On being European-ey

parting thoughts to 2009

2009-12-31T10:55:00.003-05:00

Freedom is for honest people. No man who is not himself honest can be free – he is his own trap. - unknown

People think that a liar gains a victory over his victim. What I've learned is that a lie is an act of self-abdication, because one surrenders one's reality to the person to whom one lies, making that person one's master, condemning oneself from then on to faking the sort of reality that person's view requires to be faked. And if one gains the immediate purpose of the lie - the price one pays is the destruction of that which was intended to serve. The man who lies to the world, is the world's slave from then on. - Ayn Rand (1905 - 1982)

Satisfaction lies in the effort, not in the attainment, full effort is full victory. - Gandhi (1869 - 1948)

The path to the truth is found in the spaces between the lies. - Rain Bojangles

Everything secret degenerates, even the administration of justice; nothing is safe that does not show how it can bear discussion and publicity. - Lord Acton

No good ending can be expected in the absence of the right beginning. It is too late. - I Ching

Self-conceit may lead to self-destruction. - Aesop

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. - Seneca

When small men begin to cast big shadows it means the sun is about to set. - Lyn Yutang

There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning. - Louis L'Amour

Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible. - St. Francis of Assisi

What the caterpillar calls the end the rest of the world calls a butterfly. - Lao Tzu

Wishing you all the best for 2010 - the hope and promise of a new year.

watch this space

2009-12-18T09:07:00.003-05:00

Wow - three months without a post.

I'd love to say that it's because nothing interesting has happened to post about. But that would be a lie.

For anyone reading this who does not already know this news - Marc and I are separating. It's been a tortuous couple of months. There is so much to say, and yet I haven't been able to say it here.

If I try to summarize it - be succint, to the point - we want different things. I want a family, a home life, to find what I want to do for the rest of my life - balance, peace. Marc wants a big career. These things are not mutually compatible anymore. It has taken me a long time to hear him, to hear what he is saying - that he can't do it anymore.

I just read a brilliant statement from someone over at the Women's Colony from someone who is going through something much more difficult than I am:

THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH.

I'm on my way through. It's not a fun trip, the scenery sucks to be honest, but there is something on the other side of this. And I will be okay. As will my precious babies. They have an awesome mother you know (modest aren't I?).

So from me and mine to you - Happy Holidays. May you have wonderful times with your families and all the best for 2010. A new year, new opportunities.

I think On being European-ey has run it's course. I will be back - not sure where or when, but watch this space in January. I should be plenty stressed getting ready to move (3rd time in 2.5 years! Oi Vey!!) and I am sure I'll have something to say.

T
xox

what do I say to that?

2009-09-12T14:43:00.002-04:00

I just had the following conversation with my seven year-old son (who is going on eight in a few months):

Him : Phew, that was easier than I expected.

Me : What?

Him : Dealing with Julia. (sounding like he is more like 7 going on 38).

Me : Oh... okay... Um, Stu, thanks for telling Julia that you were down here, but you know it's Mama's job to deal with Julia right? I'm the grown-up.

Him : Well yeah...

Me : Stu - do you feel like you have to act more grown-up when Dad's away?

Him : (non-committal noise)

Me: Stu? You don't have to be a grown-up you know. I appreciate when you help me with things and try to get along with Julia, but you don't have be a grown-up.

Him : Yeah, I know... it's just that... when Dad's away and Nana's not here I feel like I am the Dad replacement. You know, so I have to act like an adult.

Ouch.

I explained that he doesn't have to but I am not sure he believes me. I gave him a really good answer about being a kid and that Mama was the adult etc etc etc... and he kind went "uh-huh..."

Then again, he just tattled on her. Sigh. The bickering is what I would LOVE to have them stop.

I have a rock in my bra

2009-09-10T21:19:00.002-04:00

No seriously, I do.

It's a blue aventurine crystal that is an Aries stone (I'm an Aries). It is a small, lovely, blue stone with soft smooth rounded edges. The best place to carry it is close to your heart - thus the whole bra-stuffing. It is supposed to help me through what is going on in my life right now.

Honestly? I think it's a bit weird, and after my mum and I had left the store I said "You know who I've turned into? Mrs R!" referring to the mother of a close friend who went through a phase with crystals and such and we all thought (with much respect) that she was one sandwich short of a picnic when she did all this stuff 20 years ago.

Hmmm. Don't you just love it when you think you know about something and it comes back to bite you in the ass?

Sorry Mrs. R.

explanation required

2009-09-03T10:24:00.002-04:00

My sweet daughter woke up at 3:15 this morning.

I was up with her until 5:45, when I succumbed the heady combination of sleep deprivation/sinus infection and sent her in to her father and passed out in her bed.

Marc and Stu left for work/school at 7:30 and Marc put the tv on for her. No I am not proud, but hello, I figured it was one of the only ways we were going to survive today. I crawled back into my own sweet bed and passed back out until 9:15.

She is bright and chipper and talking a mile a minute. She has been up since 3:15. I on the other hand who was only awake for 2 1/2 hours of that time feel like I've been hit by a truck.

How exactly does this work?

Day Two

2009-09-02T15:12:00.003-04:00

2:30 found me holding me breath again.

When I dropped Stu off this morning he suddenly bordered on whimpery, half-heartedly dragging the bag of extra school supplies he had to take in. It was TOO HEAVY he whinged, and he couldn't possibly carry it up to his 3rd floor classroom. The bag contained 4 packs of loose-leaf and two kleenex boxes, hardly the two tonnes of bricks he was intimating it felt like.

But he came out smiling. His day was great. And while I have yet to get many details (besides the fact that two boys asked him, one right after the other heaven forbid if he'd had toast for breakfast... I am still working out what the problem there is) I am going to chalk this up to another successful day.

Marc, Julia and I went for an interview with her teacher. Who spoke to us for 35 minutes instead of the 20 minutes allotted. Who not once made me want to go home and take Valium (as opposed to crazy lady from last year). I think this is going to be am uch better environment for my kids.

Phew.

Alien abduction

2009-09-01T15:52:00.003-04:00

Stuart started his new school today. I have a wicked sinus infection (started antibiotics at lunch) so I was pretty much dreading it.

All the way there in the car he said he was nervous.

We got there and he told his teacher he was nervous. She leaned over and whispered "You know what? I'm a little nervous too." (I think I might love her).

The three of us went to pick him up after school. I know my brain is not clear in this current state of sinus crisis, but I think I was pretty much terrified of him coming out the door of the school. I am pretty sure I sprinted over to where he was as soon as he walked out of the door.

Me: Hey Stu! How was your first day?

Him: GREAT!! (he was grinning and almost jumping up and down)

Me: That's great! (Inside voice piped up with "did funny little green men take you away on a spaceship and brain wash you?" but I kept it to myself - barely)

Later I tested the waters again...

Me : So - do you still hate school?

Him: NO!!!! (again with the grinning...)

It wasn't perfect (someone called him Stuart Little but the teacher noticed he didn't like it so she asked everyone not to call him that... and he is satisfied that it has been dealt with...). But it was great. And I know we've still got a long way to go, but can I tell you that...

To my knowledge, my son has NEVER come out of school grinning and saying his day was great. Certainly not in the past two years, that's for dang sure.

Fingers crossed people. But I may be able to exhale for the first time since the 4th of June when I realized that his little world was messed up. Phew.

Oh and in other news - Stu's best friend who moved off our street but was still going to go to the old school for one more year? He changed schools too. Want to know who didn't change schools? The BULLY. He's back. I wasn't having any doubts about our choice, but for once it's nice to know I got my ducks lined up and made the right decision.

Exhaling....

change is in the air

2009-08-29T14:08:00.002-04:00

Fall is coming - the days are cooler (or the pouring rain today) and you can feel that it's time for a change.

Change of school next week - my stomach is in small knots for the Stu. They were big knots until we went to pick up his school supply list yesterday and met his teacher. She is lovely. Lovely. I have a good feeling about this. Now let's just hope he clicks with some of the kids. It's hard sending him in there on his own, my sweet boy who can have so much trouble communicating with other people. I hope this school will help him to feel comfortable in his own skin.

I am tired of my blog - look at that hideous template (which I liked at the time, but that time was an insomniac night). I have been feeling like a fraud as of late - not so european-ey. My blog title almost mocks me, I think it's time for a change. A move to another title. Possibly even change from blogger. Hmmm. I have some long afternoons in the cafe around the corner from the school in my future. Maybe I will finally get my blog how I would like it.

Marc is touching up paint (legacy of bad contractor). Feels like moving on a bit. I am going to go and pack up all those baby gifts I never seem to mail and get them out the door. The wheels are turning... new school, new season, new, new, new... it's kind of exciting.

Well hello there!

2009-08-22T23:49:00.003-04:00

Well it's been a busy summer - I've lost 30 lbs, jogged 15 km a day, my skin is perfectly clear, I look 10 years younger, the kids have been a joy to have around every single day, no bickering, it was almost too difficult to drop them at camp the few weeks they were there...

Yeah, no.

Not that it's been a bad summer, it's just been - busy. Busy in ways that have not involved any of the above-mentioned fantasies...

Busy in:

- finally going to small claims court for our settlement conference and paying the *(&*#&@*^(%#*^@_*#^%_^#*^_*^# contractor a couple of hundred dollars to go away. And spending the last 6 weeks feeling like a complete and total chump. But - he lied. He lied lied lied lied lied at the settlement conference (did I mention that we were the 4th in a group of people at a certain time and I had to spend close to two hours sitting in the waiting room with him? UGH). I didn't feel too badly when I left the court - I felt like I had taken the moral high road, he was a liar and a cheat and was going to continue to lie and cheat and obviously had been in this situation before and know how to muddy the waters - I would much rather be an honest person who was taken advantage of than be a slimy bastard like him. But it still stings that he walked away with even a dime more of our money. I just decided that he wasn't going to be fair or honest and the judge was about to decide that we had to go to a full small court trial - at which he could have lied further and who knows what would have happened. Slimy nasty beast. I just don't understand people who lie like that.

- two kids on holidays... overall it's been great. We've had lousy weather so it hasn't felt as much like summer as we would have liked. No sense in crying over bad weather. I'm nearing the end of my summer patience though - the bickering is getting to me. And J has not had any activities in August and is getting a little... she's a bit of a pain in the ass. Stu was at camp this week with his BFF (who lived on our street and then - sob - moved a 10 minute drive away). They both did swimming camp (different weeks) Stu did hockey camp (the last day they had a game and they "announced" them as they came onto the ice - too cool!) and J did ballet camp for 6 mornings over two weeks. Lots of packing lunches, snacks, bathing suits and sunblock.

- vacation! We spent a week in Prince Edward County, about a 20 minute drive from Picton. Loved the area. Ate lots and lots of good cheese, drank good wine and cider. There is an amazing new cheese maker there called Fifth Town that claims to be the greenest dairy in Canada and makes only Goat and Sheep cheese... great for this cheese lover with a cow's milk problem. Downside of the vacation had to be the really bad beds - hard as a rock, creaked so much if you so much as moved a limb (rolling over and/or getting out of bed woke the rest of the household. No joke.) It was wonderful to have Marc all to ourselves for a week (cell phone OFF! Only checked once a day!! No laptop!) We had the most beautiful afternoon at the Dunes beach at Sandbanks Provincial Park (gee, I should be linking all these things...)

- trying to start getting ready for back to school in 10 days. I am so certain that we are making the right choice moving the kids. Stu had been getting in our bed every night from March to the end of June. The day after school was over? He started sleeping through the night again (he's still up too late and wakes up too early, but you can't have it all, right?). I really had no concept of how much he hated going to that school every day. My poor little man. The kids in this area are really intimidating to him - we went to a local park with a splash pad last week and there were 4 kids (3 girls, 1 boy) of a certain background there, yelling, screaming, pushing, shoving, generally wreaking havoc as children of a certain background in this area always seem to be doing (with no parental supervision even though the two younger girls appeared to only be about 6) and Stu just really hung back, walked around the periphery, tried not to get involved... even Julia didn't want to go near them. This must be what he felt like every day at school. So I am glad we are changing schools. But can I confess something? I'm scared too. I'm worried about my kids fitting in, about them making new friends and being happy - and also about ME fitting in, making new friends and being happy... I've spent a lot of energy in the last two years to do what I could to settle us all in this neighbourhood and especially in the school and now I'm starting all over. Ugh.

- looking at houses... no, we are not moving. But I am quite disenchanted with our area. I feel like a fool for not seeing it before we bought this house last year. I am also dreading the drive to and from the new school - it will be about 20 minutes each way (could be more depending on traffic). When Marc is home he will take Stu in the morning and I will take Julia at 12:00 and be there to pick them both up at 2:30. Which doesn't leave a lot of time for doing much if I wanted to come home (not to mention the gas) and Marc is already scheduled to be away a lot in September. So a move closer to the school was so tempting but unfortunately far too far out of our budget. Our budget that just got a pretty serious overhaul in order to possibly afford moving sometime in the next couple of years.

- trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up - or more specifically a job that I can do mostly from home when Julia starts full days in September 2010 that will enable me to be home at the end of the day for them and be here in case they are sick etc... Everyone is telling me to start free-lance translating from home but my degree seems a million years ago and I am very intimidated. I need a lightning bolt (or some very good suggestions... anyone got any??)

- eating. Guess what? When I am: stressed, bored, irritated, worried, tired (etc... you get the idea) I EAT. I had been doing well with losing weight (I was down 23lbs in May) but I've fallen off the wagon and gained about 7 over the summer. I still weigh as much as I did 9 months pregnant. Bleah.

Other than that... hmmmm. Not much. Where on earth did the summer go??

I know I should trust my own instincts but...

2009-06-24T10:49:00.002-04:00

This morning dropping Julia off at Kindergarten (Stu is still sick so no bus for us) I ran into the retired teacher from last year, the outspoken one who had been in Stu's class for several weeks when his teacher was so sick (read: burnt out). She was replacing one of the kindergarten teachers today and I just caught her as they were going in.

Me : Mme XX, I'm glad I ran into you. I wanted to thank you for the talk we had about Stuart.

Her : Well I really wasn't very discreet.

Me : No, I wanted to tell you how much it helped us. We've decided not to come back next year, we're changing schools.

Her : Good! I'm glad to hear it!

Me : We're going to take the kids to the Alternative school (and which one).

Her : PERFECT! What a great environment for Stuart! That's a wonderful decision.

Me : Oh thank you - that means a lot to me. We feel it's the right thing but your opinion means a lot to me.

Her : I think that's a great decision. And... I strongly suspect that he might be gifted. I would think about having him tested next year...

Anyhow, that's not the whole conversation, she also said it might Stu time to settle in and things might not change right away (his motivation) but all in all a great conversation... Not to mention she was a teacher for 35+ years and part of the committee that started our school board's gifted program.

I know I should just trust my own instincts, but honestly? I am a sucker for feedback.

Dry those tears

2009-06-22T19:33:00.004-04:00

The bump was a good, loud, resounding one.

Our dining room table is made of heavy oak. Pretty hard on a little head.

The tears were immediate - loud, big... a wail.

I bit my tongue - the tongue that after a long day with two under the weather kids and a travelling husband wanted to say things like: "I told you to stop chasing the cat!" and "What were you doing under there?!".

Instead I held her and rubbed slow circles on her back. Let fat tear drops fall on my foot.

"It h-h-h-HURTS Mama!"

One day what hurts her won't be made better by a hug and slow circles on her back. So I bit my tongue and held on to my baby and tried to commit the moment to memory.

Memory that I hope will help when I feel helpless to stop her tears in years to come.

just because I got this far without my head exploding

2009-06-18T15:58:00.002-04:00

So - it's been one of those weeks.

2 sick kids. Had to pack them into the car on Monday to head to Montreal (after driving back from Montreal the day before - lovely weekend en famille in a hotel thank you very much) to see my grandfather in the hospital. Where he'd been rushed. And he has decided that he is dying. Which at 92 isn't shocking except for the fact that he has always sworn up and down that he would live to be 105. And he is stubborn enough to do it (tough old Dutchman!). So that he is saying he's done? Yeah, disturbing. I did have a lovely visit with him though in case this is it, and I am thankful for that.

In Stu's class today I had the longest talk with his teacher. Who dropped the "You need to insist they test him next year, I think he's gifted" bomb on me. Huh? She even admitted that because he has such strong support at home (nice pat on the back for me) and she has had such a difficult class this year that he hasn't had enough attention from her.

So now - is Alternative going to be the best thing for him? Or not? And while I should wait until Marc gets home from Toronto to decide if we will pay the money to have him tested privately ($1900 thank you very much) I tried to go about making an appointment. Some doctors are taking appointments for NEXT APRIL.

Welcome to Canada people. We have a terrible medical system, thanks very much for asking. WTF good is 10 months from now going to do me making my decision right now?

And yes, I am talking VERY fast in my head and I AM overcaffeinated.

Monday's Drama Queen moment

2009-06-15T09:48:00.001-04:00

The Catholic school FINALLY called.

Were in.

Crap. Now what do I do?

I'll fill in the paperwork in case we don't get our transfer approved.

An end to the drama?

2009-06-12T12:44:00.003-04:00

So... yesterday I had a 20 minute phone conversation with the principal of our school. And felt much better about the situation. As in, I said what I felt, didn't sugar coat, didn't dismiss, made my point clear. And she said a lot of things that made me feel better (Stuart will be in another class for next year, the bully may be moving to Toronto) and we worked out an approach to how we are all going to work together on this issue.

But.

Yes, I still have a but. Because while this boy has been the main part of our problem, he's not the only part of our problem.

The best way i can describe it is when you decide to break up with someone. There's usually an incident that is the straw that broke the camel's back. One big thing that makes you mad enough to end things. But usually in getting to that stage you find other things to back up your actions. Little things that have happened etc. And then even if the BIG thing can be resolved, you've acknowledged all the little things and, as my friend Anne said this morning, THE LOVE IS GONE.

That's where I am. Yes, the bully is the biggest part of the problem, but he's not the whole problem.

The Catholic school won't return my calls. The other public school (the JK-8 one) was not able to accept cross-border transfers back in March when is when they should be able to accept them without issue. Getting in isn't looking good.

This morning I asked Marc to go to the Alternative school with me. I don't know why, it was totally spur of the moment, but something has been pushing me to go there.

I LOVED IT. Correction - WE LOVED IT.

It's a smaller school. A teacher on break volunteered to show us around. She found us the principal in a classroom who showed us around more, talked to us for about 20 minutes, took us to the library (the librarian shook our hands and gave us her personal guarantee that our kids would love the school - she was a character!), talked us through a day at the school, discussed their philosophy... I was in school l-u-r-v-e...

She told us about a Grade 4 girl who played her recorder for the talent show yesterday. For her second song she played Au Clair de la Lune - and announced that she was able to play it through her nose, so she would. The principal thought that was awesome. Music to the ears of a parent who has heard about her kids marching to the beat of their own drummer.

We didn't even need to talk about it - we got back to the office and Marc asked for the forms to fill out. We've done them - there is a chance we could be refused by our current school though. Ugh. Going to have to work on that one - I feel slightly hypocritical after yesterday's talk, but honestly I feel the alternative school is so much more what we are looking for and that my children will blossom there.

I am GIDDY. GIDDY GIDDY GIDDY.

Decisions, decisions

2009-06-10T16:29:00.003-04:00

And the agonizing begins (I did warn of this in my last post... I knew it was coming).

I have spent hours on the internet looking at schools in this area and checking out their EQAO (Education Quality and Accountability Office - in other words the standardized testing for the province of Ontario). I've discovered the interesting information in their detailed 31 page reports for each school (I sense the Vulcan in me emerging - there must be something in their numbers that will speak to my search for the best educational opportunity for my children.)

I've pored over school websites and board profiles of the same schools. I haven't slept much for the last 3 nights.

Not that I have mild OCD tendencies or anything.

Now I have all this data and I have to start sifting through it. And figuring out what I think is best for my kids. And seeing what my options truly are - this post is really mostly an exercise in getting my thoughts in order.

I learned that our current school - while not doing badly on the EQAO scores - has a very high percentage of ESL students. 40% of households speak Arabic at home, 30% Somali, we have enough that speak Mandarin to have warranted us using a grant we got to translate some of the school documentation into Mandarin (We also did Arabic and Somali - I helped co-ordinate the initiative). Add to that any other languages that are spoken as a main language at home and I think we're probably down to less than 20% of families that speak English or French at home (the two languages of the school).

After much thought I have decided that maybe our school is a little too diverse - I like diverse, really I do. I welcomed it when we moved back here - we had so many nationalities living in Luxembourg and I had appreciated - for the most part - what they brought to the table (with the possible exception of Belgian drivers - woah... they redeem their poor driving habits with chocolate and waffles though). But our school is dealing with so many different cultures that it almost feels like a family with two many different personalities all wanting to be the centre of attention. Which may be fine for some people, but I find is not best for the Stu.

