Monkey In Progress

Shangri-La Revisited

2009-07-14T13:43:00.007-05:00

A lifetime ago, when the Hubby and I were just starting out, we lived in a small but lovely one-bedroom apartment that was on the ground level of a two-storey walk-up. The building was from the 1930's so it was a pretty tight fit. However, outside, there was a fabulous green courtyard that was ours for the using. So use it we did. Our second summer there, we set up a kiddie pool (ostensibly for Mojo) and a little table and chair set and we spent as much time out there as possible (which, as a teacher, was a lot for me!). We invited our friends over for drinks and toe dipping and called it Shangri-La. It was awesome. For a summer spent in a cramped, un-air conditioned apartment, it was maybe the best summer ever.

Now that we are homeowners, it seems to me that we have been trying to recreate our own little bit of Shangri-La once again. We have the freshly lined pool (somewhat larger than the original blow-up) and our recently repaired fence, which affords us considerably more privacy than we had at the apartment! (people had to walk by us going to and from their cars in the parking lot!) And of course, no backyard would be complete without the table and chairs (including a small one for the kids).

Our current project is working to replace the ugly and poorly placed (though admittedly very useful) green shed which houses the pool equipment with a nicer one at the back of the lot to make space in which we can once again, drink with our friends pool-side.

The re-creation of Shangri-La has been slow and laborious - finding extra money for these (luxury) items has been difficult. But I am determined. Little by little the transformation is taking place. We started small with the creation of the vegetable garden (free) which actually provides us with some edible fare each year, then the pool and fence repairs, now the shed. One day it will be the oasis that I've always dreamed it could be, until then, we'll simply have to continue enjoying what we've got!

Counting Blessings

2009-06-28T17:11:00.000-05:00

Well, now that school is done for the year, I can get back to blogging! I didn't know it at the time, but I've been looking forward to the summer holiday (unpaid though it may be!) all semester long. On the good side, things moved very quickly this semester, and before I knew it, it was exam time. I can only attribute this to the huge amounts of work going on at both school and home....see video from Father's Day for evidence:

It never ceases to amaze me the progress that the kids make from day to day, even. They are growing up so fast and it's difficult to take it all in sometimes. I can't begin to describe the difficulty of balancing an effective and fulfilling work experience with an effective and fulfilling parenting experience - and that's to say nothing about being a wife or an individual! But time marches on and I haven't gotten too many complaints lately, so I must have done a reasonably good job...As you can see, the kids are GENIUSES:

Okay, well, genius might be a strong word...but they are VERY entertaining and I could do with a little entertainment these days.

Dirty Work

2009-04-29T18:43:00.003-05:00

There aren't words to describe how I feel about staff meetings. I doubt that much needs to be said. I know that everybody that has at least one co-worker probably has to have similar meetings. But it's just that they never seem to come with good news. Today was no exception. Among other, less depressing but more annoying things, I learned that a student at my school, for some reason or another, told the principal that she was going to step in front of a car (our school being conveniently located at a major intersection), and then she did. And guess what? She got hit by that car. No word yet as to whether or not she's okay, but I think it goes without saying that regardless of any broken bones, she's not really okay.

After that pick-me-up meeting, I got a note from one of our VPs that informed me that one of my grade 10's had a parent who was fatally ill, was going in for surgery this week and might not survive the procedure. Would I please take this into consideration if attendance, attitude or work completion became an issue? P.S. She doesn't know I know, so keep my mouth shut about it.

This kid's dad is dying - I don't know why she's even at school. Again, words fail me. Time and time again, I am reminded of how what happens in my cramped and dirty classroom is only a tiny fraction of what is going on in the lives of some of my students. How am I supposed to make Life of Pi or Hamlet seem important to these kids? Should I even bother?

It's times like these that I wonder at my friends and colleagues whose job it is to counsel these kids through times of trial. I know that their job is vastly different from my job and I marvel at how they don't through themselves off a bridge at the negativity of it all. I LOVE my job. It brings me a so many kinds of joy, but what is the joy in their job? I know some of you are reading this and you have answers for me, so please, after a day of wiping sh*t off of your office walls, what do you do to make your day feel better? Does it always involve a bottle of wine? Do you hug your kids and your cats and thank God that your life isn't as bad of some of these students' lives?

I guess in the end, we all feel like what we do is important to our kids and that's what gives our work meaning. Cudos to you guys for doing that very dirty work. You should be excused from at least one staff meeting each month!

Just Another Day In Paradise

2009-04-17T19:06:00.003-05:00

Warning: Going to work may be hazardous to my health.

Two weeks ago today, I arrived at work and was called into an emergency staff meeting. We were informed that a student at our school had invited people on her facebook page to join her at a protest out front of our school at the beginning of last period that day. The principal informed us that he believed that this was due to some misunderstanding on the student's part (no thanks to his bumbling communication skills no doubt) and that he would be meeting with the parties involved during a meeting at lunch.

By the end of the day, we were in lock-down due to a bomb threat. Yes, that's right. While it's true that the protest situation had been diffused over lunch, it seems that some bright young man was so disappointed about the lack of a mass student walk-out that he phoned in a bomb threat after lunch. Good thing he had his cell phone with him!

So while we all waited in our classrooms, doors locked, blinds drawn, (those of us who are lucky enough to having functioning window-coverings in our classrooms that is) we waited for the bomb-sniffing dogs to arrive from Peel (yep, Peel, because the Toronto dogs were on their day off - I swear, I'm not kidding.) and roughly two hours later, approximately 15 minutes after the end of the school day and school week, two police officers guided by a very unfortunate teacher (a retiree doing sub work no less!) knocked on all of the classroom doors and escorted the students out of the building. No, not the teachers, just the students. We, lucky souls that we are, had yet another staff meeting.

In the end, there was no real cause for concern. No bomb was found and the only harm done was to the already frayed nerves of some of the teachers - not because of the bomb, but because they were stuck in their classrooms for hours with their students without having prepared anything to do! The next time somebody makes a joke to me about having the summer off, I'm going to lock them in a room with 30 teenagers and nothing to do and see if they need a break at the end of it!

Needless to say, my colleagues and I all headed immediately for the local watering hole after we were cut loose from the school. When I got back to work on Monday, it was. business as usual.

And some people think teachers have it easy!

Liar, Liar, Shoes on Fire

2009-03-20T10:27:00.005-05:00

So it's been an embarrassingly long time since I've posted, but that's because I've been busy working and wifing and parenting.

There have been some changes since my last post. The Chimp has started walking in earnest now, though she still seems to prefer crawling, since it's still the quickest way for her to get around. God bless her, she waited until the March Break when her dad and I would be home with her to do it. No, we didn't catch it on camera, but we were both there to see it.

She's also developed a (strange) preference for using the toilet. I don't know a lot of kids who started using the toilet before the age of 2 (she's 14 months old now) although I know it's not unusual, it still seems a bit odd to me. She won't ask for it, but she's much more likely to go if she's sitting on it - and I have to admit, it's a much tidier clean-up afterward.

She's also talking quite a bit more than she was before, although she doesn't always tell the truth as you can see in the video.

All in all, we're making good progress around here. We've settled into a schedule and the kids are both doing fine. Spring is starting to spring around here and I could not be more excited about it. It's going to be great when we can start heading out of the house together again as a family!

HI-HO, HI-HO

2009-02-07T07:17:00.003-05:00

Well, yesterday marked the end of my first full week back at work and I know that some of you have been wondering how it went. The short answer is that it went pretty well. Here's the long answer:

Two weeks prior to my return date, we started doing practice drop-offs at my mum's place, so that both the Chimp and I could get used to the idea of getting up at the crack of dawn and heading out of the house to spend the day apart. I can't express how much easier this was knowing that the baby was going to be with my mother. My parents have generously offered to be our daycare for the first year or so and there's no greater gift they could have given me. The Chimp loves being there and I'm pretty sure that my folks love having her - and of course I don't have to leave in tears and spend the day wondering if she's alright - win, win all round. I am concerned about the things that I may be missing while I'm at work - first steps and all that, but there's just not that much that can be done about it. I know that she's in good hand and as long as she takes those first steps, that's what counts - sure I'd like to be there to see them, but if I'm not, I'll be there for the next ones - I don't think she'll hold it against me.

So two weeks before the new semester, I headed into the school to get my stuff organized and ready for the first week, but when I got there, somebody was in my desk - ha! So I did what I could and came back again the next week (grudgingly, I might add). But I pulled things together and when the new semester started last Friday, I was good to go.

I thought that what I missed most about working was seeing my friends. You know how it is - a good group of co-workers can make a huge difference in any work situation, and my colleagues are pretty darn good.

As it turns out though, what I actually missed the most was the kids - go figure! Over the course of the week I have come to remember my pity for anybody who doesn't get to spend their day surrounded by teenagers - here was my A-ha! moment:

Wednesday morning, we are walking down a crowded hall, returning to the classroom after an assembly and one of my grade 12 boys, in passing, says: "Hey Mr. Warrener, What's poppin'?"

Now if you work in an office environment, and there's a guy you work with who says stuff like that, I'm willing to bet he's either creepy or annoying, but in this context, I suddenly felt a joy like I had not felt in a long, long while. I missed these kids! They are funny and interesting and challenging and just....I don't know, really great - even the one's who suck are pretty good.

I realize a lot of what I'm feeling is akin to the honeymoon phase of a marriage, but I'll take it. I've been teaching for close to 10 years now, and any resurgence in the happiness I felt when I first started teaching is a welcome change. Especially now that we (teachers) are, once again, in a position to be judged by the public.

I don't want to air dirty laundry online, but I will say this. Anybody who listens to the media and believes what they hear about teachers and the current contract negotiations is naive and grossly over-estimates the honour of the current administration. School boards, like other big businesses play dirty games and use the media and the public's lack of knowledge to their advantage whenever they can. Teacher's do the best they can despite the people in charge - please don't ever doubt that.

But I digress...

This week was a great start back to work for me. Yes, it took a lot of work. Yes, I am very fortunate to have a loving and very helpful family (including the Hubby and Mojo!) and Yes, fatigue is cumulative and I would like very much to face-plant into my bed for the entire weekend and not get up until Monday....but life goes on and I'm looking forward to going back to work next week....let's just hope I still feel that way 3 weeks from now!

An Open Letter...

2009-01-25T10:48:00.002-05:00

Dear self-absorbed jack-ass,

Let me begin by saying that I do not believe myself to be one of those people who thinks that others owe them something. I'm a pretty hard worker and I try to be fair and courteous when I can. That's why, when I am looking for a place to park my car, and I see your GIANT luxury SUV (for all that all-terrain, city driving you do) parked carelessly in one-and-a-half parking spaces - well, it makes me irate. Ditto, to you, the tiny sports car driver, whose car is so important, that you must park DIAGONALLY in two spots, just to make sure that none of us commoners park too closely to you.

While I'm at it, perhaps I'll address the, almost certainly senior citizen, who parks his ancient Lincoln Continental, TWO INCHES from my car, thereby making it impossible to open the door far enough to get myself out, never mind extract my kid from her car seat - thanks for taking notice!

In addition, all you able-bodied people, who walk with your heads...well, down, if not up your arse, who feel that the ramps provided for those who travel with wheels (i.e. wheelchairs, walkers, and yes, strollers) are there for your convenience, and will not step out of the way if one of those slower-moving people happens to need them as well - F- you! You are an assh*le. I know it's not always obvious when a person has need of those ramps, but more often than not, it is the handicapped and elderly that make way for the jerks who are using them, so it's not hard to tell who has manners and who thinks they are more important than everyone else.

I suppose if you're in such a rush that you can't use the stairs, then you're probably too busy to stop and hold a door open for somebody who could use an extra hand as well. I'm sure we all understand.

But just so you understand - YOU ARE A PRICK. May Karma do it's worst to you...after all, you've earned it.

As The Sands Of The Hourglass....

2009-01-05T18:26:00.006-05:00

When I was a student teacher doing my practicum, my professor came to observe and evaluate my teaching. Afterward, we sat down and discussed what he'd seen and it was at that time that I got what I considered the very best professional compliment I could get from a colleague. He said, and I'm paraphrasing here, that my love of teaching was obvious and that it seemed to him that I would gladly do it, even some of the time, for free.

During my career so far, there have indeed been times when I felt like I would do the job for free. Not every day, but some. I have been lucky to find my calling and a job which provides me with joy, pride and purpose.

But today the Chimp is one year old, and as the clock winds down on my time at home with her, I feel very strongly that, when I go back to work on the 30th, it will largely be for the money. Because I don't need my job for joy, pride or purpose anymore - the Chimp gives me all of those things and more.

I am crushed that I won't be able to spend the day with her anymore. I am sad that I will likely miss many of the next milestones for her and that when I do get home from work that our time together will be marred by the stress I feel over my job.

