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Once a month I’ll share book recommendations and updates about what I’m creating and appreciating. There’ll be other inklings of interest related to words, pictures and music too.
Where Does the Time Go?
“Cleft palate.” Distress.
And more complexities came.
Unexpected. Strength.
Delayed. Determined.
Complex communication.
Learning a new way.
Twenty-two years full.
Ups. Downs. Life reimagined.
Where does the time go?
Pippi Longstocking
P eculiar, pigtailed Pippi.
I loved this story in grade 2.
P rimary school read aloud that I recently revisited.
P layful, inventive, creative
I t stands the test of time.
Tommy and his sister Annika have a new neighbor, and her name is Pippi Longstocking. She has crazy red pigtails, no parents to tell her what to do, a horse that lives on her porch, and a flair for the outrageous that seems to lead to one adventure after another!
Food Glorious Food
Dear Jennifer,
Not only did your book, Jennifer's Way make me feel less alone, it lead me to your cookbook. And your cookbook has become my daily inspiration. It lifted my spirits in a way I never imagined possible, by giving me options in my diet when I needed them most.
Your books have truly changed my life!
With gratitude,
Stacey
Until I was told I couldn't eat certain things, I didn't realize how much I took food for granted.
These days, my list of can't-eat foods is much longer than the list of foods I can enjoy. Reading labels in the grocery store is frustrating to say the least. Any processed or semi-processed food contains at least one of my can't-eat foods. The limitations are disheartening. And discouraging.
I've never been a foodie. Cooking's always been done out of necessity. I cook to feed myself and my family. "Eat to live?" That's me.
That all changed recently. Turns out some of the things I've been "eating to live" don't agree with me. My gut is inflamed. Blood tests have revealed autoimmune markers.
So far, the only answer has been to cut out a lot of the foods I eat on a daily basis.
Cooking the recipes from Jennifer's cookbook has been therapeutic. It's something I can do for me while I wait for answers. Is it celiac? Is it something else? Will I ever be able to eat normally again?
The answer to that last question came with Jennifer's cookbook. Yes!
I'm actually quite proud of all the things I've been making and eating lately using Jennifer's fairly simple and oh-so-tasty recipes! I might even be moving over to the "live to eat" camp.
Take a look at the yummy stuff below and you'll see why.
Cue the photographic evidence that, with a little effort - whether you have celiac disease, food allergies, food sensitivities, or none of the above - you too, can (and should!) eat delicious, healthy foods that taste great!
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| Classic Artisan Bread before |
Classic Artisan Bread taking (an odd) shape
Cauliflower crust pizza, broccoli soup, beef stew, bacon-wrapped dates. These are just a few of the yummy things I've been cooking up in the kitchen.
Thank you, Jennifer!
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| A dairy-free chocolate milkshake cheers to you! |
Palindrome Picture Book coming March 12!
This author mom was really on the level. She had her eye on palindromes from the start when she did the deed and wrote her beautiful picture book, Was It a Cat I Saw?
Hannah loves palindromes. She even speaks in them! When Otto the cat runs away, Hannah and his owner go on a wordplay-filled quest to find him. But they, too, become lost. To get everyone home, Hannah will need a forward-and-backward-thinking solution. One thing’s for certain: She’s found a new friend—and if she ever asks his name, she’ll see just how well matched they are.
Written by debut picture book author Laura Bontje and illustrated by Emma Lidia Squillari, Was It a Cat I Saw? will delight readers who like their language silly and their friendships sincere.
Learn more here.
Congratulations, Laura on the release of your picture book! Madam, all I can say is wow!
Hi . My name is Stacey Moffat .
This is one place where I write.
More Than Words on a page, it’s my creative space for sharing and connecting with others.
Once upon a time long ago, I was an elementary school teacher. Then one day my husband and I started a family. Things didn't go quite the way we expected. There were a few bumps in the road.
In 2012, I claimed this tiny spot on the web as the place where I would write about those bumps.
I shared about my son's disability and his complex communication needs—our journey toward discovering that communication is so much More Than Words.
I've done my best to dance and sing along to the ever changing lyrics of life, all while nurturing my creative and curious spirit through writing.
This blog has evolved, and my creative practice has too. I recently shared a cartoon, some book recommendations and some poetry.
I hope you’ll check back often to see what's happening here at More Than Words. In the meantime, feel free to browse around. You'll find some of my other writing in the menu on the left.
One last thing. Leave a comment. I’d love to hear how you nurture your creative spirit.
Just My Type
Behold my first typewriter!
Or was it my brother's? He often got the high tech stuff first, being the oldest.
Favourable features:
1) held paper
2) stamped real ink onto said paper!
