Romance Novels?!

On a side note I would like to tell my friend with whom I had hoped to spend the eve of the new year this: I was being selfish. Forgive me. The universe was looking out for us because really what I needed to do was stay home, listen to Pink Floyd, and write just as you needed to do what you did.

I was an avid reader growing up. I taught myself how to read the summer before grade one. I remember I was learning with the book: Are you my Mother? I kept asking my mom what sound an i makes. But then I read it. My second book was Fun with Dick and Jane. Really. Fun with Dick and Jane.

My mom always read to me when I was little. I don't remember her reading story books but she did read Charlotte's Web, Little Women and the first three of the Anne of Green Gables books. I loved reading. I loved being able to escape into a book and live somewhere totally made up. After my mother's initial 'introducing me to literature', she did not follow through by making sure there were good books for me to read. There should have been books at my fingertips that she provided that were interesting, educational, funny, sad, poignant, and lots more things.But there were not.

I don't know when it started, but I started reading romance novels. Danielle Steele, Harlequin Romances, and literally hundreds of teen romance novels. I spent all my money on buying them, had a huge collection of them. I read some good books interspersed, but I always came back to the romance novels. I know how cheesy they are. I know that things don't always work out in the end (or maybe they do and I just haven't come to the end yet) but I still read the books. Once, just once, I would like it to end in tragedy, but somewhere I don't expect it, like in a Harlequin. I think I like to be surprised. But only in the safety of a book as I've had quite enough of it in real life.

I like lots of different kinds of books now, mystery, courtroom drama, weird, biographical, 'literature', religious books, pretty much anything someone puts in front of me. If it grabs me pretty close to right away then I will read it. Otherwise I put it down and take another. There are so many amazing books out there that I'm not going to waste my time on bad ones. I'd rather not write a book at all than write a bad one. Or a poorly edited one - what's that all about? How does that even happen? Typos and grammatical errors, and it's been edited by a professional 'editor'. I'm sure I have mistakes in here, but guess what? I edit very briefly - once. So please forgive me my imperfections.

I am reading a book right now that was given to me by two incredible people who I just was lucky enough to hang out with in Toronto, C&A. It is called Spat the Dummy, written by Ed MacDonald. It is hilarious. I started reading it yesterday and have only put it down when I have to. It's funny, honest, aggressive, and so many other adjectives. You should read it and then you can come with some adjectives of your own. I knew by the title that I was going to like it and loved it by page 10. Please - read it! You'll never look back.

I spent several days in Toronto without the kids. All I did was hang out with people I love. I didn't get to see my sister and her family as much as I would have liked, and I didn't get to Kitchener to see another friend, but I used up the time I had resting, talking, laughing, visiting. My friend L who I stayed with and I had an 8 hour therapy session with each other the first day and it went from there. I love my friends and family in Toronto. I wish I could merge my life here with my people there. That would be the best of both worlds! For Real.

Boils?!

I ordered in Chinese tonight. A wanted chicken chow mein, one of her favourites that she has not had in quite a while, and I can always go for some Chinese food. I called the place I usually order from and after being on hold for 7 minutes decided to try somewhere else. Big Mistake. The food took almost an hour and a half to get here. By the time it did, A had pretty much eaten dinner in the form of snacks (probably healthier than the chow mein anyway, but not the point). The chow mein had no flavour and was so greasy that soy sauce balled up on it. The hot and sour soup was pink. Pink. The unnatural kind of pink that used to be on Elephant Pink Popcorn. The spring rolls were soggy, cold, and had curry in them. I threw everything in the garbage. Sad but true. So what I'm basically saying is don't order food from The Oriental Pearl on Marion. It sucks.

I was emailing with my friend J in Toronto yesterday. She said that she read about my flood with her jaw on the floor. She wrote: What's next? Locusts? To which I replied: I know, I just keep waiting for the boils to appear. Well - wait no longer!

The other day I was getting dressed to go to a party when I noticed something wet on my stomach. I looked down and saw that where I had been rubbing the skin was coming off. And the skin just kept peeling and peeling. Until the spot without skin was about the size of a toonie. Bigger, actually, and it was red about two inches around the patch of sloughed off skin.

I have to admit that it freaked me out more than a bit. I had no idea what could have possibly caused it. I mean, because it started out like a blister I thought that it would have most likely been a burn, but don't you think that if I got a burn bad enough to blister, I would have felt it?

Later that day, when I was peeling off the band aid that I had put on it, I was so thankful that I couldn't feel the band aid coming off the skin (because it pulled more skin off with it)(Gross!). And then I realized that the burn is in an area where I have no feeling because the nerve endings were damaged when I had stomach surgery. So of course I didn't feel the burn. Which is why I got such a bad one. Now that I think back, I fell asleep one night with the heating pad on. And now I know that it is possible to get very badly burned by a heating pad. Especially when you can't feel your skin burning to the point of blistering...

I have been changing the dressing every morning and night. I was told to keep it dry, so I didn't put anything on it. Then last night when I changed the bandage there was some greenish yellow discharge on it, so I put polysporin on it. Today it wasn't any better. I looked at the expiry date and it expired in April of 2007, so it probably didn't have that much punch left in it. I bought a new tube today, put it on the raw open wound and am hoping that when I change the dressing in the morning that there is no longer any sign of infection. If there is then I will go to the doctor. It would be pretty ridiculous not to. I am not suicidal, and if I was, killing myself by infected three inch burn would be a pretty stupid and slow way to do it...

So: I have had a fire, flood, blistering burn... That's three. Perhaps it will now end and good things can happen. How amazing would that be?!

Here... fishy fishy fishy

A has been asking for a fish for Chanukah. That's all she's been talking about, fish this and fish that. So I decided to get her a fish but to give it to her on the last night of Chanukah, which was a week ago, Wednesday the 8th.

That same day I got up in the morning and had nothing to wear that made me feel good about myself. I realized that had been happening a lot and I thought back to that post I wrote about my being fine with the fact that I'm fat because I make sure I have nice things to wear that fit properly so I can feel good about myself. And I didn't have those things and was not feeling good about myself so I decided to go shopping. I took the day off work so I could clothes shop for myself and then buy fish for the kids and get everything home and set up before I picked the kids up.

I know this is going to be hard to believe, but things did not go exactly as planned... I went clothes shopping and essentially bought the basics of a new wardrobe. Two pairs of dressy (and comfy) pants and seven shirts. All things that make me look and feel good and are nice enough to wear to work.

I needed to pick up a few random things and wanted to get a fish bowl (because back in the day when I was a kid, we kept goldfish in a fishbowl in plain old tapwater. Apparently it doesn't work like that anymore...) so I went to the devil store (WalMart). I usually try to shop Zellers because it's Canadian but the devil store was closer and much bigger so it was there I went. I picked up the odds and ends I was looking for and then found the pet section. It's really not a pet section as they don't sell any pets there, rather it is a pet paraphernalia section and I figured that I could get the basics there and then head to a pet store to get the actual fish.

Have you looked at buying fish lately? Yes, there are still fishbowls but there are so many other things. And there were all kinds of water conditioner that each worked best for different kinds of fish because they can't live in tapwater. And different kinds of food for each kind of fish. And even special tanks/bowls/containers for different kinds of fish. The last time I had fish was at least 30 years ago. I guess our tap water was more 'natural' then, because our fish lived just fine in it. We cleaned the bowl about once a week and all was well. I say that loosely because once when my brother, M, was cleaning the fishbowl, he filled a jar of water to put the fish in while he cleaned the bowl. He realized the water in the jar was too hot so he dumped it out and put in cooler water. He then put the fish in, the fish swam into the side of the jar and died as soon as he touched the hot glass... We also had guppies (where have all the guppies gone?) that sometimes jumped out of the jar and went down the drain. Hmmmmm, since then I have seen Finding Nemo and I wonder now if they were following the adage: All drains lead to the ocean. Not these drains, fishies!

Anyway, I was so confused so instead of buying any of the fish stuff there I went to Petland. I figured they could set me up with something pretty basic. Was I ever surprised when the only goldfish they had were 'feeder fish' and they said they wouldn't be good pets. What?! Fish are never good pets.Except Mexican Walking Fish. Looking back, I can't believe I listened to them. But listen to them I did which is why about 20 minutes later I walked out with $60 worth of fish and equipment. Of course I had to buy two fish because if A had one then Z needed one. That was one fight not worth having. And I bought betta fish - you know, the ones that have to live in separate tanks or they will kill each other? Not so unlike kids...

I do have to add that the pet store really freaked me out. I like animals well enough. And I like fish. I have snorkeled and let them nibble on me and had no problem with it. But all of those fish in all of those tanks... and these betta fish each in it's own little bowl ... I was so disgusted by all of it that I couldn't even pick the fish out. I just had the girl pick them for me, looking at them made me queasy and uneasy. For some reason the whole ordeal completely disgusted me.

It was about -10 Celcius that day. At the store they told me that I could only keep the fish in the bags for about an hour and that they could not be in the car without the car running and warm for more than a few minutes. I still had to pick up Z at daycare and A at my Mom's. So I drove to get Z, rushed him into the car and got stuck in traffic getting to A. My hour was dwindling quickly. I knew that I could not leave the fish in the car for more than a few minutes because they would freeze, so I called ahead and A was ready for me when I got to my Mom's so we didn't have to go in. Because we would have been way longer than a few minutes.