I am nervous, also, that my work will simply not seem as important to me as it once did, and that I won't be able to live up to the standards that I ( and my co-workers ) have come to expect from myself. I would be very disappointed indeed to find that I am no longer worthy of my job.

But in the mean time, while I psych myself out, the Chimp is chugging along. She is hilariously expressive - I've never seen a 1 year old with so much eyebrow movement! Although she has only a handful of words, she is remarkably effective at communicating her needs and feelings. As luck would have it, she is a very happy baby. She loves "reading" her books and will hold one out for me to read for quite a bit longer than it would have taken her to bring over to me, but the mountain must always come to Mohammad - she refuses to budge. Unless she is coming over to maul me. She likes to pinch and poke - delighting in my reactions, comparing them to her father's. He is, of course, wrapped around her finger.

In short, she's perfect and I am so thrilled that she is mine. I can't believe that a whole year has passed. For as much as she's changed, I'm sure I've stayed the same - except that now, she's the centre of my universe. What a change is coming for both of us, so very soon.

Major Purchase

2008-11-08T17:32:00.004-05:00

I am having a minor nervous breakdown right now. After many weeks of debating the pros and cons of new vs. used and purchasing vs. leasing, researching and test-driving, the Hubby and I bought car #2 today. (A used, demo model, 2008 Subaru Forester - it's white, but what can you do?)

Normally I would be thrilled. And deep down, I truly am. I have spent the better part of a year, trapped in my house because my car is sitting outside my husband's place of work waiting for quittin' time. So yes, I am very excited at the prospect of being able to go where I want, when I want.

The problem now is, of course, that I can't go anywhere because we just bought a car and now we're broke. Christmas is coming and the car insurance is going to double, and The Chimp's first birthday will follow shortly, and, and, and!!!!!!

I'm sure everything will be fine - right? I'll just keep telling myself that until I go back to work at the end of January...

Innocence Lost...Maybe Not

2008-11-01T18:35:00.003-05:00

Difficulties with Mojo these past two months (since school started - and it's no coincidence) have had me believing that the child was passing out of her innocence into hardened adulthood at the tender age of 7.

Two things stand out:

1) Mojo has been losing her teeth like they're radioactive and sure enough, some jack-hole at school told her that there was no such thing as the Tooth Fairy. It's not the first time that she's approached her parents looking for reassurance that such things exist, it's just the first time that she wasn't taking any bull sh*t for an answer.

When her mother tried the old, "Well, do you think there's such a thing as the Tooth Fairy?" she flat out told her to stop beating around the bush and answer the question. Backed into a corner the Harpy told the kid the truth.

Mojo demanded to know why we had all lied to her (that is, every adult, everywhere), and why it was okay for grown-ups to lie to children, but kids get in trouble when they lie -- all good questions, don't you think?

I suggested to her dad that when she came to him looking for an explanation that he take the high road, something like: "Well, it can be scary for a kid when their teeth start to fall out, so grown-ups made up the tooth fairy to make losing your baby teeth something fun to look forward to, so kids wouldn't be scared to lose their teeth. Yes, it's a lie, and people shouldn't lie, but it's meant to make you feel better, not worse."

My current readings of Today's Parent has lead me to believe that these kinds of abstract ideas are the sort which kids of Mojo's age are starting to appreciate - empathy can be a difficult concept, even for adults to grasp sometimes, hopefully we haven't screwed it up too much for her.

2) A couple of weeks ago, Mojo asked her dad what it means when somebody puts their middle finger up at you - why it is bad. He told her it was like sign language for a swear word. It satisfied her curiosity, but it pissed me off. Some little f*cker at school is doing it to other kids thinking he's so cool because he knows something that he's not supposed to know and doing something he's not supposed to do. Why do some assh*les have to ruin things for other kids? Who knows how long Mojo could have gone without knowing that rude gesture? Her father and I take great pains not to make that very gesture when she's with us in the car (though it doesn't stop others from directing it at us!).

I guess my point is that I was starting to worry that maybe 7 was the end of innocence for our little Moj. But then last night, she was all dressed up in her ghost costume, chomping at the bit to get out and do some trick-or-treating and I realized that there are just grades of innocence. She was, almost literally, like a kid in a candy store. It's so funny how some kids, even though they do it every year, just cannot believe their luck at the idea of Halloween.

The highlight of Halloween for me to date was Mojo's exclamation of joy after the very first house that "That guy just gave me candy!" As though that wasn't the reason why she knocked on his door in the first place! Granted, it's been a couple of years since that first house, but she's still just as excited as ever. She was even excited to hand candy out at our door last night. Warms the cockles you know...

But I'll tell you right here and now, if that Tooth Fairy killing bastard ever shows up at my door looking for candy, I'm gonna give him the finger for sure!

Milestones

2008-10-13T13:12:00.004-05:00

So I guess if you read this blog with any regularity, you'll have noticed that the posts are becoming fewer and farther between. That is because things are busy around here. And by things, I mean the Chimp.

At the beginning of October, the Chimp was 9 months old and that means that now she does some cool things that are worth watching:

She claps her hands. At stuff she likes, when you sing her a song and when she's upset sometimes.
She crawls. Everywhere she can get her little body into, under or around -- this development has necessitated the use of the play pen quite a bit!
She pulls herself up onto things - the coffee table, the T.V. hutch, the dining chairs and of note recently, she has pulled herself up to standing in her crib.

In short, she is keeping me very busy and there is much less time to write this blog! No complaints though. It's fun to see what she's going to do next; even though you know the milestones are coming, it's amazing to see them in action. Tomorrow we go to the doctor's for her 9 month check-up, if I get a chance I'll update her stats then!

Um Yeah, Thanks Brooke

2008-09-27T12:55:00.004-05:00

So I'll admit, I like to watch reality television. Survivor, America's Next Top Model, So You Think You Can Dance - I watch 'em all. This week, the Hubby and I sat down to watch the latest season of Dancing With The Stars. It's innocuous enough. Nobody gets hurt and it's fun to watch the beautiful people trying to do something that they wouldn't normally do on live television. But I have to say the needle went screeching off the record for me when I saw Brooke Burke in her barely there costume looking like she's never eaten a trans fat in her whole life.

The woman has four (count 'em, 4) children, the most recent of which was delivered only 6 months ago!

Now, I don't normally like to compare myself to the people on T.V. (unless of course they are the extremely obese people on The Biggest Loser), but in light of the fact that Brooke has recently delivered a baby and so have I - I admit the temptation was too great to resist. I definitely do not look like that!

So I told myself all of the things that other women in my position would tell themselves - that Brooke Burke makes a living out of looking like that - her livelihood depends on it. That she likely can afford to pay someone to make her meals for her and does not eat PB&J or frozen chicken nuggets for lunch like her kids do because she doesn't have to make lunches and keep her house in order like other moms do. That likely she has a personal trainer to make sure that she keeps that absolutely rock solid body at all times.

But it might not all be true. More likely, the woman looks like that because she doesn't sit on her couch eating cookies after her 4 kids go to bed. She probably hasn't ever knowingly consumed a trans fat, because she probably is on some raw food diet, and probably she doesn't collapse on her couch in grateful exhaustion when the last of her kids goes down for her nap - she probably does Pilates or yoga or something.

And good for her. Even if she does hire out the cooking duties, or has a live in nanny, or just enjoys good clean living - I don't begrudge her her hot body. But maybe she could just keep her four kids to herself. Other people don't need to know that it's possible to look like that six months after giving birth. I know I didn't!

But Brooke isn't just out there showing off. No, she's got a website dedicated to helping other moms out. Yeah, go ahead, check it out. But here's the thing. I'm not entirely convinced that the band of elasticized fabric that Brooke is flogging on her website is actually responsible for her taught tummy -- sorry Brooke. Would it stop me from trying it next time around? No, I'd try a lot of things to look like her.

Except walk past the concession stand at the movies without picking up a bag of popcorn and some Milk Duds. But, thanks anyway Brooke.

Better To Have Loved & Lost?

2008-09-09T09:27:00.004-05:00

It's funny how sometimes things will happen in your life that otherwise seem unrelated, but when you think about them are kind of about the same thing.

I recently put an end to my dry spell of novel reading and found an amazing book called The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. Perhaps it's just that it came to me at the right time, but I'm pretty sure this book is just un-frigging-believable.

Anyway, one of the ideas explored in this book is that of losing something/someone that you love. And in light of recent responses to my last blog, I think that it's an idea worth exploring a little more.

This book had me in tears. I found it so profoundly moving - the idea of waiting for your soul mate and the fear of losing them when they finally come - struck a chord in me that I'm sure must resonate with others also. My inability to control the world around me has left me in a cold sweat many, many times.

And so it got me to thinking: When we are single, many of us go to great lengths: removing hair in the bizarrest of places, engaging in the boringest/strangest/stupidest activities to lure to us "the one" we are meant to be with. If it takes too long for us to find that person, we begin to fret (see Trippy Gal's comment to previous blog).

I suppose that it's not without good reason that we engage in this worrying. I mean, nobody wants to spend eternity alone (or worse yet, spend eternity dating every weirdo out there). There is an innate need to connect with another human being and feel at peace knowing that we are loved unconditionally. We fear that the possibility exists that we will die never knowing this feeling.

The flip side of this fear, of course, is for those who have found "the one." For those people, the deepest fear is in losing their beloved - perhaps to some bizarre twist of fate beyond their control - a speeding car, a devastating illness - or perhaps to some grave error in judgement - the realization that you and your loved one aren't meant to be, a misspent evening, or what-have-you. And this fear is well-founded as well. For example, my own marriage exists at the expense of someone else's. In this case, one is left not only bereft of their loved one, but also with a feeling of inadequacy, the pain of rejection.

The fears get worse the more attachments you make; it runs in every direction; from the very centre of you out to your parents, whom you see aging (however gracefully), knowing that your time with them is finite; to your partner, whom you love with all your heart and could not bear to be without; and of course, to your children, who seem to hold within them the ability to stop your heart altogether. How on earth can one contend with all the myriad possibilities for loss?

When you look at it in this light (as The Time Traveller's Wife made me do) it seems as though the only way to avoid these pains are to avoid making attachments at all. If you are a Buddhist, then you're already on the right path for this. For the rest of us, however, the path is not so clearly marked. Like I said, the innate need for human connection is a strong one.

So what is the answer?

I guess it's probably different for everyone. For me though, there's no question - it's worth the risk. To live in fear of losing something you love is a far better misery than the fear which causes one not to try - to avoid those relationships which may cause rejection, loss and heartache.

And besides, the possibilities for joy are too numerous to avoid. I'm sure the Dalai Lama himself would have to admit that there is a great difficulty in not attaching oneself to the many wonderful things that life has to offer. So if you're still waiting for "the one" to come along, why not enjoy what there is in the mean time?

40 A Figure To Look Forward To

2008-09-02T16:47:00.005-05:00

This weekend, the Hubby and I attended a farewell party for a friend and colleague who, after many years in the reserves, has decided to volunteer for service in Afghanistan. While I have mixed feelings about that, I respect this man very much and wish him good luck and a safe return.

At this party there were many interesting people. The Hubby and I were delighted to be at a (grown-up) party where there were people that we did not know - bizarre how that has ceased to be a regular part of our experiences in recent years. Among the attendees were a group of neighbourhood women, adorably named The Brooklawn Babes. These are a group of middle-aged women (mostly in their late 40's, early 50's) who know each other from their neighbourhood and who are friends. These women have collectively and individually experienced the myriad of of joys and adversities that people go through - death, divorce, and remarriage. Physical illness, mental illness, alcoholism. Child birth and child rearing (including teenagers), starting new careers and disciplines of study, and probably any others you can think of. The remarkable thing about these women though, is not their experiences - as I've said they are fairly common to everyday people, but the sheer fabulousness of them as individuals and as a group. Frankly, they're the sexiest middle-aged women I've met.

And I'm not just talking about how they look. Yes, they were decked out in their cutest cocktail dresses and looked great in them (yes, by the way, my standard for greatness at 50 is different from my standard for greatness at 20 or 30), but what was so fierce about them was their attitudes. The Confidence! My God! One could not help but notice how fabulous these women were and they knew it! There was no shame there. Just what seemed like total confidence.

And why not? In their 20's women seem to have a recklessness about them that sometimes plays as confidence, but I think, in many cases it is simply a mask which is meant to hide a sense of uncertainty and self-loathing. The confusion about who and what we are to ourselves and others can be overwhelming. The closer we get to our 30's the better we are able to understand ourselves and others, but now the self-loathing presents as a fear of aging. We are just finally starting to get our shit together, and now we're going to start sagging and bagging. How can anyone possible appreciate or respect us when we're not gorgeous?!

