NaBloMoPo

I just realized that I didn't post a single thing in November. Which may be some sort of strange rebellion since most bloggers that I know were posting with great gusto in the tradition that is NaBloMoPo (National Blog Month Post? I think? Maybe?) in which bloggers attempt to create a new post each day. Yep, that's me, the rebel.

I started to write a novel in November to see if I could keep up with all of those playing along in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Write Month). The idea being to put 50,000 words to paper in only 30 days. I got about 10,000 words in, decided that I wasn't particularly happy with what I had written and ditched the whole project. I am clearly not ready yet. My ideas need to be organized a little stronger and fleshed out a little more. Plus I was feeling like in the interest of all things popular I should add a vampire or at the very least a shapeshifter/werewolf.

So here I am back at the blog. This week I read (on yet another blog, and my apologies because I don't remember where) that most blogs have a shelf life of about one year. Hmmmm. Thinking it through brought me to the conclusion that I should either pack it in or start another, differently purposed blog. So many I know write in more than one space. Keeping their craft blog separate from their parenting blog, etc. Since this is none of them and all of them I don't know where I fit. As usual.

Today I am snowed in. We have acquired something like twenty centimetres of snow in the last couple of days and it's still snowing. The roads are bad and since it's Saturday we decided to blow off our usual running around and just cozy in for the day. I caught up on some of my favourite blogs (check out my side roll) and picked up some new favourites. The kids are watching a movie and when it's over we'll bake some shortbread cookies.

The days are getting shorter. I grapple with the few hours of sunlight, struggling to accomplish as much as possible before the dark sets in again. I am looking forward to the other side of the short days, when they start to get longer. January and February are traditionally hard. By the end of February, I begin to feel hopeful again. For now, we are excited about the coming holidays; the little break from our routines and the festive feelings. Even in my atheism, I celebrate Christmas as a time of family, friends and winter quiet. I will tell my children the Christmas Story. We will settle in for long winter nights. I will knit, probably just dishrags for now, a simple and easy way for me to practice patterns. And I will probably return to this blog, just a little. Writing to my heart's content. Distracting myself from the darkness. Hello December.

Shots, today? Today, shots?

Shall we discuss H1N1? or more specifically the vaccine? So it's not really a discussion, unless you, the reader, cares to make it so. But these are my thoughts.

H1N1 is an influenza type A virus that has been transmitted to the human populations from pigs. Hence the "swine" flu tag. It causes illness. Real illness. Serious illness. Just like the flu. Because it is the flu, with a higher incidence of death in a younger population. Should we be scared? Yes. The same way we should be scared of all illnesses. Live our lives in fear? No. It's symptoms vary a little bit but the most important thing to know is that it causes high fevers and severe respiratory illnesses (SRI). That is what kills. SRI prevent gas exchange from occurring in the body. Not enough oxygen in, not enough carbon dioxide out. As a respiratory therapist I know some of the best methods of treating these illnesses. I am involved in some of the highest levels of health care for SRI patients who can be on the brink of death. I am good at my job, but still I wish I didn't have to be. I wish I didn't need to know a good chunk of the things that are in my head.

So I look for other options. Prevention being key. Right. We know that smoking leads to disease like lung cancer and emphysema. So the prevention key is to help people stop smoking or convince them never to start. H1N1 falls under a category of known for me at the moment. We know the virus causes severe symptoms. We know that people go through varying degrees of the illness. Some only uncomfortable for a few weeks, some really sick for many, and a few who will not survive. We know that the virus is spread by contact and droplet. So the number one method of prevention is hand washing. WASH YOUR HANDS. That aside some of us will not give up kissing our children, loving them, playing with them. And as much as we teach them to wash and not touch eyes, nose, mouth, there is no guarantee that they will always remember. So the number two method of prevention: get vaccinated.

I have heard all sorts of terrible rumors circulating about the vaccine. That there hasn`t been enough test time, that the shot contains mercury, that the shot contains fish parts, that the shot will cause the flu. Wrong. All of them wrong. The flu vaccine was appropriately tested. There is no mercury in the shot. There are no fish parts, though it`s suspended in a fat based emulsion from eggs, so if one has an egg or chicken allergy, they should not get the shot. The shot will not cause the flu, the virus in it is DEAD. It convinces our bodies to create antibodies and in that process may make one feel a little unwell. But it will not make one sick. Not like the virus itself makes one sick.

Vaccinations stop the spread of viruses. We know this from the smallpox campaign. We know this from the rarity of disease like polio.

The last thing I know about this virus is that healthy people have died or gotten severely ill from it. So why? Why would one not want to protect oneself and one's family?

As far as safety goes, our government is not one willing to take big risks. It would never have rolled out a flu vaccine campaign of this size if the benefits didn't outweigh the cost. The people sick with this illness are a heavy burden on our health care system. The potential of large scale lawsuits should people become ill because of a vaccine is not something most governments would want to undertake.
Economically, mass sickness causes mass crash. With up to one third of a population unable to work because of illness production slows to dangerous levels. Still think it's a conspiracy? So be it, take your chances. We got our flu shots.

AWKWARD

Yes, AWKWARD is captialized. It needs to be because this situation was so awkward that I feel like screaming about it. The background information is this: we don't practice a lot of modesty in our house. We are comfortable with nudity. We talk about sex. Our children have seen videos of women giving birth. They know where babies come from. And they know that sex is good and appropriate for people who care about one another and who's intentions are not to hurt eachother. They know that sex is not for children, that it is not for people to use to control one another, or for people to hurt one another. They know in those situations that are uncomfortable, inappropriate and abusive that they need to seek help. We talk about it. We make it healthly. And we know that our children are armed with the right information when they are on the playground, under the bleachers, in their classrooms, at the movies. So I never imagined that I would have an awkward sex moment.

But I did. A few days ago, my "big" kids and I were in a strip mall for some reason or other. A strip mall which sported an ADULT ONLY video, game and toy store. My children were curious beyond belief about what that meant. Toys for adults? Videos for adults only? (which they quickly concluded must be too violent for safe viewing by children) and games for adults only? what kind of games? what kind of toys? and why couldn't children play with the toys too? OH MY GOD!!! The questions they bombarded me with. And I had just come off of a night shift that morning. I was dazed, confused, disoriented and now, just plain embarrassed. So I did what all uncomfortable parents do, I changed the subject with great gusto.

In retrospect I am sad that I let a good learning opportunity go by. That I didn't take it to explain. To offer them the opportunity to decide whether this was a good or bad thing. To let them understand some of the controversary surrounding these types of outfits. But in the moment I was flummoxed. And now it`s gone. Over. And they haven`t brought it up again with me, though I am scared that they might with their friends and then end up with the wrong information. But I am not scared enough yet to let go of that yelling out loud, most awkward feeling that welled up inside of me. Weird. Advice please!

Aidan

My first born. My son. Aidan turned nine a couple of weeks ago. It seems impossible to me that the little baby who changed my life forever is now a beautiful nine year old boy. Impossible and yet here he is. This will be my last post about Aidan specifically. He is nine now and on the precipice of preteen. He is aware and so are his friends. I want there not to be internet fodder for others to use to bully him. I want him to feel safe coming to me with anything and not worry that I will use it to create a post.

