the trip

My eldest is up in the air-literally flying in a plane with big silver wings over the Andes-and I have that weighted feeling that mothers get when their children are too far from arms reach to keep them safe. So I am walking around the house trying to get settled into an activity but my eyes keep going to the clock, to the computer, to the phone. I need to know that her feet are on the ground.
It is summer where she is going. It is hot and the air is dry, the breezes warm. It will hit her when she steps out of the airport into the brightness of day and the parking lot. It is so cold here her body will have momentarily forgotten what summer feels like and then after a few minutes it will remember and heave that sigh of relief for the sun. She will come home brown and chapped and speaking with a slight accent. The purple streaks in her hair will have faded to blonde. She will be that much closer to being a grown up kid with adventures and experiences of her own that I will never know about, only guess at and I will get snippets of this life in bits and pieces over then next few years.
16 more days until she returns.

at long last

How many different times and ways do you need to tell someone to fuck off before they actually do it? I must be a slow learner because it's taken me over 8 years but i think I finally got the message. I know that I have to be the agent of change in my life and in the lives of my children. I know I have to teach them better what love is and what love isn't. It may sound politically incorrect but I want to teach them that there are actually more important things in life than the pursuit of love; things like strength and grace under pressure, things like financial independance and the pursuit of peace. Love is just the icing.
I have been foolishly in the pursuit of love my whole life-often fruitlessly. I say foolishly because I didn't know that love was not an either/or proposition. I didn't know that you could love someone and still pursue your own goals. I thought love was the only goal worthy. And now because of that pursuit I am screwed. I have wonderful children but no money, career or options. I have strength and tons of love and compassion to spare but on a man whose heart is cold towards me. I have a home that does not belong to me and the fear of living on the street.

But uncertainty is better than this and so I am ending this year with optimism for a good life. I am ending the year feeling so blessed by all the wonderful and loving friends I have managed to gather. I am feeling so lucky that my kids are so happy and smart and beautiful. I am proud to be strong and healthy and to live my life with an open heart. I have managed to find love-I was just looking for it in the wrong place.
Merry Christmas.

Christmas Blues

I am trying to get into the spirit of Christmas. I really want to feel that joy and anticipation of what's to come. I water the tree and wrap gifts and listen to music and it feels like one big do-to list. I've simplified and organized my life so I am not stressed out about shopping and getting it all done but it feels hollow. I do not think I am doing a good job of making the holiday as magical as it was for me when I was a kid. My dad loved loved loved Christmas. Buying gifts and getting everything done was his way of showing his love and he did everything BIG-especially Christmas. I am sure my mother just thought it was one big chore-all that cooking and cleaning and wound up bratty children. His enthusiasm was infectuous. I am trying to muster the same enthusiasm and spirit, but not today. Today I am a bit depressed. I feel like I am in a boat all alone sailing somewhere I don't want to go but i cannot change my course.
I need some snow. I need a miseltoe and someone to kiss me underneath it. I need gingerbread.
I need Santa and his bag of miracles.

Birthday day

Today my little one is five. She woke up early and we sang to her and she blew out a candle on a cupcake and played with her balloons and stayed in her pajamas.
Five years go by so fast. It really is a true cliche. You really do enjoy every new milestone and every new step but I find I am really gonna mourn the loss of all the cuddles and squishes. I guess when they're little you don't realize that those cuddles and kisses will end, but since the other one is (almost) a teenager, I do know that eventually she too will be all elbows and knees and ipods and MSN and she won't be able to squeeze onto my lap anymore or lace her fingers behind my neck. Most of my human touch comes from her-all the belly rubs and bum squeezes and snuggles and kisses and cuddles on the couch. All the middle of the night heat seeking missile cuddles that leave me hanging off one side of the bed. The running off the bus into my arms and the scrapes that only my kiss will fix.
I am happy she has achieved last years main goal which is to be 5 and know that she will instinctively turn her attention towards the new goal of her number six birthday. Today I am going to enjoy her small size, her soft squishy-ess, her sweet curls and her little girl accented talk.
Happy Birthday Little Wubby!