Apparently keys were too much to ask for. Instead you turned a dial to select a letter, then pushed down on one large (key-like?) button.
During a Kijiji search, I came across several of them for sale.
Hey! I thought—as the faintest trace of a memory bubbled up—I had one of those!
Don't ask if mine had Mickey Mouse or some other character on its sleek, sophisticated letter wheel. I have no recollection of that whatsoever.
The yearning for keys must have gotten the better of me, eventually—or was it that we broke the darn thing? Again, older brother (if you know what I mean)—but when Tomy's Tutor Typer arrived under the Christmas tree a couple years later, I was ecstatic.
Were keys a safety issue back in the day? Tomy Tutor's were a bust too. Don't get me wrong, they were there, and they moved, but they didn't work independently. When you pressed any letter to the left of (and including) t, g, and b, all keys on the left hand side depressed. Same thing when you pressed y, h or n - those and the rest of the keys on the right depressed at the same time. The space bar worked independently, but come on already!
Gone were the paper and ink. Replaced by a reel-like mechanism that was held inside the carriage behind a clear plastic shield of sorts, you had to bang away on the conjoined keys. Then—surprise, surprise—a letter (along with a word representing that letter) was revealed. From 'A is for apple' to 'Z is for zebra'. In that order only.
Returning the carriage to its original position turned a dial, which moved the reel, revealing the next letter. Bang, bang, bang, bang. B is for Bell. Bang, bang, bang, bang. C is for Cow. And so on.
Nonetheless, while noisy, it was a learning tool. Age appropriate? You've got me there. After all, how is one to type a letter, when one doesn't know their actual letters?
It too was eventually outgrown.
Then one wondrous, magical Christmas morn, many years later, what should arrive under the tree? The most beautiful thing I had ever set eyes upon (well, at least at the time).
A real typewriter! With functional keys! Paper! And ink!
Naturally, it came complete with a carrying case (for all the trips I would be making from my bedroom to the kitchen table to the desk in the basement).
What was I writing back then? Probably nothing too sophisticated (although I may have argued that point back then).
I like to think (and hope) my writing has evolved, just as the tools I use have. So what am I writing these days?
Drum roll please...
I managed to squeak out the final pages of my middle grade novel before the end of 2021.
I had it printed and bound at Staples and it's currently in my desk drawer...lying dormant? Hibernating? Fermenting?
Meanwhile, I've been on sabbatical—taking a restorative break, away from the material.
Over the next few days, I'll be diving back in. Revisions, edits and general improvements will be necessary so that my story doesn't appear to be something written back in the day of my ancient Petite Typewriter (above).
I wasn't sure what to do to celebrate my accomplishment, but I had to do something. I mean, I actually wrote a book! From beginning to end!!! Feeling nostalgic, I searched Kijiji and found just the thing to reward myself with.
A T Y P E W R I T E R !!!
For a whopping $25, the beauty you see below is now mine.
I doubt I'll write my next book on it, but who knows? I'll at least enjoy clack, clack, clacking out some letters to friends who live in far away lands from time to time.
Seems, that's just the TYPE of girl I am!
If a Tree Communicates in the Forest, Does Anybody Hear?
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| Pixabay |
I love massive trees that spread their branches like a web of protective arms.
The tree pictured above is a Mother Tree. I learned this while searching for a new picture for my desktop.
And I discovered this book by Suzanne Simard, a scientist and professor at UBC who studies trees and how they communicate.
A Mother tree is networked into all the trees around her. The trees then "interact with each other trying to help each other survive."
Another unique and fascinating form of communication!
I put Simard's book on hold at the library to learn more, but in the meantime, an article on NPR tells about Simard's research findings:
The trees were sharing "information that actually is important to the health of the whole forest."
In addition to warning each other of danger, Simard says that trees have been known to share nutrients at critical times to keep each other healthy. She says the trees in a forest are often linked to each other via an older tree she calls a "mother" or "hub" tree.
Trees are linked to neighboring trees by an underground network of fungi that resembles the neural networks in the brain, she explains. In one study, Simard watched as a Douglas fir that had been injured by insects appeared to send chemicalwarning signals to a ponderosa pine growing nearby. The pine tree then produced defense enzymes to protect against the insect.
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| Pixabay |
No wonder I'm struck by the beauty of these awesome trees. A Mother Tree interacting, connecting and protecting her little saplings and other trees around her — what a powerful symbol.
Click here to watch a short video on Mother Trees with Suzanne Simard, and to learn how you really say fungi (spoiler alert: she doesn't pronounce it like she's talking about a guy who's the life of the party).
Here's another poplar book that will let you branch out and cedars more fir you to learn on this topic.
Reading & Writing . . . so very exciting!