He is nine. Nine. Half ways to being completely independent of us. Of not needing us to help him make decisions and choices about his life. Half way to being able to drink (legally) and vote. Only seven years from being able to drive. And less than three years until he starts Junior High. Grade Four is huge. It is the end of his early childhood, the beginning of something so separate and so much more independent. The last few years have seen us go from bubble baths with me sitting nearby just to be sure that he wouldn't drown to him locking the bathroom door to shower. From me choosing his clothes to him insisting on growing his hair long and wearing that dirty hoodie. From me reading aloud to him to him reading with a flashlight in his bed. From us sitting together to decipher every single note of his music and me keeping time for rhythm to him playing music that he has worked out himself with determination. From us building his new Lego projects so that he could rearrange them bit by bit to him carefully following the directions to build the project himself before he begins rearranging. From him napping with us nearby to him excitedly going for sleepovers at friends' houses. From us making every decision about which activities he would be involved in to us only participating and offering suggestions for HIS decisions. From us determining how money would be spent for his things to him taking charge of his allowance, saving and deciding how important anything is before making a purchase.

Aidan has always been interested in the world around him. He thinks about things in great detail...how did that building come to be? why do we need trees? how do our hearts work? why is it raining? He asks questions and he tries to work out the logic of existence himself, coming to interesting and often long winded conclusions. We are already having deep philosophical discussions with him about why we are and what people do and don't believe. We are trying so desperately trying to let him find the way himself. We are trying to lay out the options, all of the information and see the conclusions he comes to himself. He amazes me everyday.

But now, he will amaze me privately. I will continue to keep his journal and continue to scrapbook for him, keeping the bits of his childhood on record for him but I will no longer do it publicly. I have sent him an email link to this blog because we live openly and honestly. And I will only refer to him in passing. In the joy and pleasure that is parenthood and also through it's frustrations. But that is all. Because it is tough enough to be a teenager without a parent recording it for the world to see and because even though it's my journey too, it's more importantly his. I respect him. He has earned that respect in the ways that he approaches the world. And I love him. I want only the best for him and the best includes him finding his own way with us there only to back him up or catch him if he falls.

9 on Wordless Wednesday

5 years

Today marks the fifth anniversary of the Beslan disaster. The death of over 300 people, 186 of them children. They died when the Russian military advanced on the school full of hostages and hostage takers (rebels who were protesting the Russian occupation of Chechnya) locked in the school gymnasium without food or water for three days. They died when the bombs that the hostage takers set in the basketball hoops went off. They died in a fury of fire that could only be described as hell. Why is this in any way relevant to me? Why do I feel it necessary to lower my head in mourning for 186 children that I never knew?

My daughter was four months old. The third child born in our family, her older brother not quite four and her sister only two years old. Her mother barely keeping things together. Barely able to cope through night after night of sleeplessness and day after day ridden with the guilt that I could never protect my children enough, that I could never love them enough to grow and be happy and be safe all at the same time. I was on the precipice and this hostage taking, the pain of these children, the suffering of their parents, was the incident that tipped me over the edge. I am fortunate that my husband recognized it before I killed myself and worse before I took my children with me. I am lucky that he has an ally in my mom and together they were able to force me to seek help. And I am lucky that they recognized the edge days before those children were taken hostage and that I had been medicated, though not yet well, for a few days. I was lucky that my husband could see that he needed to be here and not at work. I was lucky. My children were lucky. But the people who sent their children to school one morning in Beslan, Russia: they were not so lucky. Today, I remember them.

And tomorrow I will send my newborn daughter who is now five years old to Kindergarten where I will have to trust that nothing bad will happen to her. That no one will take her hostage in a gymnasium, that no one will break her heart, or take away her innocence. I am scared, just as I was and still am for her older brother and older sister. I am terrified but on the outside I am smiling. Full of reassurance. Full of remembering about how great school is: to learn new things, to meet new people, to play new games. I am giving them all of the best of me so that they can walk into the world sure and confident and feeling positive about the possibilities. But today will almost certainly end in tears for me, tears for my children, and tears for those families who are broken and the survivors who live with their nightmares. Please let me hold onto those tears until my babies are all tucked neatly into their beds. Please don't let them see this fear, this weakness I have, that I can't protect them enough.

Naked

Our house is our home. I am attached in an emotional way to this little house of ours. Born of our relationship, our family, our friends, this home is ours and thought I know those relationships will not be undone by leaving this house, those memories not gone by residing somewhere else, I just can't talk myself into it. Steve has been pestering me in the gentlest of ways to look for a new house. Or rather a new to us house. He wants to find something closer to the school and on a slightly less busy street. He would like something a little bigger but realizes that bigger is not really a priority. He arguments are reasonable, well thought out and absolutely pragmatic and still I can't bring myself to agree. So instead we are undertaking some pretty large renovation projects in the next couple of years.

We hired someone to do the work. All or at least most of it and at the present time he is on board with our timeline. He started while we were away on our road trip at the beginning of July by taking down our old garage, back steps and fence as planned. So that when we returned home we would be able to get started on the rebuild of our outside stuff, the first step in our plans to improve our living space.

Our trip was eventful and fun but exhausting and so on our second last day we made a slight change in plans and headed home one night early. Or rather really, really late. We arrived home around three o'clock in the morning. The drive into the city was eerie. Quiet and dark. The smell of the city was amazing. Unlike the city, it smelled like a forest in the rain. But the power was out, all over the place. We couldn't see downtown as we drove towards it and when we turned onto our block it was apparent that our street was the dividing line: the south side had power, the north did not. Alas, we live on the north. We drove through our back lane to survey the work that had been done while we were away. A big hole where our decrepit old garage used to be, no fence, no back steps. A sigh of relief, done as planned. We drove around the front and as we pulled up in the moonlight darkness we became aware that we couldn't see our house for the giant Spruce tree that had fallen in front of it. Our beloved 60 year old tree had been felled by a storm, broken in two. At first we believed it to be a lightening strike but it's possible that it was just high wind that tore it to pieces. The tree had fallen eastward from the west side of our property, missing our house and only damaging our lilac bushes, my planters, and the dogwood all on the way down. But we couldn't access our front steps and we had no back steps.

With flashlight in hand we made our way carefully through our neighbours yard, around the fallen tree and into our backyard where we picked our way through a maze of broken back steps, nails, and other debris that lay in the way. I swore under my breath. Darn builder without children. Obviously doesn't know that he can't leave this stuff laying around. Once we opened the back door we went back to collect the sleepy children who were confused and upset by the current state of our house as we lifted them into the back door. After a few more cuddles, reassurances that things would be better in the morning. We tucked everyone neatly into their own beds and headed off to sleep ourselves. Oh blissful sleep. So quiet, so dark. We could see the stars in a way not usual to the orange back glow from the city at night. And the quiet, oh the quiet, no fridge, no fish tank, nothing except the tick of one clock and the sound of our breaths.

In the morning, our local arbourist knocked at our back door to ask if we needed a hand. We had been formulating a plan to purchase a chain saw and cut our way out until the arbour company I hired to brace that tree and do some pruning on our other trees could make it in four weeks. I asked him if he would be willing to do the work the same day and he laughed as he looked up at me from where our back steps used to be. We were high on the list of priorities since access to our house was severely compromised.
He started immediately. And finished in the early afternoon. The tree was close to our house and our neighbours house and nearby to a couple of deciduous trees so he couldn't fall what was still standing, he had to climb it and take it down by pieces. A morning full of entertainment for children watching out the front window.

The tree is gone now. The front of our house exposed to the street. Our garage in the back is gone leaving our house exposed to the back lane. We feel naked. Exposure in ways we've never felt before. Just naked.

But will I move? No way. There will be a new tree at some point and the work is taking place in our yard now for the new garage. Besides, I gave birth here and my babies' hand prints are in the sidewalk in the front of this house and how could I ever leave that behind?