Running woman

When I am running I am strong.
I am not afraid to leave. I can imagine my better life. My love being enjoyed. I know that there is a better life, a better way to live it and love it. I am a good strong mother when I am running. When I am running I tell you to your face. I do not hurt when I am running and I do not cry.

When I am running I am angry.
I curse you and yell. I tell you exactly how much damage you have done. All the labels and names you've thrown at me, bitch, cunt, crazy, fucked up, fuck off, shut up, nurse Ratchett, over-bearing, too demanding, shrill, I smash through them because it pisses me off to be treated like that by someone like you. When I am running I imagine you eating those words on the ground where you belong. I stomp on you like dirty fallen leaves. I am angry with myself for loving you, for wanting you to love me-you who cannot even see how fucking awesome I am because you are weak and stupid.

When I am running I am wise.
I see my own strength and wisdom and love in action in my girls lives, and yes, even in yours and I feel compassion for our weakness. When I run I feel the earth moving underneath my feet carrying me along the river's path, the birds my brothers keeping call. I know the anger and the love and the hope and the despair are keeping me whole and that I do not want a half-lived life.

The running is my vehicle to strength and anger and wisdom. It carries me into the rest of my days and nights. My edges are better defined. And you may not know it but it's okay because I am beginning to know it and you are mattering less and less.

beautiful, graceful, wise, loving, tender, affectionate, funny, warm, smart, strong, capable, caring,

Trees

I've got the sniffles and a thick head so I've taken to my bed where I am watching the trees shivering in the cold. I am afraid that the wind is going to find a weak spot in my big tree and bring her down on top of me-a fitting end I am somehow imagining. I am always amazed at how solid and heavy trees are yet how flexible and lightly they move about in the wind. When I go out to re-fill the bird feeders I can hear their bark creaking and the branches tapping against one another. There are no birds today, they've probably blown away the wind is so bitter and strong. The sun on my bed is deceptively warm-the cats are in heaven here and I've made myself a mug of hot tea. Back to bed.

resolute and wistful

First snow of the season!!! It's interesting that everyone I've talked to today is happy about it, like finally some weather! I'm in a bit of a wistful mood, not quite ready to look forward, feeling the past tugging at me, making me feel like I'm going to miss somethings when they're gone. The things we do will become the things we used to do, I can feel the future shifting already from the things we were going to do to the things we will not do again. Simple things like routines and coffee and complicated things like gifts and shopping and holidays. All of a sudden the future feels fuzzy where there used to be at least some clarity.
Already I am feeling calmer, clearer within. Like everything has settled inside me and the butterflies have left me. I don't cry anymore. I used to cry all the time, but for some strange reason I do not feel like crying except at the appropriate sad commercials on tv. Maybe I am numb, maybe I don't feel anything, I don't know. I've been feeling pride, joy, love, anger, loneliness, judgement, regret, resentment, sad, tired, fear, confusion=all the normal things that one feels in the course of a day or two, so it can't be that I am numb. No, just resolute and wistful. (can we feel both at the same time??)

regular stuff

Monday is turning out to be my favourite day of the week. All of the business of the weekend has passed and the house is relatively calm and quiet-my two favourite things. My little one is mellow, I usually have coffee with a friend and we take our day very easily. Yesterday was an insane day-playdates, pick ups, IKEA (on a Sunday before Christmas...), the Christmas tree, baking, meals, sewing, clean ups of a varied assortment, watching my friend's kids in the evening so she could go out with her hubby, managing R's bad mood-every year when there is a Christmas activity he gets all tired and cranky-hilarious. He thinks he's MR.Christmas but he's not-a half hour watching soccer and he was as good as new! My big girl had a cool milestone-her first time on the GO train by herself to a friend's sleepover and back. I was actually so excited to meet her at the train, my this-much-closer-to-being-grown-up-girl. Watching them get independant and capable is such a great feeling-it compensates for them not being so little and cute anymore. Pre teens are so spazzy that it's not often I get to feel Mother-Pride, so I'm riding it. This is all such mundane stuff but it does take up so much space in our lives-you just hope to grab snippets of intimacy and openess throughout the day as they come towards you in the midst of it all-the pride, the love, the sense of belonging, the caretaking, the jokes, the cuddles at the end of the day.