We got home, I had about 5 minutes left of my hour so I knew I had to hustle. I got the kids out of the car, got all the bags out of the back (all the clothes, odds and ends, fish, and fish tanks, A's backpack and my purse and computer bag) and managed to get everything and both kids to the apartment without any major catastrophes. Until I opened the door. To a flood.

A flood!!!! I don't know if I mentioned it but I had a fire about 8 months ago. And with the karma I've had lately I guess I should have expected a flood, really. The kitchen floor had inches of water on it and it all came up through the sink drain. I kept the kids in the hall and called my super from my cell. He came in, said Holy Shit, called a plumber. Meanwhile, I had these fish that were going to die any second if I didn't get them in water. And inasmuch as I wanted to just throw them on the kitchen floor and let them swim around there, I held back.

Did I mention that the fish were a surprise? So I got the kids in front of the tv with instructions to not get off the couch No Matter What. Went to my bathroom where there is thankfully lots of counter space, and started reading the instructions for these betta tanks. (They call them tanks but they are really just plastic containers with air holes) I had to put the decorative rocks in the tank, suction the tree down (although I didn't read that part so I put the rocks and water in first and then sort of buried the suction cup thing under the rocks. One of the trees is floating around) then I had to get the right temperature water in the tanks. The girl (she was very young so I can call her a , right? Or am I getting old?) told me that the water should be a bit cooler than room temperature. The instructions told me it should be lukewarm. I settled for room temp. I put opened up the tops of the fishbags and put each bag into a tank to acclimatize the water so the poor fish wouldn't be shocked by a water temp change.

This sounds like it may have not taken very long. But please remember that while I was doing it I had to keep the kids from going into the kitchen, discovered that the carpet was soaked through in some places, answer questions the plumber asked and get my head around the fact that my place was flooded. So - I finally get the fish in the water, they are still alive, and I bring the kids in. A took one look at her fish (which is purple and blue and very pretty) and said, in a disgusted and horrified voice: I don't want a fish anymore, Mommy.

Now, I admit that I swear in front of my kids, but I do not swear at them. I heard her say it, looked at her and growled: Are you fucking kidding me? I was So Angry. But I had no time to really dwell on it because at that point the carpet guy was there and I had to figure out where we were going to sleep that night since it couldn't be at home. The plumber had no idea how long things were going to take and the noise from the plumber's shop vac was scaring the kids. So I called my Mom, packed a bag, and took the kids to her house.

The long and short of it is that we were out of the house for two nights which sucked but really, it could have been so much worse. None of us got sick from breathing in the fumes from gray water, nothing got destroyed that was irreplaceable.

A likes her fish now. She named it Goldie. Z originally named his Chocolate Chip, which I think is a fabulous name for a fish, but changed it to Goldie when he heard A's name. Z and I have discussed it quite explicitly and he knows that he is not allowed to touch, play with, or eat his fish. He can show it things, talk to it and sing to it, which he does. He really enjoys showing his fish playing cards. So he plays cards with his fish while A and I play fish with some cards...

Stop Yelling!

I am so tired of yelling. Of mine and of A's. There are so many things she says and does that reflect on me in a such a great way, like when she speaks kindly and I hear my words coming back to me. But then I hear her yelling and know that came from me as well.

Yesterday was not a great day here at one point. A splashed water all over me during bathtime and I got Mad because I have told her so many times not to. And I mean soaked my clothes, not just a light spray of water. And I yelled at her, ended the kids' bath, got them lotioned, dressed and put on their current favourite movie Lilo and Stitch and then I gave myself a time out.

I went to my room and lay down on the bed. A started yelling to me to get something for her and I ignored her (that's one my things now - when she tells me to do something for her by yelling from another room I completely ignore her. If she comes up to me and tells me to do something I have her re-phrase it into a polite request). She came into my room and told me again so I told her that I was in a time out and that I wasn't allowed out of my room yet. I told her that I would let her know when I was and that she could ask me for what she wanted then.

She left and I lay there thinking: Do I get to have one minute of time out for every year old I am? Do I get a time out for 39 minutes? Because that would Rock! I would love to not be allowed out of my room for 39 minutes when I was behaving badly. That is actually enough time to rest, relax, calm down, and re-assess what's really bothering me. Because in all reality the kids' behaviour isn't that bad. I obviously am very high strung right now and it is affecting me pretty intensely. Stress is unbelievably grating and time outs are a wonderful stress reliever. Now that I know how necessary they are to re-group I am going to start using them more. But I will send the kids to their room, not make them sit in a chair in the same room they lost it. Being removed from the situation is really the best way to deal with it, in my opinion.

I told A and Z that there will not be yelling allowed anymore. That if I yell then I get a time out (they need to tell me when I'm yelling in case I don't realize myself) and same goes for them. I'm also taking more deep breaths. It seems to help ground me.

Speaking of grounding me, I have this friend I haven't been hanging out with much lately and we saw each other again the other day. I realized that this person grounds me and helps me find my way back to myself so quickly and easily. One of the reasons I have been so stressed is because I am feeling the void in my life. It's unreal how someone else's energy can be so healing, calming.

On the flip side, when I lived in Toronto I had a friend who I worked with who made me so crazy irritated all the time but I really liked being with him. He made me so nuts that I would sometimes have to leave the restaurant, room, wherever we were because he was making me so mad/crazy/irritated/. He brought out this passion in me that was not the kind of passion we read about. It was raw passion, nothing to do with desire, sex, anything like that. And being with him made me feel so alive. That's how this friendship is, but it's healing, not crazy-making. 

I'm working through it. I'm going to take you all with me. I left you behind for a bit but I like having you all to answer to. It forces me to actually do the work and become the best me I can be. And really - isn't that the whole point?

So ashamed...

I am so ashamed of myself. I stopped blogging. And that means that I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing and what was going on around me. Not a good way to be. For me, anyway. So here I am...

A lot of what has been happening in the past few weeks is not bloggable at this point. Either because legally I shouldn't be talking about it, or emotionally I don't want to deal with it and am not ready to share it. Suffice it to say that I thought my divorce from x was going to be clean and easy. Before we got married we discussed how we felt about marriage. We agreed that we would work through everything except four things:

1. Cheating
2. Abuse (emotional or physical)
3. Religion (If one of us joined a cult and became fervently religious in a way that wasn't agreeable)
4. Mental Incapacitation (though accident or disease)

If any of these four things occurred, the other person was allowed to walk away and not look back. They were immediate grounds for divorce if the non-offending party wanted that. Except in #4 you had to make sure the other person was taken care of properly.

Well, one of those four things happened and so, according to our agreement, divorce should simply be accepted by the offending person. Well, he's not making it easy. And unfortunately that's all I can say about it right now because this, as the other major thing in my life that I would like to be writing about, are open court cases and I can't discuss them.

How about if I write about parenting? I have to say that I have so much respect for those parents,single or otherwise, who don't lose their temper and yell at their kids. But really, do those people exist? Kids are irritating. Plain and simple. I know that not everyone feels like this - some people think it's cute and funny when they throw toys all over the place or make a huge mess while they are eating, or ask for something and then after I've made it don't want it anymore and it goes to waste. Those kid-lovers definitely have a leg up when it comes to kids. I, personally, think that so much about how kids are absolutely suck. I'm just not a kid person.

I do like my kids as people, and like them more and more the older they get so that's good. They are funny, smart, kind, silly, focused, interesting and interested. I keep looking at those things and telling myself that the irritating kid things will end. Z will eventually be toilet trained instead of giving an adamant NO when I ask if he wants to try the potty. A will stop having tantrums about nothing. (probably she won't stop that for many many years but I'm looking Far Ahead to the end of those!) But they won't make huge messes when they eat, they will be able to sit still for longer than 3 minutes, it will be easier to run errands with them because they will be able to get in and out of the car on their own, things like that. And eventually, and I know this is far in the future, they will be able to stay home alone and I will have a little bit more freedom.

I have a very good friend, L. She has two kids and the little one, E, just turned three. E also started at school half days this past September. L cried when 'her baby' went to school. And I said that shows a huge difference between her and I. When my kids are both at school I will be celebrating. I told her it's because she likes her kids more than I like mine. She started to refute that and I stopped her saying that it's true. She likes little kids and finds them cute and funny whereas I find them annoying and irritating. I don't believe she loves her kids more than I love mine, but she digs their antics.

I certainly don't spend all my time yelling at my kids. I play with them, read to them, talk to them, listen to them, take them places, introduce them to new people, places and things. I give them lots of love and kisses and cuddles. I listen to their music (even though I don't like it) and let them watch cartoons, and do knock-knock jokes with them ad nauseum. Do I enjoy it? Sometimes I love it! Other times, not so much.

But I am the one who decided to have these kids and they are my responsibility. And I don't take it lightly. I wish that I was sharing the parenting with another responsible, loving adult. Unfortunately x mis-represented himself in that manner and so it is much better that I am doing this alone than with him. But I really think that kids should have more than one adult who they can go to when they have a problem. Thankfully my kids do have more adults than just me. They have my parents who they see frequently, they have K who is our respite worker and one of the best gifts the universe has ever provided to us. They have aunts and uncles, teachers and a day-care mom. So they aren't lacking for adults but I seem to be lacking for adults. I guess I have spent more time making sure their needs are being taken care of than mine. Which stands to reason since one of the things I really have to learn better is how to take care of myself. 