Summer Vacation

There is no doubt that SUMMER is clearly my favorite time of year. It is likely made all the more popular in my mind by our seemingly neverending winter. However, in this moment, right now, I am considering moving to a warmer locale. Any suggestions? Of course I won't go until Autumn starts to fade into Winter.

In the meantime I have been enjoying summer. We took a road trip, are swimming everyday, playing in playgrounds, visiting with friends, and attending every festival we can find. We feel so relaxed despite how crazy busy it has been. And so I apologise for my negligence, especially for those of you who are checking in regularly only to be disappointed. If you add me to your feedreader, you will be notified when I post something new...or you can just keep checking in.

I have many posts in the works. But I want to add photos and I`ve been much too lazy to sort, delete, import, etc. It`s too nice to be inside with my computer. Eventually. Just not right now. So I`m writing but in notebooks, on scraps of paper, and in books which I am devouring by the mouthful in the great outdoors.

Cheers and happy summer to you all!!

Happy Birthday to Me!

I have this old friend. With whom I communicate only rarely these days. We went to their wedding several years back but I don't know her husband. And we are both busy with work and family and life. So it goes. But every year, once a year for sure I think of her on April 22. Why? Because that is her birthday and because I have never known another person who took so much joy in celebrating that one day. She was excited about it for weeks in advance. She reminded everyone that her birthday was coming and when it came she was never disappointed. No matter what. She just took such great joy in a Spring day to celebrate her life. So every year I think of her with wonder, amazement and a little dose of joy. It is thrilling to me that memory. For a moment, each year, I am happy just for her, and that happy is contagious.

So contagious, that even though I dread getting older*, I will celebrate my birthdays whole hearted. No matter what they bring. I've experienced another beautiful year, I've learned hundreds of new things and I feel lucky to be alive. And even luckier to be healthy.

So today, I am celebrating with all abandon the parts of my life that make it so happy. My children. I will spend my day completely engaged with them. We will go to the toy store where I will buy my birthday gift for them. And we will play, inside and out. So today, even though there are a million things that I should be doing, I will do the things I want to do. The laundry can wait.

Later, when my children are ready for bed, the neighbour will come over to watch them while Steve and I head out for Thai food and time for just us. I am excited as my girlfriend was for the possibilities, no matter how they turn out. Celebrating these moments, these lives lived, that IS the meaning of life for me. That is why we are here.

*a little disclaimer: it's not really old that I dread but sick, and my life experience brings sick with old. So I dread but just a little and not for today!

Today

Yay for today! I celebrate life. I celebrate my family. I celebrate our happy home. I celebrate us. Yay for today!

The things that made me happy today: the flowers on my front step. And though they are almost gone, the white and purple lilac bushes on either side of my house. There are a few days each year where I LOVE leaving my house. LOVE the smell that greets us as we come and go. It's like a surprise for surviving winter. If I could give you this scent online I would share but a photo and your imagination will have to suffice.

The mail. I have eliminated most of the nasty mail through epost. So what arrives in our mailbox is joyful and happy. Today I got a birthday card from my sweet and ever young grandmother and July's National Geographic. Yay mail!

My children. Today Aidan said to Avery as he left the house for school, you let mom rest today so that she can get better. I have a cold, a little head cold. But I'm such a baby about it now because I don't feel like I ever have rest enough to let it heal. And Avery answered I will and meant it. Yay kids!

Steve. He cleaned my van earlier this week. Vacuumed up all the sand which just makes me plain, all out happy. Yay Steve!

The second last day of school. I love summer, love having my children together. Love what we accomplish as a family, the things we see and do and learn. It is so joyful that I can hardly begin to describe it. Yay summer!

Up, up and away

Go here to see the most beautiful children ever, inspiring you to invest in your life. And don't forget to stop and smell the flowers along the way. Life is good!

Nostalgia Creeps In

More weddings. I could probably go to a wedding every other weekend all summer and never tire of them. Celebrations of love usually followed by dancing. To not love weddings, well that's just sad, sad that something awful enough has happened to take the joy out of it for you, that or you're just a jerk.

I have a wedding story to tell. It's the story of a boy named Trevor. Trevor was this quiet boy. A gently giant who was always around. Someone who was in most places we were, inhabiting most spaces, quietly but surely. Trevor was the guy that we could depend on. The guy who would drive you anywhere in his giant boat sized car. The guy who would rescue you from any situation, the guy you could depend on being where he said he would be when he said he would be. The guy who made no excuses for being and who expected no excuses from us. He just was.

We routed for him. We all wanted him to find the right girl. But Trevor was always the quiet gentle giant. Not attracting attention and not looking for the spotlight. So girls overlooked him. It was never a situation of not wanting him or not liking him, just mostly not noticing him. Until there was Connie. The girl who noticed him. Like merciless teenagers we teased them, for matching. For matching in their quiet gentleness. We rarely heard a peep from those two. Never a mean word crossed their lips, as surely as it never crossed their minds. When they broke up several months later, just before the end of our time in high school, we were all a little surprised. All joked about how they would not be able to get by without eachother.

And yet they did. Get by without eachother. For many years. They dated other people, moved forward in other relationships. For many years. And then time found them together again, together at the right time, without other people to interfere and with the wisdom of age. A love that was still pure and sweet and innocent.



How thrilling to be able to share in their wedding day. Like a real fairy tale with a prince and princess ending. And their first dance to that song. The one that we all fell in love to in high school.

Steve and I moved away from them. Away from our highschool friends. Abandoned those relationships, though not entirely. Our lives changed. We grew up, bought houses, had babies, developed careers, changed careers, looked forward. But Trevor and Connie's wedding afforded us an opportunity. An opportunity to revisit our past lives and to be comfortable in our present lives. To visit with our old friends, whose lives have changed too, evolved. To know that the essence of some people never changes no matter the direction our lives have taken. To know that the warm fuzzy feeling that I have in my heart for these people is true and real for a reason. To begin to understand how good all these stages of our lives have been and how good they will continue to be as we move into watching our children become teenagers. Watching them fall in and out of love and someday being able to share in their wedding days too.

So extra special thanks to Trevor and Connie for sharing this day with all of us and a big shout out to our old friends who are whole stories, whole stories of lives lived. Thanks for sharing.

Tying up Loose Ends

As with all good things there are these moments that one must take in order to give credit where credit is due. So here it is, the places to which I owe graditude. A feeling of belonging in this world of blog and a feeling of connectedness in this journey of parenthood.

Exciting news from PapaTV: his latest project is up and running. CHEERUPNATION is a feel good website, in these uncertain moments, when we all need a reminder about why we are here, we are letting the kids tell our stories, letting them be our heroes. My family is participating so you need to check in to see pics of the cutest kids ever and some other pretty cute kids too.

I guest posted over at Coco's site since she wanted a little vacation and I really needed a tour on her rant boat. It's excessive and ranty. Consider yourself warned. And a big hello to the people who have stopped over here via Coco! Welcome!

And to my new friends, Sarah and Jen, two sisters who cowrite on their blog Momalom. I think I might have a little crush on these girls. They have the coolest relationship ever. Theirs is the relationship I dream of for my children. When I put my self out there and risked being misunderstood, they understood. In ways that people I have considered myself close to never have. It gave validation to my fears, as a mother of a son. Just go here to see what I mean.

The last loose end is to thank those of you who have continued to donate to my efforts last weekend to raise money for MS. A few donations have trickled in over the last couple of days, adding to my honour roll:
Dallas
Janelle
Diana
If you'd like to donate you can still go here until June 26. Please. And a great big THANK YOU!