invoking Wonder Woman

There is so much shit hitting the fan around me that I find myself walking around feeling as though I need to wear a protective amulet to ward off the evil lurking around me. Create a bubble of protection and invite my people into it. I have been going to bed at night making an effort to fall asleep in positivity, repeating E's mantra that my life is a blessing, that my relationships are a blessing, and that I am going forth in love and joy and warmth. It's much harder to do during the day when you you start off by walking into the kitchen to hear your partner cursing in a most horrible way because he can't get his stupid watch done up. It's kind of soul-crushing to meet with that kind of anger/frustration first thing before you are even fully awake. I wish I knew how to construct a force field to protect me from that energy-even just being around it makes my shoulders droop. I look to my kids and their natural joy to lift me back up but I know I must create this for myself-not a Zen detachment but an inner strength and calm that makes shit literally bounce off me. How to do this? Maybe I need to create an image of Wonder Woman with her bracelets and her arms flying like crazy to reflect the bullets. When she's done she smooths her hair and carries on with the business of saving the world.

Italian women

I read sometime ago in the news how the soon to be ex-wife of the Italian Prime Minister, in response to his repeated public affairs and general drama, has started a trend of Italian women walking around wearing t-shirts that say "I am not a woman who is at your disposal". I instantly fell in love with her.
Imagine being able to live your life self-contained and at your own disposal-not making yourself available to a man unless at your own convenience and pleasure. It sounds like such a lovely liberated way to live. I think she may be on to something.
(This being said while I plan to cook dinner for my man's parents while he enjoys away the day watching soccer at a pub with his buddies. My man who doesn't want to marry me because he's not sure about whether he will be satisfied with me over the lonmg term). I need to get my ass tp freakin Italy.

the stress already

I've got a bee in my bonnet. One of my siblings is constantly trying to control everything-for those with siblings, yes it is the eldest, what is up with that-to the point where she will send out a million emails outling the rules around gift giving; how much to spend, whom to buy for, what age is the cut -off for gifts (we have plenty of teenagers in the family and apparently they are to be excluded from Christmas). It goes on and on. She wants to know and/or establish rules for gift giving at birthdays. I sent her a very polite message suggesting that she should do what she wants to do, what she feels is right and everyone else will do the same-as is their right. I just know that there's going to be a shit storm over it. Usually I just stay out of it and do what I want to do anyway but honestly, birthdays? Get a fucking hobby or some therapy-that will be my gift to you, therapy.
So now I am wondering why do I let her get to me? Is it just my natural resistance to being controlled or is it something deeper? I do not mind faimilies coming together to set reasonable limits over the insanity of Christmas gift-giving. I also wonder if it's because I do not have alot of money to buy many gifts for people-especially people with whom I am not particulalry close or attached to. But then again I think if I did have tons of cash I would just go ahead and do what I wanted to do anyway. It just pisses me off that someone else thiks they have the right to dictate my values to me. And that's what it is. I can't stand allowing the holidays to become some sort of soul sucking set of negotiations over who gets what in the name of "fairness".

What to do next?