 Yesterday Z went into my room, came out and handed me a book on Taoist Meditation: Methods for Cultivating a Healthy Mind and Body. I have no idea how he got it because he would have had to climb over a bunch of furniture to my windowsill to get it but he was only in there for about 15 seconds. So I guess he is aware that I need to be taking better care of myself and gave me a tool so I can start. I figure if he is giving me suggestions then the least I can do is read the book...

And so I will begin the journey into Taoist Meditation. I will keep you posted!

Aaaahhhhhhhhh

I spend a lot of my time on this blog when I am very angry and frustrated... Let's talk about today:

The kids and I got up, had breakfast, and they actually played nicely for a really long time and I got in over four hours of work done. I promised to have a project done by Monday and didn't realize how long it was actually going to take. Then we went to the park and played (it is only 0 degrees celcius here which is Incredible for Winnipeg in November!) came home and we are watching the original Flipper movie from 1963. A is loving it and Z is playing with his trains. And they are both Behaving! And being sweet and lovely. The house has been clean for over 24 hours, and I am enjoying my children.

I just wanted to let you all know that there are good times with them. At four and two years old, those good times are few and far between, but I am going to enjoy every minute of them when they happen.

On that note: I am off to enjoy my children for as long as it may last!

#@*!# Kids

Let me tell you something about kids. They suck. They are selfish little creatures who make messes, throw things all over the place, ruin furniture, scream, yell, tantrum, and overall are complete a**holes. Does it sound like I'm having a rough night? Because I am. I don't know why anyone thinks it's a good idea to have kids.

When I started with a new therapist a few years ago we were talking about my life and she asked me if I had anything in my life that validated me. I said that I have my kids. She said that kids are probably one of the most invalidating things we can have in our lives. And I agree. Completely. No matter what I do, it's wrong. I send the wrong food in A's lunch so she doesn't eat it and then bitches at me about it and wants junk food. When she wants help getting dressed (even though she is four and has been dressing herself quite capably for over a year) I put her shirt on the wrong way and she screams about it. I don't: read them enough stories, let them watch enough tv, let them eat french fries and gravy often enough, give them chocolate before bed, brush her hair gently enough (although if I did it any more gently the brush wouldn't be touching her head). And that's just a few of the things I do wrong on a regular basis.

I am so angry at stupid x for doing this to me. If I had known that I had to do this myself I never would have had them. And I know that I have them now and I have to just do my best and enjoy the good parts. Well, I have a question: What good parts? When do those happen? Not in the morning, not when I drop them off at school and daycare, not when I pick them up. Not at the playground, not when I read to them, not bathtime and certainly not bedtime. When? I want to know. I'm so sick of people saying things like: at least you got those two beautiful kids out of your marriage, it wasn't all bad. Well, to those of you who say those things: You raise them. I am sick and tired of being a mother and of doing it by myself.

If I didn't have so many other reasons to hate x, this single mom thing would take the cake. I need a vacation. You know what someone told me? That when I go to work and am in an office environment, that I should see that as my break. Is that like grocery shopping by myself is "taking time for myself"? What about me? What about what I want to do, and how I want to live. I am fully aware that these kids are my responsibility and believe me, I'm doing the best I can. But apparently that's not good enough for my kids. I just want to shut myself in my room and cry and cry. But you know what? That doesn't get the kitchen clean or lunches made for tomorrow or the laundry done, or clock the extra hours I have to put in at work.

And when someone is kind enough to take the kids for a playdate (you know who I'm talking about Morah N), it's amazing at the time and then as soon as they see me again it's a free-for-all-let's-make-mommy-crazy-and-be-really-mean-to-her. I'm done. I've had it.

Let me tell you all something. Kids suck. They suck the life right out of you. So you'd better have them when you're young and have enough life left that you can have it sucked out and still have some left for you, or make sure you have at least one other person who shares the responsibility of raising them. I remember talking to my sister about having kids at one point. She wasn't sure if she wanted to have any or not. I said to her: the thing about kids is that at the end of the day... they're still there. And while I know deep down inside how lucky I am to have these wonderful shit-head children, I just need a little bit of appreciation, a little bit of positive reinforcement. Any ideas on how to do that?

My friend's dad  died suddenly on the weekend. And I am most likely about to have to say goodbye to someone very important to me. All these endings. I don't even see a crack to make bigger that will take me to a new and wonderful stage in my life. At least I know that everything is just a stage and this too shall pass. It's just that this time I feel so much more broken. Any ideas on how to mend me? I'll take any suggestions out there.

Fishing with a Twist

Once a week my kids spend the afternoon with my dad. They love hanging out with him and he has a great time with them. It's really cool to see how he is with little kids. When I was growing up he wasn't around very much. He worked a lot and he went to the gym almost every day. Until my nephew was born I had no idea how good my dad is with kids. And I love how he is with my kids. He is so silly. If anyone had ever asked me to write a list of qualities my dad has I never would have listed silly because I had no idea. But silly he is. So the kids love spending that afternoon with him once a week.

My dad lives in a condo and there is a rule that you can't throw dirty diapers down the garbage chute, so if Z has a dirty diaper while at my dad's, my dad changes him, puts the diaper in a plastic bag and gives it to me so I can throw it in the garbage bin outside his building.

The other day after I threw the bag in the bin, I unlocked the car and buckled the kids in. When I got in I realized that I had some garbage in the car so I gathered it up, got out of the car and threw it into the bin. And heard a metallic sound when it landed which was strange since I had thrown out a half-full coffee cup and some tissues. And then I realized that I didn't have my keys. And I knew, as I was searching through my pockets and on the ground and in the car that I had thrown them into the bin.

Now when I say garbage bin, I mean it is taller than I am and Huge. I climbed up onto this step-thing that is on the outside of it and could just lean in enough to see inside. There wasn't a ton of garbage and I could see the stuff I'd thrown in. But I couldn't see my keys. There was nothing around that was long enough for me to use to poke through the bags until I found where my keys were, and even if I could see the keys I had no way to get them. I knew that if I climbed into the bin I would never get out. And my kids would be in the car buckled into their car seats, and I would be trapped in a garbage bin. And we would all freeze.

I called my dad from my cell and sheepishly explained what happened. Now I need to point out that I am really careful to not do stupid things. I locked my keys in the car once and felt like an idiot. This was even worse. And I hate feeling stupid especially in front of my dad. For some reason I want him to think that I have it together even though he must know how far that is from the truth. But I couldn't think of any other options other than the freeze to death in the garbage bin scenario. I asked if he had a wire hanger he could bring for me to use. He said he'd be right down.

So I hung out with the kids and waited for my dad. I have to interject here and say that it's a good thing there was no snow and it wasn't ridiculously cold out. Thank you global warming! It felt like a long time but my dad came out of the building holding a swiffer mop handle, a thick string and a huge magnet. He also had a hanger and wire cutters. He essentially McGyvered a fishing rod with a magnet dangling off the end of it. I climbed up the outside of the bin, leaned over the best I could, and poked around in the garbage with the end of the long handle until I could see my keys. Then I fished them out with the magnet. I can't tell you how proud I felt to reel those keys in. It was more exciting than any other fishing I've ever done. Especially because cleaning a set of keys that have been in the garbage is way easier than cleaning a dead fish. And more rewarding (especially since I didn't have another set of keys. How stupid is that?!) ... and I still haven't made another set...

When I held the keys way up in the air like the prize from a champion fight, my dad was so happy. He said: It took me seven minutes but I brought the right tools! It's great having a dad who was a commando in the army. And a mom who was a kindergarten teacher for 35 years. Between the two of them I should be able to McGyver myself out of any sticky situation I ever get into.

Vanuatu

I haven't been blogging much because, as I've mentioned, I use this as a place to rant. And currently the things that set me off into a rant-page are things that involve privacy issues and/or legalities and it would not be prudent for me to release them in the great wilderness of the world wide web.

But recently a blog reader of mine (I have blog readers!) asked me how on earth I ended up in Vanuatu. I started to tell her and then realized that it's a story I've never written down, so now's as good a time as any. So here it is...

When I was in my mid-twenties I was living in Toronto with a room-mate. We'll call him C. He and I were really good friends as well as room-mates and we hung out together quite a bit. We're still really good friends and although distance and circumstance dictate that we don't often get to see each other, or even talk to each other much, he is still one of my most important people and always will be. I went to his wedding last summer and it was the best wedding I've ever been to. And he married the most amazing woman. I love being at a wedding when I actually believe the people tying the knot are right for each other. But I digress...

I had just spent three months in Winnipeg acting as my mom's primary caregiver after she had a double mastectomy, reconstructive surgery and skin grafts. I had quit my job to do that so when I got back to Toronto I was kind of at a loss for what to do. I decided that since life is so short that I should really be living on a beach somewhere instead of living in Toronto. To that end I applied to go to school to learn hotel and resort management. I applied to a school in PEI and I thought that going to school there would be pretty cool and would lead to something that I wanted to do.

