I think you might be on to me

No new post since February, I think you are definitely on to me. It is not that I don't love blogging or anything, but I think I realized early on that I am much more of a reader and don't seem to have the discipline to pump out regular posts. They are always in my mind lurking about, threatening to spill out, but then there is ALWAYS something that needs to done, sheets to be washed, kids fed, gifts to shop for, medication to pick up, appointments, Survivor to watch - you get the idea. Then I sometimes think that while I have my own voice I find so many of my favourite bloggers pluck the very thoughts and words right out of my head and I have a little sigh and think well there, it is said and done.

Life is full at this stage, the stage where whole other human beings are dependent on you for their very survival. It makes me tired quite frankly and while this blogging world is my coveted playground for my mind and soul it is not always easy to find the time to visit.

Things are still a never-ending battle of sick with both girls on antibiotics right now and Papoosie Girl in an asthma flare-up thanks to the change in temperature. When we have days of hot and cold mixed together she goes into attack mode.

It hasn't been all doom and gloom though. Papoosie Girl had her First Communion last weekend which was sweet and sad all mixed together. She made me practice with her so many times walking down our hallway clutching her hands just so - the hand you write with underneath! She wore my veil and headpiece and all around it was one of those heart wrenching moments that you are never prepared for, the moments and milestones that go undocumented in the books.

The most surreal part of the last few months was running into one of my elementary school friends, well my best friend at The Science Centre over March Break. I had run into her before a few times, but this time we were standing right next to each other while our kids looked at something and we just turned and stared at each other. There were hugs and a fast chat, there were four kids under seven at our feet and we exchanged emails and numbers. She told me our Grade 8 class is planning a reunion and that they have a facebook page set up and everything, she made me promise to get on, since I told her I have never really wanted to join all that much.

So here I have stumbled into this severe flashback with many of my former Grade 8 friends. Most of us are married with kids and some have exciting careers in the arts and some we are still trying to locate. Finding everyone and trying to fill in twenty plus years in small email sound bytes is hard. I have to tell people that no I didn't marry THAT person - for that everyone is thankful, I have to tell them my Dad passed away, that my baby brother is married and all this is filling my head and heart with clouds of memories.

We are still working on setting a date for the reunion and I know I will go and love catching up with everyone, but there are places I don't really want to visit, memories that are better left as a distant vision, blurred and soft in the distance.

On a completely unrelated topic and an admittedly terribly awkward change in direction, is anyone as fascinated with Jon & Kate Plus 8 or is it just me? I am hooked on this show and not just because they communicate with each other a lot (not totally but a lot) like myself and my husband, but I am completely mesmerized by this family. Not the worst show to watch I know, but I really can't put my finger on why I love it so much. I mean the kids are adorable and love their attitude of creating a normal day-to-day life for their kids, but there is something more and I can't quite put my finger on it.

Spring is coming, I can feel it and with I hope it brings a lightness that I think I have been missing for awhile now. The seasons come without fail and even in our darkest hours this thought is comforting, patting me on the back saying, "shush, soon you will be warm and free."

Edited to add: Maybe I was a bit emphatic saying that my Hubby and I communicate a lot like Jon & Kate and I do realize that by some standards they come across as mean to each other...I am talking more about the reality of not always being your personal best around the person you are supposed to love and cherish the most. In our house while we are not mean to each other we do have our moments of, "how could you not know the pink hair ponies are for going out" and yes I realize that many of Jon's shortfalls are completely invented by Kate, but I think I might do that too sometimes. I love my husband like no other, but that doesn't mean he makes me a little nuts sometimes and I am sure he would say the same about me.

Much better, thanks for asking

A brief medical update to let everyone know I am feeling MUCH better. I have finished my latest round of antibiotics and although I have not been back to the doctors yet for my follow-up, I am feeling about a million times better. That was an awful two weeks that I don't care to repeat anytime soon and I am shocked at how it affected me, it was strangling the life out of me.

I have still resolved though to love myself more, to cut myself more slack. This is monumental for me and still quite a work in progress. Reading, Eat Pray Love has left me craving for more like it so I am searching out similar books. So far I have been recommended, The Secret (which previously I passed on) and Simple Abundance, which I swear I have read before. Clearly, it is working, I am so focused and relaxed and all.

I wonder though who among us could really up and check out of their life to go on such a pilgrimage? It feels selfish to even think about doing something like that. I think this kind of introspection and searching for one's true core borders on decadence, this type of self-exploration is perhaps better left for the young and free. I am not saying this is not worthwhile decadence, just not a realistic pursuit for me in this chapter of my life.

The window of opportunity for this type of fancy free exploration has passed me by. You need to forgo all else in this pursuit and I think you would be hard-pressed to find many Mom's able to do this. Whether the reason is financial (who can afford to leave their job?), emotional (who wants to leave their kids and spouse for months at a time?), we need to find a condensed version of the journey. Yes, that is exactly what I need the Reader's Digest version of finding one's true self.

My husband has always been supportive of me not being around. He loves to take the girls out shopping or running errands alone. He relishes his time alone with them. He leaves me to fuss around the house in complete silence or occasionally steal away to have a coffee and read a magazine. He has been telling me for years to go away with the girls or even by myself. 'Get away for a while' he tells me all the while I am imagining just how their hair would look while I am gone.

Of course he can hold down the fort, but money isn't exactly falling around me in a happy rain so there is also that to consider. A weekend away however, is entirely doable. I have gone overnight once with the girls, but was back home in less than 48 hours - it was one night after all. And we stayed in the city, by my definition that is not really away. It was fun though and so nice to do what I pleased, but that is not even entirely true as I was with two other people. Thinking about it now maybe going somewhere alone is just what I need. It feels scandalous to even think about it, stay-at-home Mom's just don't up and leave the homestead do they?

I can hear your murmurs, "her husband says go and she is complaining" let it be known I realize I am grateful to have such a supportive husband. It is one thing to think about doing something and actually doing it. A huge part of me is wondering if I can get past the trepidation and do it. It is my own reservations here that is the fuel burning wildly and keeping me from doing it.

I have prattled enough for one post. If anyone has read any good books that they want to recommend let me know. Have any of you tried to check out of the homestead with the sole purpose of discovering yourself? I would be interested in hearing about it.

For you Canucks don't forget the CBC Test the Nation: Trivia challenge tonight...I was the winner of the Language challenge (not by much though) so we are having round two tonight.

Funk and Love

Christmas and New Year's are safely over and now I cannot deny that I am feeling a bit like I am in a funk. I read with listless enthusiasm about increasing my volunteering and curbing my spending, and if it only were not so much trouble I might raise my hand. My energy has vanished along with the piped in holiday soundtrack.

I am not normally this blase about life, especially topics and causes that are important to me. Of late though, I have been feeling like the proverbial hamster in the wheel, running and running and getting pretty much nowhere.

It has been a long fall. Hubby has been diligent in his efforts to get in shape and not be one of those awful statistics. Heart disease runs in his family and he is determined to lose weight, lower his blood pressure and cholesterol so he will be a part of this family for many years to come. Rather than stick his head in the sand, much like my current approach to health, he is tackling this head on. Trips to the gym five days a week and healthy eating are putting him on the right track.