So, I didn't get the stupid part time job that I was hoping to get, thus affirming my suspicion that I am a total loser who can't even get a stupid job, nevermind a cool one. I would've been the best candidate-and we're talking a retail job over the holidays which involves stocking shelves and scanning bottles of booze at the cash register while making small talk and smiling. I'm so pissed off that I don't know whether to be sad or pissed off! So I guess it's back to the drawing board and trying to come up with another idea for cash. I will go back to my business idea and put some more enrgy into figuring that out and my business plan.
I honestly don't know what it is-is this my karma?, is the universe arraning itself so that the only thing I can do is go for my ultimate goal with no wavering or diversion?, is it payback? I need a sign!!!!

in between

Those days in between the big heavy talks and the action that must inevitably take place are strange and dreamy. The sweet slightly mournful music I choose fills the house, I stay busy or I stay inert, listening. I feel slightly liberated and strong, bracing myself for any bad news yet hopeful for love to come waltzing through that door once again. The day is always cloudy for some reason-or maybe we only notice the clouds when an emotional storm has come.
I've shaken off the emotional hangover as R calls it from yesterday (preceded by an actual hangover, always a bad combo). I had such a lovely feeling in the afternoon waking up from a blissful post-coital sleep to a room full of sunshine and bright warmth. I wish I could stay in that dreaminess.

other couples

This is my thought today: I have a lot of people in my life who think I am pretty fantastic, unfortunately my partner does not appear to be one of them. I don't know if that is true, it may not be, but it feels true. I see all the happy couples around and about-it's like seeing only pregnant women when you want to have a baby-and I find myself feeling jealous at their happiness. Seething, yearning jealousy. The older couple on the bus who may or may not have been high, couldn't keep their mouths off each other. The trendy beautiful couple in black coming out of their Audi SUV and walking arm in arm into the Starbucks, smiling and talking and leaning into each other. My friend's hubby all giddy at their upcoming anniversary. The hugs and kisses and squeezes. There are smiles and looks between people who dig each other that never seem to pass between my man and me. I feel desperate for those smiles and nice quiet words together.

So what do I do about it? Nothing. I hide a lot. I go to bed early and quietly. I read my books and take care of dinner and try to appear indifferent. I pretend Colin Farrel is my boyfriend and he can't get enough of me. I hold the girl's hands when we're walking. In the car I pretend I'm alone with my driver and I don't feel the need to make conversation with an employee. I take care of myself and pay attention to the welcome signals when they come so I don't miss them. In short; pathetic. I've tried to change it, but I can't seem to get those looks, that soft smile. No one is to blame, it's just the way life is right now. I don't know if it will change or improve or end. I don't know when or how or why. In the mean time I work on being fantastic in my own eyes.

leaping

I have been wanting to start my own business but I am filled with doubts and excuses-mostly for time and money. I am also scared to fail-typical of me, so I am stalling. I have a dream for myself in which I am fearless, but I also know that I should be realistic and factor this fear into my approach. I need a lot of security and do not take easily to risks. This is a big risk with what I hope is going to be big rewards but I just can't seem to focus. Part of me thinks 'fuck it' and just start-take that leap of the cliff. Part of me thinks I should spend the next year really do research-testing recipes, getting to know my market, raising funds, getting a website and some marketing, etc. I do not want to start something that is the beginning of my ultimate dream only to have it fail-at this point in my life I need a success very badly. I am worried about what another failure will do so my guts is telling me to be prepared-or is it my fear just stalling? I do not trust my instincts, or rather I do not recognize them.
The past few months I have been focusing on my vision for the future-my ideal career, my vocation, my relationships and my health. I can see it (somewhat) clearly exactly what I want to be doing, how I want to be living and I have been focusing on getting comfortable with the notion of being able to achieve it-your basic power of positive thinking stuff. But the time for action is drawing closer. I know it because I'm scared.