So my "options" for a new school are:

1) Another Public School Board school that is about a 10 minute drive. They have considerably lower ESL numbers than we do, and similar EQAO scores. Their site looks good, they have some great initiatives mentioned in their board profile (Anti-bullying! works for me!). I know someone who's daughter has started attending the school for Middle school and they seem to be happy - another plus for it is that it does run JK-8 so we wouldn't need to find an option for Middle School (our local middle school is a problem and this school was one we were considering for down the road).

Problem : I have to go and talk to them about a cross border transfer - which is usually done in February. They are a very popular school and hard to get into from what I've heard.

2) The Catholic school right around the corner. The kids could walk. There are kids on our street who attend. It has a very low ESL population. There is less French instruction, though I could (with some self-discipline) probably cover that off pretty well with the kids.

Problem: One of you needs to be Catholic. Neither of us is - they do take other students if they have the room, but there's a chance we wouldn't know until after school starts in September. And we need to discuss our interest with the principal (which I have been told is another way of selling ourselves to her) and she hasn't returned my call for two days.

3) An Alternative School in our Public System. Hear me out here. I've heard of this alternative school because my neighbour teaches at the nursery school/daycare on the premises and her 4 year old is going to go there for JK/SK. Looking at it I am intrigued. Lots of parental involvement, small classes, mixed classes. Mid-level ESL numbers. Mid-level EQAO. It looks like the "real deal" of Alternative schools. It's an environment that I think (if it's all it's purported to be) could be great for the Stu.

Problem: it's not the alternative school for our area (and that one? oooh no. It looks more like a dumping ground for problem children than a true alternative school). So again with the cross-border transfer. And it's a good 20 minute drive, in rush hour traffic. Which wouldn't be an issue in spring/fall, but come winter? Eeesh. That could be a killer.

I have to make some decisions in the next day or so. Cross-border transfers are closed until June 15th when they will be re-opened - meaning that I need to get mine in by Friday so it can be reviewed on Monday. And then? Then they need to contact our current principal to see if she will release us - which she can refuse to do. So I need to pick one of the Public Schools (I don't believe you can request 2 cross border transfers) and then try and explain to our principal that we want out. Which I think is going to come as a shock to her (I see her regularly and haven't said anything because this has just blown up).

And then the logic goes out the window... My son is asking to go to a new school but does he really want to? Or rather he WAS asking last week - this week doesn't seem so bad (yes, but for how long?) Am I imagining this whole problem? (NO). Should I be able to resolve this whole thing with better support for my kids at home? (Possibly - but I am already volunteering 2 mornings or more and we still have problems - I can't keep sleeping with my 7 year-old. Or picking him up 1/2 way through the day which has happened 6 times since Christmas).

Am I being fair moving them? Will they integrate well into another school? Will they (especially Julia) be crushed that all her little friends are still at one school when she's at another?

Not to mention pretty much my entire support network is made up of mothers at our current school. I'm a volunteer, I'm on school council. I have a lot of vested interest at our current school. This isn't going to be easy for me either.

Anyone have a crystal ball they can loan me? I need to see what the future holds.

the problem with school

2009-06-05T03:41:00.002-04:00

It is 3:40 a.m. and I have been awake for nearly 2 hours, going over our issue with the school the kids are currently at.

More specifically with Stuart's issue. And trying to break it down to it's most simple form. Which is that there is a bully in his class and he is being bullied.

I've known this for months I suppose. There are just so many other issues clouding the matter - Stuart's sensitivity that can be overwhelming being one of them.

I was about to get off point again and tell you about his sensitivity and how it affects me, but this is not about me. This is about the Stu.

There is a boy in his class who is bullying him. A few months ago, during a particularly awful week when Marc was away and the world seemed to have it in for us, I wrote briefly about the bullying in class but I never followed up (with myself mostly) about what happened.

The boy in question is a shit disturber. I was loathe to label a 7 year old boy "bad" but you know what? HE IS.

And for the intents and purposes of this post I am going to refer to him as "the bully" - because you know what? It's going to make me feel better.

Back in March Stuart got off the bus one day and said "The bully told me that at recess tomorrow I wouldn't be laughing, I'd be crying and bleeding." and then proceeded to tell me that the bully had people to help him with this - kids from the Special Ed class that he had recruited to help him. (I am not in any way trying to label special needs kids - but the ones at our school are HUGE. Some are as big as I am and do not seem to suffer from many physical problems. I know, send me hate mail, but it is what it is).

Long and short of the story - Stuart had told on the bully. Following the school rules that are posted everywhere, he had a problem with this shit disturbing kid and when he couldn't resolve it he got an adult. These kids are 7 - this is what we tell them to do over and over again.

So I went to school the next day. I went to try and catch his teacher before class to talk to her. She wasn't in class and by the time I found her she was bringing the kids in. She knew something of the problem and had me talk to the bully about what he had said/done. He started screaming and shouting that it wasn't his fault (one of the Special Ed kids told him to say it to Stuart if he didn't want to get beaten up etc etc).

From the class I went to the Vice-Principal - the Principal was away. She said she would handle it. I did see her talking with some boys from Special Ed (their class is next to Julia's where I was volunteering) but that was it.

It turned out that there was another boy who had also been threatened - I had called his mother the night of the incident and we discussed it at length and her husband called the school. When Marc got back from his trip he called the school too. The only answer we seemed to get was that i thad been handled. No follow up. No punishment that we were aware of, other than having to walk with the Vice Principal at recess.

It seemed to settle down though until a few weeks ago. I went on a field trip with the class and this boy wanted to be in my group. I had a group of 5 boys (one of them on the wild side) and I looked at the teacher. She told me to try it if I was willing to and told him that she was watching him. We made it as far as the cloakroom before he had head-butted another child in my group because he was "pretend" wrestling - I told him to get out of the cloakroom, he screamed it wasn't his fault it was an accident and the teacher came in and dragged him out. The looks he gave me for the next 1/2 hour were so full of hatred - have you ever felt uncomfortable from a 7 year-old glaring at you like he was going to take you out back and beat the crap out of you? It's not fun ( I should probably mention that he is only about 6 inches shorter than me and probably weighs what I do - the kid is HUGE).

Last week getting off the bus one of the other kids asked the Stu why he'd been in the VP's office. When questioned he revealed that the bully had gone up to his friend (same sweet kid as the head-butting at the museum) and knocked him over at recess and proceeded to throw his legs over his head like a wrestler. Stuart told me that he had to "testify" because he had been there and saw what happened. TESTIFY.

Later last week the bully kicked another kid in the class in the rear end. Ended up at he VP's office. Within an hour he was back in her office for showing another boy his privates in the bathroom. There have been more and more little stories coming out, and bits of info I've gleaned from listening lots and asking questions in passing (along the lines of "how do you feel about having to go to the VP's office?" etc etc). The pieces really started to fall into place

Since March - the whole "bleeding and crying" incident - the Stu has been getting into our bed almost every night. And unable to fall asleep unless I am in his bed. Now if you have been around to hear me moan for the past 7 1/2 years you'll know that the Stu has never been the best of sleepers. As a newborn in the hospital the nurse told me "I've never seen a baby this age fight sleep!" We've had other sleep disturbances over the years. I put it down to Marc traveling (and my poor mothering skills, which is what I always blame) but then today I realized that hey! Maybe it's school. (I know, I'm slow on the uptake).

Yesterday was the icing on the cake. Every year the school does a 2km walk for Cancer. It's a really special day in honour of a boy who died of cancer at the school 11 years ago. Yesterday was particularly moving because the boy had been in Grade 2 when he died and had Madame as a teacher (so same age/same teacher). I walked with the class, as did a few other mums, including the bully's who was pushing her 3 months old baby in a stroller. Her presence did nothing to calm him down.

After the walk there was a hot dog lunch in the park across the street. It took a while to be served and the kids were playing games. And the bully was cheating (I saw him myself). Other kids were "telling" on him, but if course it was the Stu that he shoved out of the way in a race so he lost, and the Stu burst into tears. And that's when the shit hit the fan - the bully screaming that he hadn't touched the Stu, that he was lying, that every time something happened to the Stu that he got blamed, and on and on and on and on and on... the teacher put him aside and another mother - a much cooler mother than I am, with cool dreadlocks and a hip attitude - came to talk to him, told him he needed to calm down or he was going to die of high blood pressure one day, that it didn't matter etc etc etc... eventually he settled down a bit, but had to be put out of two other games before the hot dogs were being served.

It was honestly like the pieces of a puzzle starting to fall into place. I saw this kid screaming. I heard the teacher getting frustrated (she has been off a lot lately, she's getting burnt out by this class). I heard her say something like "Oh the two of you today - it's just not working!" - about the bully and MY SON (who was just getting upset about being pushed). I took a big step back - I too had been trying to reason with the bully, explain to him that even if he didn't think he'd pushed Stuart that he had to realize that he'd knocked him out of the way by accident etc etc etc etc. I took a step back and took my son, who was still on the verge of tears complaining that he was hungry and generally on the brink of losing it, and walked away. I went to find Julia. We walked around a bit. I just hung out with him. I finally clued in to the stress he's been under at school with this boy pushing his buttons all the time.

Just before lunch was served another mum in the class came to talk to me about the bully. Her daughter is a very shy little girl who has been in Stu's class for two years and who I had not met before, but had been talking to off and on all morning (and liking). She commented that the bully was a problem. And told me that the school has a problem dealing with him because every time a teacher disciplines him in a way to try and deal with his behaviour they call and complain. They claim that he is being unfairly treated.

Now - I need to tell you something about this boy. We live in an area that has become very multicultural. And the bully is Somali. I don't even want to touch this one with a 10 foot pole, but honestly? If he was white he wouldn't be getting away with all this. I have seen that the children from families with parents that are involved are treated much more strictly than those with parents that are seen as "new" to Canada or who might be suffering from "cultural differences" (not that they aren't, and I am really very open to cultural differences, just not ones that mean my kids can be bullied because someone else's family doesn't have common respect for people. The end).

The bully is disruptive in class. He is aggressive and has anger issues. He has no respect for anyone in a position of authority. He is foul mouthed. He is - in my opinion - BAD.

I know - he's 7. I know. I've been making excuses for him since last year (last year when he thankfully was in another class). I too have said that he's got a good heart underneath (he was playing me too). I too have given him the "cultural differences" card to play - but honestly? It's his 3rd year in this school - if he can pick up video games, wrestling, pizza et all from our culture should he not be able to pick up some of the not so subtle school rules and maybe learn a little respect?

And so we have begun the saga (because it's me, I overdo these things) of looking for a new school. I know - seems drastic. But there are two such boys in the Stu's grade. They can't be in the same class, so we will always be stuck with one of them. Last year the other one was an issue (not to the same extent). As Marc put it last night, we either just move the kids or we can try and fight with the school over this, which will ultimately just have us labeled as racist and be a waste of time that we could use in better ways - and that there will be very little change if any.

So - my most simple form of the problem ended up being very long winded (phew, getting some stuff off my chest!). But it boils down to:

My son is being bullied at school. Wether or not he is too sensitive to this bully pushing his buttons is irrelevant. I feel his education and his happiness are being compromised by this kid. The school is not handling it and I can't let this situation go on.

The end.

not much to say

2009-05-28T09:22:00.002-04:00

I don't seem to have much to say these days (again? still? who knows?)

I do have stuff to say, but none of it seems to need saying here. Or it's just too - um personal. Unrefined.

Or things that might not need all that interesting (you know - to my thousands of readers - ha ha!)

Like the kittens - how much they are growing. How much I adore them - which I didn't think I would. I really thought I was getting them for the kids and yet I find myself picking them up and muttering silly baby talk at them (do you see lonely old lady with cats in my future? Me too - scary). That I love being followed around the house. And how I could easily put the little rotters out of the house when they do their Olympic tryouts on my bed in the middle of the night.

And there is my baby - who had the nerve to turn 5 two weeks ago. Who won't stop growing. Who performed in a ballet show on a BIG stage at one of the Universities last week. Sure, she was only on stage twice for 2 minutes, but holy cow. When did she get so big.

And the boy? The boy gets dressed by himself in the morning. Sure, it's not always appropriate clothing (how on earth does he always find the only things I wouldn't want him to wear to school?) but he gets up, pees, brushes teeth, gets dressed. By himself. Without the pleading/nagging/beseeching of years gone by. And then pours himself half a box of Honey Nut Cheerios for breakfast (there's a stock tip for you - at 7 1/2 he's eating us out of house and home already and Honey Nut Cheerios are his favorite thing right now).

My cousin had a baby - which has moved me this week. In ways I am not ready to talk about yet. Even to myself.

I am still grappling with our choice of school for the kids, second guessing, wondering, thinking I need to do something different. Remember when you just went to the local school for better or worse?

And what am I going to be when I grow up? I have 15 months until Julia starts Grade 1. Shouldn't I be doing something about that?

Hmmm. Maybe a shower and a second cup of coffee are in order this cold rainy morning.

See? I told you I didn't have much to say...

I am such a twit

2009-05-08T10:33:00.002-04:00

I just updated my status on Facebook to

"Tracy is stressed because we haven't ordered flowers for the MIL yet. This is not good.(Now if I could ditch my bad attitude already and order them I wouldn't have to stress. I do know this.)"

And then? I realized that my husband's cousin is one of my friends. As in cousin who's parents live 2 streets from my in-laws. And he is friends with other cousins. Do you see a shampoo ad here or what? And he told two family members, and they told two family members...

Hopefully he has better things to do with his day than check my facebook status.

I have to stay away from facebook. Oh yeah, and order some damn flowers.

trying it on for size

2009-05-07T17:45:00.002-04:00

I went back to see my therapist this morning, after a year-long absence. Things the last few months have gotten progressively hairier around here and I felt that perhaps I needed a bit of a space to talk to someone not involved.

She said something to me - something that I am sure has been said to me before but hasn't sunk in - that I am really trying to take away from the hour.

She said: "It's your job to keep them safe, not to make them happy."

Obviously this in reference to my children. And while I of course want to be the kind of mother that they are happy with, their emotions are their own. I can't control their moods.

In my constant need to assure myself of my children's happy, joy-filled, nurturing childhood experience I often lose sight of the fact that I can't be everything. And that I can't control everything and anything that might happen to them.

And often - far too often - I feel frustrated with them. With their failure to appreciate how much I do. How much I "sacrifice" of myself (and my sanity). And then, more frequently than I care to admit, I lose my cool. Which makes none of us happy.

So I'm going to work on that Safe thing for now. And see how it goes. I don't know how long I'll last but it feels like a bit of a relief to be putting down the burden of guaranteeing their happiness for today.

Really, I am usually pretty fun

2009-04-22T13:57:00.002-04:00

So - I haven't posted in almost a month... wow, where did the time go?

Hmmm. Husband travelling. Hockey practices and tournaments, ballet classes, illness, mornings at school, school council shenanigans (oh our lovely treasurer!! He is a post all on his own, I really need to get to that one!)... in other words, life in general.

Remember our evil contractor ??? On Friday he served me with papers from Small Claims Court. He is claiming the money from the cheque that we put a stop payment on (since we had to use it to pay someone else to FINISH the job) as well as - get this! - an additional $960 for three days he claims he never billed us!! Absurd!! We were paying him every week (like the idiots we were!) so unless there are days he was here that I wasn't I don't know where that could come from... he's so frickin crooked, or so frickin stupid if he can't bill people properly.

Of course we have no bills from him, no additional quote for the "extra" work he claimed should take no more than a handful of days etc. And we will be filing a defence thank you very much. We've already had a technician (from an authorized dealer) regarding the air exchanger that he spend 3 days moving and "fixing". Guess what? To move it should have taken 4.5 hours. And by the way - the reason that the previous owner, real estate agent and the house inspector said it didn't work was because THE ENGINE HAD SEIZED - a long time ago. So tricking us into thinking he'd "fixed" it was pretty low - no?

I know, I am an idiot. By the end I would have done anything to get him out of my house.

Well that started on Friday night (because hey - let's serve you at 5pm on a Friday when you can't do anything but stew about it for the weekend!).

Saturday was actually a great day... our friends Myles and Cathie were in town from Luxembourg (on their way to a family wedding in the Dominican Republic, I am so hoping Cathie reads this while drinking a mojito for me!) and came by for dinner (smoked meat, birthday cake and hockey playoffs... good fun!). It was so so so good to see them, it had been going on two years (longer for Myles as he was in Afghanistan when we left Luxembourg) and yet it felt like no time had passed.

Saturday also brought about two new additions to our family... Josie and Minuit, two 5 week old kittens who were rescued from between a shed and a fence where their mother had given birth to them. They are adorable... Josie is black and white and Minuit is completely black - for now at least, there is obviously some tabby in them waiting to come out.

Sunday was good but things went wrong at 10 pm when Josie managed to get her claws in my eyeball. Ouch. (I don't know, it's me, these things just happen to me. What can I say). A visit to the pharmacy resulted in a visit to the ER room (holy cow, those pharmacists can really scare you!). Oh the joy of finding the ER in the dark, especially since someone at our hospital has a strange sense of humour, staggering signs all over the place so you are never sure where to go... the wait to see a doctor was 7+ hours (!!) so the triage nurse and I decided I could come back in the morning, since I would probably only be an hour or two later than if I sat there all night.

So back I went Monday morning and waited 4.5 hours to be told that there was a tiny scratch on my cornea, that most of it was in the white of my eye and here was a prescription for antibiotic drops should I get an infection, which I probably wouldn't (and don't have so far- yippee!). I could launch into a diatribe about what is wrong with the Canadian medical system but really - what would it accomplish? Our healthcare sucks.

Monday afternoon - migraine!! Oh the fun!

Monday night to Tuesday morning - Julia up with a cold and high fever.

Tuesday - Julia home. Now I have the fever.

Tuesday night to Wednesday morning - WHY are there 4 people sleeping in my bed? And what is lodged in my throat.

Wednesday - everyone but Marc home sick. Why are sick kids so loud?

I know, fun times people, fun times. I think I need to put it all down some days to realize why I never get anything done around here.

And now back to laundry... that I am getting through!! Thank heavens for small mercies!

lyrics

2009-03-25T13:37:00.005-04:00

so I've been having quite a week... the kind that would make a good old fashioned Country & Western song. You know what I mean, one of those ones where the dog dies and the pickup gets stolen?

I've been toying with putting it all down since Monday... luckily I managed to get Kenny Rogers moaning "you picked a fine time t leave me, Luuuuciiiiille..." out of my head.

Mine would go like this:

there's a mouse in the attic,
my man's gone on a plane
setting the traps, caught my finger,
oh woe, the pain...

blue cross cancelled our insurance,
claiming we'd lied*
Monday morning
made me want to hide

a note from health services
faxed and sent home
the boy could be suspended if
I don't call them on the phone**

and then there's the tale
of bullying at school
"you'll be bleeding and crying"
from the class's biggest fool***

Tuesday morning brought time
in Julia's class
her teacher's voice
could shatter glass

the kitchen ceiling of the rental
has fallen in
from leaking in the bathroom
buzzing in my brain, makes quite a din

girl has a fever,
it's "that" time of the month
could drink a bottle of wine,
but then undoubtedly someone would hurt themselves and I would be arrested from drunk driving on the way to the hospital...

Okay I lost it at the end there... needs a bit of work, I agree, but maybe it'll make me my first million...

* we did not lie. DID NOT.

**apparently immunizations from Luxembourg do not correspond to Ontario ones. They've had his record for almost 2 years, why the sudden rush (1st notification) to get him up-to-date or suspend him...??? But I've spoken to them, it's in hand.

***holy f*** this is a whole post in and of itself... I get bonus points for not taking the trash-talking, class-disrupting, shitty attitude little f*** out when I went to school to discuss the issue... even when he rolled his eyes at me and accused my son of LYING...

Marc just called from the airport and is through security waiting to board... no delayed flight yet!!

You know this won't end well

2009-03-23T08:27:00.004-04:00

This morning I was asleep in the Stu's room. Fast asleep. That lovely heavy sleep where you think you could sleep for days.

Until something woke me up. I tried to figure out which one of my kids was making an annoying scratchy kind of noise - and why on earth were they up so early?

They weren't. It was just me and the scratchy sound, which turned out to be coming from the ceiling. I must have been quite a sight, stumbling around the room, eyes barely open trying to figure out where it was coming from. Hmmmm. This must explain why the Stu woke up at 4:30 this morning and stumbled into our bed.

I am a real wimp in this department. When I was in University I lived in an apartment close to Lakeshore Road and we had itty bitty field mice between the walls. At least the landlady told me they were itty bitty field mice. I was quite convinced that the one who liked to dig by my headboard was an oversized rat who would, at any moment, claw his way through the drywall and maul me in my sleep. Apparently the cat in the apartment was enough to keep them away.

Marc was up, showered, and getting ready to go to the airport. He was dragged into the Stu's room and agreed that yes, there was something there.

I crawled back into my bed with the sleeping Stu and tried to stop imagining colonies of feral varmint living in my ceiling. Films depicting small animals in human-like social settings be damned. I am having visions of the princess in Despereaux. Not good.

Marc agreed that I could do what was necessary while he is away (visions of the rodents producing hundreds of offspring before Wednesday night - we will be run out of the house...) Of course the husband of Nat the Wonderful is out of town too - he is also wonderful, would solve this for me no problem, and has only once ever been out of town on business before. Why now???