It is at this point I will interrupt myself. I thought that hospitality would be a great career for me. I'm a people person, a people pleaser (at least I used to try to please), it would be interesting, fun even. But when it gets down to it I realized that I don't want to spend my time making sure other people are having a good time. My Life kind of falls by the wayside when that's my focus and that is exactly what I need to avoid. I also despise going to school. I know it's great for lots of people and that it can lead to all kinds of wonderful and exciting things, but the fact is that school and I do not get along. (This is all stuff I learned after this experience but here it is for you, in the middle).

I started asking everyone I talked to about their experience with resorts and do they know anyone who has worked at one. C's dad is originally from Australia. When I asked him about it on the phone he said that a girl he grew up with owns a resort in Vanuatu and gave me her email address. So instead of asking her what it's like to run a resort, I asked if she was hiring. I really prefer learning by doing something, not by going to school to learn how to learn to do something. They had just been talking about an assistant manager for the resort so I emailed them a resume, we had a bunch of email interviews, and they said they'd give me a try. So I flew to Australia and hung out with my old bosses from when I sold encyclopedia out there for a few days and then headed out to Vanuatu.

It is absolutely amazing there. So pristine, untouched, Real. People living in huts with the bare basics but there was a tv on almost every block and people would hang outside together watching it. The whole neighborhood would watch together. The market is incredible. All kinds of food I had never heard of, incredible fruits and vegetables. There were coconut crabs which are these HUGE crabs that are really weird looking. And they are called coconut crabs because they eat coconuts. Go figure. There were tiny little kids working next to their mom's, I saw a three year old with a knife cutting the leaves off stems of some vegetable and he was just as fast doing it as she was. The art was so cool. I have pictures of all of it somewhere.

In hindsight I know that they really had nothing to lose. I paid my way there, I worked while I was there, so really they had a win/win situation and I had an opportunity. Some people think that I'm really lucky and that I just happen into things that are exactly right for me at that time. But they are wrong. I Make those things happen. I create opportunities if there is even the slightest hint of a crack there. I find the hidden doors and go through them which leads me to all kinds of experiences. I probably have experienced more to this point in my life than most people ever will.

Well, you all  know how Vanuatu ended. One question I never thought to ask them during all the emailing was: Are you racist? But it really doesn't matter because of course their answer would have been: Racist?! Of course not! And that was one of the many times I've learned that while walking through as many doors as possible may be cool, a lot of them are dead ends. But I can always take the memories of them with me and keep the lessons I've learned. So I keep walking through them. And the only one I've ever entered that I would never enter again is the marriage one. Everything else, as long as it's viable for me and the kids, is a free-for-all. Going through created doors definitely gives me more varied experiences, more positive and definitely more negative ones than I would have otherwise. And other than my lack of financial fortune thus far, it sure works for me.

You're Racist?!

I was at work the other day and an client issue came up. The client happens to be from a very specific ethnic background. In my very extensive experiences with people from this ethnic background I have found that when there is a complaint or issue it needs to be dealt with a certain way or else very bad word of mouth ensues. So I went to my boss and began the conversation like this:

Me: I have to begin this conversation my saying that I am racist.
B (boss) You're what?! You're racist?!
Me: Yes. I'm being honest. I'm racist. And this has been my experience with people of XYZ background...

The shock was amazing. I mean, have you ever heard anyone say that they are racist? No. Most people say: I'm not racist, BUT... Come on now. We're all racist. Or sexist, or ageist, or size-ist, or lots-of-things-ist. Let's be honest about it. Stereotypes are around for a reason, they stem from somewhere. Now I'm not saying that there aren't people who are more open minded than others. And some who are more close minded. I'm just saying that different people react to things and deal with things in different ways. A lot of how we do things come from how we are raised and what we learn. And those of us who have been raised in small ethnic communities often see things in a similar way.

I was giving my cousin's girlfriend a ride to the big city of Winnipeg the other day. She was born and raised in a small town. And does it ever show. I'm sure she's a very nice girl, she just happens to buy into lots and lots of very negative stereotypes. She's also very young, has been sheltered, and has not yet had the opportunity to learn about the world, the amazing range of people in it, and see the beauty in our differences instead of feeling the fear of them.

I have been persecuted for being many different things. For being fat, a woman, smart, short, dark, and Jewish come to mind. And frequently once people get to know me they lose the stereotyping and think of me as a person who happens to also be XY or Z.

I once worked selling encyclopedia in Australia. The company I worked for had people all over the country working. There was a newsletter 'The Bulletin' that went out every week and it had the top sales people on it. I happened to be very good at selling encyclopedia and was on the Bulletin every week. A few months into it I went to a training weekend where all the top people in the company were. Because I was generally the top top sales person every week people knew my name. And every single person, after meeting me face to face, said: I thought you'd be taller. Seriously, Every Single Person said that. And it's probably because in our society we equate height with success. There are studies that show that. Where did that stereotype come from? Who knows, but it exists.

I worked as an assistant manager at a resort in Vanuatu. I lasted less than a week. I have olive skin. I tan very easily and when I'm sick and get pale I have a strong greenish tinge. When I got to Vanuatu I was Canadian Winter White (not white but not Dark). After having spent a few days in the sun over there, I got very dark. One of the resort owners pulled me aside one day and said: You need to stay out of the sun. I asked why. He said that my skin was getting too dark and that if I got much darker they would have to pull me out of management. I asked why. He said: Blacks can't be in management, they're not smart enough. To which I incredulously asked: You mean you actually believe that as my skin gets darker my intelligence level drops? And he said: Yes. And he meant it. Really?! So I quit. There were lots of other reasons for my leaving but really - how could I possibly get past that?! And then I was stuck on the island for another few days because Air Vanuatu had one air plane and it was damaged in a hail storm in Sydney. I did love the island though. I went kayaking every morning and watched the sun rise over the water. I went snorkeling and saw the most amazing ocean life, I climbed a waterfall, I saw amazing things at the markets. It was a phenomenal experience but unfortunately was cut short because of my intolerance for the extreme ignorance I was subjected to.

It has been recently brought to my attention by a blog reader that I generally use this medium to rant. I have to admit I really enjoy that I can. But the things going on right now that I want to rant about all have to do with the legalities of my pending divorce and should really not be put into writing. So I will have to hold off. But rest assured, the rants will begin again. And soon.

Inconvenienced?!

Tuesday morning I dropped my daughter off at school and, instead of taking Z to daycare I kept him with me. It is part of my new routine of making sure  spend one on one time with him. We went grocery shopping and I have been putting it off for a while so it was a pretty big shop. I came home with a trunk full of groceries and Z who has been sick with a cold. Normally when a kid has a cold it's not a big deal, but when Z gets a cold he sometimes ends up in the hospital with breathing issues (although that hasn't happened for quite a while so maybe the fact that he's no longer dealing with the stress of being abused his body can fight the virus harder). I haven't been sleeping great and have been dealing with a huge moral dilemma and have my period so I'm not at my nicest or most patient right now.

Anyway, when I got home there was someone parked in my spot. It is clearly marked that it is private parking but apparently someone figured it didn't apply to them. I called my super but he wasn't there so I asked my neighbor, AB, if I could park behind her for a while because she is in the spot next to mine. I parked behind her car and the idiot who took my spot's car (heretofore ((I speak legalese now!)) referred to as The Idiot) . I can see my spot from my place and I glanced out the window every so often to see if anyone came. After almost two hours I saw The Idiot (TI) go to her car and look all confused. I went to my balcony and it went something like this:

Me: You parked in my spot
TI: It was only for half an hour
Me: It was for way longer than that but that's not the point. The point is that I pay $50 a month for that parking spot. I'm a single working mother with two little kids and I need that spot so when I get home with groceries and little kids I have somewhere to park that's close.
TI: Sorry (really snotty)
Me: Sorry's not good enough.
TI: What do you want me to say, that I won't do it again?
Me: I want you to have not done it at all. You inconvenienced me and I'm angry about it.
TI: Sorry if you were inconvenienced (again, really snotty).

I gave her and her friend a dirty look and came back inside my apartment and locked the balcony door behind me. And I waited almost half an hour before I went to move my car so she could get out. And when I did go out she was all - what the f--k is your problem? And I said in a sickeningly sweet voice with a smile on my face: Oh, I'm sorry, did I inconvenience you? And then I very slowly moved my car out of the way.

Now, normally I am the type of person who says: Oh, it's all right, just please don't do it again and smiles and walks away. But I'm tired of being nice. I want to say it like it is and f--k anyone who has a problem with that. I'm not sure if this change of behaviour means that I need more anti-depressants or if it means that it's good I'm finally letting out the anger. I'll ask my therapist...

I do know that I have so much inside me right now. Blogging is a great way to get it out and I need to make it a priority again but work keeps getting in my way. If I'm not working I feel like I should be and I have to maintain the apartment and have clean clothes and healthy food and all that jazz too. Oh - and raise two kids and take care of myself. I need a massage so badly and I just don't know when I'm going to have a chance. I made my work schedule so that I can take Fridays off but something keeps coming up. Today I had no childcare for A so I had her with me and that is not conducive to working. So tomorrow I have to work.