So why then is it so hard for me to do the same? Why at the end of the day am I lucky if I have managed to get dinner for the girls, homework done and the kitchen cleaned up. I had a bad sinus infection in November that has not really left it seems. Many nights I cough for hours and only in the wee hours do I rouse myself out of my comfy warm bed to swig directly from the Benelyn bottle. I went to the doctor Monday and the infection indeed was not really gone, instead vacationing south in the area of my lungs. The sleepless nights and general malaise are in a large part due to this on-going sickness. Not enough sick to get me a sick day, just bad enough to render me tired, cranky and useless. Mostly the useless part as I am often tired and cranky.

When is a funk a problem? I am naturally a bit of an anxious person and usually a bit of a downer to be honest. I like order and structure much too much and when I don't have the energy to support that need I feel out of sorts. The doctor much to my dismay did not order me to immediately hop on a plane to a sunny beach with a tonic for my nerves. My doctor was not worried at all about my funk, he was reassuring that once my lungs are better and I am getting some solid sleep (among other things) I will bounce out of this. I want to believe this, that everyone gets moody and sad sometimes, but still it scares me.

Looking back I know for a fact that I suffered Post Partum Depression after both of the girls. On the surface you would have never known it, but deep down I was struggling to remain even keeled - to remain in control. I was very close to asking for help and looking back I wish I did. It was a dark, panicky and scary time and I wish I had the information I have now, the resources I could have tapped into then.

Something that makes me a bit sad is that I am my most best self when I am totally removed from my daily life and grind, like when we are on vacation. Why is that? Why is it so hard to be that smiley, relaxed person in my own home? I don't really expect answers here - no need to panic about a clever and enlightened comment - even though my most loyal readers are truly so clever and enlightened. I just want to feel that light inside everyday.

I know that everyone gets down sometimes and I certainly experienced some terrible post-partum moments. Moments where I was sure I could walk out the front door and never look back. Fantasies of putting the girls into a taxi and sending them to Daddy's office. The thing is these were just moments, one of thousands of moments in any given day. Days that stretched on into infinity day - after - day - after - day. Many of those moments were sheer bliss, some were so deep I was sure I had pierced my core and yes, some so scary I was sure I could not do this another minute. Motherhood is tough much of the time, not always a great place for a thin skinned gal like me.

So this brings me to the fabulous book I am reading which I am sure everyone has heard about, I mean the author has been on Oprah and all, it is Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and I am so loving this book. I am fascinated by someone who just up and checks out of her life on a quest for inner peace. The book is a bit fragmented in parts and she does come across as a bit of a whiner sometimes, still she captures so well the idea of quieting your mind to let in love, specifically God's love. What God it is doesn't matter, it is the idea of creating a space within yourself to let yourself be loved. I want to feel that peace too. I want to be good enough in MY mind to let that love in.


Being hard on myself is kind of my calling card I suppose. I know I can always do better and it bothers me. Today though I am resolved to being nicer to myself, to opening up my heart for more love - from everyone. Call it my New Year's resolution - to love myself more. I can't really think of anything better to resolve.

And a dolly, and a sled, and a new dress...

I have been hopelessly negligent in posting these days...here is a little Christmas cheer to get everyone in the mood.

I have waxed poetically about my urge and need to reduce and control the clutter in our house, the cathartic experience of freeing yourself from stuff. As we ramp up for the time of year when the most holiest and materialistic marry up in a dual to the finish, I find myself thinking of ways to do things better. Move away from the stuff and move towards helping others, creating memories and opening the girls up to new experiences. Angels singing in the background.

I am still wrestling with our five present rule we (admittedly made up and in fact quite random) a few years ago. That would be five gifts from Santa only on Christmas morning plus their stockings (stockings contain a toothbrush, socks, undies, maybe a small book -just the little things). We have not started any gifts from each other and so far we are happy with the simplicity of Christmas morning this way. The girls have three sets of grandparents, many other relatives and friends so they get many gifts. I put a lot of thought into their gifts and most everyone checks with me so I can make sure the girls they get things they want and will use...not just more plastic crap. She says as she lugs the Dora Let's Get Ready Vanity to the basement in a garbage bag...the ONLY item in Rosebud's letter to Santa...she eventually added a few other random items after much prompting. You can't get any more plastic and crap in one gift and let it be known I wrestled hard over this purchase and got it on sale for nearly half price. Guilt recedes a bit.

I don't exactly announce our five present idea to everyone I meet, but it has leaked it's way out and around in the last few years. It has been met with many a mixed review. Most older people yelp about how five is such a large number of gifts, surely one or two would do? Don't you have sticks and rocks for them already?!

Then on the other hand we get a lot of people who think we are just plain Scrooge-like and we are ruining Christmas and compromising their sweet holiday memories forever. Five was made-up, it had no significance other than it seemed like plenty to oh and ah over and to ensure it didn't look like Santa had forgotten us and few enough gifts that they didn't sit around for hours in an opening frenzy with about as much enthusiasm for each gift as Britney has for underwear.

We are sticking to our plan for this year since it all works out quite well in terms of what they want, what Santa is willing to give, and what I think is enough without being too much. My worst fear (well, one of the top five at least) is raising ungrateful little monsters who are looking for what is coming next. Beck had some great ideas for simple food and craft gifts that are easy to make and much more personal to give and receive. The girls and I are going to try the cocoa in a jar this year along with some shortbread cookies we make, a perfect homemade gift I would say and simple enough that I won't lose my mind in the process.

I am still deciding what charity project we will be doing this year. Our school is not doing the Shoebox campaign this year which is too bad because it is such a great project for young kids to work on. Instead we are doing an adopt-a-family campaign and collecting donations for five families. I want to do something else for just our family, to really send the message to the girls that we are privileged. Not to make them feel bad, they should not be made to feel guilty for being born into our family; but to make them aware that along with this privilege comes a responsibility. A responsibility to share our resources with those less fortunate than us, if I can not only get that message across in a way they understand, but can instill it in my girls; then I will have done well.

Making memories, creating traditions and helping others is the spirit of the season I want my girls to remember long after the gifts are opened.

Monday Musings - More Like Random Thoughts

Lately I have been filled with random thoughts. Some of them are scary, some are weird, some are productive and some are just strange.

Like how I realized I clap in one direction. Are you clapping yet? I always clap with my left hand lower than my right and I use my left hand to clap against my right.

I sometimes wonder about my future kids, not the ones that are unborn, the ones here now. I wonder if I will recognize them in their future incarnations. I see glimpses of the people they are becoming and I am both in awe and scared silly to know that these are probably the only two people who will be able to call my bluff. The people who have watched me, silently at first, do all kinds of things I would never do in front of others.

You know what I mean. When it is just you and a baby in the house you can pretty much get away with anything, they can't rat you out and tell your spouse you were blogging all day or spent an hour examining your face in the mirror. Bigger kids though they can and do let your secrets out. My girls think I am working on my laptop, I have never actually said what I was doing mind you- they just assumed this. It is when I forget to turn the sound down that they usually bust me and rush over to find out what I am doing. Typing however, never causes them to rush over.

I have been thinking of trying to get my act together in the kitchen, how I am going to do this however, is another matter. I get the idea that if you prep everything ahead then the actual cooking is a breeze. I just never seem to know just how much prepping is required and when are you supposed to do this, I mean if I spend all morning prepping the food and all evening cooking it how is anything else supposed to get done?

The idea of menu planning and shopping lists is like an aphrodisiac to me, but still I don't do it well. Every now and then I vow to set a menu plan for the week, shop once and make lovely homemade meals every night. In reality I wake up most mornings with no clue of what the girls and I will eat for dinner and I end up at Longo's most days for something. We eat out far too much and I really want to change that. It doesn't help that the girls are picky eaters either. Lately we are making strides to change that and be a bit more forceful in the trying new foods department, but sometimes I just want to eat in peace.