I called my mother as soon as the kids were on the bus (which is actually a very common thing). They have had this problem before. She gave me detailed instructions on how to solve it myself (apparently peanut butter is very effective in traps? Ewww.)

So now I have to drag my unshowered (and very dirty haired) self to Canadian Tire, buy traps and try to set them before Julia gets home at 11 am.

It is now 8:41 and have I gone?

Nope, I am blogging. Because procrastination is a wonderful thing.

(I am a wimp and I am fine with that. I know it. Really. Now can you please come set these traps for me?)

buyers remorse...?

2009-03-15T01:42:00.003-04:00

Except it's not something I bought so I can't take it back...

I cut my hair off today. Well, not me, but my wonderful hairdresser who I trust completely.

Except now? I have no hair.

I have a love/hate relationship with getting my hair cut. I always believe what the stylist tells me, I always believe that there is a wonderful new me walking out the door of the salon. I swish my locks and feel glamorous. Look at me world with my shiny styled hair!

It usually lasts until the first time I try to do anything with my hair and I spend the next several months cursing the stylist and considering making a voodoo doll of them to jab pins into.

Last year I got the name of a hairdresser from an acquaintance and last January I let her layer my hair. I have had my hair layered many many times before and let's just say it always ends in tears. But I had seen a photo of myself with my long, slightly frizzy mane (taken on a bad day while I was in my son's class trying to do papier-mache with him - bad scene) and I thought things could only get better. And hello - I loved the layers. I loved the haircut. Finally - good hair! I even bought Product to go in it. Product I tell you (you'd have to be married to Marc to get the irony of his Product supply compared to mine).

Anyhow, 3 haircuts and a little over a year later and we arrive at today. Now, things you might need to know beforehand:

1) I made the appointment on Monday when I was in a snit and decided I was going to get my haircut and look good dammit (because those of you who know Marc will know how he HATES it when I do anything to look good. He NEVER wants me to get my hair cut. Never compliments me when I make an effort etc etc etc). (Um that last bit? LIES. All LIES. He's be happy if I went to get my hair done on a monthly/weekly/daily basis.)

2) On Tuesday I said to Marc "On Saturday when I tell you that I am going to see Sylvie and have her cut my hair short you have to say "Don't do it!! Don't cut it short!!"

3) I don't seem to have been able to ditch my February slump (hello? windchill in the negative 20s hasn't helped) and was feeling, oh, I don't know, FED UP with everything.

4) Friday afternoon I came down with a head cold and went to bed at 6 pm. This morning I got up, had a coffee, cleaned the house and went back to bed for another two (or three?) hours. I haven't slept that much since before I had children. I decided to cancel my hair appointment but Marc, he who loves to get his hair cut, protested so vehemently that I figured I really needed a trim. Even though I was obviously not sane.

5) My final words to Marc when I left the house were "What should I do with my hair?" to which he replied with a shrug of his shoulders and an "I don't know. Whatever you want." Traitor (and yes, I am looking for a scapegoat in case I need one in the morning. Is it that obvious?)

So I go to the salon. And emerge an hour and a half later with a lot less hair. As in my hair that used to come down to my shoulder blades no longer even touches my shoulders.

Today I LOVE it. It's cute. It's sassy. We went to a friend's for dinner and she couldn't get over how cute it is.

But in the back of my head I am terrified of washing it and trying to do anything with it myself. I feel kinda naked. Every time I walked past a mirror at my friend's I did a double take.

Isn't it great the things we obsess about at 2:00 am when we can't sleep because we slept enough for two days the night before?

That black cloud obscuring your view? My bad mood.

2009-02-25T22:36:00.003-05:00

I am sitting in my kitchen at 10:36 pm being very very grumpy.

For really no reason. Besides my children both being disturbed by things at school - not serious things! But things I can't fix for them.

Like Julia telling me quietly, oh so quietly in a tiny voice, that M whispered something in A's ear at school a while ago and they wouldn't tell her. It made me want to go over to M's house (who is the daughter of my good good friend who I love, though I am not so incredibly fond of her daughter who won't sit with my daughter on the bus most days - though she needs to be thought of as Julia's best friend all the time)to tell her to STAY AWAY from A - she was Julia's friend first. I can always tell when M is being mean (yes, I said mean, I am judging a 5 year old, it's my rant) because Julia suddenly doesn't want to go to school.

Have I mentioned this is Junior Kindergarten? These girls are 4 and 5. How I will survive high school I do not know.

And Stu. I don't even know where to start. He had pains in his stomach. The kind he gets when he is nervous he tells me. So I ask gentle probing questions to try and find out what is bothering him (I hope I have a daughter-in-law who appreciates this one day, his ability to discuss his feelings, because holy hell it just about does me in some days). After 25 minutes of who did/said/looked at who at every activity and nutrition break today (my brain disintegrating to mush) he suddenly bursts into tears over having to leave his stuffed animal that he is doing a project about at school. I soothed and figured he would sleep... no? NO. He is finally asleep in my bed. I am in the kitchen. I see something wrong with this picture.

I don't think my husband's schedule for the next few months helped my mood today. It's not that I am not supportive, understanding, yadda yadda yadda, but hello? I put it into my iCalendar today. And I think by the end of April (he's away for my birthday) I won't remember what he looks like.

And he's out tonight.

And it's my father's birthday. Or would have been. What do you call it for people who are deceased.

And it's February.

And I am tired of my diet (though it is going well).

And there were two people who ran my bell tonight - one selling chocolate bars. The other giving out free shower heads.

And my dishwasher just went on.

See, everything is ticking me off. (Yes, I am hormonally challenged, what makes you ask?)

I'm going to drag my cranky, miserable butt to bed.

I'm not usually ungenerous

2009-02-17T13:25:00.002-05:00

We've all had the plague here for the past two weeks - well Marc and the kids at least. I only mention it because I am sleep deprived and perhaps not thinking clearly...

I just got an email from an acquaintance asking me for my babysitter's name and number and basically a reference for her so this person can start using her.

First of all - this is not a friend. It's the friend of a friend who I make an effort with but who really, probably isn't going to end up as a friend and I am fine with that. We attend some of the same birthday parties, our girls were on the same soccer team last year, that sort of thing.

The thing is? Our sitter is BUSY. As in we usually, with the exception of the rare Sunday afternoons when we have to take a child to the doctor at the same time that we have have to take the cat to the vet to be put to sleep, we usually have to book her plenty in advance.

Not to mention that our sitter? Lives about 10 doors down from this acquaintance and has for years (and that's 10 townhouse doors, so it's really close). When we moved home I went trolling for sitters on the street and found her. There's also about 4 other babysitting age girls within a 1 block radius.

I think my main hesitation is that this woman - who I really have nothing against - is quite, um, picky. You know, the kind that usually seems to find fault with things? And seems to be a little badly done by on a regular basis? If it doesn't work out I feel like I will be partially responsible for having vetted the girl.

It may just be the sleep deprivation talking but I don't feel like just handing over my sitter's number. I'm just not sure how to answer the email.

I know, big problems. The last two weeks have made me petty.

good-bye my friend

2009-02-09T21:01:00.003-05:00

Yesterday we had to say good-bye to Denby our beautiful grey cat.

I am at a loss for what to say about her. She was beautiful. She was neurotic. She peed on carpets. She once ruined my favourite boots (which I am still not entirely past. I mean my BOOTS cat? What were you thinking?).

She was the cutest kitten that I have ever seen, and my grandparents used to have a dozen cats so I've seen a bunch. She would sit on Marc's head.

We had a lots of ups and a lot of downs together. There were days I loved her dearly and days that I thought we would have to get rid of her. But I never could have given her up.

Denby had mellowed with age. Since we moved into this house 6 months ago she had become a really lovely cat. She was affectionate. She let the kids pet her, kiss her. She slept on our bed - she would meow at us when it was time to go to sleep (for her at least). She took up sleeping on Stu's bed until he fell asleep - helping my restless boy to not stay up for hours.

About a month ago her appetite went a little wonky. We put it down to the change in her cat food. She was the fussiest of fussy eaters - a new improved version of a food could put her off for weeks.

Thursday morning she started to throw up. Thursday night at the emergency vet they couldn't find much. By Sunday we were back because she wasn't eating, wasn't drinking, wasn't moving.

She was going into renal failure. Her levels when the blood work came back were off the scale. We didn't have many options, not wanting her to suffer more.

She let me know she was pretty pissed off at the end. The growling that came from her toes. For a cat that hadn't moved in 3 days she had to be sedated to put the IV in to euthanize her.

I am glad we were there at the end. I cried those big messy tears that just run down your cheeks without you realizing that they are even falling.

Miss you my schmoofink.

Hello? Is there a brain in there?

2009-02-05T11:31:00.004-05:00

Did you know it's Thursday?

Because it is. And I completely forgot. Which means I was not at the school to pack and deliver the milk for first nutrition break. Argh.

Before you worry about the thirsty little children in need of their calcium fix (which I am doing of course) let me reassure you that I have a very capable partner in crime on Thursday mornings who is more than able to handle the milk by herself. So there are no thirsty children I am sure.

Both of my children have fevers (and is that a tickle in my throat? Ugh. No, please no.) My beautiful little girl pulled a semi-allnighter. She got up at 3 am and didn't go back to sleep until after 6 am. And that after the cat tried to vomit on our carpet about 3 times between midnight at 3 am.

I am useless today. (I can't believe I forgot the milk.)

Thankfully this is the first time in a long time that this has happened. Back in Luxembourg it was common practice a few times a month. How I used to go to work and function I do not know. I couldn't do it now.

I need more coffee. Preferably delivered intravenously so it kicks in quick.

big step for womankind

2009-01-30T08:34:00.002-05:00

I read a review of this in this month's Today's Parent.

And I thought "Hey, even I can manage 10 minutes a day. Surely I can." (Please don't ask what I do with my time, I have NO clue.)

So I ordered it. It arrived yesterday.

I am going to go downstairs now and try it.

I hope to survive. (I am so uncoordinated).

All in the name of weight loss. (As of Monday I was down 7 lbs... and so far I haven't eaten my children or been too hideous to live with.)

Even the boy admits to being tired - it's a sign

2009-01-27T12:38:00.002-05:00

Stuart started to play hockey this fall.

It's something I have written a million posts about in my head : the first practice where he couldn't even stand on his skates but wouldn't give up (the day that it felt like someone was cutting my heart out of my chest), the day he got sent back down to initiation to learn how to skate (phew, the relief) the day he got called back up to Novice (hurray!), the day he got his first two shots on net in a tournament (yippee! I don't know what we're going to do when he actually scores, I'd better start stuffing my pockets with tissue).

It's been a long process, this October to January blossoming of my son the hockey player. Emotional for his mama, who can't skate herself and found herself unable to help much beyond words of encouragement.

The Stu has tried lots of things in the past. LOTS of things. And he always loses interest - usually quickly (as in, the moment I paid for something that he swore he would love). I didn't really give this hockey thing this long, especially since he had so much to learn.

The boy has proven me wrong. He is so dedicated. He won't give up. He keeps getting up and dusting himself off. Getting back out there, even when he was slower than 3/4 (9/10ths?) of his team. His belief in himself has never flagged.

A couple of weeks ago he started skating lessons on Saturday mornings that coach had recommended he take. The same day he started floor hockey at the community centre, something he had done one session last year and loved. I'd registered him for the floor hockey back in November (back when he was still skating with the younger kids in initiation) in an attempt to keep him motivated.

Well intentioned, but for the last 3 weeks our Saturdays have looked something like this:

9:45 am - skating lessons, 1 hour

somewhere between 11 am and 1:30 pm - hockey pratice, 1 hour

3:00 pm - floor hockey, 1 hour

Add to that a Sunday morning game (and a tournament 2 weekends ago, so 2 games on Sunday) and my boy, my boy who has denied being tired every single day of his 7 year-old life has given in and admitted that he is tired.

"Mama, I'm tiiiiirrrrrreeeeddddddddddddd" he said (whined) after he had spent an hour looking at the same math problem (that he had to bring home as extra work because he didn't finish it in class).

Words I thought I wouldn't hear from him before adolescence. (I have to admit I felt a small thrill of victory, the kid has nearly put me 6 feet under on more than one occasion with his refusal to sleep). (In sharp contrast there are some days Julia says it all day - when you ask her to do hideous things like hang up her snow pants or pick up the toys in her room).

We talked to him and told him the floor hockey has to go for now. School is his priority and hockey is important, but that the floor hockey has to go.

I expected tears. Whining. Pouting, recriminations, you know, the whole production.

We got :

"Okay Mama."

Wow.

I know - I need to get a life

2009-01-23T16:33:00.002-05:00

I have so many things to blog about that I haven't made time for and what you're going to get is this:

Remember the a$$ who is our school council treasurer?

Hmmmm. Just got a message from the co-chair saying that he has not, nearly 3 weeks after the meeting given a cheque, as promised, to the principal.

You know, for those silly book things we wanted to spoil the children with.

Since we're so extravagant and wasteful.

Frick.

Simply put

2009-01-07T15:31:00.004-05:00

I am a member of our school council this year. Not a member of the executive, but a "member at large". I've been good about attending meetings (as opposed to last year where I forgot every single one) mostly because my friend Jen is co-chair and another friend is vice-chair.

We're having some trouble agreeing on things at school council. Namely what our focus is for this year for the profits from our fund-raising events. In the past there have been things like play structures, a light system for the gym/auditorium, a sound system. This year we were going to focus on a lawn for the back school yard, but then the school board stepped in and said we were due to have the yard re-sod, so that left us looking for a cause.

We turned to the teachers and to their wish list. The number one thing on that list? Levelled readers. Most of ours date back to when the school opened in 1991, and are either ratty or just plain irrelevant in terms of current events (some date from the 1980's... the publication if not the books. I am sure I must have seen some of them in my days).

So levelled readers it was - and they are not cheap. I believe they are about $1000 a set.

I'll spare you all the boring, petty details but at the December meeting (which I missed, for good reasons) there was a small brouhaha over money. As in, we had none to buy these levelled readers with. Or so our treasurer insisted.

Now our treasurer this year was the chair for the past two years. He magnanimously stepped down to be treasurer because our past treasurer had moved away and as he said "Someone has to do it". Except that he seems to be having trouble realizing that he is not treasurer AND chair. And he has some elaborate system for the accounting and requested a large transfer to the field trip bus account in the fall which has left us (according to him) without any money to spend on things we want to -mostly because he is insisting that we leave a large balance in the account by year end.

And things got ugly on Monday. Our chair asked for money (there have been executive meetings regarding the budget) for books. He said no, there wasn't any. Pretty much everyone in the room with the exception of his wife (the secretary) and the principal (who has to stay neutral) was trying to give reasons for why we should spend some money (ie: talk some sense in to him). He just kept droning on and on about the global recession, and how all our fundraisers were going to take a huge hit (lunch programs more specifically) and how there was going to be no money, yadda yadda yadda and then alternately bit the head off anyone who made any point (Did you you am I am spendthrift parent spending other people's money? Me neither.)

Eventually is came down to a vote. A vote where everyone at the table raised their hand in favour of buying books for our children - everyone but him and his wife (who was busy taking notes, I felt for her poor woman). He proclaimed LOUDLY that he was not in favour of spending the money. Too bad, outnumbered buddy.

The next morning at the bus stop the vice-chair asked me how I'd enjoyed the meeting. We both grumbled about the issue and then she told me that her husband had put it very succinctly:

"So your treasurer voted AGAINST buying books for the students?"

Think about that for a second. We have over $5000 in the bank, no expenses left and he voted against buying books. Against buying books in a school where we have a large ESL population. Where we have enough underprivileged kids that we seem to be catering underprivileged families more often than I would like. Kids whose parents, sadly, may not be the ones taking them to the library to read books. To get them hooked on reading. To expanding their childrens' horizons - for some it is for very good reasons, heavy work loads, second jobs etc - there just aren't enough hours in the week for some of these parents.

And he voted against buying books. Against buying books.

I can't get over it. If I didn't have good friends in the executive I would have to withdraw from the committee.

Except that would probably let him get away with more stuff. Grrrrr.

La Grosse Vache

2009-01-05T16:03:00.002-05:00

It's official - I am FAT.

No, not my usual "Oh, I'm so fat!" when I've put on 5 pounds. Really fat. Like add up my two pregnancies, add them to my usual weight and tah-dah! You have me. Now. Nary a baby in sight.

I have gained 35 pounds in the last year. 35 pounds. 35. On someone who is 5'6" that's a lot of weight. Even when you continue to weigh yourself in kilograms and pretend it's not so bad.

This time last year I started taking Zoloft. To help keep the psycho woman at bay during hormonal times of the month. And stuff. I guess I didn't realize then that there was other stuff too (the anxiety... oh the anxiety. What do you mean it's not supposed to feel like there's a tiny bird trying to escape from your chest on a regular basis? Really?)

I knew there would be some weight gain. This much weight gain? Um, yeah, no. The doctor made noises about me taking the pills for a year and then coming off, and I figured that the weight would *poof* vanish.

But in December she suggested me staying on another year - I haven't been as stable as she would like (##^$%%@#*$^ contractor after the move, isn't it nice to have someone to blame for at least part of things??) and she likes to bring people off in the winter, very very very VERY slowly so that by April they are off and feeling normal when the sun comes back to these parts of the world. She doesn't think I am there yet.

Now, seeing I didn't want to be in Christmas photos this year (due to my girth) and that I actually have photos of myself clutching a pillow in front of my gut (I know! As if that hides it! No! It just makes people think "she must have gained a ton of weight!") I decided that it was time to do something about my ever-growing weight. Besides changing meds, because you know what? The whole starting new meds thing sucks in my opinion.

Last night I signed up for Weight Watchers Online. This morning I was breezing through the grocery store thinking "this isn't so bad!"

It is now 4:13 pm and you know what? I AM HUNGRY. Not to mention CRANKY.

And I forgot that I have the school council meeting tonight and have eaten my weight (or near enough) in baby carrots and red pepper. They may have to ask me to leave (sorry, gross I know, but it made my husband laugh). Which would have me starting a list of Top 10 things to get you kicked out of a school council meeting.

*Grumble*

... and a Happy New Year

2008-12-31T09:10:00.002-05:00

I don't think I am alone in reaching the 31st of December and thinking "another year gone - where did it go?"

I know that it happens same day every year, but somehow I get through Christmas and then find myself up against a Whole New Year! And they seem to be coming faster and faster - remember when as a child how a year seemed to take forever? It seems to me that we were just doing that whole turn of the millenium thing, and yet here we are going into 2009.

I know too many people who are anxious to see the tail end of 2008. For many it has been a difficult year. For me personally it has been easier in many ways than the few that came before it. Not perfect but easier.

I am going to try to slow down for a few minutes today to think about where we were this time last year and where we are now. And where I want to be this time next year.

And then I'm going to (another) hockey game. (World Juniors are in Ottawa this week - we won tickets to yesterdays game and then realizing there were still tickets available bought some for today and Sunday... oi!)

I wish you and yours all the best for 2009 - that it will be the year you want it to be.

from a 4 year-old persepective

2008-12-20T16:38:00.003-05:00

"Mama - for Christmas I want a penguin."

"Oh? I thought you had a few penguin doodoos already. Do you really need another?"

"No Mama, a Real Live Penguin. It can live in the backyard in the winter and we can go tobogganing with it and it won't! NEED! a! TOBOGGAN!!"

"And MAMA!!! In the summer it can live in the fridge. We'll feed it fish and keep it cool!"

"Um... where would our food go if the penguin is in there? I don't think it's such a good idea to put it in the fridge."

"Yes Mama IT IS! Our own PENGUIN!!" (hysterical laughter, she's giddy, positively GIDDY thinking she's negotiated her own pet penguin).

"I don't think we're allowed to own a penguin in this neighborhood Julia. I think there's a law about that." (Throwing in a law here or there keeps my sanity, because I mean really, you can't argue with the police).

"Oh." Slightly crestfallen.

"I want a Real Live Gingerbread Boy then! REAL LIVE!"

Snow Day!

2008-12-10T11:02:00.004-05:00

Well hello and welcome to the Great White North.

We've had snow, freezing rain, more snow and I think, if you can believe it, we are getting more snow today.

The good news is, my (wonderful, bright, smart, intelligent ) husband had the foresight to buy a snow blower this year. A few weeks ago I would have told you that he had strong armed me into the purchase by marching me into the snow blower showroom when we had exactly 22 minutes to look & purchase before Julia's ballet class and she was SQUIRMY, so I admitted defeat and we came out significantly poorer than we had gone in.

Today? Today I tell you that the man is a genius with only my best intentions at heart.

I spent over an hour outside this morning clearing the snow, freezing rain and more snow off the cars. And using the snow blower. And trying to get my car back off the street into the driveway.

I think I may have led the neighbours to believe I drive like Daisy Duke. Nothing a little foot on the gas can't solve right? And the donut I nearly pulled? I don't do that kind of thing with the kids in the car.

Okay, maybe I do drive like one of the Dukes.