I also know that if I start to exercise I'll feel so much better and have more energy. I just don't seem to have the energy to start. I'm giving myself until after my stupid period and then I will start doing something. I like aerobics and I have some good dvds so I will start doing those. And it's something the kids can do with me. They think aerobics are awesome. I'd like to keep them thinking that way...

In terms of the moral dilemma, I know right from wrong. In most cases it is pretty clear cut. But what if I'm tired of doing the right thing and I just want to be selfish for a while? I think that if you asked most people who know me at all to make a list of words to describe me, selfish would not be on any of the lists. But I think it's time for me to be selfish a little and to do what I want and what feels right for me. I'm so tired of doing what's right by everyone else. Don't I deserve a little of my own?

Now - who's coming over to give me a massage and a pedicure. Because selfishly, those are the two things I could really use right now. (Although to be honest, I'll settle for the massage).

Bonus Time

I did take some time to spend with Z after that crazy tantrum. I didn't go into work the next day although I really felt like I should, because I knew that I should also spend alone time with Z. Should should should. I once had a therapist who said: Stop 'shoulding' all over yourself. Anyway, I took the day off and I thought that Z and I would take A to school, then hang out and do something fun for a while and then he would nap and I would work from home.

We got home at about 10:30 and he was super tired because he hadn't slept that well the night before. He screamed and screamed and screamed some more at least until noon about going to sleep. But hysterical screaming, his eyes didn't even focus after a while because he was so deep into his tantrum. He finally napped for about 45 minutes (which I spent curled in a ball in the corner after having listened to him scream for so long) and then was up. Thankfully I had child care and I dropped him off. I didn't work that afternoon but I was feeling so guilty about it that I did work that night and for a few hours on Saturday. It's interesting this single parent who has a job thing. No matter where I am I feel like I should be in the other place. I mean, I could have gone to work instead and at least have been paid for getting screamed at all day! (They don't scream there, it's actually quite civilized for an office).

That's actually not true. There are times when I know that I should be at work or I know that I haven't clocked the hours I said I would work, or there is a project that I want to get done. But for some reason I'm not there, I have an appointment, a sick kid, a guilty conscience about not being a good enough mom, something. Maybe it's that I have never had to juggle a job with another big priority before so I could dedicate myself to my job without having to balance. Thankfully work is pretty understanding about it which is good because if they weren't and I had to choose, I would obviously choose my kids which would make me feel like I was making a huge sacrifice because I like my job a lot. So I will put in the hours I can from home and go into the office as much as I can and hopefully make my weekly hourly quota (if that makes any sense).

I was at my neighbor's place (AB) for dinner tonight and we were talking. We smoked a bit and I seemed to be talking more than I generally do. I was saying that I'm realizing how strongly I believe in renegotiating contracts/lifestyles/work/parenting methods and such. It's mostly because I am truly understanding that things only go in small spurts. I know I've written about this before, about how I need to start doing things for short term gain and deal with the long term pain later because most of the time it's only the short times that exist for me. Does that make any sense? So regular renegotiation will keep the short term on the right track. If I'm not mistaken, that might actually lead to long term fulfillment...

So here I am at a point in my life that I had planned to be completely different from how it is. I had planned to be a stay at home mom until both kids were at school full time which is in about another three years. And I would be a wife and mom and... and... ? I really didn't think about life outside of those two things. I forgot about being Tamar and where I want to go and what I want to see and do and feel and think and be. So now I've been forced into looking at my life and making those decisions. I'm doing my best not to just get scared and hide from everything behind my kids depression and food. In the past I've done just that (but not the kids part). Basically what I am trying to say is that I find myself in a lovely and unique position.

As long as I take my kids into account, I can make decisions based simply on what I want without having to consult another adult. I lost that ability when I got married and I sure missed it. I realize that I really prefer being single. I like to date and a casual relationship will probably work in the future when my kids are older, but I can't see myself getting married again. I saw a coaster that said: Any woman looking for a husband has never had one. And that's how I feel.

So here I still am with this unplanned time ahead of me. And I'm deciding what to do with it. I have made some decisions:
1. I am going to register each kid for one extra-curricular that does not involve the other.  I think A would like to take a dance class and maybe Z would enjoy gymnastics or something like that.
2. I am not going to work on Tuesday mornings even though it means I will have to work some evenings and I will take Z swimming without A.
3. I am not going to work on Wednesday afternoons and will take A swimming without Z.
4. I am going to start doing aerobics in the mornings to feel better. I know that I was the most energetic and productive I've ever been when I was working out in the mornings. I will update my progress on my blog.
5. I am going to actively date and let myself be me and have fun again.
6. I am going to take the time to get to  know my kids as individuals and not just how I see them. I want to know how they see themselves and help them be proud of who they are inside and to thrive as those people.
7. I am going to save as much money as I can without being too stingy with us right now so we can do some traveling as a family and I can do some on my own.

When I was a kid and my mom asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I always said: happy. And then at some point the answer changed to: I just want to hang out and be cool and be myself. I don't know how many jobs there are like that but I'd totally do it if it ever came up (or I could find a way of making it happen). I can be quite entertaining. Also sometimes very annoying. I remember my aunt once telling me I was driving her crazy and I said she was lucky because at least she could leave, I had to be with myself all the time! I don't remember her being very sympathetic about that though...

In order to even be able to just hang out and be cool and be myself I still have a lot of finding out about who I am to do. And that is the journey we are on as we sally forth together.

Tantrums from Hell

At this very moment Z is having the biggest most intense tantrum I have ever heard or seen. And that's saying a lot because A is pretty good at them herself. He is screaming and crying and kicking and coughing and choking and snotting and crying some more and freaking out. He has been having a really hard time lately. I think there are a few reasons for it. One is that we have had very little time together, it feels like we are always rushing around and there is always something I need to be doing. What I need to be doing is making him my priority. I make sure I get time alone with A but I haven't been doing that with Z. As of tomorrow I will again.

We live in an apartment and thankfully only have neighbors on one side of us. If I heard a kid screaming like this and didn't know why, I would be worried. In fact, I know why he's having the tantrum and I'm still worried. The only thing that makes me know that it will stop is that eventually he will have to fall asleep from exhaustion. He is that gorgeous combo of over-tired, over-chocolated (we were at my mom's who gave the kids chocolate milk and chocolate ice cream), and angry because I put the railing back up on his bed. He also has a dirty diaper that can't feel good but I have to wait for him to fall asleep before I can change it or he'll get poop all over the place and that's one of the last things I want to deal with right now.

When we moved into the apartment from the house I sold his crib and put him in a bed. It's a bunk bed but they are not stacked. I have had the guard rail up on his bed so he didn't fall out. He decided that he didn't want it anymore but I had to put it back on because he kept getting out of bed instead of going to sleep. So now he's trapped in his bed screaming his head off. And since the kids share a room and A needs to go to sleep, I sent her to sleep in my bed. I'll move her later if he ever stops screaming. Just for the record, I have been going in and checking on him every few minutes...

It is now 50 minutes later. It took me this long to get him calmed down and able to go to sleep. When I went into his room this last time he actually let me pick him up and hold him so at least I felt like I was comforting him somewhat even though he was still crying. He wanted a tissue so I gave him one to hold and he was holding it up in front of him completely open. Every time he would start to fall asleep it would fall and he would get all upset and start crying inconsolably again. Obviously to you and me that's a no-win situation but I couldn't explain it to him. It happened four or five times before he got mad at the tissue and threw it on the floor. I still haven't changed his diaper but I will when I know he's really asleep because I am not doing that all over again.

There are a few reasons I know of that Z has been having such a tough time lately:
1. He hasn't been feeling well
2. He's super tired and that makes it hard for him to sleep
3. He misses me. We haven't had any alone time together and I have been trying so hard to get my 20 hours a week of work in that I got my priorities mixed up
4. I think he's bored at daycare. He goes to a home daycare where there are only a few kids and I think he needs more than that. He needs to move into somewhere bigger but he also needs less time at daycare and more time with me. For now I will leave him where he is and make specific times to have just me and Z time.

I just read back and see that I wrote about getting my priorities straightened out earlier in this entry. Obviously it's on my mind. I have to find a way to spend time with both and each of my kids, with myself, and at work all while keeping a clean house, having fresh clothes to wear and cooking healthy meals... It was so easy to write that down but how am I going to do it? Any readers out there? I'll take suggestions!

When I started seeing my therapist she asked me if there was anything in my life that validated me. I told her that I had two kids. She told me that kids are way more invalidating than validating because we always feel like we're always doing something wrong. And I agree with her. But one thing I know for sure: spending more time with my kids when it's not time to eat, clean up, have a bath, etc. but time just for us to be doing stuff together is a win-win situation. And if I only get in 16 or 18 hours a week in at work until I figure out a good balance, so be it.

Now a story that defines my kids:
Last night the kids were so awful that I actually went to my room, curled up on my bed and cried and cried. The sobbing kind of crying. A came over and told me she wanted to watch a movie. I told her I was crying. She said: I want to watch the Lion King NOW! I said: No. She said: FINE in this awful angry voice that I'm sure she hears from me when I've had it. And she stormed out of my room. Then Z came up to me and said: Mama crying? I said: Yes, honey, Mama crying. And he handed me a tissue.