I like to eat, eat, eat oranges and bananas

What I learned this past weekend: oranges and bananas are the best food ever. And it seems that no amount of sunscreen in the world could have saved me from the sunburn I am sporting. Also, I learned that I am able. Able to ride 183 km in the hot, hot, hot sun to raise money and awareness for MS. Able to push my body and to feel great about it.

The Rona MS Bike Tour from Leduc to Camrose and back was this past weekend. It was my first bike tour. But not my last. The event was amazing. 1650 riders with pledges totalling greater than 1.5 million dollars. It was well organized from the website sign up and pledge collections through the event itself. My friend, Chelsea picked me up at 6:15 am and we headed out to Leduc to prepare for the start of the tour. With 1700 people (Bike Marshals who rode to assist with the tour, help those who needed it, and generally make sure that the rules were being followed also joined the 1650 who collected pledges), it was a slow kick-off. After the prerequisite speeches and rule reminders (single file, no headphones) and the singing of Oh Canada, we headed out in groups of about 100 people at a time. Our United Cycle ladies team was near the back of the pack and we didn't get out of the gates until almost 9 am. The first check point was a much welcomed break after 19 km and the worst hill that we would face in the entire tour. It was there that I came to really understand the true spirit of the whole event. Riders were cheering each other on, volunteers were handing out oranges, bananas, and trail mix, refilling water bottles and passing out juice boxes and Gatorade. It was inspiring and uplifting.

From the first checkpoint until lunch was the toughest part of the whole tour for me. I was prepared for the sore butt and the tired legs, prepared for the exertion itself. But I was not prepared for the heat, most of my (little bit of) training was done in our cold Spring, heat had never been an issue. I was not prepared for the pain in my shoulders, between my shoulder blades was a sharp stabbing pain. And I was suffering from the usual mess of allergies...cycling past a beautiful horse ranch and then sitting on grass for lunch did not agree with my already allergic self. Here is my first plug for United Cycle: the team checked my bike, adjusted my seat and discovered that they didn't have the tool that they needed to cut down my handle bars. My handle bars were much too wide for my narrow shoulders. So they advised me that they would take care of my handlebar problem at the finish line of day one and that I should ride with my hands placed as far inwards as possible. Damn, those guys know their bikes. The rest of the day went with much less pain, having taken their advice.

After lunch, knowing I was more than halfway and knowing that dehydration played a role in my earlier discomfort, I took it a little easier. Drinking more water and allowing myself to take a good long rest at the last checkpoint before riding into Camrose. Riding through the town of Camrose to get to the exhibition grounds was the longest part of the day. Riding on the highway is so joyful, I felt like I was flying, but riding through town, stopping for lights, cars and pedestrians was not so joyful and frustrating when I knew I was so close to the end. I was really proud of myself when I reached the finish line.

The event was so well organized. I picked up my bag from the storage place where it was stacked and labeled by rider number. I could have dropped my bike into the storage facility too but the United Cycle (plug number two) team had taken it to cut down my handle bars and were going to keep it loaded in their trailer overnight. And then I had the choice of heading over to the beer gardens, over to the rider's village where each team had their own tent, over to the amazing portable shower system or over for a free massage. That's right: free massage: masseurs & masseuses who had volunteered their skills to take care of the riders! I didn't get a massage, didn't feel that I desperately needed one any more than I needed to shower, eat and sleep. So I showered and then hung out with my friend, also named Shawna, who is amazing in her own right.

Shawna is the friend that encouraged me to do the bike tour with her. The friend who thought she wouldn't be able to ride this weekend because of sickness but managed to pull through and be on the road with me on Saturday morning. She and her husband graciously invited me to stay with them in their fifth wheel so I didn't have to sleep in a tent or find other accommodations. They are amazing. Truly amazing. And because of them I felt strong and capable and I got a great night's sleep so that I could start the Sunday in the best condition possible. Shawna is faster than me on her bike, has muscle memory that I will take years to build from riding as much as she does. But she graciously waited for me at each stop to make sure that I was alright and able to continue. And she road the entire last leg of the race with me so that we could finish together. She is a rock, and this weekend she was my rock.

Shawna and I got an early start on Sunday morning, starting out about 15 minutes before the official start. Knowing that I was slow and that the weather was going to be hot, we opted to take advantage of the cooler morning weather as much as possible. It was a good choice for me, good that we didn't do the first leg in the midst of a large crowd and good that we were more than half way done before the heat got too bad. The United Cycle team (plug three) had shortened my handlebars and changed out my saddle. The change in the handlebars was night and day, I didn't experience any back pain on Sunday because of that but the changed saddle did not sit well with me so at lunch they replaced it with my old saddle. Those guys rock. I can't say enough about them.

I had a little problem at the last checkpoint. My pannier had lost a bolt on the gear side of the bike and slipped down into the gears. I feel lucky that it happened at the checkpoint. A bike Marshall stopped to look at it and then the United Cycle team (plug four....go United Cycle!!) replaced the bolt and did a quick check to make sure that I hadn't damage the gears. Good to go.

My little family met me at the finish line and after Steve loaded up my bike and gear, headed off to the barbeque. I had expected to feel hungry at this point but not so much. Just exhausted from the heat. And completely proud of myself for finishing.


One last note: I couldn't have done it without you. Without those of you who pledged me on this ride and those of you who just plain encouraged me through the whole ride. Thanks so much. You mean the world to me.

Here is my honour roll:

Steven
Shawna
Jason
Heather
Mom and Dad
Astrid
Lisa and Andrew
Auntie Deb and Uncle Joe
Olann
Angela
Annette
Shawna D.
Sonya
Aunt Amanda
Auntie Penny
Auntie Winnie
Diana
Joleyn
Barbara
Carrie
Moon
Rae
Auntie Betty

Together we raised $790. You are all heroes in my books!

Training

I promised that I would post about my training for the MS bike tour which I am participating in this coming weekend. With only two more days to prepare, I feel it necessary to come clean: TRAINING? what training? It can hardly be called training. I am able to ride about 25 km easily but then I run out of light and need to be home. Many nights, I have just been too dragged out by work, soccer, and school stuff for the kids to even get there. I have plunked my butt on the exercise bike that my girlfriend lent me less than half a dozen times and on that I am bored and thinking of all the things I need to do around the house in less than half an hour. So I can hardly call it training. Hardly claim to be prepared for the undertaking.

I am geared up. United Cycle outfitted me with a Trek Bike. My very first bike as an adult that actually fits me, was actually bought and sized for me. I can't even begin to describe how much I love it. It is light and easy to ride. I have good bike shorts and have purchased a gel pad for my seat and so far it seems to be working at least for the less than one third of what I will do per day on the weekend. I have spent a fair amount of time figuring out how to gear up and gear down to prepare for hills and I have managed only to lose my chain once. I have purchased clipless pedals because I think I would love them, would love being tightly snapped into place on the big downhills, but I haven't put them on the bike yet and now I won't do it before the weekend, not enough time to learn how to screw in and out before the ride.

Yesterday I got the sad news that the friend I will be riding with is quite sick and doesn't think she will be able to participate in the ride. I am sad, but not worried, it's not really a team sport and though it would have been fun to encourage each other, I will be fine on my own. The plan is changed slightly: without the training I had hoped to have done by this point I will be taking it slow. Taking whatever breaks I need to get through it and still be able to look at my bike on day two. I will not be breaking any speed records. BUT since I've never done a tour of this length, I have no record to break.

On a personal gain level, I have taken off a little more than ten pounds now. I am fitting into my old jeans and tops but both would look nicer with another ten pounds dropped. I'd like to credit it to cycling but I think it is more fair to say that being done breastfeeding is the real reason. I am no longer wracked with hunger like I am when breastfeeding. And when I eat less, I weigh less. Funny how that works.