There were no school buses. Our city buses went on strike this morning. The police are advising you not to go out if you don't have to. The boy was still asleep at 8:30.

And so I made the executive decision that despite the fact that we live only 2km from the school (which of course was open) that today was a snow day for this family.

Now to get baking Christmas cookies!

Double points for not cursing out loud

2008-12-03T20:16:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow is Stuart's 7th birthday.

I have been in the kitchen pretty much non-stop for 5 hours. I have baked and iced (with help from two monkeys) 72 mini cupcakes. I have made 6 minute chocolate cake (which takes much longer than 6 minutes, especially if made with the loving help of a 4 year old). I made dinner (really!).

But most noteworthy is the two cans of sweetened condensed milk I boiled for 3 hours. Because Stuart claims he remembers the icing on his 1st birthday cake - which was made by my South African neighbour in Luxembourg (who moved away a year later).

Can I tell you that boiling those cans scared the bejeebies out of me? That I sent same South African friend who knows how to do this (because for the love of Pete could we not have some concensus on how to do this on the internet) on Facebook to describe my terror. And that fate must have been on my side because not only did she get the message (she is rarely on Facebook) but her husband actually had my cell number and she called to walk me through it.

(Aside: The only excuse I have for the icing is that I was completely and totally PMSing when we were talking about it the other night and I was ready to go to the store, buy some condensed milk and make it on the spot (even though it was after 9 on a Sunday night). So agreeing to make it 4 days later didn't seem like a completely idiotic thing to do.)

And in all of this nothing was burnt, no heads exploded, no children went hungry and there was minimal shrieking (okay, that "For Christ's sake SIT DOWN" might not have been necessary, but hey, who's perfect?). There was a very minimal amount of alcohol consumed (who had time for a corkscrew I ask you. It had to be a shot of port that was open in the fridge. I'd never make a very good rubbie).

I thought all had gone pretty well until I was testing the water in the pot with the cans to see if it was cool. And got a look at the expiration dates on the bottom of the cans.

February 10 2008.

F*** me.

Really, I am laughing.

And my husband is going to have a wicked laugh when he gets home. If he dares.

Well helloooo!

2008-11-21T09:08:00.003-05:00

So - I messed up NaBloPoMo. Oooops. I realized that I was starting to just grumble about things and you know what? That is so not what I want to do - at least not on a daily basis.

I am trying to get myself in order... me, my house, my kids. I've been complaining to just about everyone who will listen (and some who were obviously trying not to) about the state of my house, getting my kids out of the house in the morning, and in general a lot of put-upon SAHM stuff. Sheeesh. I am fortunate enough to be able to stay home for now and I am whining about it. How spoiled does that make me sound.

So... until I have something to say that is actually worth saying I might not be around here much. I am going to spend some time trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up (employment looming on the grade 1 horizon - only 21 months to go) and get our lives in order. I've signed off on facebook for a while and am even trying to curtail my Etsy viewing.

I was actually going to try and cut out the internet altogether for 2 weeks but that's just crazy talk.

I will of course be dropping by my favorite blogs. I mean really, there's only so much house organizing/future figuring out/making time for myself I can do.

Missing day

2008-11-17T14:47:00.004-05:00

I didn't get here yesterday - I realized at about 11:30 as I was trying to drift off to sleep and decided that I wasn't getting out of bed.

My little family made it back safe and sound from Grandma & Grandpa's house, despite the snow that caught them off guard at the beginning of the journey. They were full of tales of time spent with their cousins - Shae especially, who is only a few months younger than Julia, spent the entire weekend with them. It was nice to hear their stories and see their huge grins.

Of course some of that didn't last long - they both came home a little under the weather (and are both home today) and by bedtime there were tears and whining.

I have to admit that I got frustrated - I had heard all about how wonderfully they behaved all weekend, how they were polite, didn't fight in the car, ate without having to be fed (I know, someone shoot me now), didn't whine, didn't cry... and they come home to bicker, whine, pout and cry (not to mention sneeze horrible stuff on me, but that is not really their fault).

My guilty thoughts were "They weren't gone long enough." to "My first weekend alone in 7 years and I spent the whole time sorting out this house for you to come home and be like this?" and some other places we need not go.

I felt horrible at my thoughts - I was supposed to have missed them like crazy and I didn't. Bad mother. I admit that when Julia flew through the door with a huge grin on her face and threw herself at my legs my heart sang. But until that moment I was fine.

Perhaps absence only makes the heart grow fonder if you don't spend 6+ hours cleaning up what your son refers to as a bedroom - and it was a mess the two of them created. I spent at least an hour picking teeny tiny elastics off the floor and hundreds of tiny stickers. I sorted and put away - where things belonged. I pulled dirty clothes out of the backs of drawers full of stuffed animals. I... oh I should stop there before I make it sound worse than maybe it was. Some of it had been building since we moved in 3 months ago, some of it had been in the week before when I flatly refused to clean his room.

He came home to a clean room - my wonderful organized friend Natalie called mid-afternoon and offered to help me move the furniture around. A whole new clean room. And what did I get out of it? A nonchalant "Thanks Mama."

Oh boy, is November a glass is half empty kind of month for me or what???

I am trying to figure out where to go from here. I did not give up working to be the cleaning lady. I was just up there with he-who-is-too-sick-for-school-but-not-too-sick-to take-out-stuff making him put stuff away. There were already socks under the bed and his NHL hockey pucks all over the floor.

And so now I am the nagging cleaning lady. This is why I didn't post yesterday. Grumble grumble grumble.

we'll try this again tomorrow.

uh, yeah - what she said

2008-11-15T22:23:00.002-05:00

How many times do you start a sentence with "This blog I read..."

Tonight I am giving you options.

Option 1
I can rant and rave about the woman my grandfather has been married to for the last 28 years who told him he was looking for attention when he asked her to call and ambulance when he was having a heart attack.

Option 2
Go visit Nora because what she had to say today about sisterhood - show me where to sign up (though I guess it would be easier of transcontinental flights were not involved).

I'm figuring you're taking Option 2 (really, I would).

Speaking of sisterhood I had a bit today - my bff (I'm just trying to feel young, but we have been friends for over 30 years) came round and we tackle the basement (got most of the play area done!!), scarfed down chinese food (that made us both come out in red spots... hmmm) and drank wine while watching Matthew McConaughey remove his shirt several times (Fool's Gold). Some pretty good sisterhood I do believe.

And while I am sending you elsewhere to see people check out Angie's Cat Engineer video at All A Dither. What is it about cat videos that makes me laugh?

And thus I conclude posting when I normally wouldn't. Goodnight.

do you hear that?

2008-11-14T22:34:00.002-05:00

Listen really hard... do you hear it?

No, not the cat howling.

You don't hear it? The SILENCE I mean.

I am home alone. All alone. Marc took the kids to his parents for a long weekend and I didn't go. I am... alone.

This is the first time since Stuart was born that I have spent a night alone in my own home. In fact, I think it may be the first time since June 2000 that I have been completely and totally alone in my own home overnight.

Weird. In a good way I think.

My weekend was supposed to look like this:

Friday - pack hubby and kids in car and then spend rest of day cleaning house from top to bottom. Collapse in self-content heap around dinner time with a glass of wine and a chick-flick. (I like my cleaning from time to time.)

Saturday - Get up and start organizing basement (getting rid of last boxes from move), creating playroom for kids. Saturday afternoon bff comes over to help/get me back on track. Dinner with bff, then head out to see a band (not sure want to do this, but bff asked).

Sunday - sleep in. Try out new yoga place in the Glebe at 9:30. Have a latte and wander through the Glebe to the knitting store if weather nice. Come home, wax legs, knit, read, relax.

But, as I was typing my cryptic post about wanting something and then not being sure I wanted it (I was feeling funny about the 3 most important people in my life driving 750km without me), my mother was leaving me a message. Asking me to call so she could tell me that my grandfather was in the hospital after having a heart attack.

He is stable, and for a 91 year old man who just had a heart attack he's not in bad shape at all. I got in the car this morning and drove to Montreal. My mum and I spent 3 hours at the hospital, got him moved (finally! After 36 hours!) from Emergency to a room. Then I went to Zara and H&M (I needed a little retail therapy - I am not good in hospitals) and had dinner with my stepdad at the "chicken coop" before pulling Marc's old dresser out of my parents basement and into my car, trying to sort through/get rid of some of the boxes we still have stored there from when we moved to Europe and then I drove the 170km home. When I left at 8:45pm I had some questions about my sanity to be turning down my parents offer of a comfy bed and a yoga class in the morning, but I wanted to - um, well - sleep in my house alone.

Which I will go and do now because man, am I rambling or what?

Sounded like a good idea at the time

2008-11-13T13:21:00.001-05:00

Ever think you want something - really really want something? And then you find a way to get it and then you're all kinda "hmmm, well maybe not?"

That's where I am today. Thinking that by this time tomorrow I will feel like a fish out of water.

And this is my 202nd post! It's taken me forever to get here ;-)

running out of titles

2008-11-12T14:15:00.003-05:00

I was going to post a frivolous post on competitive play dates - Julia had a little friend over today and I dropped into Michaels after the grocery store to pick up a craft. It seems like there is almost as much pressure these days on play dates as there is for birthdays.

But I came home and checked a few blogs and my facebook and decided that my world has really gotten small. Friends having scary tests, high school acquaintances passing away.

A boy (well no longer a boy, but how I will remember him) named Emru has passed away. He has been very ill, and received a bone marrow transplant recently.

Life can be so short. RIP Emru.

Remembering

2008-11-11T16:22:00.002-05:00

Last year on Remembrance Day I was surprised that there was so much going on at Stu's school - all I really remember of Remembrance Day when I was in school was a minute of silence. Ours always seemed to be in the library where we were supposed to be silent anyways.

At the school they have an assembly - actually 2, one for Primary classes (1-3) and one for Junior (4-6). The kindergartens did their own, not wanting to discuss war apparently.

I always get a bit weepy over things like the national anthem or Remembrance Day or anything of that ilk. This morning I was moved to watery eyes by my friend Jenny's Grade 1 class reciting a poem (to the beat of Frere Jacques) that was so simple and plainly put that it was beautiful.

When Marc and I were first in Luxembourg, we went to Ypres (or Ieper) in western Belgium one weekend to meet my aunt and uncle who were there to see their goddaughter who was there on a one year work term. I knew very little about the area, only that it was, so to speak "in Flanders Fields". Coming into town on the train we saw fields covered in white grave markers.

While touring the town - a beautiful town that was completely destroyed in the first world war and rebuilt to look exactly the same - we had the opportunity to explore the Menin Gate, a memorial to the missing soldiers of the first World War who have no grave. The number of names on the monument, and not to mention in the cemetery attached to it was - I don't know what word to use to describe it. Row after row of names, row after row of grave markers. All I can say is that we were in awe, aware of how many had died for our freedom today.

We were even more awestruck that night when we rushed through the dark streets back to the Menin Gate to hear the last post being played at 8:00 pm. I was struck by how many people were there - young, middle-aged and old - oh some so old that you thought their frail limbs would collapse under them before the final notes from the trumpet faded away. It was a cold rainy night in February and there were still people there, not tourists (except us) but people who lived in the town. People who could still remember the war years - perhaps not the first war, but the second. The ceremony has taken place every night - with the exception of it being moved to the UK during the German occupation of the WWII - since 1928. Amazing.

So I am glad our school goes all out. We live in a very culturally diverse neighborhood with many first generation Canadians. It's good for us to remember who we are and how we want Canadians to be viewed in the world, and above all how lucky we are to have the freedom we do today.

Lest we forget.

Not much to say

2008-11-10T17:05:00.002-05:00

So... I haven't got much to say today. The weather is dreary and cold and a few snowflakes fell during my walk this morning.

I have a headache behind my eyes - the kind that makes my eyes hurt and looking at the monitor feel like looking into a fluorescent bulb. One of THOSE headaches as I call them, the ones where you go for weeks on end and then end up in an ENT's office and he tells you you have a rare sinus infection, the one that actually presses onto your optic nerve. But that was 2005 and this is 2008 and fingers crossed I am wrong.

Stu and I are going to the chiropractor tonight - our first visit. I saw an osteopath in Luxembourg but no one since we've been home. I have been telling Marc that I fantasize about a small Asian woman walking on my spine so I guess I am pretty tight.

And I am nowhere near as miserable as this post sounds. You know, this post I wouldn't post if it weren't NaBloPoMo and I don't like to quit. I am surprisingly unmiserable, just not really all that here.

I've had that line from the Robert Frost poem running through my head all afternoon...

And miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.

Tomorrow is a whole new day! I may complain about Julia's teacher! I may give you my opinion on Ottawa drivers (probably not a post for all eyes, it won't have a G rating).

it would make my naturopath's head explode but it was yummy

2008-11-09T22:39:00.003-05:00

Here's what I made for dinner tonight:

Baked ham with a brown sugar beer glaze.

1 fully cooked ham, about 3 to 4 pounds
1 cup beer

Beer Glaze
1 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon flour
1 Tbsp dijon mustard
2 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
beer to make a smooth paste
Preparation:

Place ham in uncovered roasting pan. Pour 1 cup of beer over the ham; bake at 350° for 1 hour; baste with drippings every 15 minutes.
Combine ingredients for beer glaze.
Remove ham from oven and score diagonally in a criss-cross fashion.
Spread with beer glaze.
Roast for 30 to 45 minutes longer, or until well glazed and cooked through.

I know - SUGAR and BEER and HAM - oh my! (you have to do that in a Lion and Tigers and Bears Oh my! voice - just in case you didn't.)

My naturopath's head would explode. But my kids ate without being coaxed (well except for the whole piece of broccoli thing that we evil parents do) so MY head is still intact.

Far more important - no?

verklempt

2008-11-08T19:29:00.003-05:00

We just finished watching the Hall of Fame/Remembrance Day Ceremony at the beginning of the Habs vs. Leafs game.

I am sniffly. Seeing the Hall of Famers and the Veterans. Hearing Revelry on the bagpipes (I mean, who doesn't get sniffly at bagpipe music??) and the reading of In Flanders Fields Gaye Stewart who left the Leafs to go to War in 1943.

All pretty emotional stuff.

And for those who have not yet heard it - the new Hockey Night in Canada theme song? OUCH. First time I've sat through it. And the last. The CBC were really out to lunch the day they didn't want to pay that little old lady for the original song.

Hey! Kerry Fisher is still reffing - I thought he was long gone. He now wears a helmet. I wonder if it's nearly as tough as his hairspray was.

I must now return to my seat - my sassy-mouthed 6 year old Leafs fan and I have some trash talking to do - and I almost missed the first fight of the game!!

Go HABS Go!!!

it takes all kinds I suppose

2008-11-07T10:03:00.004-05:00

I admit it, I am not a huge dog person.

I do like dogs, really. Just not enough to own one (oh the work).

I have this little Etsy addiction (ahem, my husband would say, LITTLE addiction?) Last night when I couldn't sleep I was checking out Etsy and this popped up in the recently listed items.

Excuse me? A dog paw knit from someone else's dog fur? And look - a photo of said dogs, just in case you, oh I don't know, wanted to imagine them while hugging your dog paw?

I shudder.

To each their own.

I'm going in

2008-11-06T12:18:00.002-05:00

To the fridge. To clean it. And I am scared.

I am the grandchild of a depression era grandmother. Nothing was EVER thrown away. Wrapping paper reused (very environmental). Milk bags in our boots to keep our feet dry (very uncomfortable). Ever last smidge of batter scraped from baking bowls (very disappointing).

I can't bear to throw away leftovers. It seems such a waste - and I really intend to use them, the very next day. Really I do.

Except I am terrible at doing that. And they end up in the fridge for... well a while. Till you can't get other stuff in there. Or get other stuff out. And my charming habit of storing them in dishes (trying to avoid prolonged contact with plastic) means you have no clue what surprise awaits you.

The other night I dreamt that my lovely friend Natalie came to my house when I wasn't here and surprised me by making me dinner. My lovely, organized, tidy, on top of everything friend Natalie. And in my dream my first thought was "Oh Lord, she saw my fridge".

Definitely time to clean it out.

If I don't post tomorrow please send someone to look for me.

a possible explanation of why I no longer survive adult conversation

2008-11-05T14:29:00.005-05:00

On the way home from the Kindergarten Bus this morning.

"knock knock!"

"who's there?"

"banana!"

"banana who?"

"banana house!!!"

"knock knock Mama!"

"who's there?"

"banana!"

"banana who?"

"banana school bus!!!!"

"knock knock!"

"who's there?"

"banana!"

"banana who?"

"banana KIDS!!!!!!!!!!" (apparently this one was particularly funny...?)

"knock knock!"