But tonight A was all love and hugs while Z was a complete nutbar. At least they aren't both jerks at the same time. I'm not sure how well I'd be able to handle that.

And to top it all off, I have a yeast infection. And that, as they say, is the icing on the cake. (Yuck!)

I took a 25 minute nap...

And this is what happened:

A was doing pipe cleaner art while watching tv and Z was asleep so I told A that if she was all right with it I was going to lie down for a bit. We had a birthday party to attend at 2 and I just needed a quick pick-me-up nap. When I got up I heard Z talking so I went to check on him. He had coloured all over (and I mean ALL OVER) the wall next to his bed with a brown crayon. It's spectacular. It may have put me off naps. And then I came into the living room.
A had taken a pair of scissors (kid scissors, of course) and cut the fuzzies off all the pipe cleaners. And then she cut the metal parts into tiny little pieces. All over my new couch. (Yes, I got a couch and I love it. The kids are allowed to sit on it but not eat on it or jump on it. And they know it.) I had put a thin blanket folded in half on the seat of the couch so that it might protect it a little bit. And protect it, it did. Because A had cut through it with her scissors and made holes in it. But not right through into the couch cushion covers. Which is good. I may have had to sell her to the gypsies.

The couch is the first nice piece of furniture that I have ever bought myself. I know that buying something nice while I have small children and expecting it to stay nice is just dumb but as I wrote in a past entry, I'm tired of doing things for long term and giving up short term pleasure when the majority of my life ends up being short term (even when it's 'supposed' to be long term).

My neighbor who lives upstairs, we'll call her AB, is the single mom of a four year old boy. The kids usually get along pretty well and our parenting style is very similar which makes it easy to hang out. This morning AB was pretty irritated because she slept in a bit and her son was mad that she was sleeping and stepped on her head in bed. I would be pretty irritated too. I used to get pissed when I had a cat and she stepped on my head and she weighed way less than a four year old boy. When AB told her mom what happened her mom told her to be thankful that was all he did. I mean, he could have completely destroyed the apartment. And she said that made her think of me and the awful paper/glue/popsiclestick/puzzle piece mess that I had at my place a couple of weeks ago and she felt better. I texted her about the pipe cleaner and crayon mess. I hope she can see the humour in it and also be happy that her son doesn't do that kind of thing.

My kids are watching The Lion King one and a half again. For the zillionth time since I bought it a few weeks ago because I needed some quiet time and am scared to lie down unless they are both completely asleep. I'm sure you can understand why. So I am taking advantage of that time to do this writing and then I am going to make dinner. Fancy dinner. Chicken fingers and frozen peas (that they eat frozen). And then they are going to sleep at Baba's and I am going to watch an R rated movie with lots of violence and swearing and sex (the kind of thing I can't watch when they are here) and have a nice night in. And maybe, just maybe, by tomorrow I'll have it in me to deal with the crayon-wall without curling up into the fetal-position in a corner.

The Surprise Fairy

My kids have a Surprise Fairy. She comes at night and leaves surprises under their pillows if they have been good that day and go to bed nicely. I made her up "found out about her" about 2 months ago and she is the best threat ever! Because really, most threats I make to my kids are empty. 'Stop hitting your brother/sister or I'll... I'll... I'll what? Hit you? No, not acceptable. Especially when CFS is already on my ass. I won't let you go to Baba's house. Who is that really punishing? Me. Not them. You can't watch tv. Same thing - punishing me, not them.

BUT - if I can say that the surprise fairy won't come... that is the best threat and is so easily followed through. The surprise fairy leaves things like a marshmallow, three smarties, a coloured pencil, a hair elastic, a penny, a little thing of bubbles, a keychain... under the kids' pillows (any food products are put in little baggies). They don't care what they get, they just care that something is there. And it's easy for me to do. Bedtime has never been easier. But it's not just about bedtime. It's about the whole day. If they have been really hard on me during the day I will tell them to ease off or the surprise fairy (heretoforthwith SF <that's my legalese coming through!>) won't come. On those days SF leaves a note. The one they got this morning says:

Dear A and Z,
I am sorry but I could not bring you any surprises. You yelled at your mommy for no reason and you were mean to her. You also hurt her feelings. You have to be nice kids if you want me to come back. It is signed The Surprise Fairy.

They hate when there's a note under the pillow instead of a surprise. In fact, today A didn't even want me to read the note to her. She knows it's going to tell her to be nice to me and she just doesn't want to hear it.

I'll tell you though - since SF has been on the scene, bedtime and daytime issues have been so much more easily resolved. Just a note to parents: the surprise fairy ROCKS!

The mean girls issue at school seems to be resolved. Those yucky girls told A that she could be 'in their group' again. So she's happy. But it sure bothered me because what about when they change their mind again? And what about the next little girl they boot out of 'their group'? Girls suck. There's no way around it. But speaking of the kids, there are some funny things I've been wanting to post.

A speaks very well and she always has. When she was just over two she dissed me for the first time. It went like this: We were eating pizza for dinner and she asked me if she could have a piece off my plate. I said sure and gave her one. She took one tiny bite and didn't eat the rest of it. The conversation then went like this:
Me: Are you going to eat that?
A: No.
Can I have it back please?
No.
When it was mine I shared it with you (stress on the word share because I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to teach her)
So go find another piece and you can share it with yourself.

Seriously?! She was just over two. So I did the only thing I knew how to do: I laughed. Because really, it was funny.

When she wasn't quite three she out-logic'ed me.
A: Can I have some chocolate?
Me: No, not right now.
But when I eat chocolate it makes me happy. And you tell me that when I'm happy you're happy. So if you give me chocolate then you'll be happy.
So I gave her chocolate. How could I have possibly not given it to her. Her reasoning was sound and logical.

Because she is so articulate and is a perfectionist, she never had many baby-words or malapropisms. These are the ones she has now:
Lost and Fountain = lost and found
Zucchini = bikini
That song that the frog made famous: hello my baby, hello my darlin', hello my ragtime gal becomes gagging gal. Which I think is hilarious.

Z doesn't speak clearly enough to say funny things yet, but he simply is funny. And the more tired he gets the funnier and sillier he gets. Last weekend the kids slept at their Baba's and A told Baba that when Z gets tired he gets sillier and sillier. And Baba asked what happens when A gets tired? A replied: I just get miserable. To which Baba, trying very hard to keep a straight face, said: That's honest.

But the two kids have always been like this. A's first word was No. Z's was Tickle Tickle. Unfortunately, now that he's two I get a lot more No from him than anything else, but as I've learned through the good and the bad, it's just a phase and this too shall pass.

I'm a fetish?!

A few weeks ago I was out at a little coffee shop I frequent. There was this guy there, another regular, and he started talking to me. He had asked me out sometime last year right after I was separated and I told him no, I was married. Because in my mind I still was. Let's call him P. So a few weeks ago he asked me why he never saw my husband with me. I told him I am not married anymore. He asked me for my number and I thought, why not? So I gave it to him. As I was leaving he asked my why the last time he asked me out I said I was married. I looked at  him like he was simple and said: Because I was married.

He gave me his number too but I threw it out because I knew that I would never call him. If someone wants to go out with me then he can call me. I'm not chasing anyone. I don't want to be with anyone who doesn't want to be with me. But that's a conversation for a different time.

Tonight P called. I saw it was him on call display, wasn't going to answer, but then I thought, what the hell? So I answered. We chatted a bit about his work, he runs his own company doing seasonal work. I told him about playing in the park with my kids.

Then his voice got all... not intimate... more sexy but not in the good way, and he told me that he loves women who are plump and round and that I'm his fetish. He said that he really wants to take me out and feed me a meal. That I'm like a cute teddy bear. And that he wants to take me out for chicken wings. Seriously?! Chicken Wings?! It was a first phone call out of a bad sitcom. He basically told me that he likes that I'm fat and that he wants to watch me get fatter eating chicken wings. I'm not sure what dating book he's reading but it really should be taken off the market.

Let's talk about this. I am fat. Some people say: Oh, don't talk negatively about yourself. But I'm not. I'm just speaking the truth. I'm fat. It's not an insult, it's an adjective describing my body. I've always been fat and my weight has been an issue for as long as I can remember. But I've reached a point in my life where I just don't care anymore. I don't diet, I don't freak out about what I do or don't eat, I don't keep food journals or obsess about what I ate or what I should or shouldn't eat next. I eat reasonably healthfully. I don't exercise enough but I don't spend my days on the couch doing nothing. I make sure I have clothes that fit me, feel good and are flattering. And I don't read magazines or watch tv advertising. Yes, I am fat, but that is not my defining characteristic. There's a whole lot more to me.

 I guess what I'm saying is that if someone is interested in me and wants to get to know me for who I am and also happens to be attracted to my body type, then that's awesome. But if someone just wants to be with me so he can fatten me up even more because that turns him on... Well, that turns me off.

mean little girls

Girls can be so mean. I mean, I know that boys can be too, but girls seem to mean for no reason at all. Maybe there are reasons and I just don't know them. I'm not mean unless I'm given reason to be. Then I can be Really Mean. But I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, I consciously try not to judge people based on what they look like, how they dress, or what they do for a living. (I do judge people based on spelling though). But I'm talking about little girls. For instance:

Last week at school when my mom picked A up the teacher said that A had been pretty quiet. A told my mom (her Baba), that some of the other girls were being mean to her. They called her a knucklehead and told her that all she does is make scribbles. And that those girls wouldn't let her play with them. I found that out this morning right before I took A to a birthday party for one of her classmates. She was so excited to go to the party. She wore her best dress and I could see how excited she was.