Books related to disabilities? I've read my fair share, to educate myself, and to try and find answers to the many questions I've had over the years about Carter's
challenges.
These three books (that I really enjoyed) have protagonists who use AAC to communicate:
I Have No Secrets by Penny Joelson
Out of My Mind by Sharon Draper 
Say What You Will by Cammie McGovern
Wonder by R.J. Palacio
Rain Reign by Ann M. Martin
Rules by Cynthia Lord
Yes, the disability books I've been reading lately are all fiction: middle grade and young adult novels.
And why is that?
Because you're supposed to read what you want to write. And for some time now, I've been working on my own middle grade novel.
Writing a book is a lofty goal. I thought the book I would someday write would be the story of Carter's life. I've told a lot of that here, including his journey with AAC, but I wanted to step away from memoir writing.
Instead, my story is about two young girls who are total opposites. One is a neat freak and the other, not so much.
It came out of a writing prompt. I started writing and never looked back. Go where the writing takes you (or so they say). That's what I did and guess what? It didn't take me down a path that had anything to do with AAC or disabilities.
Maybe someday I'll try and tackle a story like that. For now, I'm happy to share, promote, and recommend the books above.
I'm also happy to share something very exciting...
(Drum roll, please.)
Last year, I submitted the intro of my middle grade novel to CANSCAIP's Writing For Children Competition and I was long listed! What a huge and wonderful surprise!
If I'm ever going to finish my story, I'd better get back to it!
Happy reading!
Is AAC Going to the Dogs?
Meet Stella, the Catahoula / Blue Heeler. She uses a sound board to talk.
A dog who uses AAC to communicate???
Yes, a dog who uses AAC to communicate!
This article in People tells all about it.
There's video imbedded in the article that shows Stella in action, or you can go to the Hunger 4 Words YouTube channel here.
A dog who uses AAC to communicate???
Yes, a dog who uses AAC to communicate!
This article in People tells all about it.
There's video imbedded in the article that shows Stella in action, or you can go to the Hunger 4 Words YouTube channel here.
You can read more at Hunger For Words, where Christina Hunger, speech language pathologist blogs about teaching her dog to talk!
You can also follow @Hunger4Words on Instagram to watch Stella do her thing.
"Pandemic" a Poem by Lynn Ungar
I've seen this posted on a few blogs that I follow. I thought I would share it here as well.
Pandemic
What if you thought of it
as the Jews consider the Sabbath—
the most sacred of times?
Cease from travel.
Cease from buying and selling.
Give up, just for now,
on trying to make the world
different than it is.
Sing. Pray. Touch only those
to whom you commit your life.
Center down.
And when your body has become still,
reach out with your heart.
Know that we are connected
in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.
(You could hardly deny it now.)
Know that our lives
are in one another’s hands.
(Surely, that has come clear.)
Do not reach out your hands.
Reach out your heart.
Reach out your words.
Reach out all the tendrils
of compassion that move, invisibly,
where we cannot touch.
Promise this world your love–
for better or for worse,
in sickness and in health,
so long as we all shall live.
Oh the Places We've Gone
I suppose my retirement is similar to any retirement, really, although I am puppared to admit that my work was much like play. I loved tagging along with my bud, Carter. Oh the places we've gone!
Oh the places we've gone.
We've been here, we've been there.
We've seen Pittsburgh and Disney.
Good times we did share.
Yes we had fun, but sometimes things got serious.
Doctors and dentists, they drove C delirious.
He helped in return. Oh yes, yes he did.
Because vets weren't my thing, behind Carter I hid.
I'm sorry to say so,
But sadly, it's true.
I've reached my tenth year
And retirement too.
Thanks Big B for your years of service and dedication to Carter and our family. Happy (belated) 10th birthday and Happy Retirement!!!
Oh the places we've gone.
We've been here, we've been there.
We've seen Pittsburgh and Disney.
Good times we did share.
Yes we had fun, but sometimes things got serious.
Doctors and dentists, they drove C delirious.
He helped in return. Oh yes, yes he did.
Because vets weren't my thing, behind Carter I hid.
I'm sorry to say so,
But sadly, it's true.
I've reached my tenth year
And retirement too.
Congratulations!
And happy birthday.
Yes! It's your retirement
Rest easy, we say.
You have stiffening joints
Your coat's been turned in
You can lay your head down
On your paws, rest begins.
You're still our good boy, a true family member.
You'll now be our pet, January through December.
Thanks Big B for your years of service and dedication to Carter and our family. Happy (belated) 10th birthday and Happy Retirement!!!
Dear Voice of Carter,
You didn't show up.
For years I thought you would. Some might say you did, eventually, just not as expected.