And so it went all the way home from the bus. There were banana roads, banana rocks, banana leaves, banana cars... and even, as we reached the front door, banana GROWN UPS (cue furious laughter and mother wondering if the joke is on her... since I am now feeling a little bananas myself).

~~~ congrats to all my American friends whose candidate won ~~~

I predict strange speak for the rest of the week

2008-11-04T13:33:00.003-05:00

We are going to see Robert Munsch this evening. Robert Munsch - in person! The kids are a little cuckoo for cocoapuffs over the whole thing.

There has been much talk of favorite Robert Munsch stories the last week or so. The two CDs in the car have been played ad nauseam (I actually had to google how to spell that. Sheeeesh).

I'm hoping for a few of the big ones tonight - I personally love "UGLY". Julia thinks maybe Mud Puddle is her favorite. Stu's jury is still out.

Marc is somewhat bewildered by the fact he is attending.

I just hope that we can all talk like normal people sometime soon, and not in that Robert Munsch sing-song of quiet, LOUD, quiet, LOUD that has me turning the volume up and down every 30 seconds on the car radio.

I'll let you know if "I'll love you forever" moves me to tears or not. I still find it a bit creepy - woman driving across town with a ladder and scaling the wall of her (GROWN) son's house to rock him back and forth, back and forth... sounds like she needs some therapy.

Do you think I feel that way because my mother-in-law sent Stu the book?

And I am not alone

2008-11-03T09:27:00.002-05:00

In fact I was #9872 to enroll apparently.

There are some lovely ladies who have also signed up for NaBloPoMo...

There is Nora over at Whopping Cornbread.

Mrs. G over at Derfwad Manor.

And while I am not sure if she's in on NaBloPoMo you have to go and visit Kate at Katydidnot.

And while I am handing out recommendations I have to steer you towards Melanie over at Beanpaste. LOOK at those Halloween costumes people! And she has an ETSY store (Etsy Etsy Etsy, I love Etsy).

And as if blogging every day for a month is not enough, Lisa at Mama Milton (the first blog I check every day) and Kim at Temporary Insanity have signed up for NaNoWriMo as well. Don't quote me but I think that means they have to submit 1667 words a day towards their novels.

That's some pretty good reading.

And now I am going to cross my fingers that my links work and head over to Old Navy to see if they have sweatpants for boys verging on 7. But the sweatpants thing is a post on it's own.

And I am already late

2008-11-02T15:51:00.004-05:00

So - this year I actually signed up for Nablopomo. Instead of just posting for a month like I did last year.

Except that I am a day late. How unusual for me to be late for anything.

I'm giving you a moment to stop snickering.

So I will be here every day until the end of the month. No clue what I will write about EVERY DAY, but maybe it will get some of those post ideas that never make it to the light of day.

And maybe I'll have some room in my brain at the end of the month to remember what I need at the grocery store.

Maybe.

Um, hello? Is this Siberia?

2008-10-28T15:29:00.001-04:00

Tonight's forecast... 15-20 cm of SNOW.

It's OCTOBER.

This is just wrong.

The kids are thrilled, they want to Trick or Treat in the snow. They have no clue.

The elephant in the room

2008-10-27T10:43:00.005-04:00

My father passed away two years ago today.

I have no idea where I am going with this post. I think I am trying to find some kind of peace with my father, with his life, with myself... I don't know what I am looking for.

I was in Montreal when my dad died - I had seen him 4 days before, after not seeing him for close to 2 years. The decline in his health was unmistakable. I didn't know what to say or think, I sort of filed all the feelings inside me, waiting to get back to Luxembourg to deal with them.

I was home alone that trip, and not in a good place. I was working too much under a great deal of stress, Marc was travelling frequently (too much in my mind), the kids were at a new daycare and not doing well - they were unhappy and sick. We'd been badly hit by rising mortgage rates. Everything seemed wrong. I had said to our minister that I felt like I was running on empty. I had nothing left to give anyone.

So my dad's death was not something I was at all prepared to deal with - I know, when are you ever really prepared to deal with a death, but I was particularly low.

I am ashamed to admit that I think about my dad more since his death than in the last few years of his life. It's as if him passing away has opened some great Pandora's box and things in my life that were so neatly labelled for years became ambiguous.

My father was an alcoholic. He had a bad drinking problem - he was never violent, but he was neglectful. And absent. It was easy to label him a bad father. And I know that he was not a good father. But since he died I have been able to see other things - that he was not a happy person. That as much as he hurt me and others that he hurt himself far far more. We all survived his drinking - he did not.

The need to protect myself and my family from my father was gone once he was gone. I remember my first visit to Canada with Stuart. He was 3 1/2 months old. He was colicky, I was exhausted and had just been diagnosed with post-partum depression (which they don't seem to treat in Luxembourg when you are nursing). I know that I had taken my baby out to my grandparents and my father was there. I know I did this, but I can't remember it, no matter how hard I have tried this morning. What I do remember is the second time my father saw Stuart a few days later.

He engineered a meeting - calling my mother's house, insisting I had to meet my aunt who had just flown in from Vancouver. I said no. He badgered. I gave in eventually. When we got to the MacDonalds where we were meeting it took all of about 30 seconds to realize he'd been drinking (though he would swear up and down later that he hadn't). And that day I went right back to needing to protect myself and my baby from his drinking.

Since his death I have wondered if maybe I took it too far. Is this what guilt makes you do? I saw him whenever we were home, sent cards, most years called for his birthday. I know now how every photo I would send was treasured, every card. It would have cost nothing to me to send more, yet I didn't. Maybe it felt like giving him false hope. Maybe I was so overwhelmed with my life that I was already not doing enough for the other people in my life who I had much easier relationships with.

Seeing my dad's house 2 years ago was a shock. I had not stepped inside for close to 22 years. And I could see the disrepair, the neglect, the clutter. My father did not know how to care for himself. He did not respect himself enough to take care of himself. I found receipts for anti-depressants. It should have been obvious to me that he was depressed - who wouldn't be living his life - but it still surprised me.

I have wavered dangerously close to absolving my father of any wrong doing. Of casting him in the role of victim. He grew up in a home that is purported to be perfect, the family a loving one that most people would want to be part of. I know now, with all the wisdom of age, how disfunctional it was (then again who have a fully functional family?). I have found excuses for him. Imagined pain he must have felt. Blamed things on others.

But at the end of the day, my father had choices to make in life and he made them. I don't like the choices he made. I miss him. I miss the little girl who thought her daddy was the most wonderful man in the world. I see Julia looking at Marc with such adoration and I em envious.

I said I don't know where I am going with this post. Maybe I am just trying to put some of it down in words so that I can find a way to reconcile some of these conflicting feelings.

And perhaps put the man to rest finally.

I'd like to think I'd spend the money in better ways

2008-10-15T15:42:00.003-04:00

Yesterday I went and carried out my civic duty by voting in the federal election.

Deciding who to vote for took some time - I have typically always voted one way, but did not like the party leader. I was not convinced that the party in power really should hold a majority. And to be blunt, no one was out there telling me WHY I should vote for them. No, instead of telling me what they would do for me, there was a lot of mud slinging and telling me what was wrong with their opponents.

I have to make it very clear that I am not a politico. I usually have a basic grasp of things, like to think I am making a somewhat educated decision, but I did not follow the campaign day by day (though I know a little too much about Sarah Palin just from the trash talking magazines at the grocery checkout). I admit that I fell asleep in the Stu's bed the night of the big debate. Oooops.

But I did try and think through my decision. And you know what? I don't think there was really much need for an election. Apparently other Canadians didn't either as Harper is returning to office with a minority again.

In the end I decided to vote locally. As in look at the candidates in our riding and figure out who I thought would best represent our interests. We had three strong candidates in this riding - even the Green Party candidate had some great credentials behind him (I was impressed that he founded monthly dinners between Jews and Arabs a few years ago to try and forge a trail for peace in their countries).

And so off I went yesterday to my polling station to vote. There were 6 candidates on the ballot. Six. I really need to figure exactly what a Libertarian advocates. Apparently ours is "the Rad Man" because he repairs radiators. Hmmmm.

I am not impressed with this election. I don't see why it was necessary. I realize I am probably not sophisticated enough to get why Harper, only 2 years into a term decided that he wanted a majority. Really - I think he could have tried to prove himself a little longer. I understand that he could get more done (jury is out on if that is a good thing) with a majority. In a world where things can turn on a dime (the economy Mr Harper!) I think that the money spent on the election could have been put to much better use.

Imagine what it could have done for our failing medical system - imagine that much money going towards Canadians health.

But I voted because I think you have to vote. We are so fortunate to live in a country where we get a vote, and that vote is ours to cast without strings attached, you can post signs on your lawn showing your support for a candidate without fearing repercussions. The man who rented out our house is from Saudi Arabia and he could not get over a candidate coming into mosque (not interrupting religious proceedings) to ASK for his vote. In his country you have a vote - but you are told who to vote for or it brings unrest to your region.

We take a lot for granted with this freedom of ours. But I don't think we should celebrate it by calling elections that aren't needed Mr. Harper.

Now go play nicely with the Opposition please and see what you can do about our greenhouse emissions or the healthcare issue.

Primal Scream Yoga

2008-10-01T17:10:00.003-04:00

I've signed up for a yoga class at the community centre. I continue to have faith (?) that I will find a class there that will be what I am looking for - though the first two really did not do much for me.

The first was taught by a woman who I would later see on the soccer pitch during Stu's games. Shall we say her instructional voice was the same for her yoga class as it was for 6 & 7 year olds playing. One night when her team was playing on the field next to us I said to Marc, "That's my yoga teacher." to which he replied something like "Good God, no wonder you don't want to go!" The woman didn't believe in Savasana. There was no relaxation in her class. I felt there was no "soul" to it.

I thought I had struck gold with the second class. A teeny tiny black woman named Jackie (I mention the black thing because she would go all in the hood sometimes on us) who came in talking about chakras. Okay, here's some "soul" I thought. (note: I am not sure about all this chakra stuff, but I figure someone who does was at least worth listening to. I am a great fan of people being impassioned about things). Yeah, well. She was a doll. Really. But after a few weeks I got tired of having to holler out "yes!" to the question "isn't this YUMMY?!?!?!" after being in plank position for what seemed like 10 minutes (apparently it was three). I came out of the classes completely and totally physically drained. And it really wasn't yummy.

So I figured third time's a charm and signed up for a new course called Meditative Yoga. I figured there's at least be some savasana right?

The first class was two weeks ago. It was fine. The teacher is a lovely woman named Jade, who seemed very soft spoken, busy setting a soothing atmosphere in class. She is Polish and has a lilting voice that is at the same time nasal, if that makes any sense. She informed us that she would talk a bit in the first few weeks of our classes in order to guide us, but that as we neared the end we would be mostly practicing in a quiet room. Fine. Her voice was a little like catching a sweater on a nail at times, but overall not bad. She played a meditational cd for the last 15 minutes that was rather soothing, even if I am not all that in to that type of thing. I left quite calm.

I missed the second week because Marc was away.

Last night I went, prepared to relax.

She began by having us lie in Savasana (yeah! my favorite pose) and talked to us about centering our minds and our breath. No biggie, maybe not everyone has done yogic breathing, I would want it explained to me if I hadn't. Right? Yes, but not for 35 MINUTES. Honestly, the woman didn't stop talking for 35 minutes. 35 I tell you. I wondered how she wasn't keeling over, because she certainly couldn't have been taking her deep yogic breaths, or even shallow rapid ones. She went on and on and on and on and on... and then on some more. Her voice got louder and louder and louder, her harsh pronunciation of some words feeling like nails on a blackboard. She spent so much time telling us how to pay attention to our breath that I couldn't even hear myself breathing. At one point I gave up, opened my eyes and watched her for a few minutes, standing with her eyes closed, swaying and "instructing" us. At various points I toyed with the idea of leaving, blocking my ears (I kinda did, it didn't work) or screaming out "BE QUIET!" at the top of my lungs (okay, so maybe what I was thinking of screaming wasn't so polite).

Honestly, if I had to hear her holler "feel your deeeeeeeeeeeep, smooooooooooooooooth, LOVVVVVVVVVING breath calm your body" I would have had to toss my water bottle at her head.

After that we had to do some stretching "with loving awareness" and loving something else and find our place in the universe where we were at one with ourselves and therefore at one with her. Whatever.

Then came a tape of affirmations. The theme was affirmations and we were supposed to find one to use. The ones we listened to and were supposed to repeat to ourselves? Yeah, not for me. Things like "I feel good health, happiness and financial benefit flowing into me." Huh? Financial benefit?

The last 15 minutes were another meditation cd. It was better than the rest of the class (at least he talked in a calm soothing voice) but even at that the swami on the cd had a little too much to say.

It's bad to leave yoga more stressed out than when you went in, right?
Yeah, I figured as much.

Dear Luxembourg

2008-09-30T13:27:00.005-04:00

I miss you.

Miss you miss you miss you.

The weather here is grey and rainy today. Feels like I should be able to walk in to town to Table du Pain and have a Lait Russe (I had one in the comfort of my own home thanks to the coffee machine from heaven, but it's just not the same).

Stu picked out - by chance - the movie George and the Dragon this weekend (I actually have yet to finish it) and there are scenes in the castle that made me think "That looks like Vianden Castle" and then thought how ridiculous that was. Only it wasn't, because sure enough at the end of the movie some of it has been shot in Luxembourg. And the interview with James Purefoy has a beautiful shot of the castle behind him. Marc and I both sighed, knowing exactly where he was standing. The last time we were there was with Catherine, Neil and their boys and it was a perfect day. (and I still need to send her the photos... ooops!)

It's been a lot of little things lately. My friend Anneli sent us the poster from this year's Schueberfouer, since it was the first year we were missing it. The last day we were in Luxembourg we went to the Schueberfouer with friends. The poster was such a sweet gesture, one that made me feel very homesick.

Ridiculous things like having to have my first physical here - I had no idea if I had to disrobe, fought with the paper gown they gave me. It was fine, but I have been to Dr. S for so many years that it felt so... weird.

I try not to talk about how much I miss Luxembourg. I honestly didn't expect coming home to be this hard. I love being here, being near family, having a great support network... but I still have moments where I wonder what we did moving home. Canada was always going to be here, but Luxembourg is no longer an option for us.

I decided that I would like to make Boxemännercher for Klee'schen this year (the 6th of December when Saint-Nicholas - called Klee'schen comes). I found a site with several Luxembourgish recipes. Just reading the word Gromperekichelcher (potato fritters) made me long for the Place d'Armes and the little butcher shop that used to sell them with compote (apple sauce). I even miss the Mousel Cantine... oh and the Pyg... and Pucci's... and the Bistro down the road... and Swagat... and and and... And that's just the food. I won't even go on about the people I miss.

I have no clue where I am going with this post. I don't suppose there is much to make me miss Luxembourg less. And maybe that's okay. But today it is making me feel a little blue.

But I think I will be making Boxemännercher this year.

Oh the guilt

2008-09-22T20:26:00.002-04:00

Marc has been gone for going on 7 nights now. (yes, another Marc-is-away-I-can't-deal-with-the-kids post. I'm tired of them too. Sigh).

We haven't done too badly all in all. Considering that both kids (and me too) were sick when he left and the kids still are. We're working through entry to JK (not going so well? who knows? She sure is acting up) and the return of what I will politely refer to as Homework Hell.

Both kids have been pushing buttons for the last few days. They want their dad, I understand. My painting marathon in the basement with our friend J last week didn't help. I get it. It didn't really help me either, but we now have an area of the basement that is finished and - after a long month without - a television set up.

Stu is vacillating between acting grown up and understanding a few things (his favourite words these days seem to be "I see your point") and outright "let's see how long it takes for her to blow" button pushing. He's fresher than wet paint some days. And as clingy as a toddler.

I am not fond of the parenting I have done tonight - the no nonsense voice, the forced do-over of some homework he really did poorly, the taking away of his books finally when I was putting Julia down and instead of memorizing his "comptine" he was doing some kind of acrobatics that had the light fixtures in the den shaking. I feel like a big meanie, cold and distant, speaking in a monotone and emotionless voice telling him what is and isn't acceptable.

The alternative? Shouting at him, which I am really trying hard not to do. Telling him how sleeping with him and his sister has left me exhausted to the point where I could sit down and cry. As these are not appropriate options I go into Robo-Mom. I hate it.

His room is a disaster. My mother was here last week and cleaned it up for him. Seriously, she did. And it's as bad today. Last week she talked to him about what would happen if he kept it like that. He said Mum would get a garbage bag and toss stuff. But (he whispered confidentially) Mum won't really do that - she just says she will.

I decided that tomorrow was the day, I was going to clean anything on the floor out. I didn't warn him - apparently I am full of empty threats.

So what is he doing now? Without being asked? Cleaning his room. I can't see any progress to be honest, but there's lots of noise. He's asking me to go up and sit with him. I can tell he's overwhelmed (you would be too by the mess) but I don't think I should go up there just now. I am giving him 5 more minutes and it's bedtime.

See - I have to stop doing all this for him. Because he's not learning. And it's not doing either of us any good. I fear I am in the early stages of helicopter parenting.

But the guilt I feel at not helping when he is overwhelmed... the guilt at the thought of him trying to clean up when I am intending to confiscate the toys tomorrow... UGH.

Who knew parenting would be so much fun.

off the top of my head...

2008-09-18T16:01:00.003-04:00

Since I am so scattered these days...

Dear father of two beautiful little girls who couldn't have been more than 3 and 5 years old,

I try not to judge other people's parenting. Really, I try. And it's great to spend time with your girls. Movies are great. However I don't think that Batman the Dark Knight was quite the film for them. When the big one pulled her coat over her head and wouldn't come out? When the little one curled up in your lap, hid her face and was shaking? SIGNS THAT YOU SHOULD LEAVE.
Good luck with all the nightmares they will have in the next little while. You're welcome that I managed not to come over and ask if you were in your right mind (which I probably would have done if I hadn't had to keep hiding with my head between my knees, fingers in ears loudly chewing M&M's in order to drown out scary bits. Yes, I am a wuss.)

Sincerely,
the woman at the end of the row glaring at you

Dear (Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs) Junior Kindergarten Teacher,

I am glad to see that you are taking Kindergarten seriously. But um - maybe a bit too seriously? It's Kindergarten, not Boot Camp. It's supposed to be FUN. Just in case you aren't aware, the kids are 3 and 4 years old. Sitting still for extended periods of time is not easy for them. Standing in a perfect line is not easy for them. Glue sticks? Also not so easy. Snack? Pretty important, let's not have it as a random variable in the morning equation (in case you hadn't heard, the rest of the school has moved to a balanced school day in order to make sure the kids are eating more often to help them learn).
As for your subtle (as a brick through a window) requests for volunteers in the class... really, parents who work aren't going to suddenly have time to volunteer because you make them feel guilty. Parents who do volunteer don't need to be given 7000 tasks at once. Your statements that you need at least 2 mothers a morning in the class room or you can't cope make us nervous.

Parent Volunteer #4 (the one who will undoubtedly smell like Irish Coffee on Tuesday mornings when she is at school)

Dear Cans of Paint in my Basement,

Can we strike a deal? Can you manage to get yourself up on the walls? Because- while I am blessed to have a friend who is determined to get the basement finished before Marc gets back and I am very thankful for said friend - I am tired. Tired tired tired of this house and it not being finished.
So let's try and pitch in okay?

Thanks,
the woman covered in paint

And now I must go. Because Julia is shrieking at Stu. And there is homework to be done. Homework, the joy of homework.

what to call it

2008-09-12T16:18:00.002-04:00

I've had a post kicking around all week about how Julia was starting Kindergarten today. She had her first (and only) day of staggered entry and will start going every morning with a full class on Monday.

Somehow I didn't manage to put into words how I feel about her going. There's a certain amount of "I can't believe my BABY is this big!" to conversations involving whether or not we should try for number 3 because suddenly Julia seems so big. (Conversations is overstated. It's more me saying "Maybe we should have another baby." and Marc looking at me in abject terror before putting his hand to my forehead to see if I am feverish).

All in all it went pretty well. She asked that I drive her rather than going on the bus. She stayed by my side in the playground but seemed to want to play (bad bad mother that I am, I was chatting with the other parents I know, the guilt, I should have been right by her side). She went in quietly and easily, gave me a big kiss. Neither of us cried.

I distracted myself with a call to Stu's godmother who I don't talk to often enough. And my friend (our ex-neighbour) who's daughter will be in the same class (her daughter went yesterday and we had lunch with them afterwards). And then I went to get her (at 10:45 as instructed, only to be told by the Senior Kindergarten mothers that our teachers is out to lunch telling us that the bus comes at 10:45 so we have to be out there waiting at that time instead of at 11:00. 15 minutes in the pouring rain felt long this morning).

We'd done lots of little things this week to get ready for school. Made play dough for the class. Labelled all her things together. Practised putting on her knapsack. Got her snack box ready. On Wednesday we gave her and M (the ex-neighbour daughter) a Hello Kitty necklace that breaks in two and says Best Friends - 1/2 each for them going to kindergarten.

This morning she was up EARLY. And my child who routinely claims she can't get dressed herself managed (without being asked) to get herself dressed and her hair brushed (a small miracle. really). She's been missing nursery school. She was pumped to go.

So when she came out at 11:00 I wasn't quite ready for her little face to pucker, tears barely being held back. Apparently she did really well until about 10 minutes before the end of class, when suddenly she wasn't willing to do high fives and announced "I miss Mama!"

She claims she's not going back. That it was great, that she had a good time, she made a colourful raincloud, they learned French words she already knew (part of the 20 minutes a day of French)... it all comes out in a jumble. That snack was too fast. That she liked it but she misses Mama too much.

I wasn't expecting this from her, my second child, my independent young lady. The one who has so rarely cried when I leave somewhere.

There is no doubt that by Monday she will be raring to go. M will be there on Monday and she's so excited. But for today? It was nice to hear that she missed me.