I bought the new book from Jessica Seinfeld, Deceptively Delicious and I am still reading through it. I love the idea of hiding adding in extra vegetables into the girls diets, but I wonder why it has to be that way. Why do I need to shell out money to figure out how to get my kids to eat better? Why are they not better eaters because I want them to be?

After my recent tumble, I have been taking back every random thought I have had about secretly wishing I could break something just so everyone would take care of me for a while. Truth was I could barely keep my swollen ankle on the couch while Hubby attended to the girls all evening. I am a lousy patient, and kept straining my neck to see exactly what he was putting in their lunch bags.

So as promised a post made up of entirely random thoughts. Right now my random thought is that the girls will need their bangs trimmed before their Christmas photos at Sears in two weeks, and yes I booked the appointment at the end of August. Damn type A's getting all the good appointments! I often cut the girls bangs myself and must admit I am getting pretty good, but for photos I differ to the professionals.

Had enough? Me too. What kind of random thoughts are keeping you up?

WAIT! I have one more to share. I got the girls grilled cheese Happy Meals from that evil place on the way home from dance class tonight, please don't judge me too harshly. The whole box, meal thing was all about The Bee Movie which incidentally I really want to take the girls to see - I still love Jerry. Anyhoo, we ordered milk and got with our meals these Sipahh Straws, has anyone heard of these? The one we got was Honeycomb flavour to tie in with the movie I suppose and while Papoosie Girl gamely put it in her milk and used it, Rosebud promptly asked for her regerler straw. It smells really strong and while I get they use these meals mainly as a marketing vehicle for the latest thing we should be watching/buying/renting these straws are taking it to a whole new level. That really stings. What would Jessica say?

Fall Down - Go Boom

Yup. That is what happened yesterday as I was leaving the house to pick up Rosebud from school. I locked the front door, turned around, took a step and the next thing I remember is hitting the patio stones of our walkway. I know I turned my left ankle so I think I stepped off with my left foot, it twisted under me and I fell forward and landed with a great thud.

I was so stunned I just sat up and cried on the walkway. In a moment of, I could be seriously hurt and no one would know, kind of way. At first I really could not stand, I am not a slight girl and the weight of falling from a step coupled with my weight knocked the wind out of me.

About a minute later I realized that I need to get up and by now both my shins were throbbing and so is my left ankle and it is now six minutes until I need to pick up Rosebud. A quick mental scramble reveals that all of my close by backup people are not home, so that leaves me to hobble to the van and get Rosebud.

Did I mention that I had promised Papoosie Girl she could come home for lunch? She asked me everyday last year, but because that would mean Rosebud would have to to miss her nap it never worked. Now that Rosebud has her ballet class on Thursday afternoons and doesn't nap anyway, it seemed like a good idea.

As I was driving to get Rosebud I called Hubby in what I would call a controlled panic. I blubbered through my fall and told him he would have to come home on time or please, please, please a bit early. As a certified klutz I am sure he was not too freaked out, though for the record he has stepped off that same step and twisted his ankle twice...this was my first time! Note to self: Is there a problem with the step or just the users? Look into.

Rosebud's teacher took one look at me and gasped. I guess I looked a little messed up. I managed to get both girls home and feed them lunch which thankfully I had prepared before I left the house and I even managed to get Papoosie Girl back to school on time, which basically meant I pulled up in the front of the school, called the secretary and told Papoosie Girl to buzz herself in.

Hubby made it home to take Rosebud to dance class and I lounged on the couch all afternoon alternatively feeling really stupid and really sorry for myself. Falling for me is a big deal because I have the worst legs in the world. I have huge, ugly veins on the surface of my skin so the slightest bump results in a huge lump where the vein bursts. I then need to wrap it in a tensor for a few days and the resulting bruise will last for weeks. I have looked into surgery, but they advise against it unless you are done having children. Since I am not willing to make that call as of yet, I have the crappiest, most sensitive veins ever. My legs will probably be bruised and sore for weeks now. Blech.

The only upside was how sweet and caring the girls were as I tried to wash my legs off and wrap them while they ate. Papoosie Girl got the Polysporin and band aids and kept telling me, "it's OK Mama it is the kids one so it won't sting" all the while I am trying to be brave and not cry in front of them. Rosebud kept telling me to sit down and they both insisted they were going to be the best listeners ever and not give me a, "bit of trouble" all day.

I have the sweetest girls and best husband who took over all house duties, made me the best supper, took care of the girls and made me tea while we watched Survivor and 30 Rock. How do people do this alone? What if I had no one to call? Those thoughts make me realize that while it is easy to say how lucky you are sometimes, I really am lucky.

Since I am not supposed to be on my feet today I have a free pass to blog and read all morning. Maybe it is not that bad after all.

That photo is of Papoosie Girl falling into the hay on our apple picking trip in September. I was not looking nearly as happy after my fall.

The Circle of Life or something like that

I have had a busy and exhausting week. Someone died and was born a day apart in our family this weekend. My Mom's husband's (stay with me) Aunt passed away Friday after battling lung cancer for about two years. How she hung on this long is in itself some kind of miracle. Then on Saturday my BFF (for real) had her third child, a boy.

While I didn't know this Aunt well my Mom had been spending a lot of time taking care of this woman these past few weeks, in fact I have not seen my Mom in two weeks which is pretty unheard of. This woman never uttered a single complaint, never asked why me and spent much of her time thanking my Mom while she buzzed around her trying to help. This woman was able to stay at home until her dying day when she lost consciousness in her chair never to wake up. She passed away peacefully it seems. She leaves behind a twenty-something son.

The next day another son was born to my friend, her second boy. Her husband and I were in the delivery room and it was everything a birth should be; happy, exciting, and ended with a healthy baby. This is the fifth baby between us to be born at this hospital so we are pros at navigating the Labour & Delivery floor. We practically took over and spent much of her labour laughing, talking and watching movies like The Wedding Singer and Runaway Bride on W Network...well some of us anyway. The baby was healthy and strong and they let him lie on her chest for over 45 minutes before they took him for his vitamin K shot and eye drops. He was 6lbs 5ozs of pure joy beaming at us.

It is hard for my brain to wrap my head around the series of events of that twenty-four hours. A son lost his mother, a young man not quite ready to be alone in the world and a mother I love and care about gave birth to a son.

I am not usually a maudlin person, but this is hard for me to sort out and rationalize and every crappy platitude about the Circle of Life has me bristling.

I will attend the funeral tomorrow of a woman that while I didn't know well, I will go for her son, he deserves that. Then I will go visit my friend and her new baby boy and rock and cradle and kiss his head that is smaller than an orange. I have seen him every day from the day he was born. He is helpless and demanding and cute as a bug, he peed on me and pooped into his fresh diaper and I didn't even mind.

I hope this son grows up to know his mother - that he doesn't have to say goodbye to her before he is ready. It really is the hope of most people I would think to never have to say goodbye before we are ready. This makes no sense I realize as I reread these words, we are never ready for death. When someone who is 99 and has lived a good long life passes we think, they were ready, but you know what? There is always someone left behind that was NOT ready.

The Circle of Life is making me a bit dizzy today.