ramblings of a rejected mother

Why can't I get myself to write? Why can't I get myself to have anything to say. In my head I am talking almost nonstop to myself, to the other. It's Saturday night and I guess I wish I had someone to talk to, I'm in an awful way. Not really awful; just melancholy. The house is so so quiet-I love it when it's like this, it feeds my sadness. Once again I am not connecting to my almost teen-she is very angry with me because I called her out on bad behaviour. I didn't side with her. I get where she is coming from but I do need to support the other adult in the house on her being rude. Rudeness is one thing I absolutley cannot tolerate in my home. And just over simple things, "why did you do that with asking" kinds of things that with her these days lead to "whatever" rolling of the eyes and worse. Makes my blood boil. I would have been killed by my parents if I talked to them that way! I am thinking that I am a total cliche now-saying those things, feeling these things-like I can't get my teen to like me-how far we fall for our children to like and value and respect us.
That what it is-I really don't think she respects me. Maybe she thinks R walks all over me, maybe she doesn't trust him, maybe she thinks I should have a job, a career. Maybe she thinks I should be more interested in television and technology. Maybe she's jealous of the little one because she's still so goddamn adorable. Maybe she hates this family-its chaos and loudness and smallness. Maybe she thinks I am angry and depressed and that I hate my life and she wants nothing to do with my life. Maybe she's right.

the day after

Is there some reasonable way to deal with all of the candy?? My children have an obscene amount of candy, including several large cans of coke and pepsi. If ever there was a metaphor for the excess of the suburbs, it's Hallowe'en. Seriously. There is no way to eat this much candy and live. I wonder if there is someone who needs it more than we do. To make matters more gluttonous, my tenant spent the evening on Saturday baking with a ladyfriend and insisted on sending up the booty. Like I need more double chocolate cookies and squares. Maybe this is a test of my (non-existent) willpower. I am going to have to run from here to eternity to get those cookies off my ass.

Hallowe'en dilemmas

Do you think it would be too much like art imitating life if R and I dressed up as a dead married couple for Hallowe'en? He could have a noose around his neck and I could be all bloody from having my heart ripped out.
Maybe I should just stick with my witch costume.

I bought a new tree

Over the summer one of our backyard trees got hit by lightning. The bolt blasted the bark off of half the trunk, scattering it everywhere in huge fragments. The tree should have died by now but it hasn't. It still might. I worry with every windy day that it will fall over onto my roof. She is a big tree, an old white ash and a few of her sisters are close by, not as grand, not presiding over the yard as this one does. The tree is technically on city property so it is their job to remove it as they wish. There is a work order in place. A small crew even showed up a couple of weeks ago, but since the tree was not marked (a decision made by the arborist who thought the job was so urgent he wouldn't bother marking it) they walked away, confused and not wanting to take down the wrong tree. I haven't seen them since, but I know they will return.
The thing is, I don't want them to. My breath caught when I saw them pull up that time, certain that it was time for the tree to go. I didn't want it to go. I wanted to take my chances with the elements, give it (me?) a bit more time. I hid inside behind the curtains so they wouldn't get the idea to knock on the door asking if indeed this was the tree. I called my friend to commiserate and prepare for the sound of chainsaws. But they left and she received her stay of execution.
I want to be there when she does come down. I need to tell the crew-please be careful, there are many animals and birds living in that tree. My daughter's swing is being held sturdily by that lowest branch (still too high to reach with a ladder, R had to climb the ladder, then climb the tree to hang the rope). I watch her branches blow in the breeze from the skylight above my bed and I know what kind of day it will be. I know spring from fall, sun from snow courtesy of her leaves. I do my yoga facing that tree, a modern nod to an ancient form of prayer.

I bought a new tree yesterday. A beautiful weeping birch, tall and sturdy with beautiful tan bark-like a buckskin coloured horse. She will go at the other end of the yard-a perfect bookend to the cedars in the other corner. She will grow in the sunlight that will flood in when my big white ash is gone. I will plant it tomorrow when the rain is gone.