Happy Bunny - one smart rabbit

2008-09-07T21:43:00.003-04:00

Friday night Marc finally found the end of his rope and saw red about the contractor who seems to think he's being invited to join our family and move on in permanently.

Actually his helper - a 50-something man who wear shorts and muscle shirts and has been asking me to adopt him for several weeks now. Shudder with me people, shudder.

Anyhow! That is neither here nor there. Marc lost his patience - lost it I tell you. Those of you who have met Marc know that Marc losing his patience is not an every day thing (as opposed to his wife who can, at will, lose her patience every 10 minutes if required).

He came home from work, we talked about the deck - which looks amazing. The guy was so much much much better on Friday when he arrived - after Marc had gone out at 7 am to sort through the debris and clear it up a bit. He was quite civilized and proceeded to build the frame and the whole deck including 3 stairs by 4 pm. A 17'x 10' deck.

I don't know if it was the beauty of the deck or the heady aroma of cedar or the mere fact that someone got a job finished in our house, but when he went to have a look at our basement (he hadn't been down the night before - you know, what with me pitching a hissy/threatening bodily harm to the next contractor I saw when he walked in at 9:20 after a meeting with a client, ) he lost it.

There is absolutely no way at the pace that they are working (using term loosely) that they will be done that basement in one day. Or even one week.

He was threatening to fire him as he left for hockey. And when he came home later (much later) he told me that he'd put a stop payment on the last cheque we gave him. Woah.

I don't think the 6 or 7 unfinished coffees that had become science projects helped. They were all over the place (I foolishly presumed they were empty and I was still not pleased)

Today Marc the called contractor and left a message (when the only number we have - a cell number) saying that he is fired. We're not happy with how long he's taking to finish things or with the quality (my grout that needs to be re-done. Ugh.) and that he is being a slob in our house. To please come with is trailer tomorrow morning to pick up his stuff and that there was no need to re-enter our house.

And then we cleaned all his "stuff" out of our basement. And holy cow, there is so much room down there!!! He had about 6 huge boxes of garbage - end cuts of wood, more coffee cups, bits of insulation and who knows what else. We swept and then cleaned out room in the garage to put all his crap near the door.

I have a Happy Bunny calendar for 2008. I am a big Happy Bunny fan. And I haven't got my calendar up yet since I haven't had a kitchen that has been finished, so I hadn't seen September yet. So when I was checking out dates for Thanksgiving and flipped open to September, I howled as I read:

"Time to go now, gross people. You know who you are."

Happy Bunny prophecies? Could be.

A First World problem or why I need to go to Home Depot U

2008-09-04T16:39:00.003-04:00

The contractor that was supposed to be out of our house in 3 weeks is still here. We've just completed week 9 (YES! 9!!!) of his work on the house. On Monday we told him that we are completely and totally out of money (he's cost more than double the quote, all due to small additions we made to the work order that were only supposed to be one day things...) and that we could not pay him after today.

So what is happening? He's back on Monday. I am serious. We stood there and told him that we are out of cash (we had to have the car in the shop for a week after having it towed from Upper Canada Village 100 km away but that is another story - but anyhow, we told him it cost us a fortune to fix that we don't have) and that we can NOT pay him after this week.

As of Tuesday morning all he had left to do was 1/4 of the backsplash tiles & grout it and finish the drywall in the basement. Do you think it's finished? NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO.

The backsplash that he quoted us as being 5 hours of work has taken him 3 f-ing days to do. And that included Marc and I scrubbing down the tiles (and various other parts of the kitchen) for 2 hours last night. I think he aimed the grout in the direction of the tiles and hoped for the best.

And how long can it take to hang about 200 square feet of drywall? Apparently more than 4 days. I almost cried when he took me down there as he was checking out at 4pm

He's a lovely person, a really Ottawa Valley boy, good-hearted but he talks a blue streak and never sticks to what he says. He talks in circles. And when you try and call him on it - as in "Hi, I took the kids away for 4 days so you could install my kitchen counters and do the backsplash and all you did was the counters, I was quite surprised." and he's bound to come back with something like "well I just got the counters in" and you say, yes, on Tuesday (please note he was saying to Marc every morning that the backsplash was going up) and he says something that makes it sound like you're the one who is delusional and unreasonable - even though what he said when you said you were going away so he could do the kitchen was "Great, that gives up plenty of time to get the kitchen all finished for you and most of the basement."

Did that last bit make any sense? See, he has my brain so addled that I can't even express myself anymore. My girlfriend Anne was over with her daughter this morning and after 2 1/2 hours of him and his (mostly useless unless throwing paint on the floor counts) helper she was going crazy. She couldn't get over how full of himself he is (her words) and how much time it takes him to explain that simplest thing (i.e. I should be able to re-wire the house based on the narrative about how badly the basement was wired.) And don't bother trying to cut him off, or re-route the conversation, it's not going to work (and I have years of customer service experience behind me, I am usually good at this kind of thing).

So my house? STILL NOT FINISHED.

And as if that were not enough fun, the deck that we had ordered while we were still at the old house - the one that wasn't built and that they came to check out this yard for - should have been built yesterday and today. Well the installer threw a wobbly yesterday morning because we are in a townhouse and since the houses were built people put up fences that block the common area - and walked out. He was foul. Very unprofessional. Told me he wasn't removing my concrete steps because he was only being paid $25 to do it. I don't blame him, but seeing as it cost us $300 to have them removed I don't really think it was my issue - no? He finally came back but left before the wood was delivered - I had strict instructions to have them deliver it to the back. When the driver came he tried but his forklift wouldn't fit so he couldn't. When the installer came back this morning I was actually afraid of him, the rage he flew into... holy cow. I was thankful there was a house full of people (see? this morning I was actually happy the contractor was here). He was practically flinging the posts across the backyard and cursing and ... it was so unpleasant. There is a pile of rubble under where the deck will be that I am not happy about, and that my contractor (he who talks a lot and knows everything about anything) tells me will attract bees and build moisture (girl with mold allergy - me - not happy). Can you get hold of anyone at the deck company? OF COURSE NOT. Do they return your calls? NO.

I know these are totally insignificant things in the course of a lifetime, and that there are millions of people who would love to have my "problems". And I've really been working on not getting worked up over things, and being grateful for what I have instead of what I don't have (have I mentioned that the contractor won't have finished everything he was supposed to do by next week? That we're going to have to do it again? Which isn't terrible because at least we won't destroy the house doing it).

But right now? I feel like crying. Or rather I am imaging how a good cry would feel since I have not shed a tear since this whole thing began - a feat for the girl who cries when she is frustrated. Okay, I did shed a few tears (cried a river?) the day I left my little house for this one, but that was another thing all together.

So what to do? I've decided that I am going to become a fixture at Home Depot for their information session. I'm going to learn how to do EVERYTHING so I never ever EVER need to hire someone again.

Oh, and I'm going to try and ease up on the Indiana Popcorn I've been shoving down my throat for two days. Yeah, that's not going to help.

Guest post from the man who has to live with me

2008-09-02T20:28:00.004-04:00

First of all, please permit me to tell you that I am the biggest fan of this blog. Of course this is a biased opinion as I am also Tracy's biggest fan but that is the case.

Today was interesting. Today was Stuart's first day of school. Today was the day that Tracy's head nearly exploded - before 9:00 AM. Or 0900 hours in military speak as today's school run felt like a military operation. So the man who has driven armoured personnel carriers and tanks (cool NATO job and all) was convinced that he was back in Europe and orders were being given. My darling bride exchanged her luluemon for fatigues and we had a mission: get Stuart on the bus; follow the bus; ensure he gets off the bus; find his classmates; keep it together.. Execute, execute, execute!!

Our son Stuart does not always take well to new situations - and sometimes not so well to familiar situations, so Tracy is often the only parent at the birthday party or the one with a new appendage in the form of a six year old. But today, on the day that it would not matter if a tear was shed or the two-minute hug was given, was not clinging or crying or acting out in any way. In fact, he had his own mission, perhaps a secret mission. He was growing up.

So what, he took the bus - more helicopter parenting, right? Well, hang on for a second. You see, Stuart is the boy who refused to take the bus last year. Would not get on - it never happened. He had just moved 6,000 km to a new country and was taking school in a new language, so give the kid a break. It has been a big adjustment for Stuart and Julia to adapt to Canada from the tiny European country where they born. But now, one-year later things are getting easier - not perfect, just easier.

So we (read Tracy) had geared up big-time for the first day of school, first day on the bus and first day where she was not needed. Stop. She was needed but it was subtle. There was no huge production, there was no negotiation, and there was no scene. He proceeded like it was perfectly normal to get on the bus for the first time, like the big boy he is, find his seat and wave at his Mum - who by the way had run around the bus to ensure that he was OK. She is so cute.

Now we had a NEW mission. You see, Tracy was determined to follow the bus to ensure that everything was OK because "we do not know this Sue person and if she can drive that bus..."

Roger that.

After a highly successful insertion of Stuart into the yellow and black vehicle (school bus), we (Julia and I) snapped to it ensuring that we were fastened into the chase car. There is no question who is driving. Just ask our neighbours who cannot believe that no matter how many minutes earlier they leave, Tracy always arrives first.

We have now arrived at school in advance of the bus. No surprise here - author's chiropractic appointment put to good use today. New mission - find the boy. Divide the squad - Julia and I were instructed to search the grounds while Tracy would do a reckie around the front of the schoolyard. With no communication gear - Tracy's cell phone without charge - Julia and I soon spot Stuart and Tracy walking together around the back of the school. After a few minutes, the bell rings and Stuart gives his Mum, sister and Dad a hug, then proceeds quietly and orderly into school. Mission completed but not the mission we had planned.

You see, today Tracy's head did not nearly explode. There was no collateral damage. She planned for the worst and was pleasantly surprised with how easy it went.

I was not surprised - sure, I did not know that it would be today but I knew that for all of the effort and the determination that she puts into parenting - she would get through to him. He would get it. He would know that he does not need to test her boundaries all the time to know that she is there. She is always there for him, supporting him when he needs it. Today he tested his new wings and soared. So did she.

Nobody told me there'd be days like these

2008-09-01T22:18:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow my boy starts Grade 2. And he has decided that he is taking the school bus to school.

Huh?

First of all - Grade 2 sounds so BIG. Not like Grade 1 where they are just out of Kindergarten and still really babies. So how did he get old enough, big enough, grown up enough to go to Grade 2? Could someone please explain (I know, those of you with older children can shake your heads, just like I will in a couple of years).

And the whole bus thing - excuse me??? This is the kid that flatly refused - REFUSED - to take the bus last year. In Luxembourg there is no school bus (well unless you are the child of a Eurocrat and go to the European School - please read that with a snotty tone). Considering that buses were a whole new thing for him, I didn't push. Ahem. Well not much. There were mornings where it was snowing like crazy and driving was awful and he took 300 years to put his snowsuit on (well, that's how long it seemed to take) that I wished he would take the bus. Mornings I threatened that he would have to start taking the bus, that I wasn't going to drive like a madwoman to school to get there before the bell. (oh man, I am not painting a pretty picture of mornings in our house).

And now? Yeah, he's taking the bus tomorrow. On the first day of school. Without Mama. And Mama wants to cry.

Oh I know, I should be so proud of him (and I am acting all proud). My best friend who has known me since before I even started Grade 2 told me to stop being so silly today. Those weren't her exact words, but I got the message. I mean her kids are both in high school as of tomorrow and I am freaking out about Grade 2?

Apparently I didn't give Stu any warning about the move to a Balanced School Day this year. Meaning that there is no long lunch break for him to come home a couple of days a week for lunch. So when I was explaining to him that there would be two long recesses and he has food that he can eat at either, he wigged out on me. The tears. The recriminations. I even started to doubt whether or not I had told him about it (I did, but man, obviously not enough).

I know that my behaviour (borderline hysteria anyone?) is all symptomatic of a broader issue that involves Julia starting kindergarten next week (another one who wants to take the bus, sheeeesh). And of my babies growing up. And how it's all gone too fast and how I didn't give Stu going to Precoce full-time in Luxembourg 3 years ago and I sure didn't think much about him going to Spillschoul and the caregiver the year after and holy cow - look at all the opportunities I missed to scrutinize my parenting ;-)

Sigh. I never knew it could be this hard (and yes, maybe I need to go back to work so I am not so obsessed with my children).

In the end we decided that I will meet him at school when he gets off the bus to walk into the school yard and find his new teacher. Because it turns out he does need me there after all.

Really and truly

2008-08-15T16:17:00.002-04:00

My name is Tracy and I am never moving again.

Ever.

Really.

12 times in 23 years and that's that.

Let's hope the neighborhood doesn't go to seed.

Because I'm gonna be the little old lady hobbling up the same front steps FOREVER.

Although if the contractor doesn't stop touching up the #&%^&*&^#($^(*^(#*^$)^)@#^%)^#%)*^ paint and start finishing some other stuff I am going to club him like a seal and then I will have to spend the rest of my days in jail.

I hear you can pack pretty light for lifetime imprisonment.

standard issue king size beds

2008-08-14T06:39:00.003-04:00

They need to start giving out King sized beds to anyone with a child. Okay, maybe to anyone with more than one child.

This morning Stu arrived in our bed at 4 something. Julia followed at 5:50. When the cat showed up too Marc escaped (with a huff and a puff) to Stu's room. It was actually an improvement on the last couple of nights.

I love them all. I understand their need for reassurance this week. But I need to get more than 3 hours sleep without someone on me, nudging me, or not being able to move my limbs in my bed. Ditto on the 5:40 am proclamations of "Mama!!! I have a joke for you!!!"

(the non exhausted cranky part of me - who is pretty small right now... hello? non cranky part? You in there? - feels pretty special that they all think I can make things better when I feel like my head is going to explode.)

I need a Timmy's run. They need to start delivering. Or hooking up an IV to my bedroom.

steam to spare?

2008-08-13T12:02:00.002-04:00

Ooof.

I am running out of steam. 3 sleeps until the move. We are mostly packed. I think. Sort of. Not so much. This is what happens when you move 2 blocks away is that there are a lot of things that don't need to be well packed and you think you are doing okay and then you open your storage room and wow, look at all that stuff.

My house that was supposed to be painted and new kitchen counter and backsplash installed and basement ceiling finished etc etc in 2 weeks (yes I thought it was very optimistic) is on week 5 of work. And my counters, the ones my contractor seemed to find me stressed about 2 weeks ago (since they were only supposed to take 2 weeks to arrive - I didn't ask until we were at 3 weeks... that's relaxed for me!!) are in Home Depot terminology "Back Ordered" with no idea on potential arrival time. I have a dismantled basement ceiling and for some reason seem to be getting 4 coats of paint of the walls? And ceilings? I've now hit the "just finish it" stage. Fini. Basta.

I've taken measures (WHEN is the world going to listen to me when I suggest in a nice, polite CALM- really it was calm - voice that we follow up) to get us countertops in 10-14 days - or rather I've made the calls and the contractor is insisting on placing the order.

I may follow up with the counter place this afternoon. I'm not taking any more chances. I am approaching KATN Mode (kick ass take names). Marc loves this mode (as long as it's not his ass of course...)

Marc is down with a bad bad bad case of a stomach bug that has put him out of commission for the last 2 days. Poor guy, new job and moving. But this type of things is quite common for us.

It would help if the tenants weren't moving in the day after we move out. But such is life.

I have no clue where I am going with this post. To bed is not an option, thought the grey, rainy Luxembourg-like weather is conducive to afternoon napping. Unfortunately my kids are not of the same opinion.

This time next week this will all be over. Yeah!

Deja-vu

2008-08-01T15:40:00.003-04:00

A year ago today men arrived at my house and began "packing" our belongings for our move from Luxembourg back to Canada.

I use the word "packing" lightly, as it was (I hope) one of the worst packing jobs ever. After 3 days I thought the hell was over and boarded the plane to visit friends in Stockholm with happy thoughts of vacations.

Of course that came back to bite me in the bum a month later when the container arrived and the real hell began. (I have to admit, I hadn't been impressed with the packing and feared the arrival, but denial was a better vacation companion than worry). I failed to see logic in most of the packing - bubble wrap around quilts, but picture frames tossed into boxes? Our laptop unceremoniously tossed in the top of a box that wasn't even marked fragile?

The "day-helper" that the movers hired on this end didn't help - he stunk of stale cigarettes and looked like he was sporting a bad hangover. And he kept hollering at me. Ugh. I don't do drunks well (and yes, I can confirm that my drunkdar is usually about 99.8% accurate).

I have moved a lot in my life. At least I think it's a lot. My parents split up shortly before my 15th birthday and I have moved 12 times since then. My poor kids are on their 3rd move each at the tender ages of 4 and 6.

So you'd think that I would be a pro at this by now, right?

I used to be. I used to rock at moving. 2 moves ago I had charts and rooms numbered and lists. Seriously.

This time? I can't get going. This week was supposed to be my "big" packing week, and I have got very little accomplished. And the sitter is leaving in 10 minutes to go on vacation until after we move.

I could blame a lot of things, trouble getting boxes (I know, sad, so sad), to the teeny tiny-ness of this house which really isn't conducive to boxes. Or that the contractors who are doing a great job at our new house have not yet got to a stage where we can put too much in the house (which would facilitate things, as it would mean not tripping over boxes) and that the carpets are only being laid next Wednesday.

But what I really think is : you only get so much moving mo-jo in your life and I've used mine up.

And now I will go and find a rock to crawl under - if I can even get out of the house in the mess I've made.

And then I hit her

2008-07-31T11:34:00.002-04:00

So I haven't found to post lately - I've had a few doozies in my head, one of which I will still have to post because 10 days later an article in the Citizen is really really REALLY irking me.

But this morning I did something I have never done before. I rear-ended someone.

It was at a nasty intersection, and some WALNUT (Stuart overheard me saying something far less - um - polite when I got cut off once and thought I said Walnut so we're gonna stick with that one) ran a yellow that was so far gone it had to be red. So the woman in the minivan ahead of me slammed on her brakes and BOOM - I hit her.

And you know what? She was SO NICE about it. SO SO SO NICE. There was nothing more than a tiny scratch on her bumper and she was like "Whatever, no biggie." Then I worried because of course as I was getting out of the car I noticed little people heads in the back (way back, like last row back) and I thought "Oh CRAP, I've hit a car with kids in it. Those poor kids!"

Anyhow, in the end she went and opened her door so I could see with my own eyes that the kids were fine, and I apologized to them. Apparently last year they had an accident with a transport and wrote their car off, so she figured this wouldn't scar them at all.

By the time we were getting back into our cars she was asking if I was okay (my hands were shaking when I gave her my number, just in case).

What a totally cool person. She could have been all "You hit my car you moron" but she was nice.

Imagine if EVERYONE tried to be nice? All the time?

(oh and for those of you who are familiar with my driving "skills" I really have never hit anyone before and NO I WAS NOT SPEEDING. For once.)

And the air goes out of the balloon like this... ppffffttttt... blah

2008-07-14T13:04:00.002-04:00

Home again, home again...

The problem with nice weekends at the house of good friends is that you have to come back. Bleah.

We had an awesome weekend... we visited the Toronto Zoo, swam in the pool, hung out. The kids got along famously. The food was good. The weather was pretty decent. It was - dare I say it? - relaxing.

(BTW Cathie... we only had to go as far as Markham. Phew. I was still breathing and not in the fetal position rocking and moaning about how I am so thankful not to live in T.O.)

And now we are home. To tiles picked at the Whitby Home Depot that aren't what we want for the backsplash and they want to start it SOON. And Karate camp was a bit of a bust this morning. Julia wailed when I left. She NEVER wails. She was terrified.

So of course I cried in the car and was in a state visiting tile store trying to pick tiles that I have to commit to - for like eternity. Oh yes, ETERNITY. I take these things very seriously. And I am not convinced that I can make that kind of commitment to ... um tiles.

(Momentary pause while I try to get a grip).

Oh and. Yes. In a furniture store yesterday the salesman told me that I have a lovely family "and one on the way?"

Um, no... just a bad dress (that I will burn as soon as I can find where I've hid the matches). I knew I had gained weight, but to mistaken for pregnant? Ugh.

Monday. Gotta love it.

keys keys keys keys

2008-07-11T14:41:00.002-04:00

We got the KEYS!! The KEYS!! To the new house!

We got them yesterday afternoon and spent the evening over there, having pizza with our neighbours (from this house).

Have I mentioned that I really like the house? Really really like it? It almost feels strange that it's ours. And that we're going to go and live there and potentially live in less cramped quarters (potentially since we always seem to find more stuff... it's like lint)

I've posted some pics on facebook for Cathie (and others of course, but I was trying to do right by Cathie). But I will have to tell you more later because we're supposed to be leaving for Toronto in an hour and I am not at all packed.

That and the fact that the kids are sitting next to me staring at me with huge puppy dog eyes because they want me attention.

further proof I must have been dropped on my head

2008-07-07T22:22:00.004-04:00

Want to know what I did today? Really?

I held a birthday bash for a Webkinz red-eyed tree frog.

Seriously.

It involved having two little boys and the little girl next door over, running around filling water pistols (what are those things called? Brain melting...) 2 cakes shaped like the RETF's face (one for the afternoon, one for dinner), peanut butter cookies that were supposed to look like dragon flies (since when does Pillsbury not make sugar cookie dough? they were a hit and miss, mostly miss), a BBQ with our neighbours... and presents. One from the Stu and one from my amazing neighbour who took the time - despite having her interlock done today to pick out a gift and stuff (plastic) insects in a jar.

I am wiped out.

I hear you wondering why I did this. Because of a little boy who got his first Webkinz last October from his Godparents who are so in the know as to what is cool at school these days. That little Webkinz red-eyed tree frog helped him make friends when we moved here and he knew no one. He was in on things because he had that frog.

