trying to quell any negative self -talk. I started to wonder if the whole reason I had to start taking anti-depressants was because of my terminal negative self- talk. I drove myself to madness. The next thing that pops in my head is, “You’ve always been crazy and done crazy things.” But is it necessary to change? To not do crazy things? Or think crazy thoughts? And where’s the red line? As I took my medicine for longer and longer and increased my dose when needed I started to distrust myself. I am afraid to see who’s behind the door, but it’s only been three years. How could that person I am have slipped away? I definitely got through a super rough patch, I started them six months after Jack and Fiona were born. Before that, at the very end of my journey through infertility, I took klonopin for insomnia and depression. That was great, but I was scared to let go and trust my bodies own ability to rest and sleep. When I stood back and looked at my crazy painting I did today I realized I’m an artist, I’m a painter. I trust myself in my studio. I trust myself.