One Year Later

My first blog post and the creation of my blog was on October 5, 2006. It is a sad little post that I won't even bother linking to, it is just too pathetic...something like Blog Post #1. I have many times said that I didn't even know what blog was before frantically searching and trying to find a website for Catherine Newman after she left Baby Center. Of course what I did find was her blog and my very first click away from her blog took me to Bub & Pie - do I know how to pick them, and the rest is well, bloggy history. I found some kindred spirits and even though they are halfway across the country they inspired me.

My blog has definitely been a huge part of my life for the past year and if you told me that a year ago I would have scoffed at the idea. My high hopes of posting thought-provoking and riveting pieces filled with literary wit have given way to me spewing out posts sporadically at best. It seems I am greedy or lazy or both and often prefer reading blogs to actually posting on mine. I do love to write posts, to have a great idea, stew on it and write something wonderful. More often than not though it is something I need to get off my chest or some moment I want to preserve, that actually makes it into a post.

I still want to learn how to change my wallpaper. When given twenty minutes though I will always pick reading blogs over figuring out code.

I don't want to sound too naive or anything, but I have learned LEARNED so much from the blogs I read regularly. New books to read, parenting tips, recipes to try, causes to embrace, movies to watch, places to visit, and so many more I can't even type them all. I have friends and family, yet this is the place I go to for answers a lot of the time. This is the place where I feel my shoulders relax and a sigh escaping my body as I travel around my online neighbourhood. I feel joy when something goes well for a friend, anger when something doesn't, sympathy when a friend is hurting and empathy for a friend struggling with something. I say "friend" purposefully because anyone I think about on a daily basis, whether I have met in person or not, is a friend.

When I start to feel bad, like I am not contributing enough to this place, I feel myself retreating. I worry about keeping up. I WANT to keep up and post and comment and comment and post, but sometimes real life gets in the way. I am amazed at how people with busier households than mine find the time, I wonder how they do it.

All that doesn't really matter though because I refuse to stop doing something I love and brings so much into my life.

So one year later I am still blogging. This was a wonderful Thanksgiving weekend, we went apple picking, ate lots of turkey, visited Chapters and bought so many great books (with gift cards!) and spent time together as a family.

I have a lot of blog posts percolating so hopefully I will get the words out more often and if I don't that is OK too. I might still be at the kids table of the blogging world, but hey I am at the party and that is what matters.

Monday Musings - Getting the job done

I thank those of you in advance who do read my blog regularly for STILL reading my blog despite the fact that it is far from regular lately.


I think I may have talked about this before, oh look I did! We all complain (well I sure do) that we have too much to do and so little time and I really do! For real, in real life as Rosebud would say. I am a compulsive list maker, without lists I feel very lost and unhappy. No matter how long the list might be, it is better than no list. Keeping lists is my way of freeing up my mind, once transferred to the list the problem seems more manageable.

I have a list on the side of the fridge with our big projects, house projects that we need to complete or start as the case may be. Here is a sample of that list.

House Jobs
-Put down laminate floors on our main floor (the last place we have carpet)
-Organize the basement (more on that later)
-Clean the fridge and freezer in the basement
-Fix the caulking around the tub, I also have always never been crazy about our upstairs bathroom floor, so add that to the list too
-Empty and go through our cupboards, wash them down and put everything back

Then there is MY list the list of stuff I want to do, the jobs that keep our house humming and from drowning in our own crap.

Jen's List
-Finish putting our Florida pictures in the album, put away our travel stuff (brochures, pressed pennies, menus, miscellaneous vacation schlock)
-Print our recent digital photos and put them into albums, I have not printed since May. Since Papoosie Girl has been born I have been vigilant about putting our photos into albums with white paper dividers on the pages for me to record dates, add captions, etc. My girls love to look at these albums and if I have done nothing else this is my crowning achievement of home organization.
-Sort and put away Papoosie Girl's Grade One work into her keepsake tote
-Craft alert: help the girls glue the damn shells on the wooden frames my Mom bought after we got back from Florida (last summer)
-Put all our extra photos, remember what it was like before digital? You got the photos back from developing and used maybe half of them for albums and family and tossed the rest somewhere? I bought some cute photo boxes with dividers so I can get rid of all those envelopes.
-Figure out what to do with all those greeting cards. I love cards and give them freely and in turn we receive cards. I like to keep them, but this creates a lot of cards in our home. I have two hat boxes full and while I did let the girls use some of our old Christmas cards for crafts we still have many, many cards. They are special to me and I hate the idea of getting rid of them. I think I could purge them though and only keep the really special ones.


The basement is another story all together. I have made attempts in the past to organize our basement. Keep the Christmas stuff together, keep our high school and university stuff in one spot, our Royal Doulton dishes we have never used in one spot, you get the idea. The problem is that when you move into a house you have less stuff than you do say ten years later. As time goes on you stuff your newly acquired crap in every nook and cranny you can find. It is random as long as it is put somewhere. Now ten years and two kids later we need to take a step back and give this basement some thought.

Our basement is not finished and we basically use it for storage. There is a small area we have carpeted for the girls and we have some of those funky IKEA toy storage shelves with bins. The girls can come down and play and get their dress-up clothes any time they want. This area is generally organized and I won't include it in my disdain for the rest of basement.

The basement also has about 25 Rubbermaid totes (no joke) with kids clothes. I keep all of Papoosie Girl's clothes for Rosebud and I keep what Rosebud is outgrowing for my goddaughter. It is a non-stop merry-go-round of clothes shuffling, winter in, summer out, too small in, too big out, next summer, boots for next winter...it NEVER ends.

So between the wall of totes, our holiday boxes, keepsake stuff, photos, dishes we have no room for upstairs, and a husband who keeps the box from every single thing he buys; our basement is getting kind of stuffed around the edges.

How do you keep everything in order? How often do you clean everything out? It has been several years since we did a big clean out, taking everything off of every shelf, purging and putting it all back nicely. When the basement gets too crowded I feel claustrophobic every time I go down to the basement. The rest of the house is fine, peek in my linen closet, open my medicine chest, the pantry is pretty good; but the basement is annoying.

Why I let it annoy me is another story. With all the day-to-day things on my plate the basement hardly seems important, but looky here is a whole blog post devoted to it! Here is the thing, what I have noticed is that when my mind is cluttered I look to my home and what is around me to see where the problem lies, but this time it is my mind that is cluttered. I am wrestling with some stuff that I shouldn't* really blog about and it is weighing heavily on me. Nothing life threatening or earth shattering, just stuff I am not really ready to talk about here yet. Do I stay on the school Council? Do I put up a fight so my daughter can participate in her First Communion with the rest of her class? Do I have another baby? How do I get myself healthier and carve out a bit of time for myself that doesn't involve sitting on my arse reading blogs? How on earth do you get dinner on the table every single night?*

*So maybe I am ready to talk about them a little. Just a little though.

My mind and my basement need a dusting and airing out. These things on my mind are preventing me from being able to concentrate and I hate that the constant narrative that is normally harmless and even enjoyable is now bothering me. I want to be fun and happy and carefree and my big dumb old brain won't let me. There will always be things on my mind, it is my ability to park stuff in the back of the lot that I need to work on. Everyone worries about their house, work and family; it is human nature. I just hate when it gets too near the front and it starts bubbling over in that frothy way.

Getting the job done in my case may involve a lobotomy.

Me only better

"Every once in a while I'll have one of those days when I've fed the fish, cleaned 10 poops from the patio, taken the cat to the vet, sewn my son's stupid karate stars on until my fingers bleed and made sure that he has everything, and he wakes up and goes, 'Oh, what's for breakfast?' He doesn't know, and why should he? Right?