So back in January when I tacked up my HAPPY BUNNY calendar for 2008 I wasn't about to protest the inclusion of the frog's birthday for July 7th (for July Happy Bunny says, with a big smile, "Please Stop Existing. Thanks"). I think I made vaguely affirmative noises when barraged with party planning (come on, it was 6 months away. He's 6. He's not supposed to hang on to things that long).

Let's hope he remembers today. I certainly will.

Joyeuse Anniversaire

2008-06-29T21:03:00.007-04:00

My Mum turned 65 yesterday. The last time I spent her birthday with her was the year that Stu was a baby and we were home. So in order to make up for lost time/celebrate an important birthday, we went away together. Just the two of us, to Vermont for 2 nights.

Can I preface the rest of the post by saying we had a great time. Great Time. (I'll probably mention it again).

The trip was a bit of a last minute thing, and when I tried to find somewhere to stay around Burlington, everything was fully booked. Crazy fully booked. Not sure if it had to do with the Vermont Quilt Exhibition - I mean I like quilts and all (and my mum quilts) but really? Are all that many people interested? Anyhow, after hours of trying to book somewhere to stay one kindly lady at a B&B suggested trying "up the mountain road" towards Stowe. So I took a look and in the end we stayed here in Waterbury about 40km out of Burlington. I am so glad that Burlington was fully booked because we loved the inn and plan to go back.

So on Thursday, after an afternoon of shopping in downtown Burlington we headed further down the I-89 to our Inn. Not sure where to have dinner we drove up the Stowe road and visited the Trapp Family Lodge. I'd love to tell you we had dinner there, but we hadn't booked 6 months in advance. That and the fact that my mum wasn't entirely convinced that I wouldn't break out in a chorus of "The hills are alive... with the Sound of Music... - I really have to rent that movie for the kids.) We ended up driving up and down the drag in Stowe and had dinner in a nice little place that had German wine (I know it's not cool, but I LOVE sweet German wine). On our way back down the hill we stopped at a small grocery store and I picked up two bottles of Riesling Spatlese, which I love. I will try and share them with someone. Really. I promise to try.

The impetus behind staying in Burlington (besides all the shopping I was envisioning doing) was the spa I had booked for us. I had found this place on the internet and thought it would be a nice gift. I had booked us in for two Mom's Day Out specials that included an hour long massage, a pedicure and a parafin hand treatment with a light lunch. Light they said - we had a chicken Caesar Salad that was big enough for 3. I announced to my mother the night before we were leaving what our package included - only to realize she'd never had a massage before and that it was sounding a little more intimidating than fun to her. Oooops. On Friday morning when the two masseuses came out to greet us in the "relaxation area" I was quite relieved that my mum had Inge, a very tall German lady in her late forties (I had the little chickie who was possibly pushing 23, but she did a good job).

When we stumbled out of the spa we hit some outlet malls - ones I hadn't been all that interested in going to, but still managed to find lots of things to buy (not usually a problem, me finding things to buy). We headed back to Waterbury for dinner and walked off our two glasses (each) of wine by hiking up and down Main Street for an hour or so (and yes, two glasses does us both in, like mother like daughter).

Yesterday we went in search of a drugstore - now maybe it's just me, but I have this ideal of American drugstores being a mecca for those of us who like... okay love... drugstores. Yeah. Hmmmm. Vermont is not so big on drugstores from what I can tell. And - there is no Target store. But these were small prices to pay for a lovely weekend in a beautiful state. I've found Ontario very flat (in more ways than one) since we've moved home, and the Green Mountains were a welcome change of scenery.

We headed home by way of the Champlain Islands that lie between Vermont and New York state. It was a beautiful drive. Bonus points to the very informative lady in the Vermont Tourism office just at the edge of New York state who steered us away from the border crossing on the I-87, and instead sent us through a tiny back road border crossing. Where we were through in approximately 47 seconds. And we were not searched, something of a miracle for me. Ever since a nasty altercation with a surly customs agent back in 1988 over a can of hairspray that was 3/4 empty, dented scratched and bearing not only French writing but a drugstore price tag from a Quebec chain ("If you don't have the bill for this I could impound your car!!" he shouted at me) I break into a sweat when nearing the border.

I realized a few things over the weekend. I miss Americans. We had so many American friends and co-workers in Luxmebourg. We were lucky enough to have base privileges at the US Air Force Base in Bittburg (and we quite often used those privileges on a rainy Sunday afternoon when nothing was open in Luxembourg). Americans are welcoming in a way that some Ontarians should take note of.

The other thing I really realized was how much I have missed my mum over the years. She was wonderful about coming to visit twice a year, but it was always like trying to squeeze 6 months into a 2 week time frame and we would all be exhausted by the end. Being home again gives me the chance to do things with her - fun like this weekend, or scary like her 2nd mammogram a couple of months ago - that I just couldn't do living in Europe.

So Happy Birthday Mum. It was a pleasure to spend it with you. I had a great time.

train of thought

2008-06-20T09:54:00.003-04:00

This morning in the shower I was thinking about soccer last night, and then about how a little boy in Stu's class is called Shabaka (he was on the other team). And how that sounds a little too close to Chewbacca for me - started hoping that George Lucas doesn't release any other Star Wars movies until the child is too old or too big to be teased about being a Wookie.

From there my thoughts went something like this... Han Solo is Chewwie's buddy... Han Solo and Princess Leia... hmmm... what if Han hadn't been at the right place at the right time and let them hitch a ride on the Millenium Falcon? (Yes, I know way too much about Star Wars). Would he have even met Princess Leia? Was that his destiny? Would he have found someone else otherwise and never known that he was supposed to be with her?

And then - and then I thought: "Holy crap Trace, these are characters in a movie. Based a Long Long time ago - get a grip".

I should probably also note that my shower too a lot longer than usual because I kept confusing my conditioner and my shampoo. I think I'll blame it on my concern for intergalactic romance. Sheeeesh.

And we're not even into summer vacation yet. 3 1/2 school days and counting...

Something to do when your life feels upside down..

2008-06-12T14:37:00.002-04:00

We just signed an offer on a house. To buy a house. A new house. And move house.

Because I was so grounded - ya know? (not) So let's just go and make things more interesting.

Further proof that I must have been dropped on my head at some point? I think so.

And I would tell you about the house but - um - I feel a little too queasy right now.

Anyone seeing my brain (which may look really small, or more like half a brain) please return it to me...

Tantrums - of the grown up kind

2008-06-07T21:30:00.003-04:00

I've been on edge for a few days now. Snippy, testy, impatient. All traits I love in myself. No, not really.

I know that part of the problem is my hormones - I feel I am losing the battle to my PMDD the last few days. Not like I used to, but I thought it was getting better than this. I knew I was in trouble when I met a girlfriend for lunch the other day and when asked what I felt like eating replied with "A deep fried salt lick dipped in sugar and chocolate."

The huge change in pressure didn't help much either - I've been much better in the headache department since we got home, but I've realized that huge changes in pressure cause the injuries from my accident almost 4 years ago to act up. Until we finally got a big storm I ached from my head, through my ear and jaw all the way down the back of my neck. While I am so thankful that the damage wasn't worse, it's still is not fun. I was bear-like, snipping at Marc, at the kids.

But underneath it I worry there is something more, some vague dissatisfaction that I can't completely shift.

I get frustrated with myself. I look at my life on paper and it's what I would put down as what I wanted given the choice in life. I have a wonderful husband (wonderful, not perfect. Not psychic either, which has made his life a little less enjoyable this week). I have two beautiful kids - even if they do seem to be little hellions lately, pushing all my buttons. I have a house we can afford, two cars that we can afford (though I had to have one towed this evening... another story). I have my health. I have friends. I have family near enough to see regularly. I have the privilege of staying home with my kids (thanks to Marc's new job).

Sounds like I should be content, doesn't it? I certainly think I should. And somehow, I am always finding something... something that feels like it's missing.

Last week we went to see a house. A house in this area (right school district) that was a single family we could afford (ish). They had done a lot of renovations - beautiful renovations. A huge master suite with a reading area (they'd knocked down a wall between a bedroom and the family room). But the basement was a fright, and a lot of the work was not at all well done (a basement bathroom with the electrical box next to the shower and no vent? Hello??). The roof looked like Farrah Fawcett's flippy hair in the 70's.

I've been thinking a lot about that house and why I thought it would make me happier than I am. I think it was the general idea of more space (though we would fill that too). But also this grown up area - a spot to call my own.

I love my kids. Really really love them. But it feels some (most?) days like there is nothing left for me - of me, of my home, of my life. I was always afraid to be a stay at home mother because I was afraid that I would disappear. And I think I am.

And who do I feel I take it out on? The kids. It's like a vicious circle - they need me so much that I feel the need to pull away, so they need me more.

This morning was a prime example... Julia (the sweet child who refused to eat her dinner last night) woke up at 5:45 am. She was STARVING (it's all or nothing with my girl). She was going full throttle. I was not caffeinated. Not a good combination.

By the time I got Marc up for pancakes at 8:45 I was being sarcastic. Wanting to run screaming for the hills (Stu woke up at 7:15 and was also go, go, go). The constant noise. Stu giving play by plays of every move of a handheld video game he borrowed from a friend. Julia speaking Ladybug (it involves a lot of loud noises made with a portion of your tongue stuck out of your mouth). I could honestly feel my blood pressure rising.

And then came my stellar mother moment of the month. I was making pancakes, and I had used spelt flour for the batter so they were a little runnier than usual. Two ran together. Marc called it a fish. So then Julia needed a fish. So I tried to make a fish. The conversation then went like this:

Me: Julia! I managed to make you a fish!!

Stu: What kind of fish Mum?

Me: Just a fish shape Stu.

Stu :Yeah but what kind of fish is it?

Me : just a plain fish Stu.

Stu: But what kind of fish Mum? Is it a goldfish?

Me : "It's just a f***ing fish Stuart!

I KNOW. Awful. Actually it was pretty funny. Marc tried not to laugh. Stu was pretty impressed with my vocabulary (don't you love how you try and teach them all this good stuff and it's the bad stuff that impresses them?). Julia just laughed because Mummy was almost doubled over. What a way to diffuse a tense situation. And then I apologized to the kids. For my potty mouth.

And as I ramble on and on in my free therapy hour here, I know it's obvious : I need more time for me, I need something to call my own. I just don't seem to be able to do it.

How do you do it?? Any advice? Because right now going back to work is sounding like a good way to get a little me time. Which I realize it really wouldn't.

Are there women who achieve some sort of balance?

home again, home again

2008-06-03T18:18:00.002-04:00

Once upon a time there was a couple that had a tenth wedding anniversary. They left the kids with Nana (wonderful wonderful Nana) and went to Quebec City. For 3 nights. ALONE.

I could go on and on about how FANTASTIC our weekend was. And I hope that I will at some point in the very near future - while I still remember it all. The hotel, the restaurants, the caleche ride, the massage... all perfect.

Even the rain added a certain je ne sais quoi to the 3 days (though we weren't sad to see the sun came out).

When we got home the kids and Nana were out front with our neighbour and her daughter. She commented on how relaxed we looked. I felt relaxed.

I didn't tell her that I spent most of the weekend trying to convince Marc to move to Quebec City. It's so pretty, so charming... so european-ey.

The wine at dinner last night?? from LUXEMBOURG. No joke.

But for now I must go and watch Fifi and the Flower Tots with Julia. The kids were over the moon to see us. Or... are they always this... um... LOUD?

24.6 seconds of recent events

2008-05-28T20:59:00.004-04:00

I have no time to blog. Really, none. I have all kinds of interesting things to post about (okay, only until I start typing and realize they're not so interesting) but no time to do so.

In fact, I am not entirely sure I am capable of completing a thought this week. My poor husband, who is now in his 3rd week of being home with me, is somewhat perplexed by my inability to focus on anything for for than 24.6 seconds.

He is, however, starting to comprehend that 24.6 seconds is about .356 of a second more than my children usually give me to think about anything.

Anyhow, I am - as per usual me-ness - digressing from my intended post. Because I can't type the little hobbled together bits in 24.6 seconds.

So - what I am trying to tell you is:

1) Marc got a job!!!! Woo Hoo! Yee Haw! Much cheering and jubilation. It is the job he wanted, the one he has been interviewing for since January (yes, JANUARY people!!). The one that took sooooooooooooo long to get through every step of the interview process for, the one that seemed to have another step every time we thought it was over. He has a letter and everything. With a signature. PHEW. And he starts 2 July, so we have a few more weeks before he starts.

I am so proud of him.

2) Friday is our 10th wedding anniversary. 10. Wow. So, in honour of such a momentous occasion, we are driving to Montreal on Saturday morning (early early early...), dropping the kids at my mum's and then hitting the road for Quebec City. Where we will spend 3 nights in a lovely little hotel and eat far too much food and hopefully drink even more wine. And I bet there will be lots of desert. Lots and lots of it.

This is where my short attention span is of benefit - if I could think about our trip for more than 24.6 seconds at a time I would be so excited nothing else would get done all day. Nothing.

So - on that note I am going to say goodnight. Because this post? Took way more than 24.6 seconds.

Did someone cut a few hours off the day?

2008-05-21T09:16:00.002-04:00

Marc has now been off work for... um... 11 days.

I am loving having him home, I am thrilled with what we are getting done around the house, I am ecstatic at not having to do the school run every morning and sometimes waking up to a cup of Timmy's (French Vanilla, yum) on my night table some mornings.

Not to mention getting to hang out with my honey.

I am just trying to figure out where all the hours are going though - should my house not be tidier? Should dinner not be easier to make? Should there not be plenty of fresh fruit and veg in the fridge since I will have more time to do things like grocery shop?

Um, yeah. Not so much. My schedule? Gone right out the window. (I know - the thought that I had a schedule is hard to swallow - but really, I did...)

Oh well... this too shall pass, surely far sooner than I am ready...

Hello 4

2008-05-16T16:21:00.004-04:00

(This post has been kicking around in my head for a few days... Julia turned 4 on Tuesday.)

Dear 4,

Nice to meet you - I actually planned to write this as an introduction letter for 3 to give you in the hand-over, but as usual I was behind schedule.

I've been thinking a lot this past week about 3... about how she was when she arrived a year ago and how she was as she was leaving. 3 had a huge year. We moved continents. She went to nursery school. She learned to stand up to her brother. She even went as far as learning how to aggravate him, which is not one of my favourite things about the past year.

They are teaching them sign language at 3's nursery school (she knew all the letters to T - that was last week's letter). She could sing the Hello song in English, French, Spanish and Korean. Yes, Korean. She even introduced her friends to the Hello song in Luxembourgish last week. They may call on you to help out with that 4.

3 learned to go to school and let Mama leave without crying. She learned how to go to friends' houses for playdates and let Mama leave without crying (at this point Mama was the one who sometimes felt like crying). She made a best friend who wasn't part of our family. She took swimming lessons and went to swimming camp over March break - alone. Without Mama, Dado or Stu.

3 liked to be carried. Liked to cuddle - something I am hoping that you do too 4, because cuddles are important. Mamas sometimes need their cuddles in the evening to make up for some of the ones we don't get during the day anymore because you are so busy out there exploring, learning, spreading your wings.

The day before you came 4 Dado built the bicycle that 3 thought you would need. It's a pink and blue and purple with white tires and training wheels. I thought it would take Dado a long time to build it, but it didn't, and 3 saw it in the driveway. She hopped right on and... off she went. As if she'd been doing it every day of her life.

That's when it really hit me that 3 was ready to go and that you, 4, were waiting in the wings to take her place. I have to admit that I felt a little weepy... 4 is so much closer to a big girl than 3, so much further from a baby. 3 was getting heavy enough that I sometimes had trouble carrying her. I am hoping to be able to carry you for a lot longer.

You'll be happy to know that 3 did a lot of work in the last couple of weeks on things like talking to people - friends of mine, other mothers at school. All of a sudden she had a voice and wanted to tell people things. I think she was shedding her shy exterior for you.

I watched 3 go to sleep for the last time and took her picture (yes, while she was sleeping, and yes, with a flash. She didn't move). I sat and watched her for a while, with her little body sprawled across the bed, her little cheeks flushed and mouth a little open. I could still see 2 and even a bit of 1 in her.

The next morning there YOU were! All bright-eyed and bushy tailed and "Hi! I'm FOUR!!!" You are a little larger than life at the moment. The excitement of being you, being 4!!! You talk as if there is an exclamation point after every word, you have had such a great few days.

I hope you enjoyed the barbecue we had on the evening after you arrived. Our neighbours, some of whom had not seen 3 much over the long cold winter commented on all the new stuff that you, 4, can do. Some of the things that I am still getting used to, now that you are here, 4.

It's going to be a big year for you. We have summer camp - this is the first summer, except for the one when 0 was around, that I will be home. I am looking forward to it (for the most part). You start soccer on Monday. You are almost finished nursery school, and you will have to say some goodbyes. You will go to swimming camp again, and karate camp.

And then in the fall you will start school. Real school, with big kids and all. You're going to take the bus and everything - something that really excited 3, and I am sure you will like too. Not sure if I will manage too well with it though.

I'm really glad you are here. You're really cool. Just remember that there's no rush to make room for 5 just yet - she won't be here for another year (no matter how many times you ask how many days until your birthday, it's still almost a year). Please enjoy being you, and let us enjoy you being exactly who you are - 4.

And remember - lots of cuddles. You're still my baby.

Lots of love,

Mama

correct me if I am wrong

2008-05-08T16:21:00.002-04:00

I really don't want my blog to be whiny - and that it sometimes is. And I don't want to waste energy on things that aren't worth it. But I don't feel like keeping this one in.

Today I went to pick up Julia's little best friend from nursery school to take her on a field trip to see Jiggajump. I was taking her because her dad has her little brother at home too and he naps in the afternoon.

I go to pick her up. As we are leaving he says "so you should be back by 2:15?" (the show was about a 10 minute drive from their house, and the show was over at 2:00).

My reply was yes, we should be back around then - however, I had to pick Stuart up from school at 3:00 (a 20 minute drive from the event) and if for any reason the show went very late (started late, I don't know, some unforseen reason) I would have to go and get Stuart and then bring her home.

Do you think he said "oh, of course!"??

No, he said, "Oh. Well. We are only going to be here until 3:05, and then we are going to get T at his school and meet up with some friends at Dow's Lake to take some photos. If Maggie can't be there..." raised shoulders and a kind of eeesh noise " weeellllll... and then we won't be back until at least 5 for you to drop her off..."

He actually said all that in French, and it sounded even more pompous (if you can imagine that). I was a little steamed that I was doing him this favour taking her (which I was really happy to do) and here I was being given such strict "guidelines". And what on earth did he think MY 6 year old would be doing after school was over if I couldn't make it on time because I was dropping his daughter off?

I quickly left. In the end there was no problem. Jiggajump rocked. We had a blast. And I got her home by 2:15.

But I turned down his offer to go in for tea. He reiterated it twice, seemed slightly offended. In the end I said that I had an errand I needed to run and I was going to take advantage of doing it with one child instead of two.

The errand? A tall Soy Tazo Chai Tea Latte at Starbucks. It was yummy.

Bad Karma

2008-05-05T17:41:00.003-04:00

So - I am wondering what I have done that was not... karmically balanced(?)

Stu usually has 10 dictee (spelling) words every week for his test on Friday. We get through them fine now. It (and anything written) was not always so easy.

Today he writes 1-3 on his paper. I ask what he's doing.

"It's for the 3 sentences!"

Dictee is now SENTENCES. 3 of them. One with 14 words.

I broke out the wine.

Me, the girl who's wine consumption is usually about a glass a week.

It helped.

Curiosity and the cat...

2008-04-30T13:41:00.003-04:00

Damn Facebook.

On Sunday morning I had a friend request from an old beau. One I haven't spoken to for oh - about 14 years.

He sent a message with it, saying that I look great and how glad he was to find me.

I was very hesitant to accept his request. This was not a great love of my life. I think we saw each other, quite casually, from New Years Eve (foolish, drunken party) until I moved to Ottawa in May of the same year. He was a friend of a friend, very sweet, very... intense.

Once I'd moved I was pretty much done with the whole thing - the fact that I was looking for jobs outside of Montreal is a strong indicator that I did not feel the relationship had much future.

Still, once I had moved he called regularly. One night when there was weird reception on my phone he accused me of having a party (I was asleep, and not sure why it was really any of his business). Then there was the letter sent by UPS (where he worked) to my office that as not even in an envelope inside the UPS envelope. A very personal letter that I was very embarrassed to have a co-worker read part of before realizing it was personal and passing it on to me (I bet she actually read the whole thing, but that's neither here nor there years later).

Then, the final correspondence, which must have been close to a year after I moved (I was going out with Marc by this time) was a card from BC, where he'd ended up. Basically it said that he was happy (no thanks to me) and that he thought I should know (was I supposed to swoon in regret?) and that I'd lost my chance (dang, I was almost ready to get on a plane to follow him and beg for another chance - NOT).

So you can understand my hesitation to accept the friend request. But being me, ever so polite me, I sent him a message. I seem to be incapable of ignoring people. I said I was married, we had two great kids and that we had just moved back to Canada and that I had seen some mutual friends of ours a couple of weeks ago.

He replied almost immediately. A huge long message. Gave me all his contact details, wanted me to MSN or get n touch with him on his cell, he's available almost all the time. Wanted to know if I had married the first boyfriend I'd had in Ottawa (warning bells - does he think he was jilted for Marc?). He's divorced, his two kids are out in BC so he's staying. They don't look much like him because they are 1/2 Chinese. He's in love with some girl from Japan who was over on a student visa but had to go back, he's going to see her but it's complicated with his job, she wants to come back... etc etc etc. Very him. VERY complicated.

So, idiot that I am, I let my curiosity get the better of me and accepted the friend request. I was curious to see what his kids looked like - I am weird that way, fascinated with people's kids.

That night something happened with the Japanese girl. Don't know what, I am not asking. But a couple of times a day he has a new status. Things like "XYZ is NOT happy right now, but worse situations than this have tried to kill him in the past". There's others, they don't need to appear here, and they all just ooze... negativity.

I know, I should just delete him (and I think I will), but I am so concerned with hurting people's feelings. I just don't need all the negative energy.

Some people are best left in the past.

Parlez-vous?

2008-04-29T17:55:00.002-04:00