I am excited. Happy about the time I will have over the weekend to concentrate on the event and happy about the $600 I raised for the MS society. A special thank you to all of my donors. Your encouragement and donations will carry me to the end of the ride! And thank you to Chelsea for the exercise bike that I didn't really use and for the ride to the starting point on Saturday morning. Post ride update sometime next week. Don't hold your breath though, I may not be able to sit down on my really sore ass long enough to write a post.

Wedding Full

I can't help it: I love weddings. What's not to love? Love, love and more love. A couple's love for one other, shared with all the people that are important in their lives. Kissing and dancing. Sometimes singing and poetry. Parents proud that their children have grown into such amazing people and that they have partnered with another amazing and interesting person. Smiles, flowers and mmmmmm, CAKE!

And I married Steve, who loves weddings, quite possibly even more than I do. Who is infected with the love in the room. Who wants to dance and sing his life away. Who is fun to the core. And we had babies, who've turned into perfect young people, and who we've discovered love weddings as much as we do.

I'm not a particularly private person. I believe that what makes the world work is sharing. Sharing our lives, our hopes, our dreams. Crying together and smiling together and sharing our love together. That's what makes weddings so darn magical.

When Steve and I were planning to wed, we had many conversations. Conversations that involved planning, for our wedding and more importantly planning for our lives together. In the beginning, I felt the big wedding unnecessary. That what we shared so strongly was between us and that it didn't matter, wasn't important to the outside world. I suggested a wedding with only our parents. But Steve couldn't imagine getting married without his brother, and his grandparents, and slowly it grew. Grew to include all of the people who we felt touched by in our lives and who touched our parents and made them strong. A wedding was born. I have no regrets. Alright, maybe just one: I wish I had searched harder and really found my dream dress instead of settling for that which fit and which was affordable. (The side story is short: I bought it through the Bargain Finder. My criteria were simple, I couldn't afford a lot of alterations, and the dress had to come from a couple who were still together, a couple willing to part with a dress because it was not the marriage, just a dress, when I found just that, I didn't hesitate. I wish now I had even considered my mom's dress more seriously, the dress that my grandmother made her. That's enough side story).

Now marriage, that's a little more private. It doesn't need to be on display for everyone to share in. Though it does give us strength, it does make us the people that we are and it allows us to reach outside and spread more love around. It's details do not need to be shared. Except to say that what is perceived from that outside is not necessarily what is happening on the inside. That judgement should be reserved. And even then some of our stories, they need to be shared, to give people hope, to give people reassurance, and to keep one another from the loneliness that could so easily haunt us.

We were so lucky to share in a wedding this past weekend. One that was FULL, full to the brim with love and magic and sharing. Thank you N & K, for sharing it with us all and for lifting us up with your happiness, your hopes, your dreams and your love.

A little ego boost

I got a little nudge from one of my fellow bloggers this week. I follow her blog regularly though I don't always comment, largely because she is far more diligent about posting than I am and I simply can't keep up with her. What an amazing record she will have of her daughters' childhoods. I have linked to her before because she once helped me with a technical problem.

I had decided several weeks ago that I like her. As in actually like her because she left me the tiniest little note when I needed it the most. It was encouraging and comforting to know that in spite of my changed view of human nature over the last year, that there are still truly good and honest people out there. The nudge she gave me was a compliment to me, she admired the name of my blog (I thought I had written a post about the name of my blog but somehow I can't find it, another day perhaps) and applauded my honesty. Something that I am proud of but am often criticized for. I am unsavvy when in comes to people, unsavvy in knowing when not to tell the truth and so I have for my entire life learned to adhere to the honesty is the best policy thought. And sometimes, if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all. What I have learned in the saddest way is that it is simply best not to say anything at all. Not to share the stories of my life in the hope that doing so will make others realize that they are not alone. That we are all trying to figure out this thing called life as we go along, none better or more right than others, just different, and that different is okay.

What I have learned is that different is not okay, that the expectation is that I keep up with appearances and be on "my best behaviour". What I am learning is to close my heart and not to share because I can't trust that anyone will respect that we are different and I can't trust that I won't be attacked in the most personal of ways for being different. Sadly, this came from people that I trusted the most.

My friends continue to hold me up. To support me and love and encourage me to continue to share but I am cautious. It has been hard to let go of my story telling self and hard not to sympathize with other storytellers. I am learning to smile and nod. It has been a heartbreaking process and I'm still not good at it. I still want to share, I still want to hear and be heard. I still want to believe that people are good. But at the moment I don't.

So thanks to Not-Ever-Still for the little nod and for reminding me that the world may be a better place than I have been giving it credit. Please (all five of you) check out her blog by clicking on her name above. Say hello from me. She won't disappoint you, she posts almost everyday.

3.8 Million

Not quite a top ten list. I heard on the news last night that thirteen clerical staff for ATB won the Lotto649 on Wednesday night which was in excess of $49 million. Which means that ATB is going to be scrambling for new employees, so if you're looking for a job....

It also means that each person involved in that lotto pool is now $3.8 million richer than they were on Tuesday. It is fun to think what one might do with all that cash at the ready. Here's what I would do:

1. Hire a lawyer before claiming my winning ticket. You know, to spread the wealth, make sure that he gets his share. Also to help me set up some sort of trust fund for our children. I think it would be safe to say that I would put aside $250K for each child. Seed money that they can have when they are 25 years old to start a business or to buy a house. After they are done university and have figured out who they are and what they want from life.

2. Contact our trusty insurance agent. Now is the time to buy more. Top up disablility insurance, and make myself feel safe. Having the just in case things taken care of I would move onto more pressing needs.

3. MORTGAGE FREE. A little earlier than is currently planned. RRSPs maxed.

4. A few minor renovations: a laundry room off of the back porch, a slightly enlarged kitchen. And moving onto the fun stuff:

5. Vacation property. A small property with some sort of shack that we can work to make cosy. Not too far from home, we'd like to be able to travel there often and easily.

6. A trip to Arizona for the month of February to visit with my parents and see the Grand Canyon. With, of course, a side trip to Disneyland so that we can cross it off of the kids' must do list.

7. Investment in Carlos and Isabelle's Caribbean Cabana project in Belize. Steve and Avery dream about Belize and harass me about Belize and plot about how they are going to get back to Belize.

8. Hire a housekeeper. For a brief period when I went back to work after Avery was born I hired a university student to clean our house every two weeks. She cleaned the bathroom, washed the floors, dusted, and a few other odd things around our house (once I even had her clean out the fridge!). It was so nice to have someone else taking care of those things so that I could concentrate on other projects. But the expense was not justifiable while I was on maternity leave with Ruby and I've managed to keep things mostly under control since. Still, I'd like to have some of that time I spend cleaning to do more important things, like blog.

9. All of Steve`s work clothes which I currently launder and iron will go back to the launderer. I HATE ironing and it`s entirely possible that he hates it more than I do. I have been doing it because he won`t and is quite willing to pay someone else to. Since Ruby was born, it was another task I took on to save money and one that I have again managed to keep under control. Still it would be nice to not HAVE to do it.

10. School. I dream of school. Of more school. Of course, I would want to wait just a little, maybe until after Ruby is in Kindergarten so that my schooling does not interfere much with the time I get to spend with my children.

11. I need to see my friend Ryan. It helps that he lives in Spain. Europe, here I come!

Wow. $3.8 million is not going to go very far. I may really need that lawyer and a financial advisor.

Would I keep working? Yes, but I would go casual and choose the shifts that are easiest for me and my family.

What would you do?

Prom?? Not here. But check out my grad.