But there's absolutely no sort of acknowledgment or reward for this -- except for the intangible of my kids growing up to be wonderful people. I do find myself in the garage listening to the NPR because I want to have a stimulating side to my life...The only thing about having kids that I miss is being alone."

This is a quote from Jodie Foster that I read recently. I am not sure why this caught me off guard, but this struck me as so real and honest and coming from someone who could afford a flock of nannies it was reassuringly real. When you see celebrities like Britney Spears who drag their kids all over at all hours you wonder what kind of childhood are they having, what is their normal? I feel sorry for these children who know no better. What is worse is that we watch these children in the media with such gruesome fascination waiting and watching for the fall.

I wonder sometimes if what I am doing is enough. Am I patient enough? Doubtful. Am I compassionate enough? Sometimes, but usually I am quick to want to move on. Am I understanding enough? Usually, then again there are days I am utterly not. Does that make me a bad parent? I like to think, quite smugly, that by comparison to some I am doing a fabulous job. Yeah me! Then there are the days that I am sure I am the worst parent ever. I am selfish and cold and just want to be left alone.

I know I am a good parent on the whole. My girls are testaments to that. So why then are there days that I feel so hopeless and tired and fed-up? Everyone says it is normal, but I feel so guilty about it. Just knowing that there are other people, lots of people who feel the same way makes me feel less crumby.

We have had a few play dates at our house lately. To be honest I am one of those parents who never call you even after exchanging phone numbers and I am rarely the one to initiate it at all. My life is so full already, I just can't imagine adding more into the pot some days. We have got several calls this summer and you can only dodge for so long. This week we had one of Papoosie Girl's classmates over for a play date, a rather long affair as it was a complicated undertaking of schedules and she stayed from 11am-5pm. What I noticed immediately is I am left alone a lot during these days, it was so quiet from my point of view. Yes, I had to feed them and the sort, but I was left alone for long stretches. My laundry got folded in the daylight hours, dishes were washed and I was able to read blogs.

Having another child (who is not my own) in the house made me a better version of myself. More patient, more accommodating and I think more fun. I listened more and was generally a more relaxed me. Do I need surveillance to be a better Mom? I certainly didn't feel under surveillance, but at the same time acutely aware that I don't want this little girl reporting back that I holler all the time either. Why am I not this version all the time for my own kids I kept wondering.

The play date Mom is who I want to try harder to be, this Mom is kind and listens and is engaged just a bit more. Oh, I am entitled to my days of hiding in the bathroom too. I just want to try a bit harder you know?

Time Flies

Time really does fly when you are trying get ahead or say pack for a week at a cottage. As real day -to-day life charges ahead I am trying to pack up our entire house so I can enjoy my relaxing week off week of being a wilderness chambermaid. We are in the process, well mostly I am in the process of getting us ready for a week up North in the lovely Haliburton hills of cottage country.

Note: Not to actual scale, or remotely reminiscent of the cottage I will be actually staying in. I can dream right?

Our friends have a cottage (parents do anyway) and we are renting the cottage next door for the first time. We have never stayed for entire week and this seemed like it would give us a bit of breathing space. As it turns out another couple and their two children are coming up and staying with our friends so their cottage will be pretty cozy.

I have such wonderful memories of going to the cottage as a child. We rented at the same place for years and years in Bobcaygeon and while debating this week up North I kept coming back to my own happy cottage memories. Campfires, walking to town, the little tuck shop and the long freezies, catching my first fish by accident after getting tired of waiting for a fish, I stuck my rod in a crack in the dock and walked away. I came back an hour later to find the smallest Sunfish on my hook. We would play all day while our parents drank big pitchers of Caesar's, I remember barbecuing in the rain and the trips to Fenelon Falls when we were all sick of each other.

So as I look at my front hall and my list and shake my head, I know my girls are going to have a fantastic week. We will relax, not look at the clock, spend time doing nothing, make s'mores around the campfire, play games and make wonderful cottage memories for our girls. To be honest I am not much of a wilderness gal and camping is not my style at all. I just prefer the comforts of indoor plumbing and walls between me and the great outdoors. The cottage is a good compromise between my hotel tendencies and my desire to be at one with nature. I love nature, I love hikes, sunsets, mountains, oceans, all of it. At the end of the day though I love a hot shower and soft bed a bit more I guess. I like having both - call me selfish.

I have not been around much this week (no Monday Musing!) and likely won't be back blogging for a few weeks.

The only thing that makes me more anxious than packing up all this stuff is the idea of unpacking it again in a week.

How life unfolds

It occurred to me the other day that my blog represents or perhaps more than represents; it is documenting how my life is unfolding. My voice booms loud and clear here, even on the days it barely whispers in the real world. Here I am strong, opinionated and occasionally bright and insightful. I don't need to take two Advils here as often as in my real life, but isn't this a part of my real life? I think I need that Advil.

In my real life I do not talk much (hardly at all) about my feelings of grief or loss. Once I write about these feelings they float a little higher from my body, they hurt less. My writing and blog are a wonderful tonic for my less than joyous feelings.

So in addition to the many wonderful bloggers I have met through their blogs and wonderful stories, it has been so helpful to my own story. I have been able to write about feelings that had been bottled up for a long time. To talk about my quirks and beliefs in a place I know I am not judged.

I have done the Meme's and answered all the questions about what blogging means to me and how it all started and I guess what interests me more now is where is it going? How is this going to unfold, or keep unfolding? Am I going to tire of this (I doubt it) or am I going to not be able to think of things to write about?

I find folding laundry a very satisfying job, actually laundry in general is something I kind of enjoy. It is tactile, it is so predictable - starts off dirty and ends up clean. It is something I don't really mind doing. I usually save my laundry folding for evening and fold while watching some bad TV, I figure the productivity of one cancels out the brain numbing effect of the other. The unfolding of life is not nearly as satisfying though sometimes. You plan it all out and make it clean and then poof, someone dumps your nicely folded basket on the floor.

I just took the book out of the library, Stumbling on Happiness, and while I have barely cracked it open I am already thinking about it. Am I strange for thinking laundry can make me happy?

Below is a quote from the review by Malcolm Gladwell, the author of The Tipping Point and Blink.

Stumbling on Happiness is a book about a very simple but powerful idea. What distinguishes us as human beings from other animals is our ability to predict the future--or rather, our interest in predicting the future. We spend a great deal of our waking life imagining what it would be like to be this way or that way, or to do this or that, or taste or buy or experience some state or feeling or thing. We do that for good reasons: it is what allows us to shape our life. And it is by trying to exert some control over our futures that we attempt to be happy. But by any objective measure, we are really bad at that predictive function. We're terrible at knowing how we will feel a day or a month or year from now, and even worse at knowing what will and will not bring us that cherished happiness. Gilbert sets out to figure what that's so: why we are so terrible at something that would seem to be so extraordinarily important?

********
Clearly finding out not only what makes us happy but, why it makes us happy is important business. I must say my curiosity is peaked and I will probably read this book cover to cover. So far my life is unfolding in way that makes me happy. I have a loving, happy, and healthy family. We have a nice home, jobs, cars, security - all the things we seek out to create our happiness. The book opens with a line about what would you do if you had 10 minutes to live, would you do what you are doing right now? Duh, no I wouldn't, but rarely in life are you faced with such a scenario. You hear of people traveling to special places as their last wish or trying something new, or just spending time with family. Posting a blog entry I doubt it, but does that make the happiness I get from doing this any less valid?


