In our 30's we realize the folly of this, but still can't help ourselves. We are heavily targeted by the media and despite loving families, friends and/or partners we are critical of our outsides, even as our insides are slowing moving toward the fabulousness that will be our middle age. While it's true that (for many of us) our bodies take on a utilitarian nature during this decade that does not necessarily promote a sense of sexiness, our station in life as partners, leaders, and supporters does. But this is just the beginning.

Soon, we will be 40. We will be established more soundly in our jobs, lives and communities like we have not been before. We will have a sense of who we are and what we want for ourselves and our families that we have not had before. And yes, we will have sagging bits that we have not had before. But it won't matter. The truth is, I've yet to hear anybody complain about their 40's. Middle age for a woman (and I think that our 40's are the onset of this stage) is a coming of age. While men may be having their mid-life crises, women are finally starting appreciate the power within themselves. They are coming to accept that aging happens and while it's true that things aren't necessarily looking the way they did when they were 20, it matters less and less.

This November I will be turning 33. While it's true that I cried the night I turned 20, and was less than pleased when I realized at 26 that I was closer to 30 than 20, I can honestly say that there is no trepidation about turning 40. I've always suspected (and The Brooklawn Babes confirmed it for me this weekend) that aging (for men and women) is all in your head. If having another candle on your cake makes you want to through yourself off a bridge, then you need to think again.

Confidence is what makes you sexy. The respect and admiration of your peers and loved ones is what makes you hot. And if that's not enough, then chances are, by the time you turn 40, you'll be able to afford to lift, tuck or suck out whatever it is that's bugging you!

Done & Done!

2008-08-28T18:49:00.007-05:00

Well, the deed is done. The Chimp is part of God's army now. We had the Christening last Saturday and frankly, it was pretty painless. Certainly the ceremony itself was easier than preparing for it. Each time I find myself engaging in some pagan ritual I am astounded at how many minute details must be adhered to. Or maybe it's just my mum.

Either way the day was a pleasant one and the Chimp was a champ! She fussed very little despite the bizarre circumstances (see photo below) and looked super cute in both her church dress and the Christening gown for afterwards.

My brother (the godfather) showed Herculean strength holding the Chimp in one arm throughout almost the entire ceremony and Gern (the godmother) was a real trooper, standing up in front of a strange crowd (our family), taking part in a bizarre ritual a la the Byzantine Era, all the while having hot wax drip across her fingers. I hope I get to return the favour some day - Lord knows I owe her!

We all headed back to my parent's place afterward for a bite to eat and it was strangely relaxed. My family was all there, loud as ever and the Hubby's family was also there, though not seeming traumatized by my family in the least. Nor by having to spend time with each other either. It's a bizarre situation at best with the Hubby's family, and if you know the story, you know why. If not, it's not really my place to tell it. (sorry!) It could be that we are all just getting used to each other - it was a totally pleasant day!

Apparently the only thing left for us to do is to head back to the church one Sunday to take communion (which, I'm pretty sure I've never done before!) and get the paper work taken care of. One more tradition I can check off my list!

Part Of This Nutritious Breakfast...

2008-08-20T09:26:00.005-05:00

Ever since I can remember my family has been a family of gardeners. I'm sure for generations back my ancestry is one of subsistence farming. So naturally when I grew old enough to have a patch of dirt to call my own, I felt the need to plant something in it.

Perhaps you'll recall that I'm not a by-the-booker and so you won't be surprised to learn that I am a VERY lazy gardener. However, thanks to the hot and rainy weather we've been having in Ontario this summer, I've got a pretty good crop growing in my patch of dirt (and I do mean patch - the "garden" is probably 8 x 5 feet in total).

This year, in addition to my grandmother's tomatoes and peppers, I planted some cucumbers and potatoes, and I'm pleased to report that I've been enjoying the food from my garden for a couple of weeks now and I'm not dead yet!

(don't mind the eggs, I never claimed to be a great chef)

I would encourage anybody with their own patch of dirt (including balconies with space for a pot or two), who likes to cook, or just to eat, to take up gardening for themselves. I cannot express how frigging cool it is to go into your own back yard and come back with food. FOOD!! For cryin' out loud. Even if it's just a pot of basil and you're pretty sure that you'll kill it - I urge you to try. Honestly, you'll feel like Tom Hanks in that terrible movie with the volleyball when he made fire. It is totally gratifying. You'll feel like a million bucks - and then you get to eat what you made! And if it dies - no harm, no foul - it's not like a pet (but could be, if you wanted).

Especially if you, like many of us, try to buy locally when the seasons are right, you can appreciate the greatness of the earth when you bite into a fresh fruit or vegetable that hasn't been picked green and shipped across the continents. It's a moving experience, I tell ya.

Go out and garden today!

Giving & Getting: Year Three

2008-08-14T19:19:00.005-05:00

Today is my anniversary. The Hubby and I have been married for 3 whole years now and nobody has suffered any severe or lasting damage. So far.

How did we spend our day? you ask.

Well we were up at the cottage for our first overnighter with both of the girls, so of course we were at the beach. Then cleaning and packing and driving from Lafontaine, Ontario back to Toronto. Naturally both kids fell asleep in the back seat and all we could do was sigh with relief and joy.

Also, we stopped at the Cookstown Outlet Mall. They have a kid's clothing store there that I figured we should check out before school starts again in September. Sadly, we promised Mojo a visit to the Cadbury store while we were there, but it closed. So what did we do? We went to McDonald's of course! What a romantic anniversary dinner!

Then things got worse from there. Both kids were still VERY tired, but not sleeping and the chimp started crying (and I mean CRYING!) about 45 minutes away from home. God bless her, Mojo was doing her best to entertain her sister, but after awhile she just got fed up. By the time we got through the rush hour traffic and home, both kids were in tears in the back seat and Mojo wanted to go back to the Harpy's house!

All is well now. The chimp is asleep in her crib. Mojo is in the tub preparing for bed and I am in the basement writing about how much I cherish domestic life with my hubby three (actually five) years later.

No, it's not glamorous, but it ain't bad neither.

My father-in-law called to wish us a happy anniversary and told me how glad he was that I married his son. Strangely, even after a day like this one (and several other sh*tty days before, during and after the divorce) I'm glad I married him too.

The thing is, I love my husband. I love him and I'm in love with him too. I think he's smart and sexy and funny and so loving and most importantly, forgiving. And I feel lucky to be with him. And I know he feels the same way about me.

The best part, I think, is that we make each other better people. Not all the time every day, but in a slow, methodical kind of way. We both want to be the best partner we can be for one another and so we try really hard to be that way. And when we can't? We say sorry and forgive each other for our shortcomings. I never imagined that compromising could work out so well in my favour. But there you have it: You give a little bit of yourself and you can get a lot in return!

Happy Summer!

2008-08-11T12:50:00.007-05:00

Whew! I hardly know where to begin today. It seems that summer has finally started in earnest for me now that it's August. The first week or so was spent visiting with family and friends in lovely weather.

Yes, those are babies and beer in the pool - it could hardly be one or the other!

Last Tuesday the chimp and I made our first overnight forray into cottage country with some awesome teacher friends of mine and it was FABULOUS! I thought that maybe there would be some trouble with the chimp sleeping in the playpen for the first time in unfamiliar surroundings, but, of course, she was a total champ; completely accommodating so that mummy and her friends could enjoy their adult beverages and catch up with one another.

Yes, this is what (some/many) teachers do with their summers off. That's why we get them. Nobody can be as good as we have to be all year round without blowing off a little steam. (Want proof? Check out the Catholic church!)

The day after we got home, the hubby and I discovered that the chimp has got her first teeth coming in - the two bottom front teeth. She's generally a pretty good baby, so we've been spoiled and now her irritability is starting to wear us down. Hopefully it won't be too much longer though. She's going to be so freakin' cute once they come in!

On Saturday we had Mojo's 7th birthday party and, of course, it rained. Not all day. Just in the afternoon while we were having her party. That's okay though, since the kids were swimming anyway, we figured they wouldn't mind getting wet and they didn't. It was a riot. The best line of the day: "I'm a torpedo myself, actually." Try saying that with a straight face.

The kids had a great time swimming, smashing the bejesus out of the pinata and hula hooping their foul brains out. Not a bad time despite the rain.

While the hubby is off this week on vacation, we have plans for a trip to Canada's Wonderland (a now annual trip with Mojo. Last year I was pregnant and couldn't go on any of the rides -- BORING! This year I'm being replaced with Mojo's uncle and his girlfriend since, once again, I'd be standing on the sidelines with the chimp), and some time up at the cottage.

Coming up after that will be the chimp's Christening and my mum's birthday and then the summer is pretty much over. Where the heck does the time go? One minute you're twiddling your thumbs and then next minute you can hardly find time to check your email! I'll take busy over bored on most days though. Just as long as I get a bit of down time now and then.

Hope everybody else is having as good a summer as we are!! Happy Summer!

Ferber Schmerber

2008-08-02T06:32:00.004-05:00

Except when I'm baking, I'm not really a "by the book" kind of gal (and that's only after learning the hard way that a teaspoon is a teaspoon, not a dash, pinch or otherwise!) and so it hasn't really been any different with child rearing. Yes, I do often seek out information from sources who know better than I do and often that means consulting a book or (gasp!) the Internet, but by and large I'm a skimmer and fill in the blanks myself. I figure with something like children it's likely to be on a case by case basis anyway, so why sweat the details?

Employing the cry it out method with the chimp has been thus. And I guess it's working. But the fact of the matter is, we (or rather I) haven't really been sticking to the rules. My baby isn't always awake when I put her down in her crib and I don't feel badly about that. Yes, it likely has meant dragging this whole process out longer than necessary, but, well, too bad for us.

Despite my lack of attention to detail, things have gotten considerably better on the sleeping front (at least for the chimp). I am still waking up expecting her to wake up crying, but she's doing pretty good now. If and when she wakes before it's time for a feeding, she sometimes cries, but often finds a way to get herself back to sleep within a few minutes and for the last few nights she has been waking only for one feeding in the middle of the night and getting a good 12 hours in the mean time.

Last night, the hubby and I went out to the movies (The Dark Knight - disappointingly boring!) and my mum came over to watch the chimp. She went to bed without her usual boob and slept through the night. I'm not complaining, but I'm not going to get used to it just yet either. What I will do is hope it lasts long enough for my body to trust that it's going to keep happening, and maybe, just maybe there will be a full night's sleep in my future too!

A Good Example Feels Good!

2008-07-28T19:11:00.002-05:00

I consider myself a fairly active person. Or at least, I used to be. Like many women, I have struggled with my weight off and on throughout my life, sometimes I've been thin and other times not so thin.

Before the baby came I was able to get to the gym with a fair bit of regularity if not zeal. Not so much these days. I have tried going since we had the chimp, but a combination of fatigue and c-section complications have kept it from becoming a habit. Also, and I know how stupid this is going to sound, but I'm going to say it anyway, I've been scared to leave her at the gym daycare with people I don't know and who don't know me. Not because I don't think they'll take good care of her for the hour I'm not there, but because my baby is so damn smiley and happy. A stranger could come and take her out of there and she'd probably just laugh and smile the whole time.

Anyway, I broke the child-minding seal this weekend when the four of us (God, that happened fast! A family of four!) all went to the gym. Mojo and the chimp stayed in the daycare while the hubby and I sweated it out upstairs. It was awesome! My body felt like a car that's been sitting in a traffic jam when suddenly the road opens up and there's no speed limit! I actually ran (however pathetically) on the treadmill -- something I haven't done in years -- shameful, I know, but true. When I got home my body felt good and tired in a way that it hasn't in far too long. I'm actually looking forward to going back to the gym. While I'm still loathe to leave the chimp in the daycare (without her sister to oversee her) during the week, I am determined that I will at least go every other weekend and make the trip a family habit. I know that's not often enough to exact any major changes in my physique or even my general health, but it's a start and it's enough to make me feel good about paying for the gym membership, if nothing else! But it's not just that - I know we're setting an example for our kids -- showing them that it's important to set time aside for yourself to do something healthy; to look after your body and to make it a habit. Now if I could just stop heading down the candy aisle at the grocery store -- that would be a real example!

Progress

2008-07-12T08:54:00.003-05:00

People have been asking me for updates on the chimp so here are the latest stats:

As of July 4th:

Weight: 20 lbs 2 oz (yes, this is considerably above average - okay, it's off the chart)

Length: 66 cm (within normal range)

Head Circ: 42.5 cm

So I have an incredibly chubby baby and until recently it was completely my own doing. However, we started her on the cereals about a month ago and in the last week or so we've started introducing some veggies to her diet. Some are more popular than others, but none are as popular as the boob.