The Stilleto Mom is hosting Prom-A-Palooza. I was so excited to have a good laugh that I couldn't resist joining in on the fun. Only we didn't have a prom. Just grad, short for graduation, which is what we were about to do that caused us to dress up in all this craziness. These are the professional portraits. This happened so long ago (all the way back to 1993) that we were still using film. Film which didn't rewind properly in the camera and then happened to get exposed before developing. End result: no pictures. Here I am in all my permed, teased and back-combed glory. Still with my natural hair colour, before the babies sucked the last of the blonde out of me. I have only one regret: what the heck is with the long gloves? I included both pics because the second still amuses me. The first is my natural smiling self and the second an attempt at not smiling. The serious graduate look which I never did perfect.

Here are all of the people that I went from Kindergarten through to Grade Twelve Graduation with. It may not look like a lot but keep in mind that my entire graduating class consisted of only thirty three people.
Here are all thirty three of us. I could probably name every single person in this photo, first, last and even some middle names. Not sure they would appreciate it though, so I'll let them remain anonymous for now. I am still in touch with a few of them and am hoping this will prompt a few "OMG!!!!" comments.

Prom dates were sort of a non issue in our class. There was no expectation of bringing a date. No need. We'd known each other since our preschool years. We came from a small community, some of our parents even went to school together. Our grad song was "A Whole New World" from the Disney Movie Aladdin. Classic. And a Dan Hill song that I fail to remember the name of. I was on the verge of adulthood and was excited and scared to be treated as such. I was confident about who I was. I didn't care much what other people thought of me, which was necessary since I didn't really belong in this small town. Them in their wranglers and boots, me in floral prints and tights. Them in 4H and hockey and softball, me in my various dance classes. But I loved it. Loved them. Love the memories that I carry with me still.

Spring

I am so proud of myself for figuring out how to add this page to this post. These photos were taken on Easter Sunday at my grandparent's farm by Steve. As usual, I had to work, missing out on the amazing food that my grandmother always prepares, the great company of my parents, brothers, sister, aunts, uncles and cousins and hanging out at the fort that my dad helped my cousins build one Spring a few years ago. I love Spring, even with allergic eyes, nose and skin. Though I missed this special day, I feel like I got to share in it just a little because Steve remembered the camera.

Twelve Years

Twelve years ago, this was us. It's hard to believe that twelve years could go by so quickly. For our anniversary, my mom came up to stay with our children so that we could go out for a quiet dinner and an evening walk without worry. It was lovely. Easy and comfortable, in the way that people who have been together for fifteen years should be.

We had a little talk about our wedding day and what we imagined for the future in that moment. We could never have imagined our children. Though Steve always wanted to be a dad, and knew that children were part of his future, we simply couldn't have imagined the people that they would be. How their presence would bring us together and tear us apart and make us into the emotional people that we have become. So much hope and so much worry tied up inside their little bodies. And so much joy, oh the joy.

We never would have imagined ourselves in this city. We didn't know our lives would head this direction and how entrenched in this community we would become. Though we both knew that it would be that way for us somewhere. We are root setters, much as I'd like to dream about a nomadic life.

There is happiness in our lives. So much happiness and it comes from us, from our decision to partner, to work together to make our lives so full. So full of love. Still. Twelve years later. It hasn't always been easy, but it hasn't been hard either and every moment has been worth it.

I love you, Steve. More today than yesterday. Fifteen years of love that just keeps growing.

Say Hello to Goldfish

Earlier this week, I went through my feedburner and deleted about two thirds of the blogs I was following. It was just getting to be too much. I am behind on books I'd like to read and on newspapers. So I let the blogs go, except for a few. These were the criteria: I wanted to keep reading from people who loved life, people who loved their families and people who were creative. People who said no to DRAMA. And people who's egos are in check (more or less, we are bloggers afterall and out there for a reason instead of just lurking in cyberspace).

Two of my favorites: Goldfish and PapaTV. I can't even tell you how these two have endeared themselves to me. Writing me lovely little notes and just being all around encouraging. Notice that I've added them to my sidebar too. Check them out if you can afford to add more to your reader ;-)

Busy Hands

There are three blogs that I adore. Three crafters with beautiful children and heartfelt, handmade art. I will add links for [i]LoveLife, Handmade Homeschool, and mamieknits in the sidebar. I aspire to be like them in any way, shape or form. And so I took up knitting. Here are the results of my first project. It's just a scarf, fifteen stitches of knitting. Just knitting, nothing else. I needed to work on tension and I needed to feel something successful at the end to encourage me to continue with it. I am pretty happy with the results. Now I have to move onto the hard stuff. Not until Fall though, soccer season has started and I am finally getting out on my bike to train for the MS bike tour, which you can sponsor me for by clicking on this link.

Stop Reading This Blog

I mean it. You can lie to my husband and tell him that other people tell you what I write but I keep track of IP addresses and unless other people are reading my blog from your house, you are a liar. Which we already knew.

So just stop. You don't like what I write, fine, comment. Or better yet, start your own blog. Feel free. But it would be easier if you just LEFT US ALONE.

Back in March

In case my last loud complaining post seemed like I was feeling very sorry for myself. And I was. I just wanted to add to the perspective a little, so here's what happened to me in March:




In case any of you were wondering, that is what happened to my van parked on my driveway between 2 and 2:30 on a Thursday afternoon. Which meant my children did not make it to their piano lesson because it was just too darn cold to put kids in a van with a broken window. And in case any of you were wondering further, that is not an inexpensive repair, that window has heating wires and a wiper in it. Very expensive. And in case any of you were wondering any further, no, whoever did it was not interested in stealing anything from my van, as usual it was unlocked. It was just a random act of vandalism. Senseless. To be fair, the vandal did some of my neighbours' cars too. So I was not alone in my misery. Somehow, that does not make it better?

All better now. Just needed to get it off my mind. In the last couple of days, since I am no longer swallowing razor blades, I have regained perspective. The important parts of my life remain intact. My children are all alive and well. My husband is by my side, working with me to create our happy home. My parents are still mostly healthy. And I have good friends. Smart interesting people that I love being with. So aside from my short-lived bacterial infection, all of the other things....just material. Which makes them really immaterial in the scheme of things.

My children had breakfast cereal and fruit for dinner last night and while this makes me feel only marginally better than the burgers, pizza and chinese food they ate last week, I forgive myself. I am after all, only human. Thanks for reminding me, Kate.

Ruby

Ruby's personality is emerging daily and we are blanketed with the joy of knowing her. Her vocabulary is improving by the minute and she is able to express her needs and wants with little frustration. She is determined. She has her own strong opinion about the direction her life is taking. Most specifically she has discovered chocolate and knows she wants it. She is her mother's daughter. But she is also her own person.

Here is a clear and specific example. Not long ago she decided that I am not keeping the house up to her standard of cleanliness. And so she decided to wash the living room floor. Blueberry shampoo being the nearest of cleaning agents became her soap of choice. Baby wipes being easily accessible became her cloth of choice. Our living room smelled like fake blueberries. A smell, I have decided, that I am not fond of.


A few days later she moved onto the kitchen floor, this time with broom in hand.



Finally, she has started cleaning the walls. Also with baby wipes. Which I won't complain too loudly about because at least she has stopped drawing on the walls.

April showers

When it rains, it pours. Clearly a cliche and clearly apt. One week ago today I discovered that my stethoscope had gone missing. I had left it in our locked Respiratory Therapy Department so only a few people other than the amazing therapists that I work with have access to it. It grew legs and walked away. I am trying hard not to be angry about it. Trying to assume the best, maybe someone borrowed it in an emergency and from there it landed in a locker. Maybe someone gathered it up with linens and threw it in the laundry chute. In any case, person at fault or not, it's gone. Did I mention I am a Respiratory Therapist? This piece of equipment is critical to my ability to work.