The party had one of those huge bouncy things and the kids were playing on it. They would go in, jump, climb around and then come down a slide. I saw her come out the slide side a couple of times but then when I didn't see her for a few minutes I went to check on her. She was by herself and really upset. I asked her what was wrong and she said that the other kids told her she can't play with them and they pushed her over. I know that she's four and I also know that she makes up a lot of stuff, but she was really upset. So I took her over to one of the kids who I know she is friends with but A was so sad that she didn't want to play anymore. She asked me to take her home. She didn't even want to stay for cake or get a loot bag. Now anyone who knows A knows that there must have been something pretty bad going on for her to not want cake.

I tried to get her to play with some of the other kids who weren't bouncing but she was so dejected. So after trying a few different things, we left.  These are the things I did:

1. Asked her what happened.
2. Suggested she play outside of the bouncy with some of the other kids.
3. Took her by the hand to a different area of the gym to get her involved with some ball kicking (aka soccer).
4. Gave her hugs and told her that there were lots of kids to play with and she should ignore those other kids.

I have not seen A so sad for a very long time. And it made me really sad. This is the first time I am dealing with this and I know that it will not be the last. And I want to know what different ideas there are out there. I know that I can't change the behaviour of anyone, but I do want to teach A how to react differently. For instance:

I want her to know that there are lots of people out there and if someone doesn't treat her nicely then she can walk away and will find someone else to play with. I want her to know that when people say mean things to her or leave her out that it's a reflection of them and not of her. I want her to be proud of who she is and not question that based on someone else's opinion. And  want her to have the kind of self worth and respect that will make her not want to be with people who aren't good to her. I know there is more for her to take from this but I don't know what right  now.

I am going to speak to her teacher in the morning about what happened so she can keep an eye on it. I'm also going to kick those little girls' asses. No, not really, I just want to. And I'm going to talk to A on a regular basis to know what's going on there and make it really easy for her to talk about it. I'll give her the best advice I can, and if I can't then hopefully her therapist can.

What?! A four year old in therapy?! Yes, she was actually there when x hurt Z and saw and heard the fracture happen. And then her daddy was gone and she isn't allowed to see him, talk to him, write to him, or hear from him in any way. So therapy it is. And if she can learn tools for dealing with meanies while she is there, then all the more power.

A is also going through a hard time because she is remembering her daddy less and less. She asked me the other day why her daddy died. I said: Your daddy didn't die, honey. I said it in a very gentle voice. She said: I know. I said: Is it easier for you to pretend that he's dead? She said: Yes. I said: As long as you know that he isn't really dead then it's fine to pretend he is. And I thought (but didn't say) it's easier for me to pretend that he's dead too...

I have no idea who, if anyone, is reading this blog. On the off chance that someone is and has some wisdom to share about any of this, please be in touch. Thanks.

Anniversaries - friends or foes?

Tomorrow is an anniversary for me. It is the one year mark from when I came home from work and my 13.5 month old could not sit up or roll over because it caused him too much pain. After being very confused and upset as to why my husband at the time, we'll call him x (he doesn't deserve to be capitalized), hadn't called me when Z got hurt, or taken him to emergency, I took him to emergency myself. And was told that he had a compression fracture in his spine. When I told the ER doc what x had said happened, the doc said that spinal compression fractures happen when a 14 year old falls off a roof, not when a dad is playing with his kid. I figured that this was one of those anomalies in life. Because of course it must have happened the way x told me it did. He would have never hurt anyone. He went out of his way to not hurt people and to help them. The doc said that Z would be admitted overnight for observation so I stayed with him. x had taken A to stay at my mom's for the night but he did not stay at the hospital overnight, it was just me and Z.

The next day we were told that Child Family Services (CFS) would be investigating the injury. When the woman came in to talk to us about it, x was out of the room for a few minutes. She explained to me how they have to look into any injuries that look suspicious. I said of course they did. I said do what you need to, ask whatever you want. We have nothing to hide. At this point they must have known that Z had been hurt on purpose. They knew I wasn't at home at the time of the injury and they must have been thinking: Oh, you poor woman. Because I had no idea what was coming but I think she knew.

So tomorrow is the one year anniversary of Z's injury. He is fine now. He didn't walk until he was almost 19 months and had physio and I did lots of exercises with him. He is completely healed and the docs have said that because he was so young when it happened he won't have any permanent damage from the injury. Thank the universe for that one.

The next day after we were released from the hospital, x told me that he had been hurting Z since he was born. I'm not going to get into any details because it makes me sick and you don't need to read things like that. Especially not when you know it's fact and not fiction. I lost it on him. I screamed, cried, keened. I asked him why. He said he didn't know. He said that he tried to find a pattern, tried to figure out what triggered it and he just couldn't. I said: You were lucid enough to try to figure out why but you didn't ask for help?!

Then he said that now that he told me, he didn't think he would do it anymore so I could still leave the kids alone with him. I told him that until he got himself sorted out that he couldn't live with us so either he would have to move out or else the kids and I would. He said it was a family home and we were the family so he would leave. I didn't make him leave right then, it was the middle of the night. And I was so shocked, so hurt, so... I don't think I know the words that apply here. But I do know that I was in denial. And shock. I felt so alone so I asked him to lie down with me and hold me. And he did. As soon as he touched me I tensed up completely and knew that I could never let him touch me or our kids again. We were both up all night and the next morning he called his mom and she came to get him and he left to stay with her until he knew what his next steps were.

I will not go any further in the actual story of what happened and what has happened since because it is an active criminal case but suffice it to say that was just the beginning.

So here I am now, the day before the first of a three day anniversary: Z injured, x telling me it had been continuous abuse, and my last time seeing x. And I've been thinking about anniversaries and what they mean to people.

I am taking this time to look at where I am, where I was, how I got here, and where I'd like to go. Thankfully I have only myself and my children to think about in making these decisions. And although the kids are a huge part of these anniversaries, they don't really get it.

But then I started thinking about happy anniversaries. Like wedding anniversaries. Most couples go out for a nice meal, go away for a weekend, buy each other flowers, jewelry, bon-bons, whatever. And it's very romantic because you need to remember the romance of the day you got married. I have a different take on anniversaries. Now, I know I had a conversation with someone about this and I can't remember who it was or whose idea this was, but here's the basic idea:

Take the opportunity of knowing that this is a yearly event and take the time to talk about the last year. What made you happy, what didn't. What you accomplished, what you didn't. What promises had been made and not kept or wonderful surprises. But mostly, talk about whether or not you want to remain in this situation for another year. If there are changes you need to make or have made by your partner in order to be happy, then this should be the time to voice them. And then decide if you want to take the next year to work on things or if you want to walk away. And then, if you do stay together to work on things, on the next anniversary go over what happened. A year is long enough to make changes but not so long as to hold you up for the rest of your life.

I'm specifically thinking of marriage. Once you get married and are legally bound, it's almost like it doesn't matter anymore. You can stop giving foot rubs, stop cooking or cleaning, or start doing things you had never done that might be detrimental to the relationship. And it doesn't matter because you are have entered into a LIFETIME contract. Which is ridiculous. No one in his/her right mind would sign a lifetime contract for anything, but we still do it for marriage.

I think that in every relationship, be it business or personal, there should always be an exit clause and always room for negotiations. Perhaps that's unrealistic, but I really think that overall, there would be more short time pain but way more long term gain. And isn't the pursuit of happiness what it's pretty much about?

22 page legal document

I just got a legal document that is 22 pages of complete legalese. I used to count the number of times the lawyers would write "heretofor" and "forthwith" and weird words like those. I joked with my lawyer that it seemed to me they were just trying to outdo each other in the legalese and it's a lot like flexing muscles. And apparently the way family lawyers do that is with big words. And lots of boring repetition. I did read it and this is what I have discovered:

I have sole custody of both children. Duh - he's a child abuser. And I had to actually fight for sole custody. The lawyers originally wrote something about it being joint custody but that he doesn't have visitation rights until... until... well - until what? I'm certainly going to fight for him to have no visitation, supervised or otherwise, until the kids are over 18 or are trained thoroughly enough in the martial arts to kick his sorry ass themselves.

Although I have sole custody, I still need to get his permission to take them out of the country on a trip. And I am legally not allowed any communication with him, directly or indirectly. So if I want to take the kids down to Grand Forks for the day I need to have my lawyer call his lawyer to get signed permission that I have to pick up and carry with me. It sure seems like a lot of trouble when he isn't even allowed in the same building as them.

That I am filing for divorce as soon as we have been separated for a year. I had to wait a year to file for divorce so that it can be considered a 'no fault' divorce Really?! No fault?!  Apparently that's easier than other ways of divorcing. But seriously, this divorce is pretty much anything but 'no fault'. Hurting a baby is definitely 'fault' in my world. Pretty huge fault too. Not like accidentally leaving the toilet seat up too many times, or having a bad sex life, or just being irritating. Child abuse is pretty much the epitome of faulty.