I think things are unfolding just fine, but for good measure I will read the book anyway. You can never have too much happiness.

Monday Musings - Beautiful and Sad

Yesterday was my brother's wedding and it was a wonderful day. The bride was radiant and my brother made a dashing groom. They are a well-matched, lively and creative couple who complement each other in every way. We got rained on, but other than that the day was lovely. The day is still in many ways a jumble of emotions for me. My feelings about my Dad, seeing cousins I had not seen in 11 years, seeing family friends who knew me as a child and now are shocked to see me with children, the fact that my brother thanked every member of the wedding party, the bride's family and his family - but forgot me and my family. The girls felt a little left out too and that hurt more. The bride was busy with all her girls and family members rushing about, we were in the house ages before we were acknowledged. This is the frenzy of getting ready for a wedding, but for my little girls all primped and ready to be oohed and aahed over it was a bit sad. We did eventually get to the see the bride and all was well after a few pictures and minutes posing with the bride.

There was however, no mention in any of the speeches of me, Hubby or the girls. Am I smarting? Yup. Many people noticed and have commented, I mean we sat at the prime table with his Mom and grandparents. I am sure it was not intentional, but I felt so left out. We worked so hard to prepare for this day and prepare the girls. This is still a little raw and I am sure a perspective will be gained further along the way, but my heart broke a bit when he reached the end of his speech and thanked or mentioned everyone else but us. The bride and groom both loved the slide show we put together with all their baby pictures and current pictures set to music, they were both in tears and told us so, and I know they loved it, I really do. I thought they might mention that at least, but no luck.

They both hugged us and told us how happy they were to have us there throughout the night, I know that is really all the thanks I need. I guess that shout-out meant more to me than I thought. Why is it that knowing you are loved and special and valued is so much different than being told so, is that why we blog then - why I blog - to be told over and over that I matter?

Maybe I was expecting too much. I did not have a say in how my family evolved. My parents divorced when I was a child, both remarried, my Mom would remarry for a third time. My father had two more children and while I love them fiercely maybe you cannot forge a bond that just isn't there in that deep, complicated way living together your whole life gives you. After my father died I made a promise to myself to keep the ties strong with my brother, sister and Step-mother. They are a link to him that no one else has with me. They belonged to him just as much as I did. Without him though, we are left to forge and flounder and find a way to remain a family.

Was this most likely a completely unintentional over-sight of the bride and groom during stressed out moments of cobbling together a speech the night before (knowing my brother), yes probably. Do I have any right to feel so sad over this? That remains to be seen. I certainly do not want them to know how I feel, since I think that this is one of those things that looms large in the forefront of your mind and eventually settles a bit further back day by day until you cannot remember why you were so upset in the first place.

I have got myself out of bed to write out elaborate responses to situations only to tear them up upon the light of day, I know this is one of those cases. My heart is hurt - my ego maybe more; and it smarts, it really does. I feel better already sharing this out loud, the words before me make it less so somehow.

And on to the beautiful.

The girls looked liked angels and behaved so well it was actually a very easy day despite the hectic pace and long hours. They walked up the aisle right on cue and sat on the alter steps for the entire 45 minute ceremony, they were so, so good. Many people came up to me throughout the day (and night) to tell me what pleasure they were to be around all day. Most of the other children ran wildly about and while no one seemed to mind, and they didn't disrupt anything really, it was just really clear that our girls were not behaving like the other kids.

This was a bit of a dilemma for me. I often wonder if we are too hard on the girls or if our expectations are too high. The girls did not have one meltdown or tantrum all day, the only hitch was that at some point Rosebud just wasn't interested in smiling for anymore photos so I promised we would go somewhere special as a reward for all her hard work as a flower girl. We are going to the chosen indoor play land tomorrow, a deal is a deal. They ate their meals and were generally such good company I could see a glimpse of the future where our time spent together is less about wrangling the girls and more about being with the girls.

Omaha Mama made some good points on the fine lines and slippery slopes of good behaviour, attentive parenting and kids being kids. This topic makes its round around the blogosphere every so often. I certainly did not tell my girls they could not have fun or run around. I prepared them for the day by explaining the church is God's house just as always and even though it is a fun occasion it is a special day and we must behave like special guests.

During the dinner the DJ had to ask the children tearing around the dance floor to take their seats after several near misses with the servers carrying huge trays of food. Several parents took their kids outside to run in the lobby area, rather than fight them into their chairs. Rosebud eventually fell asleep on my lap and was transferred to her stroller for the remainder of the evening. Papoosie Girl stayed up until 11:30pm dancing with her Dad and three grandmothers, until 11:30pm when she suddenly declared she was tired and needed to go to bed. My sister-in-law took the girls home for us so we could stay a bit later.

We approached the day with the attitude that we would try everything accordingly to the schedule and just see how things went. We started our day at the hair dressers at 7:45am, went to the bride's house for photos, the church, the park for photos, the hall for more photos and the reception. I never imagined it could go this smoothly and I wonder if all the stars and moons aligned for this one perfect day? A day so perfect we keep looking at each other to confirm it really went so well.

Weddings can bring out emotions you forgot were lurking about. Beck blogged about this very thing tonight as well. Seeing family you have not seen in a long time. These people are your flesh and blood, look like you and share a common bond, yet are strangers. You make promises to see each other more often under less orchestrated circumstances knowing that it will not happen, even though you really mean it at the time. I discovered that myself and two of my first cousins gave our children the same middle name, our maiden name in fact. Life goes on and the new family you have created becomes the focus, the object blocking the rest of the view finder.

I know my brother loves me. I know this is and it has it been a complicated and delicate dance of being family and siblings, while never having the opportunity to live together. None of us chose this path, not him, not me and not my sister. We are all family though and will continue to love each other, our captain is gone, but we sail along none-the-less. I wished every Christmas for a brother or sister and was lucky to get one of each.

I truly am grateful to be a part of his special day, he has grown into a wonderful man and his bride is a treasure. It was not a day to be all about me or my feelings and I so get that. You cannot prepare your heart for such day however, it is not quite as tidy as dress fittings or searching for the perfect shoes. So enough whining.

In case I have thoroughly depressed and or bored you with the ticker tape of neurosis that resides in my head, I offer another dose of extreme cuteness. Being flower girls was the thrill of a lifetime for the girls, it really was, and I am so thankful that they were asked.

Flower Girls

My brother is getting married next weekend. Both the girls are flower girls, their first time and they are practically bursting with excitement. We have been to many dress fittings and related getting ready for a wedding errands. Tonight is the wedding rehearsal at 7:30pm at the Church, a time that normally would be filled with nice, quiet activities before bed. I fear going out to something so thrilling at bedtime may bring on a level of excited behaviour I am frankly not up for tonight.

After the rehearsal is dinner, which we may or may not attend. It is being held at my Step-Mom's house - my brother's Mom - the back story being my Dad and Mom divorced when I was quite young. My Dad remarried and had two more children, the elder, my brother is getting married next weekend. My Dad has since passed away, 11 years ago this August, he was 48 years old.

She lives about 30 minutes away from the Church so we may pass since this means the party will be starting around 9pm, and while I feel bad, it is just so late for the girls and to top it off it is another 30-40 minute drive back to our house after the party.