Then on Tuesday, some (fill with expletives) stole my iPhone. Out of my van, left unlocked on my back driveway. But it wasn't easily visible, the (more expletives) had to go looking for it. And I was only there for a few minutes while I dropped my children off and changed my clothes for work. We reported it stolen to Apple and to Fido the cell phone provider. So now the thief can't even use it. I thought it would be no big deal to replace. Go to the Apple Store, buy another phone. But the store doesn't sell phones because they have a contract with Rogers/Fido. And Rogers/Fido only sells the phone with a three year contract. Mine started in December. I still have 32 months left on that contract and I can't buy an iPhone for it. So I can either sign a new contract and pay for both contracts for the next 32 months. OUCH. Or I can buy a cheap phone to replace my iPhone in my current contract. That's right, I can't purchase an iPhone. Even though I am willing to pay for it. It is not available for sale. Fido's advice: buy one off of eBay. Sure, I'll get right on that, maybe I'll even get my own stolen phone back. Because that won't perpetuate the problem AT ALL.

And then I woke up on Wednesday morning unable to swallow. Oh, I can swallow if I really concentrate on it but it feels like a million tiny knives are making their way down my throat. As usual I braced myself to ride it out. By Thursday, I came to the conclusion that riding it out was not possible because every time I swallowed in the night I woke up and by then my ears were bothering me too. So I went to a walk in clinic, after I finished at the Police Station to report the loss of my phone, and at Avery's Kindermusik class which she refused to miss just because Mommy was sick and an appointment at United Cycle to pick out my bike (finally), with a preschooler and toddler in tow. After an hour long wait at the clinic, which is completely reasonable and I was prepared for I learned that there is nothing wrong with my ears. Just that my throat and swollen glands are so full of pus that they are putting extra pressure on my ears causing the sensation of pain. Great. Prescription for antibiotics which will surely leave me with a yeast infection in hand, we headed off to the pharmacy. To be told it would take 30 minutes to count out 30 pills. Sure. What the heck. I'll just walk around with my overtired toddler and hungry preschooler in tow, I thought quietly to myself as I smiled and nodded.

By Thursday night, I wanted to die. Seriously. Fever uncontrolled by the 1000mg of Tylenol I was taking every three or so hours, blazing red cheeks, golf ball sized glands. Steve brought the kids burgers for dinner. Which made me feel like a stellar parent. Thursday night I worked diligently on a school project for a film that Aidan's class is making. Even though all I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and die.

Friday morning, I called in sick to work for Saturday and Sunday. Only to be told by my boss, "well, that's three of you sick for the weekend," in an attempt to make me feel more guilty than I already do. Really. I'm sorry. I am. Doesn't he think I would rather be at work than home sick like this? Plus, I'm most likely contagious and I work with people who are already sick. Surely that wouldn't be fair to them. And then I proceeded to paint the projects I had finished sketching the night before. After I picked up Avery from preschool and served the girls their lunch, I spent some quality time with the toilet. Puking my guts out. Only I hadn't eaten in three days. So there was nothing to puke except antibiotics, tylenol and this red gunk Steve had me rinsing with to numb the area. The kids had pizza for supper last night. Yep, stellar parent.

Hoping now for May Flowers. Because I'm going to need them.

Moving Forward

My blog has seen a few extra hits in the past couple of days. Most of them directly from Facebook. So, hello to my Facebook friends and welcome to my online rant space. I will be posting about my journey to the MS150 which is short in time and long in work to be done. At the moment, I have no bike. No gym membership and there is still a lot of snow and ice outside making running, walking and biking a bit risky. I think I might be in trouble.

Plans for the bike are this: I am going to buy my first bike that was not handed down from a much larger person at United Cycle as I am joining their team in this event. I am joining that particular team because I have a good friend who is closely involved in United Cycle and who convinced me that if she can do it so can I. Plus, she assures me that if something goes very wrong I could always ride the bus that follows the race. Yeah, right.

And second, I am going to get myself a gym membership. Possibly just temporarily. Because I really hate the gym. But since this requires some serious getting down to business type of training I will need to be in the right environment. Finding a gym has been a challenge. There is one at work but that's 22 whole kilometres from my house and I don't really want to be driving any distance to get to a gym. There is a Curves in the mall close to my house which I could walk to. But it's a Curves which is not the kind of training I am looking for and the hours are not good for someone like me, meaning someone with small children and a husband who works. Seems kind of odd since it's that particular group the organization is focused on. There's a Hardcore gym a reasonable distance away. But it's a little more expensive and it may be a little too hardcore. I just left the World Health Club a year ago partly because it felt too far away from home, which rules out the Club Fit a few blocks away from it. Someone mentioned that the gym at work probably includes another site closer to my house. Hmmm that might work. I will have to check into it early next week.

After I updated my Facebook status with a link to my blog, a friend sent me a personal note telling me about the struggle in her life with MS having been diagnosed in a very dear relative. I want to thank her for her story because it is nice to be able to attach a personal story to my journey. To make the ride hopeful for her and for others with the same heartache. Please take a moment to sponsor me at my donation page by clicking on this link.

Tomorrow I have some funny stories to share about the most important people in my life. In the meantime, wish for Spring to make an actual appearance so I can get on with the training.

Post Partum Weight and a Worthy Cause

Here's the deal: I am not obsessed with my weight. Not really. I feel comfortable most of the time. I feel only slightly limited when doing Yoga, etc. I remain active with work, kid's activities and all of the walking I do. I have not gained any weight since Ruby was born. But I have not lost any weight either. And today I happened across a study which clearly explains why. Not that I'm looking for an excuse. It just is what it is. The less sleep I get as a result of my babies not sleeping through the night, the harder it remains for me to lose the weight. Throw in the fact that I am also a shift worker and I just have to accept that I am going to have a harder road ahead of me than some.

On the upside. I am going to be doing the MS150 from Leduc to Camrose and back in June. It's a lofty plan because I really haven't ridden a bike since before I had children. AND that's well over one hundred and fifty kilometres in two days. AND I have to come up with $250 in pledges in order to participate. Please go here to donate, I am registered under my name and will be riding with the United Cycle team. I am going to have one sore butt, but your donations will make it worthwhile.

On a personal note, I know of no one with MS currently, which doesn't make it any less personal. I occasionally work with patients in the end stages of this debilitating disease and am saddened by what I see. Please, donate.

A plug for Miss Britt

and her new blog: Buy-Her. She is having a little contest and of course I want to win. If you go over to her site...which is a great women's site and not another Mommy blog, please don't enter the contest, it would just reduce my chances at winning.

It's been a funny day as you all may have guessed from the fact that this is my third post. That and I've started twittering. At some point, somebody should explain to me how to add a Twitter button to my blog. But please not tonight. That's enough for today.

A little plug for NES

I just wanted to thank NES for she is obviously among the most clever and clearly smarter than me. And so I try it again finally succeed at cleverly crossing out those things which I am thinking but won't necessarily say out loud.

Hats off to her, now go over and check out her blog. She could use some extra love right now because she is going through some challenging growth moments with her girls. NES stands for Not-Ever-Still Life with Girls. I love that her banner subtitle is "We used to depend on an alarm clock. Then we had out girls." We can relate. Thanks again, NES!

trying my hand at a new thing

if I can figure out how to cross out words. Nope, can't seem to figure it out. My "just checking" which should show up at the beginning of the post with a line through it, either disappears entirely or has some odd commands hanging out around it. I need some help. Currently, I am typing the commands <> < / del> with the words in the first and no spaces. Will happily take advice. PLEASE. I am not too proud to beg.