School starts for Julia this fall. Junior Kindergarten, in a real school.

When we were moving back from Luxembourg I was quite adamant that Stu go to a French school. Unfortunately the Catholic board would not let us in which left us with the French Board. The French school for our area left me cold though - or rather their website did. It hadn't been updated for 3 years - and made reference to their goal (for the next 3 years) of getting their provincial scores up to the standard. Not great self promotion.

And so Stu ended up in the local public school, in the French Immersion programme. Overall we are very happy with the school. I am not convinced as to the consistent standard of French in the school (despite having a French Principal), but for now it's okay.

So I have to say I have been a little surprised at the reactions of some of the parents I have talked to about Junior Kindergarten - or rather French Immersion starting in Senior Kindergarten.

There are 4 "tracks" in our school board at the moment - English, Early French Immersion (starts in SK), Middle French Immersion (Grade 4 start) and Late French Immersion that starts in Grade 7.

Late French Immersion has been canned this year. They are going to accept kids for the next 2 years who missed Middle Immersion, and then it's done.

I've met several people who are putting their kids in an English stream. As in English with 20 minutes of French a day. They seem quite determined that this is in the best interests of their children, that starting with a new language a year after starting school is too difficult.

Now, it may just be that I went through the French Immersion system (without a year of JK to acclimatize me to school) in Qebec and think I turned out pretty well. Or that I lived in a country where kids learn 4 languages before they finish high school - and quite often have others at home. I'm not claiming they speak all perfectly, but I find this a wee bit short-sighted, this English only idea.

I admit - I have done no research on the effects of a second language at the age of 5. But what I have noticed since we've been home? Ottawa is really REALLY French now.

Ottawa, as our Nation's Capital, is home to most of the Federal Government. You can't throw a rock down the street without hitting a federal employee - they are the largest employer by far in this town. And as a county we have 2 official languages, French and English. So all those federal employees? Should be able to speak both.

I've heard lots of civil servants complaining (in the 8 months I've been home) about how they are getting passed over for jobs because they don't speak French. Or that they can't pass the French tests to get the right combination of letters on their profile. Since Marc's been working for DFAIT it seems like half the government is going off on intensive French training. Weeks on end (usually in Quebec City, that's rough) to perfect their French.

I've been thinking that given the need for French that by the time my kids are looking for employment they will need a 3rd language to set them apart. French won't be the bonus it was for me when I went out into the work force. I was all for Stu taking German lessons Saturday morning to hang on to any Germanic language structure he has in his head. He didn't see things quite the same way.

People are hesitant to put their kids in if they don't speak perfect French themselves. How will they help them learn? they say. Middle Immersion will be soon enough I am hearing.

This confuses me. They're worried about not being able to help their kids deal with learning French in Senior Kindergarten, when they're learning things like simple vocabulary and basic math. That stuff is just too hard.

No, it's a much better idea to start it when they are starting Grade 4. When they can help with homework - oh wait, probably not.

I know, my opinion is weighted by my bilingualism. It's "easy" for me. But why is it easy for me? Because I started to learn French before I realized that school can be hard.

It just seems to me that this attitude, in this pretty little small minded town, is indicative of some of what is wrong in this country.

Come on people, it's a language.

Okay, here's me, getting off my soap box now.

6th sense

2008-04-23T12:48:00.002-04:00

Julia has had all day to go to the bathroom. It is now 12:48 and she has been up for 5 1/2 hours.

But she has chosen now, now when we need to leave for nursery school and an appointment for me (I rarely have appointments) to do her business.

I am down here typing instead of hovering, instead of giving her some sort of complex about the toilet.

Because I am frustrated. It's been one of those mornings, the ones where getting her anywhere is like dragging a small (or not so small) dog on a leash when it doesn't want to go for a walk.

And the talking. The TALKING. Non stop. Sans cesse! Elle n'arrete pas!!

Her beautiful little voice? Is making me crazy today.

Maybe it's because she's barking orders at me and demanding every second of my attention.

And now that I have vented I will go upstairs and be sweet, loving, nurturing... and try to get her off the toilet.

How glamorous my life has become ;-)

Happy Birthday to me

2008-04-17T00:17:00.002-04:00

I should be asleep (as it is after midnight) but I find that birthdays get you thinking.

Thinking about life, where you are, where you were this time last year, the year before, 5 years ago.

Last year? Marc was in Seville and the kids and I had a lovely evening on the terrasse of the Pizza Hut on Route d'Arlon. It was unseasonably hot and I was in a sleeveless dress. My good friend Edith came over afterwards and we sat out on the huge balcony off our bedroom and drank wine. It was a good birthday, with the exception of the absent husband.

2 years ago? Hmmm. Not so clear (terrible I know, it was a stressful time at work).

3 years ago? My mum was over and Marc and I went - sans enfants for the first time since Stu was born - for an overnight trip to Troyes in the Champagne region. Stayed in a beautiful old hotel, visited some champagne cellars, stumbled upon Rembrant's studio (at his summer house) quite by chance.

4 years ago we did the mailrun up to the base at GK to get the mail. I was 8 months pregnant with Julia and thought I would never get out of the car by the end of the trip.

5 years ago we had the best aupair in the world living with us.

6 years ago? I took my friend Jenny to Belgium to sign the plans for her new house while her husband was out of town. Then we went to Puccinella's for lunch. The house turned out amazing.

7 years ago? In Vienna, suffering from morning sickness and very disappointed that it was snowing on Easter weekend. If you haven't heard it already ask Marc sometime about our asparagus risotto incident.

8 years ago I was in Amsterdam, staying in a sweet little hotel and crying in my wine at an Irish pub (they really are everywhere) because I was turning 30 and I had no job, no friends and it wasn't exactly where I thought I would be in life. The move to Luxembourg was a little hard on me. Of course looking back now I see how foolish I was, so free. What I wouldn't give today for 2 nights in Amsterdam with Marc, some croquettes and a couple of dishes of poffertjes!

Today (or rather yesterday, since I am being nocturnal)was good. My mum came on Tuesday. The morning started with Marc wishing me Happy Birthday and me burying my head under the pillow (my body seems to think I am on pacific time). Stu then came bounding up the stairs to give me my present. We got up, got ready. Julia was fast asleep but came thumping down the stairs and demanded "What time is it??" (she was still half asleep) and when she found out it was morning grinned and thrust my present at me.

I got some lovely gifts - another Tudor book to fuel my obsession, some great paper goods to help make keeping track of those household jobs easier (poor Marc!), an adorable raincoat, and... a pink iPod.

My mum and I spent some lovely time in the Glebe in the sun, and tomorrow we are heading to the Canal Ritz (thanks to my stepdad) to have a girlie lunch while Stu is at school and Jools has a playdate - so we're stretching things out.

And now I have 2 minutes of battery on this laptop so I must stop rambling...

Spring has sprung

2008-04-14T18:16:00.002-04:00

Saturday Marc went out to pick up a new barbecue. It's very handsome (far too masculine to be pretty) and I am suitably intimidated by it.

He is out there now, grilling up some steak for us, burgers for the kids A whole other post would be "How the barbecue got my kids to eat!!" because last night for dinner? Stuart had two hamburgers, Julia a whole one. Thick ones to boot. Seriously. I sense a lot of grilling in our lives.

The barbecue is still in the garage as the backyard is still under about 4 feet of snow. But he's out there in the driveway, kids playing on the snow banks.

Ah there's nothing like the smell of sweet spring... barbecues...

A-ha moment

2008-04-09T22:26:00.002-04:00

Overheard in our house this evening:

Me: "Harumph umph urgle schnoo"

Marc: "Julia, why is your Groovy Girl in Mummy's face? She can't talk."

Julia: "Because she LOVES Mama SOOOOOO MUCH. She's giving her kisses. Mama, I love you, kiss kiss kiss."

Me: "I'm going to have an extra large uterus installed. With doors" (hand gesture to indicate doors swinging freely) "so they can climb back in whenever they want. I give up."

Marc: "Kind of like a Kangaroo pouch?"

Me: "That's IT! Our children are marsupials!!!"

I am so glad they love me. Really. I'm just a little concerned some days that they will smother me (literally) in my sleep.

he said/she said

2008-04-07T17:48:00.003-04:00

I have a happy post in my head. About Spring, and friends, and family.

But it can't get to you, can't get out of my head, because I am busying listening to the duelling offspring that are my adored babies.

She said she doesn't love me...

He said I can't go in his room...

All in a pitch that is making neighbourhood dogs curl up under a large piece of furniture and whimper.

I have had a few days lately when I've thought "I can't do this." The whole stay at home mother thing.

Not that I have delusions that they wouldn't do it if I worked.

I just wouldn't have to hear it all the live long day.

60 minutes

2008-03-31T08:39:00.002-04:00

On Saturday at 8 pm we took an hour and turned everything off in the house.

We came late to the idea (I had no idea it was Earth Hour until 5 pm) and we weren't exactly ready for it, so as Marc was out buying season one of the Tudors (yes, the obsession runs deep) the kids and I ran around unplugging things or turning off power bars.

Then we lit some candles - 8 to 9 pm is bedtime in our house. We read bedtime stories by candlelight. Made animal shapes on the walls. And talked about the earth and things we can do to help protect it.

I suggested that we do this more than once a year. Marc thought once a month was good. Stu however decided that it really wasn't - according to him we need to do it once a week.

So, we will be unplugging once a week.

You go my young environmentalist.

I would post but...

2008-03-27T22:30:00.002-04:00

I am busy reading "The Other Boleyn Girl" with what I can only describe as an obsessive interest.

Marc brought it home from D.C. last week - purchased at the Borders (hello Lisa! made me think of you!) in the airport, and he had read 100 pages on the plane.

We've been reading it in turns - well more like I read it when he's not home. Or when he watches movies I have rented for him.

While making dinner tonight (shepherds pie) I caught myself wondering how I could read and cook at the same time. Peeling potatoes while reading? Not easy.

Tonight? He's gone out virtual golfing (or whatever it's called).

My first thought?

I get the book.

Seen on the back of a car

2008-03-24T19:27:00.002-04:00

Bumper sticker reading:

IF IT'S NOT FUN, WHY DO IT??

Hmmmm.

Maybe not to be applied to everything in life, but certainly needs some consideration in mine.

An airport is an airport

2008-03-21T19:08:00.002-04:00

The kids and I went to pick Marc up at the airport today. On our way there I realized I hadn't been in the Ottawa airport for almost 9 years, and that I had no idea where anything was, or what the airport looked like.

Well turns out the airport hasn't been waiting for me to come back and visit... it's had a huge facelift and - well - does not resemble the airport I left from on my honeymoon in the least.

I was saying to the kids that I am far more familiar with the Brussels airport, and Montreal when we pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. And I was hit with a sense of being just about anywhere.

Do all airports look the same these days? Huge, impersonal? We could have been nearly anywhere (except Luxembourg, with it's teeny tiny airport... I wonder how the construction is going on the new terminal...)

And on another note I took Marc from the airport to a clinic. Actually I took him to 3 clinics, but the first two were closed even though their opening hours said they should be open.

Verdict? He has a sinus infection. Poor love, he looks and sounds awful. Stuart has perked up considerably, but Julia is still a pitiful sight. She has not eaten all day (luckily she is drinking) and thrown up her Tylenol twice. Or is it 3 times? I am so lost at this point.

Looks like Easter Dinner at my house might be a no go.

Bummer. Oh well, there's always next year!

Things not to do on a Friday night

2008-03-20T22:16:00.006-04:00

Looking for something to do on a Friday night? Here's what I would advise against:

- check your sleeping preschooler's temperature at 5:20 pm. Realize it's 40.1C (or 104 F) and call telehealth.
- while waiting for the nurse from telehealth to call you back google high temperatures.
- spend 20 minutes on the phone with telehealth only to be told when she hears your daughter's cough through the phone that you need to get her to a clinic. Luckily the telehealth nurse is really nice.
- throw together a few things for a long wait at the clinic and get the kids in the car.
- get to the clinic and listen to the nurse tell you the wait is on average 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Worry that contents of bag will not suffice.
- spend the better part of two hours on a vinyl chair with a 40lb preschooler who is burning up with fever draped over you.
- stand and be glad that you are wearing dark coloured cotton because you are soaking wet.
- have both your children check by the very very nice doctor, who proclaims that Julia has mild strep and is bordering on pneumonia and that Stuart (you know, the one you thought was better) has strep as well.
- Feel like a completely incompetent mother for having such sick children. Feel free to insert this step at any point in the evening, preferably repeatedly.
- take the kids and their prescriptions to Wal-Mart (something you have never done before and will never do again) because you figure that you can treat them to cruising the toy aisles in the cart while you wait for their prescriptions, which is better than pulling them off the aisles at the pharmacy.
- try not to cry when you see the millions of people in Wal-Mart the night before Good Friday (because the store is actually closing for a day - what ever will they do??)
- hand in the prescription and be impressed when she tells you to come back for it in 35 minutes. (You will regret this)
- cruise the aisles, pick up some milk and some impulse storage (if that is one of your weaknesses, otherwise feel free to substitute with something more appropriate.)
- head back to the pharmacy counter to have the woman laugh out loud when you ask for your prescription.
- cruise some more and be horribly horribly aware that the people who are in your Wal-Mart at this time of day are not people you would want to meet anywhere else and realize that you may be a snob.
- realize that you are now sweating profusely and that taking off your clothes in Wal-Mart is not an option.
- finally get your prescription 1 hour and 20 minutes after you drop it off.
- try not to scream when they tell you that you now need to wait for "counselling" from the pharmacist (how hard is 2 tsp a day????) despite the fact that it is now after 9pm and you have a screaming, sick 3 year old in your cart.
- make a valiant effort not to club the pharmacist when he knows nothing about the medication, and is muttering so bad that you are trying to coax out of him if the medication is to be taken BEFORE or AFTER a meal and he keeps muttering something that could be with or without (I am usually very open minded about people of different ethnic origin than I am. But tonight his manner and the fact that his English was not good was nearly a breaking point).
- tell children you will not be waiting in line to buy the things in your cart because it's a zoo.
- concede to stand in line for the Fairy Book and Marvel Comics you have agreed to buy.
- jam your hand in the cart while putting in storage thingy, and completely bend ring from Greece into your finger.
- get kids back in car, head home.
- try not to say "Oh S___! It's garbage night!!" at the top of your lungs when heading down your street and doing the slalom between the garbage bags (since we still have a barely passable street)
- bribe children with special treats to fill their tummies so you can force horrid medicine down their throats.
- DON'T think "well at least no one has thrown up"
- clean up vomit that showed up about 2 minutes after the above thought that you should never have had.
- get medicine in them
- put them in the bath
- type a blog when you should be attending their every need (you are however perched on the toilet typing).
- hope that today will soon be over.

and last but not least - Realize that it's not even Friday. You can't even get the title of your post right.

yeah, not so much

2008-03-18T10:17:00.003-04:00

I had the foolish idea that the kids would give me a few minutes to blog.

Yeah, not so much.

We have survived March Break (even had a nice time) and are now living through the flu. Poor Stu had a fever that knocked him out from Friday afternoon until this morning.

And yes, he is still home. He is not eating, I didn't think it was necessary - for anything other than my sanity - to sent him back until tomorrow.

You know, since my sanity isn't really an issue. Just a figment of my imagination. Like an imaginary friend... hey, there's a thought, I can have "pre-kids Tracy" as my imaginary friend.

I have to go now. Stu, while too sick to go to school, is not too sick to torment his sister. Julia, who is not yet sick, is working her way up on the fever meter and is cranky.

They have a plan my kids. I bet if I were to ransack Stu's room I would find some complicated calculations on when he had to pass the germs to Julia in order to have their illnesses fall one after the other (without a break for sleeping for SDP - Sleep Deprived Mum) without actually overlapping.

This morning he even licked his hand and dragged it across my cheek (why??? I have NO clue??). I admit I recoiled and asked him not to give me his germs. Since Dad's away and if Mum comes down with it who will cook dinner etc etc etc. He had the decency to look appalled at the thought of me ill. I could see his plans for world domination by means of the flu virus falling apart before his eyes.

Of course I didn't mention my aching head and my conviction that someone is sticking a knife into my ear a couple of times an hour when I am not paying attention.

Marc left at 5:30 on Sunday morning. When he gets home on Friday I am confiscating his passports. Both of them.

Because every time he leaves, they get sick.

And now, I am really going. Because Julia can't possibly blow her nose alone.

I am not alone

2008-03-05T10:53:00.003-05:00

We woke up this morning to more freezing rain and a ton of snow... the wind whips around the corner and builds huge drifts on our driveway. This morning I could barely open my car door.

The roads are awful... I've decided that Julia can miss nursery school because the 15 minute drive will turn into a half hour, or longer.

The woman I deliver the milk with (the woman who does most of the work, getting the milk into bags while I am at reading group with Julia) had the school secretary call to tell me not to come, she would do all the deliveries - bless her!

I love a good snow day (though not in March), but Julia is going non-stop this morning. She's still hanging on to the last bits of her cold, but it's not stopping her from talking, talking, talking...

I escaped to the bathroom (sorry, too much information) for a moment's peace.

But as usual, I was not alone.

I used to laugh at stories of men sequestering themselves in the bathroom... now I understand.

I am longing for Spring, to get out of the house. Let's hope this is the lion of March who will soon give way to the lamb.

And now - I must go and listen to Julia. Because she insists, and I am charmed by her imagination, and she is adorable.

Loud, but adorable.

It's just wrong

2008-03-02T10:20:00.003-05:00

Marc went to see a hockey game while he was in Florida. Panthers vs the Leafs - Leafs won in a shoot out in OT.

In telling us a bit about the game, he told us that - hang on to your seats hockey fans - there were CHEERLEADERS.

Yes, Cheerleaders.

He was sitting next to a guy from Alberta and he turned to ask him "Um, what are those?"

Guy replied shaking his head. "Yeah, they're uh - cheerleaders."

The "Ice Dancers" are the Florida Panthers... cheerleaders.

I admit, I am appalled. This is not what hockey is about to me. It's bad enough that we have pop music blaring now in every arena instead of the good old organ and Stompin' Tom, but cheerleaders? In itty bitty outfits - Hello?? Hockey arenas are supposed to be COLD. You know - the ICE for SKATING and all? And gold pom poms?? What the...?

Let me share with you "5 Things you should know about Melanie" (one of the Ice Dancers in high heeled white patent leather boots):

1) Melanie is a huge sports fanatic. She loves football, basketball, NASCAR and of course, hockey! (My comments - wow! I bet if she could be a football or basketball cheerleader she'd forget she ever saw a hockey game. And is NASCAR really a sport?)

2) She loves to travel. She has been to dozens of countries and hopes to travel even more. (My comment : has she been to Canada? Where you need to wear CLOTHES and sip Timmy's at hockey games?)

3) She grew up in a small Texas town - playing hide and seek in the corn fields and catching tadpoles in the creek. (What can I say? She caught tadpoles! Wow! Now shake your booty honey! Keep those hockey fans in the arena until the end of the game!)

4) Even though she's from Texas she has a talent that you wouldn't think a Texas girl would have. She can snow ski! She's been skiing since she could walk and she can ski down pretty much anything! (my comments - phew - I am so glad they explained that she skis DOWN things! I was scared she'd been cross country skiing through the cornfields or something. As for the skiing down anything - how about the side of the arena? The Empire State building? Has she skied down the Eifel Tower in her travels to dozens of countries? Oh. She means she can ski down just about any SLOPE... duh, silly me.)

5) A quote she lives by is - "Live life to the fullest, with no regrets!" (I have no comment. I am too mesmerized by her Fake & Bake tan and sparkling white teeth.)

Have I mentioned I am appalled. Yup, I guess I have.

Cathie - even you must want the Leafs to win against a team with cheerleaders!

Watching for headlights

2008-03-01T17:46:00.002-05:00

Marc is on his way home from the airport. He called, he is back in Ottawa after a much delayed flight. Thankfully it was a direct flight. We've had too many trips that ended with delays resulting in missed connecting flights.

It has been snowing here all day. The driveway is ridiculous again. The road that they finally cleared on Thursday - so that is was actually wide enough to drive down - has been plowed again and guess what? You can hardly tell they took away truck loads of snow 2 days ago. Poor Marc coming back to this.

We went to A's birthday party - so good to get out of the house. Though I must ask - do girls birthday parties have a whiny pitch? My poor head... there was one little girl who sat there making a high pitch noise the entire time she played. Her mother seemed oblivious.

When we got home the plow had been by. I cringed at the mounds of snow in our neighbours driveways as I came down the road. Miraculously ours was empty.

Johnny from next door had cleaned it for me. He's awesome. I am so glad we sent him cake the other day.

Right now life looks pretty good. Now where's that taxi?

A-ha moment

2008-02-28T23:29:00.002-05:00

Earlier this evening, when changing yet another roll of toilet paper, it dawned on me where all the TP is going.

They're on to me and my Jessica Seinfeld cookbook.

And are eating toilet paper instead.

It explains the ability to exist on a marshmallow and a juice box for days on end - even though served with lovingly prepared, nutritious meals.

Ha! They just think they've won! Wait till I make my own toilet paper with vegetables... nyahahahaha!

(Do you think I might be taking this whole healthy eating thing too far? Or maybe that I just need to go to bed?)

Cracking

2008-02-28T19:30:00.002-05:00

I am blogging for my sanity at this moment in time.

Marc left for Fort Lauderdale at 5:30 on Sunday morning. Right now I still have 46.5 hours until he gets back.

Julia has been sick all week. Not the kind of sick where she does something productive like SLEEP, but the kind where I know she feels like crap. Hard not to when she's stuck on whine/cry/produce vast quantities of snot/whine/cry setting.

How's Stu you ask? Well he's taking his future career as a police informer very seriously. He tells on EVERYTHING. I get to hear every minute detail of her every infraction. While I was typing this he opened the basement door and shouted "Mum SHE..." to which I bellowed "GO UPSTAIRS!! I WILL BE UP IN TWO MINUTES!" Je continued to talk, just louder. Because that will change my mind.

Julia just opened the door to tell me Stuart desperately needs me. Yeesh. I would count how many hours it has been since I had a moment of SILENCE, but it would depress me. Night-time? you ask, Surely you must get a break.

Oh no. Nights are for coughing, waking up and screaming the house down because we didn't have desert 8 hours before (Julia) and nightmares (Stu) that mean we have to sleep on our mother.

I was fine until this aft... coasting along through this lo-o-o-o-o-ng week, thinking we were doing fine.

Then BOOM - I hit pissed off. Fed up.

I would tell you more but my son is apparently writing in pain. And my daughter has told me so 3 times.

I'm going to have to add a donate button for their future therapy