In the last three days we have also begun to employ the cry it out method of getting the chimp to sleep. I hate it. I feel like a terrible person and that I am scarring my baby for life. The thing is, I think it's starting to work. The crying time seems to be shortening (touch wood) and hopefully soon there will be no crying at all. I'll keep you posted.

Movies For Mommies, Not Strollers

2008-07-11T06:30:00.005-05:00

This week some of the ladies from my mums group decided to live on the edge and try taking our 6 month old babies to the movies. For those of you who are unaware, during the day, many movie theatres offer up one of their theatres for people with young children. The sound is turned down from the usual zillion decibels and there is a table on which you can change your baby so that you don't need to miss the film.

We selected a mid-town location that was conveniently located, but I had no idea just how inconvenient the experience would be. We were warned that there might be some competition for the elevator going up to the theatres, so we met early in order to beat the rush.

Well. First of all, just getting into the damned mall was an exercise in frustration. I ended up going in through the book store and luckily finding the elevator up from there. However once I got to the exit that emptied out in front of the theatre, I found that there were only stairs leading down -- no ramp.

Then when it was time to head up for the movie, we headed toward the "elevator." More like claustrophobic nightmare. The "elevator" was big enough to fit one stroller and I dare say that if you were in a wheelchair, you'd be heading up alone. The "elevator" required the rider to press the "up" button until it finished climbing incredibly slowly up to the second floor -- scraping up the concrete wall ( yeah, no sliding doors on this one, it really just cranked up a concrete shaft ). When you reached the top, presumably one is able to exit the "elevator" although I'm not sure because when I let go of the button, I started going back down to the first floor! As though the trip up had not been traumatic enough! When I reached the first floor again I backed out of the "elevator" and reported to the ladies waiting to get in that I didn't know what had happened to cause my trip to be a total failure, but that I would not be repeating it ever again. One of them (one smart enough to bring her son in a sling) was kind enough to navigate my stroller up the narrow escalator while I carried the chimp.

Once on the appropriate floor, I made a bee-line for the washroom, because, of course, the chimp had pooped right through her clothes up to her neck. When I was done laundering my baby, I headed for the theatre in which one is not permitted to bring a stroller, and lugged my kid, my popcorn, my beverage and my diaper bad up to the seats where the other mums were sitting.

The movie was cute. Entertaining and the chimp was fairly accommodating. She played contentedly on my lap until she tipped over and bunked her head on the arm rest, then she screamed at the top of her lungs (only I can injure my baby in a room where most of the furniture is upholstered!). Once calmed, she only kicked up a fuss again when she got tired and I did have to walk her around a bit and then nurse her until she fell asleep. Then, bliss. For the last 20 minutes of the film. Then it was time to go.

I had an easier time getting out of the theatre -- I headed directly for the escalator, although this is better done with a partner because when I got to the bottom I nearly killed myself and the chimp -- good thing the stroller is light enough to lift with one hand! Getting out of the mall on the other hand was not as easy. I actually had to ask at the information desk how to get out of the mall with my stroller.

I was actually relieved to get back to my steaming hot car. Too bad about that theater -- now I can never go back. Well, I could go back without the stroller, but on principle, I think I may not.

I can go to the movies without my stroller, but people in wheelchairs cannot go to the movies without them and it made me pretty friggin' irritated on their behalf to be in this theatre. If there was ever an emergency evacuation of that theatre, anybody in a wheelchair would not survive -- what the hell is up with that? -- it's 2008 for Pete's sake.

Green P Parking = $14
Daytime Movie = $11
Snacks = $10
Eye Opening Experience = Priceless.

Tradition - Just Suck It Up And Do It!

2008-07-02T07:36:00.006-05:00

So in my last post I made mention of the impending Christening of our little chimp. Again, those of you who know me are likely surprised by the decision to baptise the baby. I admit, I am conflicted. I have a bit of a problem with organized religion as I know it. My family is Eastern Orthodox, which is a lot like Catholic with a few variations. Lots to be offended by if you're looking.

The hubby and I elected to side-step the church when we got married in favour of a ceremony which we had more control over. The church has a lot of rules, I guess, and I don't really like to be told what to do. Especially when it comes to something as personal as one's faith. The conflict though, is that there is some comfort in the ritual of religion. Many of the ceremonies that we go through in life are based in religion and modern society has not been able to separate itself from that. Unfortunately, if you're looking for ceremony, more often than not you're headed to church (or mosque, or temple, or what-have-you).

What ceremony am I looking for exactly? Well, I'm not really sure. As far as Christianity goes, I'm not overly concerned about the chimp being absolved of her original sin or getting into heaven when her time comes -- in that regard I'm a pretty bad Christian. But I am interested in the idea of the recognition that comes with a christening. A welcoming into the community of humanity, if you will. And while I suppose we could have just thrown her a party, the weight of it just isn't the same.

Also, the assigning of god-parents is an idea that I really like. Not the kind of parents who will tell you to go to your room when you've been bad or slap a bandage on your knee when you fall off your bike, but parents whose focus is a bit broader, and fuzzier. In our case, we've chosen two people with different types of knowledge. My brother - the godfather - knows about our (my)culture's and family's traditions. Things which he, having had similar experiences to my own, can pass on to his niece. My friend Gern on the other hand - the godmother - is a person to whom faith and spirituality is a reality in her life. She is the only person I know who has actively gone shopping for a church which suits her personality and lifestyle. She is the only one that I know who can act as an example when it comes to matters of faith. Not that I'm not interested in teaching the chimp about that stuff, it's just nice to have some options for people you can go to when you're looking for info and answers about yourself.

In any case we're going through with it. I've already spoken with the priest, and told the family, and in particular, my grandmothers are thrilled. The good news, is that in my culture, most of the work is left to the godparents (although, let's face it, my mum will likely take care of many of the details) and the birth parents don't have much to do at all -- now that's the kind of tradition that I could get used to!

Pools, Parties and Other Updates

2008-06-16T18:02:00.005-05:00

The pool is done!

I can't tell you how much nicer it is to look out into the backyard and see our lovely new pool instead of the mess displayed in the previous images. Thanks to the unseasonably warm weather the temperature of the water has been in the high 70's F (which is in and around the mid 20's C). Mojo and the hubby took the inaugural dip last weekend. I am waiting for slightly warmer temps, but make no mistake, the fact that I looked better in my swim suit when I was pregnant than I do now, will not stop me from putting it on and getting into that zillion dollar pool!

Speaking of the pool, here's the update on Mojo's 7th birthday party: She caved. Mojo's mum looked into doing the pool party at her local swimming pool and discovered that the cost was prohibitive and as such, if Mojo wanted her pool party it would have to be at Dad's house. So the Harpy finally came around and told her 6 year old that it was okay that she wasn't going to the party at Daddy's house because they were going to have another party with Mum (something she should have done right from the start, of course, but naturally she doesn't give a crap about how bad her kid feels as long as she makes the hubby look bad).

The Harpy decided that it would be alright for Mojo to have her party here but that certain of her friends could not be invited, namely the ones that she babysits because "they are like family." What a load of hooey. I'm not sure what she would have done if we had decided to invite them anyway, but we chose not to create more tension.

Despite our best efforts of course, tension was still created when we tried to send out birthday invitations to 3 (yes, just 3!) of Mojo's classmates at school. I made some lovely invitations and sent her to school with the instruction of handing them out to her friends. Since her birthday isn't until August, I also took the precaution of sending an evite to the parents of the kids in the event that the invitations got lost over the summer.

The Harpy didn't know this and to make a long story short, called and said that she refused to hand out the invitations to the parents of the 3 kids that Mojo chose because: 1) she didn't know one of the kids that she had invited, she didn't know why she had invited that kid and she didn't think it was appropriate for that kid to be invited; 2) some of the kids that she thought should be invited weren't and she didn't want to hand out invitations to other kids in front of those children's mothers; 3) we should make it a priority to know that handing out invitations in class is not done at this school for fear of hurting the feelings of other children who are not invited and that if we thought we could do this party by ourselves then we should learn how to do things properly.

We of course, let her know that it didn't really matter what she thought about who was invited to our house because it's our house. Nor did it matter that she would not (or would not let Mojo) hand out the invitations that we had prepared because invitations had already been sent out via email (a means of communication which she hates because she doesn't understand it and can't control it- she doesn't even have a computer). We certainly would not be uninviting a child because she claimed that Mojo wasn't even friends with her -- since when do we encourage the clique mentality by the way?

Anyway, the short of it is, all of my hard work at preparing those lovely invitations was for naught and now I need to print a retraction in my evites because I told the parents to look out for the invitations at school. I hate that ignorant cow.

(Incidentally, for Tanya, here's the link to the wikipedia definition for Harpy - though there are many variations, a Harpy is a mythological figure which steals things which are not it's own and sometimes whisks souls off to hell...http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harpy )

In happier party news, my friend Stephanie celebrated her 33rd birthday this month. We went out for drinks and a viewing of Sex and the City. It was awesome! It was so nice to be out with my friends -- drinking no less! (and I do mean no less -- I got HAMMERED). The movie was also totally enjoyable -- for any who have not seen it yet (or am I the only one living under a rock?) it's definitely worth the price of admission

The next party up for planning will be the Chimp's christening. Those who know me will be wondering why I am even partaking in this sort of ritual -- all I can say is, parenthood changes you in ways you never expect and well, I guess it probably couldn't hurt. More to come on what is sure to be a total debacle...!!

Selfish, Immature Step-Mother? So What?!

2008-06-05T16:37:00.006-05:00

This summer Mojo will be 7 years old. Seven! I can hardly believe it, but as they say, time waits for no one. She has decided that she would like to have a pool party at our house this year and we have agreed to allow her to invite 4 or 5 of her friends for a frolic in the pool to celebrate her birth.

It occurred to me the other day that the child might also expect or desire her mother's attendance at this event and I mentioned it to the hubby. Now, I realize that we are supposed to do things that are in Mojo's best interest, like pretending that I don't hate that woman more than sin, but there are some things I am unwilling to do. Having the Harpy in my home or even in my backyard is one of them. I told this to the hubby and he agreed. He suggested that he would mention this to the Harpy as a pre-emptive move to avoid any surprises or conflicts.

So much for that. I'm calling it right now, this is the beginning of a conflict. The conversation went something like this:

Hubby: So we've decided that we're only going to have 4 or 5 kids for this pool party. You know, we don't want to have more than we can keep an eye on. We'll probably have some help from my brother- and sister-in-law.

Harpy: I assume I can come right?

Hubby: Ah, no.

Harpy: Why not?

Hubby: Well, we're just not comfortable with that. You know if we were having the party some place else, on more neutral ground that would be different, but this is our home.

Harpy: Lame complaints about last year's birthday party which did not take place at her home.

Hubby: Reiterating that it's not the same because this is our home.

Harpy: Well, then maybe we should have it at a public pool instead.

Hubby: I guess you'll have to ask Mojo about that.

Fast forward to just right now as I'm writing this post and...yes... there is the phone call from my step-daughter explaining that if we aren't going to invite her mother to the party at our house then she doesn't want to have the party here.

I suppose this is the part where I'm supposed to feel guilty or something because I am unable to take the high road here and put my ill feelings aside for the benefit of a 7 year old girl.

WELL I DON'T.

I don't feel sorry even one little bit. Call me selfish, call me immature. Call me whatever you want, but I am not sorry and will not be sorry that that "woman" is not welcome in my house.

It's not only that she did unforgivable things to my husband and made a simple situation far worse than necessary during the divorce, but that she makes my skin crawl. The sight of her makes me physically ill. Often I still have a physical reaction to her being on the phone. I am NOT exaggerating. I cannot physically be around this woman. If that makes me a terrible step-mother then so be it.

I'm sure it's not the first time Mojo has been disappointed by her parents and I know it won't be the last.

Money Pit Continued...

2008-06-03T18:25:00.004-05:00

I didn't mean to nag, but I was starting to get concerned about the giant pool of standing water in my backyard, so I called the pool guys yesterday to find out what the heck was going on. They told me that they were expecting the liner to be delivered to them this week and that they would be out to our place on Thursday to do the work. But to my surprise the lovely people from Bremner Pool & Spa showed up today to drain and remove the liner and coping from the pool. They used a giant pipe to drain the remaining water from the pool and it took the better part of a half hour.

It was on observing this that I realized that it was going to take a week for us to fill that sucker back up when the work was finally done. I am hoping that that will be some time this week.

P.S. The reason why the people at Bremner are so lovely to me is because when we first got the house we used these crazy dudes whose brochure we found laying around the house. They were totally unreliable and I'm pretty sure stoned every time we saw them. We were so thrilled when we discovered Bremner. If you've got a pool they really are lovely -- reliable, timely, knowledgable and friendly. I can't even tell you how many times they've worked through the pouring rain in our backyard! It's so refreshing for people in the service industry to so totally not suck.