Once we have divorced I no longer have homestead rights on the house that we lived in together. THAT I SOLD. Over three months ago. Of course I don't have homestead rights. It's not my home. Or maybe I just don't know what homestead rights are and I should be claiming them left right and centre because there is no legal document saying I can't. Any lawyers out there, let me know if there are homestead rights I can be claiming. I'd like to park my horse and wagon somewhere.

I get the two kids, some money, and lots and lots of legal fees and look forward to a divorce. That is the sum of 22 pages of legal stuff. I just told you that in one line. And made it fairly simple to understand. I should edit those letters for the lawyers. We'd save a whole lot of paper...

And this is all just family law. The criminal case is taking longer, the preliminary trial is in the spring. I have to testify. I don't even have enough energy left in my fingers right now to type how angry that makes me so that will have to be a blog for another time.

Facebook no more!

I just deleted my facebook account. I didn't put it on hold or make the decision to stay off it for a week because it was too addictive. It's not because of privacy, and it's not because I joined some other "social networking site" instead. I did it because I think that facebook is weird. Just plain bizarre. I did enjoy playing scramble on it (which is similar to Boggle) and I did find a few people from my past who it was great to be in touch with. However:

I don't care what people are doing every minute of every day. I think if people spent more time doing other things than letting the rest of the facebook world know what is going on... I just got dressed. I'm making coffee. I'm eating my breakfast. I'm on a diet. I'm eating a cake. My son just drew on the cat. I think I might change my hairstyle. Blah blah blah blah. I have never learned anything important on facebook and I just don't want to be a part of it anymore.

It also brings up the term "friend" for me. My friends know they are my friends. And if don't like someone, I am not adding them as a friend because some machine did calculations and we have x number of people in common so we should be friends. I can't tell you how many people were my 'friends' on facebook who I would have never even nodded to in passing when I saw them in person.

Here's a truth about me: I think most people are irritating and boring. Don't get me wrong - I'm including myself in that. There are exceptions and those are the people I like to be with. But I don't need to see them on facebook WAIT -

I just realized that I am babbling about nothing. I deleted my facebook account. End of conversation.

six o clock in the morning?

What makes kids think that getting up at 6am and jumping all over me is a good idea? Especially when they are both tired and have colds and went to bed late? And are cranky? And yucky? And snotty? And irritating? And when I'm cranky and yucky and most likely irritating too?

So I did what I think is best. I got really sarcastic about the virtues of waking mommy up that early, got them juice, forced meds into my son and turned on the TV. And now I'm watching Sesame Street with them because I'm an idiot who needs to go back to sleep but is getting crankier and crankier instead. I'm just asking for someone to come tuck me into bed with something yummy to drink in a sippy cup. I'm thinking some warm baileys would be great. And maybe a foot rub. I don't think that's unrealistic. Do you? I mean, it's not like I'm asking to wake up and have the HUGE cutting/gluing/popsiclestick/paper/puzzle mess on my living room carpet all cleaned up by some miracle. Just a nice cup of baileys, a foot rub, and warm covers tucked around me. Maybe even a kiss on my forehead.

Do kids have any idea how good they have it?!

And I don't have a couch. I want one, I can thankfully afford one, but I just haven't bought one so I can't even fall asleep on the couch with them. Or relax on it and close my eyes and pretend that when I wake up for real I'll be somewhere with lots of fresh air, the ocean that is swimmable and warm sand between my toes. I think that when life gets as crappy as I feel like this one is these days, I should have a couch. Because we all know that when we're feeling crappy and tired that buying things fixes everything...

My body is tired and my soul has been through the ringer in the past few days dealing with the old boyfriend moving back and making mature decisions that are good in the long run but suck short term. And really, the long run is absurd. I've never had a long run of anything in my life. Everything seems to always end up reasonably short term even if I thought otherwise. And my kids are bitching because I offered them goldfish crackers for a morning snack. Apparently the morning snack I should have naturally gravitated to giving them is chocolate. TV, juice and chocolate first thing in the morning would make for a very bad day for us. So I gave them frozen yogurt tubes instead. More healthy? I'd like to think so. Keeps them quiet for longer? Yes. And right now, that is the whole point.

The scatters

I'm a gambler. Always have been, always will. I love it because you never know what is going to happen. Sometimes you land on your feet, other times on your head, but no matter which way it goes, there's always a surprise.


Here's the thing . There are these things I'll call Scatters. I don't know when they are going to show up or what they are going to do. For instance, you could be out walking and just about to get to the point of frostbite (I live in Winnipeg) when a car could stop and offer you a ride. It could be a wonderful friendly Samaritan, a serial killer, or just a boring git. But you have an option. And the only way to find out what you're going to get is to get into that car. Smart idea? Don't ask me... it's a gamble, so I'll take it.

Let's say for argument's sake that almost a year ago my life was ripped apart into a billion tiny little shards and I have spent the last several months reconstructing it in a way that will ultimately be self-sustaining in a positive way. Let's just say. Well, is gambling the way to go now? I mean the blind kind of gambling. Maybe yes, maybe no. Well, when it was just me I had to think about then the answer was obvious. I would have jumped into that car faster than I could think. And those are choice words, because I wouldn't have done any thinking about it at all.

It's not just about me anymore. Circumstances beyond my control have made me a single mom of two kids. We'll call them A (girl, 4) and Z (boy, 2).  And I'm 39. I have to say that there is absolutely something to be said about having kids when you're older. It's not anything nice that would be said, but it is definitely something. So my choices now affect all three of us. And I know that no matter how carefully or conscientiously I raise them, they're going to blame everything on me when they grow up anyway. So I just do the best I can and stay aware of what's happening around us.

I think that in order for you (assuming anyone is reading this) to understand where I'm coming from I should give you a bit of history...

History or present? Choices, choices....

I'll start with my present and take it from there. If you have any questions about anything, just ask. I'm not shy and I decided that I will post what I want to and not concern myself with what others think. I will change names to protect the guilty because that seems a lot easier than dealing with those people. I can always just deny everything... write something like: This is all fictional and if any of it bears a likeness to anyone I might know it is purely accidental. There, now I'm clear.

I work part time in an office. It's a new job and I really like it because it's exactly what I need right now. There is so much work that I will never be bored and the necessary brain power to get it done is minimal and that's what I like in a part time job. When I'm ready for more, the job can become more. How lucky is that?

I have good friends. They are funny, kind, sweet, blunt, rude, sarcastic, silly, loving, trustworthy, giving, supportive, honest and spread throughout North America. The majority of them live in Winnipeg, where I currently live, and in Toronto, where I spent my 20's: my formative years. I'll get into those another time.

I have a supportive family. We don't all see eye to eye and we are all very different people but I know I can count on them. I have two sisters, a brother, a niece and two nephews, a mother and a father.

I am separated and on my way to a divorce. The separation was sudden and harsh and I am almost at the one year mark of when it happened. My soon to be ex-husband has been charged with child abuse and since he admitted to me that he did it and there is evidence of it, the decision to leave him was a no-brainer. Just for the record, it was totally out of left field. He seemed to be the kindest, most gentle person. Didn't lose his temper, the kind of guy you could call in the middle of the night to help you change a tire. But looks can be extremely deceiving...

In hindsight the marriage was far from ideal. Not even good, really. I was 32 when we met, I was looking for stability and he seemed to have it. I thought it was time for me to settle down, get married, have kids, you know that path. Well, that gamble didn't pay off for me in so many ways. So here I am on the other side of it.

I am single, maybe ready to start a little dating. I would love to get my salad tossed, to quote a good friend of mine, but not necessarily interested in a serious relationship.

I am in love and in lust with a man. He was my first love and now that I can be realistic to myself, my only love I've ever had. I can feel it when he walks into a room, and the energy between us is so healing, beautiful, sensual, and sexual. He's been married for 15 years to the woman he started dating after we broke up. Are they happy? Doesn't really matter to my life because they're married and unless that changes he is out of bounds. Does he love me? Again, doesn't matter. That is one of my few hard and fast rules. Until recently he lived in a different city, but he and his wife are moving back here. Can we be friends? No - I need all or nothing with him. There are no grey areas with that kind of emotion. His moving back here with his wife is one of those Scatters. Because I'm not dealing with enough loss and adjustment from my last year of being...

So this brings me back to why I had mentioned Scatters:

Lots of times we think we know what we want or what direction things are going. And we have to trust that frequently most people's lives move in relatively straight lines. Well, mine doesn't. I have more Scatters than not, more "For Real?!" moments than not. And I'm learning to roll with the punches and know that I have no idea what is around the next corner.

When the rug was pulled out from under me regarding my almost ex-husband, I told one of my friends that when I got married I thought that I had chosen my path finally. I was going to be a wife and mom, take care of my family, stay at home until the kids were at school... that would be my path for the next several years. And my friend said, "That was your mistake. Thinking that you were going to be allowed todo the same thing for more than a few months at a time." And he was right. My path is not straight. It is absolutely guided by the Scatters. It's one crazy ride after another and now I am going to take you all with me.