Rosebud has been fighting a cold for the last few days and I just want her to get all the rest she can this weekend. This wedding while we are involved we are not. It is just one of those things. The bride has a huge and involved family who are really handling everything well, not to mention her sister, cousins and countless friends. While we picked the dresses for the girls together the rest has really been all me. Deciding on their shoes, hairstyle, etc. has been fun in an exhausting kind of way. It is strange to be a part of the wedding and so much on the outside, odd somehow.

Hubby and I have also prepared the slide show for the wedding, all of their baby pictures and together pictures set to music all thanks to Hubby's talents in iMovie (I think?) anyway it is so amazing and quite a tear-jerker. No one has seen it except my sister and my Mom so I am really excited to show this off at the wedding. We never did anything like this for our wedding and I kind of wish we did, I guess it wasn't the rage ten years ago.

This wedding while a fun distraction and joyous event is bringing to the surface many, many wishes and regrets. My Dad should be here to see this, to set everyone straight, to witness his second eldest getting married. I think by now everyone thinks, while this was a tragedy, you really should have moved on by now. And I have in many ways. This wedding though is different, my babies will walk down the aisle so proud and my heart will be leaping with a million bounces of joy and be breaking into a million shards of sorrow too. I am so happy both my Mother and her husband and my in-laws will be there to see the spectacle. I want the girls to know they are loved by so many people and their circle of family may not be conventional (my Mom is attending my brother's wedding) it is full of love for them. They have three "Grandma's" and they love them all. They are lucky girls for sure. I just wish that providence saw to it that we were just a tiny bit luckier. That would have been something. Of course, even saying this out loud makes me want to knock on everything, in hopes that God knows how truly and grateful and blessed I feel. I am blessed, I know that, my heart just needs convincing sometimes.

Bye Grade 1

About half an hour ago I picked up Papoosie Girl from school, Grade 1 is over. Her first full year of school under her belt, the first step taken on a hopefully long path of academic endeavours.

She cried all the way home. She loves her teacher and can't bear to not see her everyday. I love her teacher too, she is everything a teacher should be, engaging, supportive, caring and concerned. There is a remote chance we might get this teacher again, but I don't want to get my hopes up or hers. Our Principal is also retiring so these last few days of school have been tough for Papoosie Girl, lots of goodbyes.

I cannot think of a better testament to our very small school than a child who cried all the way home on the last day.

I have been toying with the idea of getting my teaching certificate and after volunteering in the school and being on the Council I wonder if I have what it takes. The teachers in Papoosie Girl's school work hard with very limited means and they make the most out of what little resources the Board and the province toss their way.

I have never been a fan of teacher bashing, for the obvious reason that I don't really bash anyone - well certain celebrities beg for it, but even then I usually refrain. My preferred choice would be to get involved and make a change - make a difference.

Teacher's spend five days a week with our children, teaching them everything they can within constraints so severe I never would have believed it had I not seen it for myself. You hear people say things like, "it is easy being a teacher with holidays and summers off" or similar statements. Let me tell you if I ever thought that teachers have it easy I have long since been enlightened. They are the unsung heroes of our children's childhoods.

Best wishes to all teachers - enjoy your summer - you deserve it. Here are some quotes I came across while looking for an image. Some food for thought.

It'll be a great day when education gets all the money it wants and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy bombers. ~Author unknown, quoted in You Said a Mouthful, Ronald D. Fuchs, ed.

The teacher who is indeed wise does not bid you to enter the house of his wisdom but rather leads you to the threshold of your mind. ~Kahlil Gibran

The task of the excellent teacher is to stimulate "apparently ordinary" people to unusual effort. The tough problem is not in identifying winners: it is in making winners out of ordinary people. ~K. Patricia Cross

Teaching is the profession that teaches all the other professions. ~Author Unknown

Memories

I have been trying to sort out some of our photos and travel keepsakes, I have no idea why this bothers me so much; but it does. Actually, I am in more of a pre-sort phase at the moment. I have gathered all the loose photos in the house and have put them in assortment of totes and boxes, oh how I love my totes! Some are in old fashioned sticky page albums, some are in those one dollar flip albums, many are in the sleeves from developing and others are loose much like the memories they hold.

My goal was to just get them all in one spot and then start the fun process of sorting them. While this has been stressful it has uncovered some long forgotten memories and moments.

When Hubby and I used to travel we would set up an itinerary for both us and to give to our parents so they could keep track of our travels (did they even want this?) and we would use this while planning out our vacation.

Below is what Hubby made for our honeymoon. We really are that geeky. I am not even sure who is worse because I made the plan for our trip to the East Coast in Word Perfect on the blue screen and all. I will spare you that particular pain.


This September is our 10th anniversary and we always said we would go back to Hawaii on our 10th. Then we went to Disney World last summer so our funds are not exactly overflowing at the moment. We will go back, that I know and maybe even bring the girls. It is such a magical place and I want to share that with them. I know many people feel it is very commercial and it can be, but there is something so special and magical about Hawaii especially in the lesser known parts. You can feel the history there.

I went as a child with my father and step-mother and remember that trip so fondly, I was enchanted with the islands. While planning our honeymoon I felt compelled to return, I felt like my father was calling me there. He passed away six weeks after we got engaged at the age of 48, I will have that day burned into my mind and soul forever. Every moment, from the phone call, car drive and the hospital room is so exact in my mind I wish there was a way to erase it.

We went ahead with planning the wedding and we were married one year and one month after he passed away. It was the hardest year of my life.

Hubby's idea of a honeymoon was a long-weekend get-a-away, mine was a tad grander and was being fueled by completely irrational thoughts it seemed. I just had to go to Hawaii, there was no dissuading me and when I look back poor Hubby was so concerned for me, I can see that now. My fervor for wanting to go back to this place I visited with my father was relentless.

After much discussion (begging and pleading) he agreed to this very expensive (the money would be better spent on the mortgage) honeymoon. He loved every minute of it. The helicopter ride over the bubbling volcano, swimming with the dolphins, watching the sunrise above the clouds at Mt. Haleakala, the hypnotic beauty of the ocean, the sombre visit to Pearl Harbor - all of it.


I visited one of the hotels I stayed in as a child and walked around the grounds delighted that not much had changed. I walked on the beach my Dad and I snorkeled on and I remembered the wonder and beauty he shared with me under the ocean. I felt at peace in Hawaii for the first time since he had passed away.




My Dad was an anal, type-A person too, so I come by it naturally. As August approaches and the anniversary of his death comes near I think of him often. My brother is getting married in July and I am sad he will miss this, another child of his is getting married. Life is not fair sometimes, but oh how it moves on.

He would have been proud of my itinerary, he really would.

Monday Musings - Shh I think I am becoming a b@$%h

In recent weeks, well really months I have found myself speaking up and out in a way I never have done before. If you knew me in my real life you would know I have never been one to make waves or cause a fuss. I may be a talker, but conflict has never been my speciality. I would rather lop my own arm off than start a fight with someone.

That was then. In the last little while I have not only confronted people I have engaged them in a way I have never done before with little regard for the pot I was stirring. I find myself much less tolerant of situations where there is an easy way to resolve it, I am not interested in finding a manager or consulting a guide; I want resolution and I want it now.

I have no tolerance for silly, politically correct, dancing around something conversations. I hear my voice saying things like, "what is it exactly you are trying to say?" or worse, "is there a point you are trying to make?" My frustration bubbles up so fast these days and threatens to boil over into all the burners much too often. A fellow School Council member was recently quizzing me about the discussion in the meeting they had missed, asking me over and over why didn't I bring this or that up. I finally said, "if you were so concerned you should have been at the meeting last night." I was not asked anymore questions.