By the Light of the Baby Monitor...

2008-05-26T19:17:00.006-05:00

An abbreviated list of things that keep my brain whirling at night these days:

1. The baby -- pick any one of a dozen things, but mostly the wondering how long I have to rest until the next feed. Sure wish I had the guts to do any of the things that books recommend for getting babies to sleep through the night.

2. The hubby -- also a variety of things, from randiness to plain old snoring.

3. The harpy -- is finally making good on her threats to go back to "school" in the fall. Will be getting certified as a Montessori "directress." This will likely necessitate variations in the visits with Mojo as well as a greater need for daycare -- She has already asked us for extra money for daycare and I would rant more about this except what really bugs me (and I know that this means I've reached some kind of acceptance of the situation) isn't the money, but the word directress.

4. Stupid pretentious names for simple stuff. Pedagogical ideology aside, the word directress for teacher is stupid. There are a lot of things about the Montessori school "system" that bug me, and one day I'll write about them, but for now... directress -- it's like Starbucks and their stupid grande-tall-whatever-whatever. Why can't they just call things what they are?

5. The house -- I can barely look out my window without screaming at all the work that needs doing around the house. Today I went out back and recklessly took a saw to some of the caterpillar-infested trees in my yard -- I hate those effing things! I also hate my shed.

6. See previous blogs titled Money Pit and Monkey's Dream.

All I want is a good night's sleep!

The Money Pit

2008-05-15T20:07:00.004-05:00

Anyone out there with a pool knows that during the winter months a pool is an eyesore. For this reason, the hubby and I go out of our way to open our pool as early as possible in the spring; this year was no exception. Unfortunately, when we bought this house, we knew that the pool would eventually need some updating and it turns out, this is the year for it. To abbreviate the story somewhat, we have discovered that both the lining and coping for the pool need to be replaced. The cost of this is about 5 grand. To say that this was an unexpected expense would be a bit of an understatement, however, there's not much of an option. We can spend the money now or spend more later either way the job needs doing.

Despite the poor timing of this considerable expense, I have to say that I am quite looking forward to the completion of the work. To say that the pool is dated is down-playing things a bit and so it will be lovely to have a nice new pool to look at and swim in this summer. Here's why:

I look forward to providing you with the 'after' shots as soon as possible!

A Monkey's Dream

2008-05-09T17:17:00.004-05:00

When I am teaching, some of the most challenging classes are the college stream classes. That is, grade 11 and 12 students who are supposed to be college-bound. These classes are challenging for a variety of reasons, but to be as succinct as possible, think of the worst and weakest students you knew in high school (for whatever reason -- learning disabilities, poor grasp of the language, total disinterest in bettering themselves, etcetera), add to that a disdain for the English language and all things associated with school and those are largely the kids I'm talking about. They are at once both the most exhausting and rewarding classes to teach. They are emotionally and physically draining, every moment of every day. But on the rare occasions that I get through to one of those kids, the sense of accomplishment is truly fulfilling.

Last night I had a dream about those classes. I dreamt that I was back at work and it was the time of year when classes have just started and every day new students are being added to the class. There I was at the front of my room and more and more students were coming in. I knew all of them. The faces were those of some of my most difficult students and they just kept streaming through the door saying, "Hi Miss! I'm back!"

In my dream I was exhausted from being up with the baby the night before, but could not, of course let my students see either my weakness or dread.

When I woke up, it was significantly earlier than I would have liked, to feed the baby -- again. It occurred to me that the feeling of fatigue and dismay that I was feeling in my dream was remarkably similar to the fatigue and dismay I was feeling at having to get up for yet another feeding. I thought that it was interesting that my subconscious would make that connection.

Also, it got me thinking about what it's going to be like when I do actually go back to work. I think that there is a very real possibility that I might not be able to get by if the nights up don't become significantly fewer and farther between by then. Both the jobs of teaching and mothering are so entirely consuming, it's almost impossible for me to imagine how I'm going to do both. I know that people do. I'm just wondering how I'm going to do it. Daunted is a good way to describe how I'm feeling about it.

Yesterday I was at a Mommy and Me group and I was surprised to learn that some women are actually out and about with their babies on a regular basis - before noon. This is a rare event for me these days. I guess I just need to keep telling myself that things will change and that I won't always be up four times a night. At least that's what I'm hoping -- I may have to give up on my career otherwise!

The Spectrum

2008-04-30T20:03:00.003-05:00

So today was the other end of the spectrum. I won't say that I was well rested, but better than the night before. And as a result I was able to finish the laundry that I started yesterday, apply for a birth certificate for the chimp (finally) and even filed the taxes for my husband and myself. All around, not a bad day. The little one even napped for a couple of hours in the afternoon -- in her crib! All very exciting.

Also in the way of two ends of the spectrum, this evening the after dinner entertainment of our daughters gave me cause to giggle. While the hubby was wrangling the Webkinz website with Mojo, the little chimp and I were enjoying the delights of a little post dinner calisthenics -- who knew arm circles were so much fun? The ridiculous and the sublime all in one evening!

Desperately Seeking...

2008-04-29T18:49:00.003-05:00

I'm a pretty lucky lady. I have a healthy and happy baby who has what I would call a very cheery disposition. I have a husband who loves me, works hard and helps out around the house. I have a mother who drops by to visit and help out on most week days. I learned today how much I depend on these things to be true.

Today I hit a low point.

My baby was a somewhat less co-operative today than usual and my mother had plans of her own (the nerve!) and so, after I don't know how many nights getting up every 1-3 hours, today, I reached my threshold.

I tried really hard. I am pleased to say that both my baby and myself were mostly bathed and dressed for about half of the day, I got one load of laundry half done, but I am embarrassed to report that that is about all that happened.

I ran out of energy today and I cried because I could not get my baby to sleep some place other than my lap. I did not iron any clothes, or clean any messes. I even cancelled dinner with a friend because I just couldn't pull myself together in time. I am even more embarrassed to report that I called my husband at work and requested that he come home directly after work instead of playing basketball because I just could not be responsible for my needy baby for very much longer.

I guess that realistically I knew it would have to happen eventually. I think that I was thinking that showbiz magic might also apply to my life at home with baby and that somehow it would all just work itself out. That baby would just magically sleep for six consecutive hours and I would join her in that slumbery joy, just in the nick of time so that my sanity and house could be preserved. But no. My house is a wreck and my nerves are frazzled and the weekend is still many days away. Tomorrow night we will have the added responsibility of Mojo and all that entails on a weeknight visit. I am praying for a miracle. If not the uninterrupted sleep that I so desperately crave, then at least the ability to somehow deal with it.

I'm taking advice freely on this one, if anybody's got some....

An Interesting Package...

2008-04-23T17:58:00.004-05:00

So today at dinner I asked Mojo if anything interesting happened at school today. As usual, she said 'no', then upon further thought, she mentioned that there were scientists at the school today.

Me: Scientists? That's interesting!

Mojo: Yup, four of 'em.

Me: What did they talk about?

Mojo: The food chain.

Me: The food chain? What's that?

Mojo: It's like, what eats what. And the sun.

Me: And the sun?

Mojo: Yeah. So the sun makes the grass grow. And a mouse eats the seeds from the grass. Then a snake or something eats the mouse.

Me: Oh, I see. So then, something eats the snake?

Mojo: Right.

Me: So, maybe a bird eats the snake?

Mojo: Yeah, then maybe a black bear eats the bird. And then a package of wolves eats the bear.

Me: A package of wolves? You mean a pack of wolves?

Mojo: Yeah, a package of wolves could eat an old or very ill bear. And then the wolves win!

Dad: Then the wolves poo, or die and that fertilizes the earth so that the grass can grow and make seeds for the next mouse.

Mojo: Why do the wolves die when they poo?

Me: They don't die when they poo. Like all living things, they produce waste -- poo -- and that's good for the earth.

Mojo: makes a disgusted face

Me: So that's the food chain huh?

Mojo: Yup.

Fashion Update

2008-04-08T18:42:00.004-05:00

Well, I know if you're reading this you're absolutely dying to know what happened on my shopping trip (insert eye roll here). It was horrible, of course.

I was prepared to try on anything that fit regardless of size. Going into this pregnancy I was a size 6. I would have bought an outfit that was size 26 if I'd had to. But it wasn't about the size. Sadly, my shopping trip taught me a thing or two about the concept of fit. And nothing did. Yes, I've gone up a couple of sizes, but more importantly, I now need to learn how to dress my current shape. I don't know how long it will be my shape, but I need to figure it out quickly if I'm going to maintain my self-esteem and sanity.

And now (speaking of sanity) a word about my mum.

My mum is a lovely woman. She has many positive qualities. But she is my mum and many of you with mothers will know that mothers and daughters have a love/hate relationship. My mum and I have one such relationship. She is loving and supportive and grates on my every nerve. Especially when we're shopping. To her credit, she did not really begin to bother me until the end of the shopping trip when I had found nothing suitable to cover my expansive ass. It's hard to need somebody you know is going inevitably to irritate you. You know exactly how it's going to play out. In my case, I will get ornary, say something mean, she will get upset and then I will be irritated that she is upset, then I will feel badly about upsetting her because she has been so helpful all day long. It's tiring. But I brought her along again the next time I went shopping because, like I said, I need her.

Thankfully, the second shopping trip was more successful than the first. For those of you out there who are of the short and dumpy variety as I am, you'll be pleased to know that there is a store out there called Ricky's that has clothes that will fit you and that you will feel good in. My mum was so pleased with the clothes I found, in fact, that she subsidized my purchase and I ended up walking out of the mall, finally, with clothes that I felt good about, and good in. Now I just need to find some suitable occasions to wear them!

In any case, I feel as though I have made up for my poor judgement with the mom jeans now. My fashion faith in myself is restored, even if my figure is not.

Mom Jeans...It Could Happen To You

2008-03-17T19:33:00.003-05:00

I am not a fashionista by any definition. I don't follow trends and if I did, I would look ridiculous, because I don't have that kind of body. But I do have a style and it's not an entirely bad one. At least, I used to have a style before I got pregnant.

Pregnancy necessitated a slight shift in my clothing selections, although not a drastic one thanks to the variety of casual stores with maternity departments (thank you Old Navy!)

Now that I am on maternity leave I am no longer required to wear work clothes, so once the maternity jeans failed to stay up on their own, I became desperate for a pair of jeans that I could wear from day to day. Of course my post-pregnancy body is not quite my pre-pregnancy body and I am unable to fit into the jeans already in my closet. This required me to head out into the stores and find something to wear other than sweatpants. I went back to my old haunts and walked out with two pairs of jeans that I thought were pretty good.

I was wrong. Although I was fairly excited about having jeans that fit, that neither showed my butt crack nor required constant hiking up, my initial excitement wore off when I realized that one of the two pairs of jeans were the much dreaded Mom jeans. They make my ass look a mile wide, the waist is too high and after only a short time on the pants become stretched out and yup, they need constant hiking up.

I was so pleased with these jeans when I left the store and I wonder now what the hell I was thinking. What was I thinking?!

I had to run out to grab some stuff today and I was wearing the jeans and I thought to myself, if Stacy and Clinton could see me now...!! Please, somebody nominate me!

What happens to a woman that makes her go out and purposely buy Mom jeans? Buy them and be pleased with them? Whatever it is I hope that I've worked it out of my system. Tomorrow I'm heading back out into the malls to find an outfit for my baby shower (late, I know, but that's another story!). My mum is coming with me and I'm hoping that she and the experience with the jeans will be enough to prevent me from coming home with another totally unacceptable outfit. I'll keep you posted.

By the way, you might think that this realization would encourage me to do whatever necessary to fit back into my pre-pregnancy clothes. It has not. Unfortunately I have an overwhelming desire to eat junk food like it's going out of style and I firmly believe that it will prevent me from fitting into my old clothes for a very long time. I wish the gym was as enticing as all the Easter candy on the shelves these days!

In any case, if you're reading this, send me some good vibes and hopefully I'll come home with a great outfit and the willpower to stay fit enough to wear it more than once!

My Little Chimp

2008-03-08T11:42:00.002-05:00

So it's been 10 weeks since the birth of our little chimp and during the first several weeks I often found that just looking at her little face brought me to tears. This, of course, was a hormone-induced reaction, but now, 10 weeks later, I find that sometimes, during moments of peace, her sweet little face moves me to tears still.

And she makes me laugh. She smiles now; not just from gas, but truly genuine smiles of joy. And she laughs too, often a full on gutsy laugh -- in her sleep no less! Of course, she also cries. But the sight of her pouty face is also a source of joy -- it's just so damned cute! My husband says that she looks just like me when she pouts, but really, when do I ever pout?!