This turned into a louder post than I intended.

I've been in blogland now for just over a year. I started writing for myself and to find some feedback on some the craziness that exists in my head. It didn't quite work out the way I had hoped it would.

Apparently, I come from a family which is big on playacting: pretending that everything is perfect, being nice to everyone in all situations and avoiding controversial topics. I had an inkling of this before I started blogging but my blog managed to clarify it quite clearly for me. Now I have a relative who refuses to allow me anywhere near him or his home and another who is not speaking to me and worse, has abandoned her relationship with my children, missing both Christmas and Zoe's birthday. I earned it, I guess. But my children did not. And don't think for a second that my children did not notice. The bigger problem is how it affects the rest of my immediate family and my extended family. So now I'm in a position where I may have to am going to apologise for things I am not sorry about. I am sorry about how my words made the recipients feel, but I am not sorry for holding the opinions that I do/did. Since I have never subscribed to the "live your life as a lie to make everyone around you happy game", the whole process has been a new challenge for me. I have been working really hard to see and more importantly feel the other side. I have been trying to imagine what life experiences those people have had that have made them feel so strongly about an issue that they are willing to discard children they once claimed to love.

I have been attempting to compose something resembling an apology but I always walk away mad. I am not the only one in the wrong. I feel comfortable holding different opinions than other people and still respecting, loving and maintaining a relationship with them. However, the other parties apparently do not feel the same way. Not holding the same opinion makes me stupid, naive and not better than a pedophile. Worse, both people have taken it upon themselves to discuss the details with the rest of our extended family, going so far as to send them email to be certain that our family takes their side. I'm shaking just thinking about it. I am still not ready to apologise and after writing this I am beginning to think that perhaps my children will be better off not knowing these people for whom anger and personal insult trump love.

It's damn cold here and we are housebound today. My mood because of these circumstances is clearly apparent in this post. My mood, however sour, may have changed the way I write about this situation but it does not change the fact that some if not all of it needed to be said.

Top Ten Books from 2008

I am only creating another list because ohamanda is spreading a little reader love. So here are my top ten reads from last year, and last year only. If I had to go back much further right now my brain might explode with the effort:

1. Persuasion by Jane Austen. It is difficult for me to believe that until this year I had never read any Jane Austen. This year I read three. Three was enough because while her writing is lovely and whimsical, it is all the same. I will finish the other three this year.

2. The Red Tent by Anita Diamant. I could not put this book down. It was such a page turner. I read the entire old testament while I was in high school (because obviously I had nothing better to do)and while the bible was not page turning, the stories were fascinating. I have to admit that 15 years later they are mostly vague memories, which probably made this book better.

3. New Moon by Stephenie Meyer. I shocked myself by jumping on the bandwagon. I talked myself into it out of curiosity...my whole workplace was crawling with this series. I read them all in a matter of hours. Separated only by the fact that I borrowed them from a friend and had to wait for other people to finish them. As far as teen literature goes, they were above average. The second book was my favorite. I am a Jacob fan. Sorry to the Edward fans.

4. The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. Written in first person by Death in Germany during the Second World War but following one little girl more specifically. Brilliant in it's subject, stunning in it's structure. I was a little disappointed by I am the Messenger which Zusak had written before The Book Thief but only because he had set the bar so damn high.

5. Stones From The River by Ursula Hegi. The story of a Dwarf living in Germany during the Second World War. Hmmm. I am seeing a trend here...especially since my favorite book of 2009 so far is The Spanish Bow, also written in this time period.

6. Lost City Radio by Daniel Alarcon. If this list were in order this would most definitely be number one. I can't stop thinking about this book. The prose was beautiful. Crisp and clear. The story absolutely compelling and it did not end well. I have real respect for authors who avoid wrapping up with a nice, neat happy ending. And I borrowed this book from the library. So if you need a gift idea for me...

7. The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu. The story of an Ethiopian immigrant trying to find his American Dream in Washington, DC. Like the book above this is a first novel for this author and WOW. The bar is high.

8. Deniro's Game by Rawi Hage. Filled with angst, this book won the IMPAC Dublin Literary Award which I believe (possibly incorrectly) is the biggest award for fiction in the world. And there is a reason why this book won. The story of a Lebanese boy named Bassam surviving a war torn country in the 1980s and 90s. Wow, I am humbled.

9. Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky. Oh no. Another world war two book. Only this one was written at the beginning of the war. Carted around the world by her daughters who survived the war. She did not. Fiction but devastating knowing what became of the author. This book makes it very clear to me the cost of war. Had she lived, surely many beautiful works would have followed, instead the world is without.

10. The Assasin's Song by MG Vassanji. The story of Karsan, a young Indian boy who is the son of Shiva, a Hindu god and lives in a shrine with a lamp that burns eternally. It follows Karsan through his life and explores his relationship with his family and with religion. Beautiful. But not for the average reader. I am in love with any author that opens their novel by quoting Rilke. Can't help it, I'm a sucker.

So that's it. The best of 2008. I am looking forward to 2009. And planning a series or rereads. I am going to start next month trying to reread one book a month. I need to make the list of the worthies and get rid of the rest.

down with February

February is traditionally tough for me. Without a doubt the worst month of the year. The days are still short, the afterglow of Christmas has long since faded and it's still cold. This year was no exception.

I have tried to put things into perspective. But it doesn't seem to matter how much pep talk I do, I am still just down. I have thought in the last seven years that having Zoe's birthday in February might help. There's a party to plan, something to look forward to but even that hasn't helped, only added to the number of things that need to be done even though all I want to do is hibernate.

So my apologies to my loyal readership of two. I just can't seem to get it together enough even just to write notes. About anything. For example, I keep a detailed log of the things that I have read. After I had children I found that it was more and more difficult to remember the details of things and that sometimes I couldn't even place a book in the time period in which I was reading it. And so began the log. Right now there is a stack of twenty or so books in my room that I need to add to the log before I put them away and that doesn't include the books I borrowed and have (smartly) already returned.

Our February was eventful. We have been ice skating in my attempt to appreciate the cold. We have been sledding.




We had a pirate party for Zoe and her friend Zayd who is just ten days younger.





I went to a Crop Til You Can't Scrapbook Retreat for three days on the beautiful Pigeon Lake where I walked outside in the cold and snow just to take in the quiet of it. It should have been relaxing and refreshing but I was on a mission to get our 2008 pictures archived and on the shelf. Mission almost accomplished. A few little details left, the point being it was more work than fun. And I missed my little family like crazy.


Ruby breastfed two more days after I came home and then seems to have given it up entirely this past week. I thought I would be more sad than I am but she's just as lovely and cuddly as ever so I feel good about how it ended and I am looking forward to being done with diapers in a few months. Coming up on nine years now with diapers. I am so looking forward to less laundry, less garbage and less money out of pocket.

We have been worn down by a cold that has lasted several weeks. I got it last and was hopeful that I may have avoided it entirely but working night shifts keeps my immune system worn down just enough that it was inevitable. It has been just one of those nuisance things, annoying and yet none of us are sick enough to justify checking out of our day to day lives and so we carry on a little more tired and a little more out of sorts than usual.

It will end soon. Only four more days. We might survive it yet. With March there is hope. Hope that is a very least followed by April. I have heard that the flowers are starting to bloom on the West Coast. I am infinitely jealous in spite of the beautiful glow of the new fallen snow that surrounds me and the white noise of the furnace running most of the time. I dream of summer.