I am afraid my sudden tell it like it is attitude is going to land me in big trouble soon. I recently snatched a lollipop out of Rosebud's startled mouth while visiting some family. I had been very clear that the girls were not to be eating any more candy. I have repeated asked this family member to not ply my children with cookies and candy each time they see them (which is not all that often, but often enough), offer them something else I would suggest if you really think they are hungry. So the other day I snapped and told them that each time they fill the girls pockets with treats I throw them out. To be fair this family member agreed it was just their way of getting an extra hug out of them, and has since agreed to lay off the candy.

We have so many friends with kids with fillings and the dental bills to prove it. Kids as young as 4 and 5 having root canals, silver teeth, and fillings. Is candy all to blame? Nope, the dentist cites saliva issues and high bacteria counts, but you know what - it cannot be helping. My Mom gave the girls Crocs for Easter this year in my war against unnecessary treats and my Step mom gave them Chapters gift cards. And no the Easter Bunny did not leave a trail of frozen peas, we had chocolate, plenty of it - I am just trying hard to limit the flow into the house.

I digress. I am a bitch I fear these days. No one is immune from my wrath it seems. I have adopted an attitude that enables me to speak much more freely though and not get pushed around half as much. Hubby jokes that I was sooo much easier to get along with before, but I know this is what he has always wanted for me, to find my voice and use it. When I met him I could scarcely order from a menu without checking with him first. I was recovering from a very combative relationship where I quickly learned to keep my mouth shut. I think initially, I was so relieved to be able to think and speak freely I was simply happy enough with that. Years later though I find myself wanted more, willing to step up to the conflict a wee bit more. I will never be a yeller or a fighter, it is just inherently not my nature. That doesn't mean though that I am not embracing this other side of myself. They say life's a bitch, they just haven't met me yet.

Meme too, Rhet Style

Why is it I am always the last to answer these things? Does it count that I at least do them even if it is after the fact...

It is my turn to be tagged by the explosive Blog Rhet Meme and since it was Bub & Pie who tagged me and she was my very first comment it really is fitting. I answered many of the questions in a post way back, but I will answer the questions and fill in any missing pieces. I have so enjoyed reading every one's answers and can't believe how many people have similar stories to mine. Then I am enjoying the stories that are completely different from mine too. All around fascinating stuff.

Here we go.

1. Go back to first or early post. How would you describe your voice back in those early days?
Who were you writing to? What was your sense of audience (if any) back then?

Hesitant. On a lark. These are two things that come to mind when I read my very brief first post now. Here is a bit of it:

This blog is simply for me to keep a living diary of everything wonderful and not so wonderful in our family. I was inspired by Catherine and have followed her since her first entry on Baby Center.

This will be my attempt at documenting our life.

For my sister Amy in South Korea a chance to keep track of us in a way only random rantings can.

I was writing to my sister and still am, even though she is nearing the end of her time in Seoul. I was also trying to better capture the fleeting moments - the minutia of daily life with small children. So that has been true to form. What I could have never predicted is what is has brought to me, and done for me. I had no clue of the true sense of audience or even what I was getting into really. I was following a writer I loved and found others I liked an awful lot more too and was just trying to figure out how I could be a part of it. I never dreamed anyone would care to read my blog and that is the truth.

When Catherine Newman left Baby Center I tracked her down and discovered she had a blog. I read her posts, it was just a few then and read her comments with just as much interest. These were people who I already had something in common with, we liked her writing and stories. As I started to check out the comments there were a few that stuck with me, writers I just felt very much at home reading. Bub & Pie was one of those blogs. I decided to try to start my own so I stayed up until 1am one night and poof I had a blog.

Then I stalled-big time. I kept reading my ever growing list of favourites based on Bub & Pie's Blogroll and beginning to comment. I read of blog burnout and became afraid before I even started...I kept thinking if this isn't rewarding or even fun then why do it at all? What have I done? Then I found Alpha DogMa and I felt a little less intimidated, we found each other early in our blogs and became fast bloggy friends. I was encouraged by her interest and could not get enough of her posts either. I struggled though when I read a great post on another blog and I would think this is why I don't need to write anything about anything (except about my family) since there are so many other great blogs out there, where I hear my own voice as I read the magic words.

Then Catherine (Newman) asked her reader's why they blogged and does it effect the way you parent. The answers I came up with actually helped me along in the process of blogging and helped me find my voice.

Some of the answers I came up with...

I started it to keep a living history of our family where everything feels so endless and fleeting all at once. I was completely inspired by Catherine's postings at Baby Center and her new blog. This is a slippery slope I have discovered. After reading only Catherine's posts for so many years I feel a bit like I over ate at the buffet by the gluttony of posts I am trying to read now. I read them because it is so personal and anonymous at the same time. I learn things, relate to people and generally take comfort in the fact that while we may not all be the same we all love our kids to death, are terrified daily of losing them, and generally can't even imagine life before them.

When I read great blogs like Bub and Pie, I constantly nod in agreement and say to myself I so hear you. These postings have always resonated with me in a way that nothing else ever did - kind of a kindred spirits thing without ever having met. These wonderful writers can put into words my feelings of deepest love, silliest worries, darkest thoughts and make it all seem so effortless.

So I guess the answer lies herein, blogs give you a sense of comfort that there are parents all over the planet going through the exact same thing you are going through. Reading and writing blogs heals your soul and is like a nice cool washcloth on your forehead all at the same time.

I KNOW I am a better and more mindful parent for having met these other wonderful families. I try very consciously to be more mindful and to remember we really do hold their hearts in our hands one of the most memorable lines I gleaned from Catherine.


2. Do you remember when you received your first comment? What was it like?
My first comment was from Bub & Pie on my second post aptly titled, "Blog Two" she said some wonderful things of course and I was hooked on the idea of comments. The goal of my early posts was to see if she would come back.


3. Can you point to a stage where you began to feel that your blog might be part of a conversation? Where you might be part of a larger community of interacting writers?

I think this happened for me about two months into my blog, around December 2006. There was huge dialogue happening about community and the debate about the validity of the blogging community. The fact that people were talking about it in such a way made it very clear to me that this was indeed a veritable community. I had a small, but devoted list of bloggers who visited me regularly and even though I knew I could stop at any time and disappear from the blogging world, I knew I never would. I owed my friends more than that and at that point I new I was a part of something larger.

4. Do you think that this sense of audience or community might have affected the way you began to write?

I think the best way to describe it would be to say I was trying harder. I wanted my thoughts to be clear, well-written, entertaining and enjoyable to read. I was much more conscious of trying harder to make everything flow. My voice did not change, nor did the content. Even though I was ultimately writing for myself, I was acutely aware of the fact that I was choosing this medium and not a journal on my night table and for that reason I felt a responsibility to my readers. In that way I suppose it did affect the way I was writing.


This was an interesting process to write about. A part of me is still really surprised sometimes that I have a blog, me a person who considered it a victory when I finally mastered programming the VCR. But, I do and I am proud of it and proud of the community I am a part of now. I have met more smart, savvy, and wonderful women here than I could have ever imagined.

I expect this journey to continue for some time. I fear I get much more than I give from this exchange, that however will not deter me. And if you told me back in October 2006 it would be possible to write an entire post without mentioning my girls I would have laughed. Or, if you told me this would be a place for more than the just the shameless promotion of cuteness again I would have laughed. So ha to all that.
















Edited to include a tag for Alpha DogMa...I swear I thought you were tagged already!