Also, she loves sneezes. Other people's sneezes as well as her own. Apparently there are few things more amusing to her than a sneeze, except maybe the relief of passed gas. If only life could always be so simple!

I suppose we should try to take a lesson from this. Although there is often occasion to cry, a little sleep will generally restore our smiles and of course, there is no greater amusement than bodily functions, especially gas!

Mokeys in Progress...well, gorillas anyway

2008-03-05T12:45:00.003-05:00

This is a little bit late, but in light of the title of this blog, I thought I would be remiss if I didn't post something about the fact that "wild" gorillas have now been caught on film doin' it missionary style. I think it's worth noting that the female of the pair is also known for her use of tools in the wild. This may or may not be seen as progress on the part of the gorillas, but I won't comment on the propriety of the child looking on...

Here's a link to the National Geographic web site for more info...

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/02/photogalleries/gorilla-pictures/index.html

Two Weeks Later...

2008-02-08T12:54:00.000-05:00

I have to say that now that we are home and settled in, I realize that the hospital is, in fact, the best place to visit a person when they've had a baby. Why? Because it takes way less effort to recieve visitors at the hospital where there is an entire staff looking after you and where nobody expects you to look at all presentable than at home, where you feel like you need to have at least tried to brush your teeth before people come over and ideally have showered and cleaned up the mess that's been piling up over the past several days because you can't even sneeze without hurting yourself. Yes, much easier. But I also realize that the generosity of people is never more apparent than at times like these. The food, the gifts, the warm wishes are all so lovely that it is impossible to feel at all put out by the fact that people want to come and see you and your new baby.

What a Weekend!

2008-01-08T20:04:00.000-05:00

Please note: the content of this post was actually written about 5 weeks ago, but when you read it I think you'll understand why.

This weekend I had a baby. The events unfolded like this:

Friday, January 4, 2008: I have been suffering from cramps off and on for quite some time and at around 9pm the cramps are joined by an abdominal pain. A pain which feels like somebody is trying to stretch your cervix -- which, as it turns out, they are. (Note: Why are contractions called contractions and not cramps? I might have figured out that I was in labour quite a bit sooner had that been the case).

At around 10pm I decide that regardless of the cause of my pain it is bad enough to risk going to the hospital only to be sent home -- which I was not.

We arrive at the assessment room of North York General Hospital and a little Phillipino lady directs me to one of the gurnies and provides me with a gown. Some incalculable time later she takes my blood pressure and sticks her hand up my crotch in order to determine whether or not I should be admitted. I am informed that I am dilated 4 or 5 centimetres and that I have done a good job. Would I like an epidural? Oh yes -- and let's not waste any time asking me twice. I am rewarded for my "good job" by being admitted into the hospital and taken to one of the labour and delivery rooms by a lovely nurse named Nas and where I am greeted by the anesthesiologist for whom I have asked to give me an epidural -- and she does! I am also hooked up to a catheter to avoid having to get up to use the toilet. Shortly thereafter I am laying comfortably in the bed. It is 11:45 pm and I have been joined by my husband who is happy to see me smiling now. Turns out I've been in labour for about 2 1/2 hours and that was about all I felt I needed to endure. Now, I am surprised when Nas informs me that the computer says I am having a contraction. I feel as though I could happily fall asleep.

This, of course is not possible because approximately every 30 minutes or so, my blood pressure and temperature are taken. I am also wearing a fetal heart monitor around by abdomen as well as a monitor for contractions. However, I am contentedly laying on my side enjoying a pain free labour and wondering when my water will break. I wonder why I know women who did not want an epidural and I feel badly for those who did, but could not get one in time.

Saturday, January 5, 2008: At 1:30 am Dr. Peridot (the on-call doctor for the evening shift -- who, when I caught a glimps of him in the assessment room on arrival, I thought might be a drunk nurse who was just sleeping off a bender -- not the case at all by the way) comes to check me out and manually breaks my water in an attempt to speed things along. The short of it is, despite my now broken water and the Pitocin I've been given to induce labour, I am not really making that much progress. I am still around 4 or 5 cm. So, we wait.

At 4am I am informed that I have a temperature likely due to an infection (what sort, I have no idea), which I am being treated for with an I.V. drip. Now I am hooked up to the I.V. the two monitors and the epidural and the catheter, but still I am content, knowing that sometime soon, I will be having my baby.

It is now 6:45 am and the shift at the hospital is about to change. Dr. Peridot tells me that while my fever is under control, the baby's heart rate in response to the fever is seriously high and has not gone down. We may be having a C-section as a result. I am disappointed. While I was prepared for all sorts of unpleasant things in regard to giving birth, I had not anticipated surgery. We decide that the morning doctor, Dr. Smith (a lovely lady who is also expecting) will determine the amount of risk involved in waiting for further dilation versus removing the baby via C-section. My husband is sheet white and woozy at the talk of elevated heart rates and surgery. His head is between his knees. God bless him.

By about 10am Dr. Smith has determined that the labour is not progressing quickly enough and in the best interest of the baby we will be doing the C-section. We prepare to do so. As I am being transferred onto the gurney that will take me to the O.R. the baby's heart rate drops suddenly very low and I am now on my way to an emergency C-section. As I am prepped for my surgery moments later, the baby's heart rate returns to normal -- no cause for concern -- however I feel as though I've had better days by this point. My husband joins me in the O.R. I am opened up and at 10:24 am my baby girl is safely taken from the womb and delivered into the hands of the pediatrician. I am overwhelmed at the sight of her and at the same time distracted by the surgery I am still having.

My husband is given the baby -- a healthy, happy little girl and I twist my head to look at her the best I can. Eventually he takes her to the recovery room where I join them after I have been closed up again. Please note: coming down off of all of the drugs you get for a C-section causes one to shiver uncontrollably for quite some time. While I am being wheeled into recovery, I am shaking so vehemently that I am wondering if I will be able to hold my baby.

As it turns out, I am just fine. We are placed together skin-to-skin and she heads immediately for the breast -- no problems latching on there! From recovery, we are wheeled to a "semi-private" room where we will stay for the next 3 days (or until a private room is available).

Things blur a bit at this point. I have been awake for most of the last day and a half and have undergone major surgery and become a new mother. We make phone calls to inform our family of the new addition: 7lbs, 11 oz, female, 10:24 am, etc. I am still on the I.V. and catheter and am swollen to the point of bursting. However, I am also still mostly numb from the waist down, so the discomfort is fairly minimal. I am told by the nurse to let her know when I pass gas. Until I do, I am on a strictly liquid diet -- I do not pass gas until the next afternoon incidentally, a bizarre turn of events for anyone who knows me, and as a result have soup, juice and jello for breakfast, lunch and dinner until then.

4pm My parents turn up with Mojo to see the new baby. After they leave, father-in-law makes an appearance and after his departure both of our brothers, their partners and kids visit. At 7pm the shift changes again. I meet the most important woman of my weekend and possibly my life: Nan. Nan the wonder-nurse.

Nan the night nurse is the best woman I have ever known. She is not only firmly gentle, but knowledgable, approachable, kind. The list goes on. I come to rely on her competence and kindness to balance out the day nurse, who is the only complaint I have about my time at NYGH. I won't mention her by name, but despite her very friendly demeaner, she was neither truly helpful nor comforting. Nan, on the other hand, deserves a nursing award. She diligently replaced my I.V. bags and asked me if I would like some Benedryl for the itching that I must be experiencing from the morphine in the epidural -- All day I went, scratching myself as though I had fleas, and she is the only person to ask me if I'd like a little relief -- not to mention, explains why I need the relief -- I figured I was allergic to something and that I'd just have to suffer through. Not at all. Thanks to Nan the wonder-nurse. She helps me to the toilet when I realize that my catheter is not draining properly and helps me change the CRAZY obstetrical pads one wears after having a baby which the day nurse glanced at and said I'd be fine in before making a dash for the door at the end of her shift. Nan is lovely and I do not feel awkward or embarassed in the least. At 10 pm she comes in to demonstrate for us how to bathe our new baby. She gives me information about what to expect after I get home. And best of all, she is there to guide and support us the following night as well.

Sunday, January 6, 2007: Hubby has been forced to spend the previous night sleeping draped over three chairs, in his clothes due to the unexpected surgery. I send him home to clean himself up and get a little shut eye before returning later that afternoon. And to my delight, by about 1 or 2pm, we have been informed that the private room we have been waiting for is now ready. Though we were in our own room that night, we were not alone. Baby's second night was being attended by Nan the wonder nurse and let me tell you that that woman gave us more useful information in the two nights that we knew her than anybody has ever given us in our whole lives. Like a phantom she disappeared with the shift change the following day, but we will be indebted to her for as long as we live. Our only regret is that we were not able to thank her properly for her help and kind words.

By Monday, the staff has changed yet again and we are getting eager to leave. Sort of. I have to admit that upon discharge Tuesday morning, I am feeling weepy and truly distressed that I will have to carry on at home without the help of Nan. Pathetic, I know, but true nonetheless.

We make it home without too much difficulty and I am glad to be home (despite my misgivings at the hospital). And so the adventure begins....

Monkey's Nest? I Don't Think So, But Happy New Year Anyway

2007-12-29T08:09:00.000-05:00

So I've been led to believe that near the end of one's pregnancy, a nesting instinct - that is, the instinct to prepare one's home for the arrival of a new infant, overcomes many women. People keep asking me if this is the state that I am currently in. It's a reasonable question. I am currently 39 weeks and 3 days into this pregnancy - so pretty much, all the way there, and it seems like a fair question to ask at this point. The short answer is no. Here's the long answer:

Over the summer, I did my best to start preparing for the baby's arrival. Why? Because as any teacher knows, there is no time for a personal life, once school begins. And indeed, when school started up again in September, I was, like many of my colleagues, busting my ass to get things together for the semester. In addition to my regular prepping, teaching and marking duties, I also had the unfortunate task of clearing out my things in order to make space for whichever unfortunate soul took my place (that is, my work space) after I left. It's truly amazing how much crud one woman can collect over the course of eight years or so in one place.

I also had the responsibility of organizing things for the sub. The person who would be finishing my classes for the last weeks of the semester. As luck would have it (or perhaps not) I am good friends with the woman who will be taking over my classes. I am thrilled to know that all of my hard work with the kids up to this point will not be lost upon her arrival. However, the added pressure to pass over to her something that is not a total pile of crap, did add to my stress levels somewhat; and it is the reason why now, while on Christmas vacation, at nine months pregnant, I am endeavouring to mark the last 28 essays from my grade 10 class.

Add to this the responsibilities of a wife, daughter and step-mother at Christmas time and I'm sure you can imagine why the question of nesting seems like such a stupid idea right now. Have I been cleaning and cooking and shopping and preparing for a new person in the house? Of course I have! Everybody that celebrates the holidays has been doing that! Do I feel sorry for myself? Not too much, but I am awfully glad that Christmas is over. There are no more obligations to be somewhere with somebody at any time now and nobody needs to be invited over to my house either. Sounds grinchy, I know, but with these essays hanging over my head, I just don't have the time to entertain any more.

Moreover, there is the distinct possibility that, although I am firmly in denial that this baby will not come until I am good and ready for it to (read: till my essays are marked and I'm packed and ready to go to the hospital), that it will come at any moment now and I will have to leave my house and work in disarray to deliver this child. As a bit of a control freak, I have to admit that this does not appeal to me in the least.

So I guess the upshot of it is this. Am I nesting? Yeah, I'm nesting. I'm nesting like a friggin' maniac. Nesting and working and parenting and wifing and all the other crap that women around the world do all the time without much gratitude or thought. Am I looking forward to coming home with baby and enjoying motherhood and a little time off of work? I'd like to say yes, but somehow I'm just not convinced that it's going to be all that easy. After all, technically I'm on holidays right now!

But I suppose it could always be worse. And these holidays have brought to my attention just how lucky I really am. The obligations and entertaining have all been in relation to a (mostly) wonderful and extremely generous group of family and friends. The purchasing and preparing has been made possible by the great job I have, which I love and will, in fact, miss despite the holiday marking. And of course, the necessity for all of this - the little monkey waiting somewhat patiently to join our family - is a true joy.

So happy holidays to all out there who are as relieved as I am that the holidays are finally over. To the working women (mothers or not) who somehow manage to orchestrate not only their own lives (a task that seemed so difficult in and of itself when I was in my 20's) but those of the people around them as well, and do it with style and grace (or not!). And here's to a new year that doesn't include too much unnecessary nesting, but an appreciation for those that we do it for.

Happy New Year!

What a Difference Three Months Can Make!

2007-10-13T06:30:00.001-05:00

So, last week I rounded out the end of my second trimester and have officially begun the last leg of this pregnancy. My friend Jennifer has been waiting patiently for photos of my giant belly and at last, I have something for her to see!