For years I thought you would. Some might say you did, eventually, just not as expected.
I like to think I’m pretty good at figuring you out, but a voice that doesn't form words is impossible to decipher. I never get to know the real you.
I wish you'd stop hiding. I catch glimpses of you in Carter’s facial expressions, tucked away behind his impish grin or in the crinkled skin bordering his ice blue eyes. I've heard you in his giggle and in his thunderous belly laugh. His pantomimes, his flailing about, and his movement to music are your physical camouflage. Wails and screams of protest reveal your unflattering side.
You make life mysterious. And puzzling. And downright frustrating. I accept that, begrudgingly, and carry on. But sometimes I just want things to be normal. I want to experience what it would be like to hear you form words instead of grunts and squawks. I want to hear you speak a sentence instead of watching my boy gesture and point. I want to hear the real you, instead of a digitized version dubbed 'Kenny' or 'Alex'.
I wish you'd stop hiding. I catch glimpses of you in Carter’s facial expressions, tucked away behind his impish grin or in the crinkled skin bordering his ice blue eyes. I've heard you in his giggle and in his thunderous belly laugh. His pantomimes, his flailing about, and his movement to music are your physical camouflage. Wails and screams of protest reveal your unflattering side.
You make life mysterious. And puzzling. And downright frustrating. I accept that, begrudgingly, and carry on. But sometimes I just want things to be normal. I want to experience what it would be like to hear you form words instead of grunts and squawks. I want to hear you speak a sentence instead of watching my boy gesture and point. I want to hear the real you, instead of a digitized version dubbed 'Kenny' or 'Alex'.
When Carter was outside playing
with Jack one winter years ago, you didn't help him. Jack came inside. Several minutes passed before I went
to check on Carter. He’d gotten himself stuck, legs first, in a hardened, icy
snow tunnel. I could see how he'd struggled. His glasses were thrown across the driveway. His face was
streaked with tears.
You didn't protest and ask Jack to stay outside. You didn’t scream out or call for me when Carter got stuck.
During a family ski trip to Vermont, Carter wasn’t feeling well. He was exhausted from a long car ride and a sleepless night in an unfamiliar bed. By the time he got to his
ski lesson he was hot from having to wait inside the chalet in his snow gear. He tossed his cookies right there on the spot shortly after we dropped him off.
You could have prevented the whole incident if only you'd told the instructor that Carter was overheating.
You could have prevented the whole incident if only you'd told the instructor that Carter was overheating.
How many times have I had to pick Carter up from school because of you? On the other end of the line, the school secretary always giving me the same basic narrative, 'Carter isn't feeling well. Please come pick him up.’
Not once have you explained that there was too much noise, or too many people, or just too much stimulation. You don't provide information to the people around Carter so they can make sense of what's bothering him. He has no choice but to hold his stomach to convince them he is sick - his way of escaping the situation.
Not once have you explained that there was too much noise, or too many people, or just too much stimulation. You don't provide information to the people around Carter so they can make sense of what's bothering him. He has no choice but to hold his stomach to convince them he is sick - his way of escaping the situation.
When Carter is hurt or sick, your negligence is deplorable. Carter is in distress. I am distressed. You don't tell me where he is hurting or what's making him feel badly. I have no idea what's wrong and I feel helpless.
Do you know how hard it is for me to send Carter to respite activities, to camp - anywhere with people who don't know him well? Knowing that you won't be there to help him is overwhelming.
You don't show up.
You'll never show up.
It didn’t work.
It
didn't
work.
Do you know what it would be like to hear you form words flowing from my son’s mouth? What would you say to me?
Do you know how hard it is for me to send Carter to respite activities, to camp - anywhere with people who don't know him well? Knowing that you won't be there to help him is overwhelming.
You don't show up.
You'll never show up.
I’ve done everything in my power to replace you with sign language and gestures, an electronic version of you, but it’s not the same. It never will be. Without you, Carter will go through life being minimally understood. His communication will be slow and inefficient. And because of that he won’t express a fraction of what's running through his head. He’ll be left behind. Misunderstood. Complacent. Vulnerable.
If only there was some way that I could bring you here. I’ve tried. Oh, how I’ve tried - with speech therapy, prompt therapy, oral motor therapy, behaviour therapy. It didn’t work.
If only there was some way that I could bring you here. I’ve tried. Oh, how I’ve tried - with speech therapy, prompt therapy, oral motor therapy, behaviour therapy. It didn’t work.
It didn’t work.
It
didn't
work.
Do you know what it would be like to hear you form words flowing from my son’s mouth? What would you say to me?
The silence has been filled with other noise. It’s so different. It’s not what I expected.
You didn't show up.
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