While at first glance, these may seem like before and after photos, in fact the first photo was taken three months after conception. It looks comparatively good to me these days. However, I'm not keen to repeat the nausea and heartburn that kept me from gaining any weight during those three months any time soon.

The second photo was taken about a week ago and is a fair representation of my status these days. I have officially reached the point at which I graze things with my belly without meaning to and strangers ask me when I'm due (amongst other things - like, will I be breast feeding, do I know the gender, do I have names picked, etcetera)

I was going to include the long list of possible side-effects (for lack of a better term) of this stage of pregnancy as outlined in What to Expect When You're Expecting but frankly some of them are a bit yucky and anyone who is interested can probably look it up on their own. In any case, I have been fairly fortunate thus far, in that I haven't suffered any of the positively gruesome and horrific things that can happen to a person when they are pregnant, and - touch wood - it will stay that way.

As for everything else, it all seems to be on hold. The furniture for the nursery has not yet arrived, though it has been ordered. We have not yet gone to register or even look at anything remotely useful for babies, such as a stroller, etc. though my sister-in-law is keenly intent on having us "shop" in their basement-full of kiddie crap before we go and get anything, so I'm not feeling nervous about any of it yet. I suppose the only thing we're really going to need is a car seat and a snow suit to bring the little monkey home in! Neither of which seems like a pressing issue with three months still to go.

I'm sure that I'm neglecting something obvious in the way of preparations, but for now, ignorance is bliss... and I'm going to enjoy it while I can.

Relaxation Tips for Angry Monkeys

2007-09-23T05:01:00.000-05:00

There is a part of me that wants to keep track of every thing the Harpy does to piss me off. Every favour asked, every screw-up, every stupid thing she ever says. I suppose that's what the blog was originally about - venting these absurdities. But there is another part of me that knows that it is not only futile, but unhealthy to dwell on these things and so I try not to. But her audacity sometimes is just so amazing to me that I cannot help but think about it.

For instance, two weeks ago I was writing about this agreement and all the difficulties we were having and how I hoped that the whole thing would be over soon. Three nights ago, my husband is on the phone, explaining to her why he is unwilling to give up half of the Thanksgiving weekend with his daughter so that the Harpy can take her. I mean, didn't we just settle all of this? And to make matters worse, she, once again, tries to use Mojo as a weapon in her unrelenting war of manipulation. She actually has her call her Daddy to ask him why he won't let her go see her Nanny and Papa, because she really misses them and wants to see them. And it's not like it's the first time the Harpy has done this, she does it all the time!

I'm happy to report that it backfired somewhat, when Hubby explained to Mojo that she was going to see her maternal grandparents on a weekend before Thanksgiving, so that she wouldn't even have to wait that long to see them, and that she could even go and see them after Thanksgiving if her mother wanted to take her -- her response -- Oh! Okay!

Of course, two days later, by the time she shows up here for the weekend, her mother has been whining to her about it so much that the kid is confused again.

Why is it that some people have such a hard time understanding that kids are kids, not small adults, and that it's not appropriate to treat them like they're your buddy? I mean, I am all for respecting them as human beings and trying to help them understand things which are confusing to them and all, but come on! There are some things -- a lot of things in fact -- which are better kept to oneself.

And now, I've reached the part where I'm telling myself to just let this all go. I'm irritated over something that I can neither control nor change and so I need to just let it go -- I know this. But I stink at it. Any tips?

And Another Thing!

2007-09-02T14:23:00.000-05:00

The content of this post is really just to make a point, and then I'm going to shut up about this whole agreement amendment.

As of the last post, the Harpy had agreed to the changes. Last night, at 9 o'clock, she phones and says that she has a problem. What with having to use the public transportation system to get to our house to pick up Mojo at 4:30 and then back down to the Go station downtown, not to mention having to stop at her house to pick up her luggage and then her parents having to meet her in Oshawa to drive them the rest of the way to Belleville, they wouldn't get there until almost 8pm and that's really just too much to expect of her, so couldn't we just drop Mojo off at her house at 4 o'clock on Good Friday?

Couldn't you just... It's like her favourite phrase.

I could hear her on the phone and before my Hubby got a chance to respond, I told him to just say yes. Which he did. But she doesn't listen, or maybe she just couldn't believe we folded so easily, and she carried on making excuses about why she couldn't possibly be expected to take responsibility for anything, but we just said yes, yes we'll do it and then I think that she shut up.

I am beyond tired of these negotiations. Not only did we have to give up every Easter for all eternity, but now we also have to do both pick ups and drop offs that weekend, all so that we can avoid the Harpy having to do anything for herself.

The really stupid thing is that I'm positive that at least once there will come a time when we will be driving up to Port Hope to see my mother-in-law for Easter on the Saturday and it will simply become easier for the Harpy to meet us there than for her to take her on the train and so forth. And all of this nit-picking will have been for nothing. And this says nothing about the noises she's been making lately about going back to school next September to study nursing (God help us!) -- either at Loyola College or Ryerson U -- either way, if she actually does it, it will mean changing everything again anyway.

And so the end result is that I'm not even relieved that this whole thing is over. Not that you can feel relieved at being taken advantage of anyway. Plus, with her, it's never over. The mere thought of her puts such a feeling of hatred in my heart that I can't even believe it's possible to hate somebody so much. She's not a murderer or anything, and yet I do hate her, more than I ever thought I could.

Plus, this morning, when 6 year old Mojo asked if either her father or I could share the duty of brushing her teeth with her, simply because she doesn't like to do it, I could not help but think of her mother's phone call of the previous evening, explaining why she didn't want to take care of her own responsibilities. The impact that parents have on their children is not always subtle. I will remember to always be on guard about that from now on, no matter how difficult it seems.

In any case, we took the new document over to her apartment this morning and waited while she laboriously read through it for the 5th time (yes, it's taken 5 tries to get this thing taken care of, starting July 27th, in case you're wondering) and I believe that the debacle has come to an end -- for now. I guess we'll have to wait and see how Mojo takes to the changes -- or rather, how her mother takes to the changes. As long as the Harpy is happy the village can live in peace.

And so for now....

The End.

Update

2007-08-31T17:16:00.000-05:00

So, of course we made a mistake and put the whole thing in jeopardy. Turns out that Hubby doesn't have the holiday Monday, he's got the Friday. Why does this matter? Because now the Harpy won't be able to leave until Friday afternoon instead of Thursday night.

Short version: We informed her of the error yesterday. She kept us waiting until today when she decided that the change would "suit everybody's best interests." Now we just need to sign the damn thing....I sure hope this thing is over soon.

The Easter Bunny Rears His Ugly Head

2007-08-29T10:36:00.000-05:00

So it's August and you may be wondering why I'm writing about the Easter Bunny -- believe me, I wish I wasn't.

With the start of this new school year, little step-monkey (Mojo) is starting the first grade! While it's true that for the past four years she has attended a variety of combinations of full day day care, Montessori and public school, this will be her first year of all day school in the same place. With that in mind, her parents set out to revamp the visitation schedule to avoid an excess of travel during the school week. Currently Mojo alternates between spending two school nights at Dad's house every other week and one school night and a weekend. The change was to increase the weekend time to include Sunday night and now a Wednesday night (that's only one school night -- see?)

When we contacted our lawyer, she told us that if the parties agree on the changes, then there's no need for a lawyer to get involved (thankfully!) so my hubby discussed the changes with the Harpy, came to an agreement, typed it up, and gave her a copy for her perusal. The idea being that the sooner we can get this thing signed, the sooner we can implement the changes so that step-monkey is used to the new schedule before school starts.

*Insert deep breath here*

Well, of course the Harpy takes forever with the damn thing, then agrees to the changes.

Then she changes her mind.

Sunday night, she calls and says that she wants to change the agreement so that long weekends like Easter and Thanksgiving are split between the two households (currently the agreement says that whoever has Mojo on the long weekend keeps her). We think that this is a stupid idea -- why? Well, because the whole point of the new arrangement is to cut down on travel -- not increase it! Besides which, the whole reason her nose is out of joint on the long weekend thing is because they've happened to fall on our weekends in recent years (which, by the way, has not stopped her from asking us to give up our time with the child so that she can drag her up to Belleville -- which, oddly we usually agree to). Would she give a crap if the weekends had been hers? Would she consider giving up some of her time and inconveniencing herself so that the child could spend some extra time with her dad?

I think we all know the answer to that.

I'll abbreviate the story somewhat, since I've gone on too long already. Harpy basically jeopardizes a summer's worth of negotiations and some expensive gymnastics lessons for some loose wording about splitting the Easter weekend. She is, in every aspect, totally unreasonable.

In the end, I suggest to my husband that we just give her what she wants. Easter is clearly a big deal to her (her family exchanges gifts as though it's Christmas -- they do not, however, attend church and couldn't care less about the resurrection of Jesus -- a capitalist family to the core!) and for us it's really about getting to spend the extra time with step-monkey. So in our efforts to keep the peace, we are forced to agree to the following:

Mojo will spend the weekend preceding Easter with her dad. She will spend Easter weekend with her mother and when she returns from Belleville, she will spend whatever is left of the holiday Monday with her dad. Every year from now till eternity.

I had no idea that the Easter Bunny was into sodomy.

I think what bugs me the most about the big stink she made is that she was willing to make things worse for her own child in order to get what she wanted. I don't know exactly how these changes are supposed to benefit step-monkey, but I hope that at least in the Harpy's mind they do somehow do just that.

One thing's for sure -- I'll never see Easter the same way again. It never ceases to amaze me how that woman can suck the joy out of everything that crosses her path -- even a long weekend!

One Smart Little Monkey

2007-08-13T13:07:00.001-05:00

So this weekend we took the step-monkey to her first wedding (other than ours, of course) and needless to say, she had an excellent time. The bride was Italian-Canadian, the groom Macedonian-Portuguese, and so it's no surprise that the meal took 3 hours to eat (not including the sweets table or the midnight seafood buffet!) But this story isn't about the food. This story is about what smart cookie my little step-monkey is. I'll paint you the picture...

We're in the reception hall filled with hundreds of European-Canadians (I'll not comment on the array of tragic fashion statements made by these many guests, just know that there were more than a few!)

The dance floor is over-run with little girls, mostly in puffy white dresses and they are running themselves ragged. At the table next to ours is a little boy, probably about 4 or 5 years of age. His name is Andrew and he is in trouble pretty much from his arrival on. He is also out on the dance floor, terrorizing the girls with whom he clearly wants to play, but his manner is so rough that he simply cannot be abided. Step-monkey runs over to us at our table from the dance floor and professes that she "doesn't like that mean little boy!" He is trying to push around everybody that comes in his way. I am ready to push him around should he attempt to do the same with my step-daughter. However, I try I different tact instead. I tell step-monkey that she should let Andrew know that if he wants to play with them, he's going to have to be nice. She does, he does, and moments later, step-monkey comes back to the table to report that Andrew "has learned his lesson." Awesome.

The two proceed to amuse each other for most of the evening. At one point they come over to our table to ask if Andrew can come over for a sleep-over. Andrew gives me his phone number. I'm not kidding. My 6 year old picked up at a wedding! However, things took a turn for the worse as the evening wore on. It went something like this:

Andrew pushes the flower girl down, step-monkey scolds Andrew for this and he turns on her, trying to push her down (not likely by the way, she's about a half a head taller than this little Portuguese boy). Step monkey walks away from Andrew. She comes to the table and tells me that she does not want to call him or have him over for a sleep over. The romance is ended. She tells me, "I broke up with him."

She broke up with him!

Maybe it's just me, but I am both horrified at, amused by and proud of my little step-monkey's behaviour. I can't say that I want her to be making sleep-over plans with little boys that she's just met, but I am very glad to see that she's not the sort to let anybody push her around. Good thing for Andrew. I was ready to take him outside for a little chat!

Where to begin....

2007-08-03T12:34:00.000-05:00

So, it seems that I was wrong about being able to write more often once school was over. What with it being August now and this being the first post. I suppose that it's because we've been very busy monkeys around here this summer. Where shall I begin?

I'll start with the fun news. Step-monkey lost her first tooth on June 15th and it was awesome! She was really nervous about it hurting when it came out, but of course, when her dad actually coaxed it out of her gums she didn't even notice. I was glad that the first one fell out at our place and not her mother's. Selfish, I know, but as luck would have it, there were two loose teeth and the second one fell out the next weekend at her mom's.

It's just such a rite of passage in my mind, the losing of baby teeth. And of course, she looks hilarious with a big gap in the middle of her mouth. I suspect that subsequent growing up changes won't be nearly as cute.

On a much less pleasant note, I learned via some standard pregnancy type tests that I had an infection for which I had to take antibiotics. They were mild and short in duration, but it wasn't exactly what I wanted to be doing during my pregnancy. All the while I was fighting off the longest cold in human history. I caught a cold during the last month of my first trimester and I managed to hang on to it for more than five weeks!!!

Now I don't know about the rest of the world, but I've never had a cold last much longer than two weeks or so. I think I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, since I was just getting over the morning sickness/nausea. However, there was an upside to the illness. While it's true that I could not breathe, smell or taste anything, a happy side-effect was that I could go into not just my kitchen, but the refrigerator without gagging! Oh happy days! It was nice to be able to cook and eat again, although it was with a little less joy than usual. You just don't realize how closely connected the ability to smell is to the ability to taste until you lose it.

Sadly, I was not the only one suffering during this time. My poor hubby got bitten by some cruel insect and the bite got infected. Instead of picking strawberries at the farm with his wife and daughter, he spent the better part of 3 hours in the emergency at North York General with an I.V. dripping antibiotics into his arm. Worse yet, he had to keep it there for a week. Did you know that nurses will come to your house everyday to change your I.V. bag? Well they did, and then he had to finish out a round of oral antibiotics which ended the day before he went in to have all four of his wisdom teeth removed. Talk about a rough couple of weeks. In all honesty, I felt so bad for him that my difficulties didn't really register on the radar. Poor guy.

Touch wood, all of that seems to be over with now and we were able to spend a great weeks vacation with step-monkey this past week. It's funny how easy it is to get used to having her here every day. We were able to take her with us to the 18 week ultrasound appointment where she could see the baby, hear it's heartbeat and learn that it is going to be her little sister. She was very excited and pleased to learn that it would be a girl as she had hoped.

Now, if we can just get the house ready for this new little monkey, that will really be something to get excited about!

More Squirmy Peanut Than Monkey

2007-06-15T12:06:00.000-05:00

So even though it was supposed to be another week until my first ultrasound, I got a call on Wednesday from the doctor's office asking me if I could come in today and of course, I did. The hubby and I arrived only slightly early for our 10 o'clock appointment and it was all very, very, very informative. Too informative? Maybe. I'm not sure that I remember half of what the nurse/doctor said. I'm glad that I wasn't alone for the visit. Although it was completely unobtrusive, I don't think that my brain could process everything that happened today, so it's good to have a back up copy!

The doctor (who recently skied off a cliff in Whistler and was so sadly broken in a number of places) talked to us for a while and then cracked out the goo and showed us our baby. It was clear and easy to see, but looked more like a squirmy peanut than a little monkey -- maybe it's because I couldn't stop giggling, but that thing sure was moving around a lot!

In any case, it's nice to finally have some tangible proof of life. We saw the picture, we heard the heartbeat and was it ever cool! I'm looking forward already to the next time we get to see the baby. Sadly (or not) even though I've been pregnant for over 11 weeks, there's just no real evidence that I'm not the only occupant of this vessel, so it was nice to get to spend some time actually looking at the baby.

And I think that the rest of the family is starting to get excited too. My mother has been relentlessly cleaning my house for the past two days and calling to check in on me more than she did when I was a stupid teenager (and she checked in on me A LOT). My father-in-law came by yesterday with two baby name books, which I thought was very thoughtful. It's strange, with the Internet so readily available, how nice it is to actually pick up and read through a book.

With all of this stuff going on I must admit, it is very difficult to remain focused on my school work. With things drawing to an end at work I can't afford to dawdle any longer...so I guess I'm off!

Truely A Monkey In Progress

2007-06-07T16:32:00.000-05:00

So it has obviously been an embarrassingly long time since I've posted and mostly it's because it feels like things have been happening at such a break-neck speed lately that I just haven't had time to absorb it all, much less write about it.

Yes, there have been many, many run-ins with The Harpy, none of which I'm going to bother writing about since they're all passed now and because I feel that I need to record much more important news than random bitchings about her.

My husband and I are expecting our own little monkey this winter. I am approximately 10 weeks pregnant and am feeling, well, not that great. However, we are very happy about our new addition as we had been working on it for about 4 or 5 months and I was starting to get to the point where I was wondering if there might be something to worry about, but no. So far so good. Got my first obstetrician appointment in two weeks and I'm looking forward to it. Not only will it help to make the whole thing a little more real (not that the nausea and other side effects haven't done that) but it will also mark the almost end of the school year and so I should start my second trimester on vacation! So lovely!

Anyway, I won't blather on any longer, but thought I should probably make mention of our new monkey in progress before it, say, arrived. While I have been woefully neglectful of my blog, I suspect that it will be much easier to find the time to write once summer begins, and so until then...

The Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves!

2007-04-05T10:55:00.000-05:00

We have an agreement. During weekday visits, I pick up the step-monkey in the afternoon and drop her off the next morning. For weekend visits, the Harpy drops her off and picks her up from our house.

I have a car. It took me a long time to pay for my car. I continue to pay gobs of money to keep my car running and operating in a safe manner.

The Harpy does not have a car. The Harpy seems to think that whenever it's too much trouble for her to haul her giant arse up to our house every other weekend, that I should do it instead.

Take this weekend for example. This weekend is a long weekend. That means that since Friday is a stat holiday, she is responsible for bringing the step-monkey up to our place on Thursday evening and picking her up on Sunday evening. Is there any chance that she just might do what she's supposed to do? Of course not.

It never fails that when a visitation falls on a long weekend, she will ask for my husband to give up at least half of his time with his daughter so that she can take her up to see her family in Belleville. (Note: I hate her fat, stupid, backward family -- and feel that the less time step-monkey spends with them, the better.)

Fine. We'll be in Port Hope on Saturday night, she can pick her up after dinner.

Then of course dropping her off becomes an issue. Harpy wants to go to Belleville on Thursday night and it will be too late for her to drop off step-monkey and make it back down to the train station, so naturally, she wants ME to take care of it. I cannot. I have made plans because she told us (bizarrely) that she would be fulfilling her responsibilities herself. My husband will not be able to pick her up until almost bedtime. That's no good. She will not budge. I hate her.

My husband and the Harpy make arrangements for him to pick the child up as soon as I get back with the car. Harpy wins again.

But wait, two days later, she calls back and says that her employer (don't get me started on how under-employed the woman is!) has changed her plans, so that she will now be able to drop step-monkey off at the regular time. Hoorah!

Here's the thing. I could probably have gone and picked step-monkey up and brought her home with me. It wouldn't have been that hard, and likely would have been more pleasant for her as well, but when I think about the two years we spent in court, coming to the agreement that we now have and that she disregards whenever it doesn't suit her purposes; when I think about the tens of thousands of dollars in debt we became because she was unwilling to be grown-up about the entire process, when I think about how f-ing lazy that stupid cow is and how she always expects us (read: ME) to pick up her slack, well, I just can't help but dig my heels in a bit.

I know that my stubborn behaviour does not and cannot improve the situation. I know this. I know that by being a Jack-hole to her, I am sucking up bad Karma like it's going out of style. I know that I become a worse person when I am unable to be the bigger person. But I also know that she will continue to take advantage of me, of us, for as long as we let her, and that sometimes, not all the time, but sometimes, we must put our collective foot down and demand that she be the responsible adult she should be.

The problem is, the Harpy is the kind of person who feels like the world owes her something. In particular, we owe her something. That because we work hard and try to be responsible adults, it is somehow our job to make up for her shortcomings (of which she has many, but will admit to none). She has set up a situation whereby we are better off to ask How high? when she demands that we jump; so that we may avoid unpleasant and unnecessary arguments. It's a vicious cycle. The more we do it, the more she expects and demands it.

How is it possible that evil can prevail in this way???

The result on these occasions is that morale is low. To console myself, I choose to believe that what goes around comes around. So in some way, my husband and I are reaping what we have sown. But at the same time, The Harpy's wicked ways will come back to haunt her. Whether she's smart enough to realize it or not will remain to be seen.

Evil, home wrecking step-monkey

2007-03-30T07:20:00.001-05:00

So, yesterday I had the opportunity to pick my step-daughter up directly from school. Usually during the week her mother picks her up and then I have to meet up with them to bring her home with me. But yesterday, I happily had a little extra time and so I arranged to pick up the little monkey right from school.

It was lovely. She came out of the kindergarten door with her notices and her newsletters, her drawings and her coat all piled in her arms and she handed them off to me as the other children did to their mothers and nannies and she ran out to the playground where we had agreed she had time to play before heading home.

I watched her as she looked around for her friends and was delighted to see her happily playing hide and seek with a little boy, as though she was a totally well-adjusted and completely satisfied little kid.

And then she ran over to me where I was watching, holding all of her stuff, like many of the other parents and she requested just a little more time to play -- so we agreed and as she was about to run off she encountered a woman whom she clearly knew and although I was not close enough to participate in the conversation, I was close enough to hear this:

Little Monkey: That's my step-mom (pointing over to me)
Me: waving and smiling at the woman I do not know
Lady: waves and smiles back
Little Monkey: My Daddy broke up with my Mommy and now he's married to her and so she's my step-mom.
Lady: smiles awkwardly at Little Monkey, nodding
Me: standing stunned, as usual, not knowing what to say
Little Monkey: (walking over to me) I think I'm ready to go home now.

The good news? She wasn't in tears about the whole thing like she was a few weeks ago, when she told the same story to a complete stranger in a restaurant her mother took her to.

The moral of my story? Just when you're starting to feel like a normal human being, kids have a fantastic way of making you feel like an embarrassed heap of dirt. On the up side, Little Monkey is now referring to me in public as her step-mom and I feel like that is progress. Now that she's a little older (about five and a half) and has a basic understanding of our relationship it makes me feel a little more...I don't know, defined. Now if only Disney would come out with a movie where the step-mother isn't evil...

One Surprised Monkey

2007-03-12T07:44:00.000-05:00

So, if you've read my first post, you know that I am new to blogging, and also that I had a kind of snotty attitude about bloggers, so you likely won't be surprised to learn that I have only recently started reading other people's blogs. I would like to say that after having spent (what seems to me) a great length of time this weekend meandering around blogdom, I am thrilled to learn that there are many wonderful, witty, intelligent and even insightful human beings out there! Maybe I was just being pessimistic, but I really thought that the majority would be dull, uninteresting and self-indulgent. And while they are all entirely self-indulgent, many were far from dull.

So thank-you. Thanks to all those intelligent and funny human beings out there who are sharing their thoughts and experiences with the rest of the world.

I, for one, appreciate it.

Monkeys Take Shelter

2007-03-01T20:41:00.000-05:00

My husband and I met for the first time in high school (oh so long ago!). I was 16, he was 20 (a little old for high school admittedly, but back then there was a fifth year!). I wouldn't say that I married my high school sweetheart exactly, though we did date for a while, maybe a couple of months, and then we went our separate ways. He went back to the small town he came from and I went back to the boyfriend I was taking a break from. Never to cross paths again. Until my 2nd or 3rd year of university. Turns out he was attending a college in the same town and we ran into each other while we were there and kindled something of a friendship. Sadly, that is also where he met his first wife (who will heretofore be referred to as "the harpy" or some other such unpleasant title).

Again we went our separate ways and it wasn't until I was out in the real world (working - and having a nervous break down because of it) that we met up again. This time on purpose. To abbreviate the story somewhat, he looked me up after his marriage went down the tubes and we fell madly in love with each other. If you believe in it, it seems a little bit like Fate.

Since then, we have been weathering the storm of his first wife together. Hurricane harpy has left us soaked to the bone with resentment and frustration on more than one occasion, but I am happy to say that more often than not, our negative dealings with her make us feel all the more grateful that we have each other.

His ability to stay calm in a tense situation; to be civil in the face of incivility; to keep priorities straight when the world seems upside down amazes and inspires me. Despite the sometimes stormy weather of our life together, his consistency shelters me, us and our relationship. I hope that I offer him the same kind of solace as he does me.

The Birth of Blogger

2007-02-28T17:34:00.000-05:00

There was a time, not so long ago, that I thought that blogging was self indulgent and only self involved ego-centric types did it. I'm not so sure that I was wrong, but I've discovered that I may actually fall into that category, and so here I am. The birth of a blogger.

What is it, you ask, that has prompted me - a person who barely knows what the origin of the word blog is - to publish my private thoughts on the internet? It is the realization of what I am and what it means that has pushed me to this bizarre act of both desperation and hope.

I am that most horrible creature of fairytales and myth. Breaker of homes and hearts. Seat of evil. Source of agony and despair. I am a step-mother.

I am a step-mother and so the need to get my feelings off my chest in a non-violent way, can sometimes overwhelm me, and yet, I feel as though my experiences are not unique and that maybe there might be someone out there who will feel comforted by my sometimes stupidly miserable stories. So I plan to share them here on this blog and hope that it will help both of us.

More to come soon....