turkey hangover

I have all kinds of dreams about being chased. I am being chased by the bad guys (monsters, aliens, robbers) and I have to hide or escape from the building or city. Sometimes I have to fight them. Ususally the dream involves a labyrinth of corridors and streets and secret rooms. There are plenty of near-misses and sometimes I get the occasional do-over. Sometimes I have to resuce my kids or protect them or help them escape. I am not always alone, but I rarely recognize anyone from my waking life in these dreams.
The other night I spent the whole night dreaming that it was ARMAGEDDON; meaning that we were driving through a city and it started to rain, then it started to flood and then this crazy electrical storm started with these high voltage bolts of lightning coming down all over the place like laser beams. Of course, because there was a flood, the entire ground was unsafe. At one point we were hiding behind a giant transformer (not the best place..) and the beam of lightning changed into an alien who looked like Uncle Fester from the Adams Family. The beam was coming dangerously close to the transformer but retracted into the sky without incident. At another point we rescued a bunch of kittens but they were later blasted by a giant power surge that hit the ground like a shock wave. A lion was on the loose in the downtown core and I took advantage of a stranger's haplessness to escape the raging beast (he got eaten). I think Gerard Butler was with me at this point. Or Clive Owen-they look alot alike. It was night and still raining.
I woke up tired from all the action. I was wondering if it was all the turkey chemicals I ate that made my head all messed up. Maybe I should write a comic book.

secret life

My favourite secret tv show is Video on Trial. Why is that show so funny?
My favourite secret food to eat is crackers with butter on them. Zero nutritional value.
My favourite secret crush. I would say Boris from Video on Trial but he's gay so I have to say that I secretly love Ashton Kucher. He's so dumb but oh so yummy.
My favourite secret music is Rick Springfield. What can I say-I've loved him for over 20 years.
My favourite secret movie is Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. Musicals rock.
My favourite secret nickname is Peanut. I used to be little.
My favourite secret desire is to be a biker. I won't show you my tits though.

Maybe it's time

Why does winter get me down??? Here we are only the first day of October and already I am feeling the brace for the cold. I'm walking around my house cold on the inside, my hands are cold. I do not want to turn on the furnace as a matter of principle but I am cold!! My garden is turning brown in the back, the fence is up-maybe it's the fence. I feel closed in all of a sudden. why does that remind me of winter? I am going through my twice yearly ritual of changing the clothes (there's not enough closet space for all seasons) and perhaps it's making me a bit trepidacious about the coming cold. The same old clothes. I hate them all it seems. Maybe it's time to go shopping., but I am a bad shopper, buying only what's cheap, not what I'll like next year, not what will be in good shape next year. I've been sick for a few hours and well for a few hours, maybe that's it-I'm in sick mode still. Maybe it's it's time to go for a run and get into health mode. I really want to get a job, but I do not know where or how to look, I do not know what I want to do or what I am able to do. I do not have a short term plan. Maybe it's time to get one going.

stuff happens

Oh lord help me be patient. My man has taken my little one to buy some potates for dinner-an hour and a half ago. He called to tell me of the lost car keys. He is stranded at the mall. The only other keys we have don't start the engine-our car being 10 years old and somewhat feeble. My little one is no doubt very hungry so hopefully he will buy her a slice of pizza. He will arrive home tired and pissed off and most likely feeling that he has been the butt of some cosmic joke. Just a blip I will remind him. A blip in time and space. Where the hell did he put those damn keys????

letter to my man..rhetorical

My man thinks I've got an inability to see my role in things a.k.a. how horrible I am. I think if he only knew how much I hold back he'd be shocked senseless! If he only knew how difficult it is to maintain a family in the day-to-day-cooking, cleaning, organizing, helping with homework, scheduling, planning, corresponding, shopping, refereeing and doing it all with a smile because you are trying to present a positive outlook on life. And doing it all whilst keeping the bigger picture front and centre in your mind. When Jon and Kate plus eight broke up I thought that there was a lot of talk about what a Battle Axe she was but I thought "the woman has eight small children! She has to be tough, especially with such a slacker of a husband!" But I digress....
I guess what ticks me off is this notion that not only do I (women in general? moms in general?) have to take care of all this stuff but that I have to do it with a happy smiley voice and butterflies flying around my head. My man expects me to be happy about doing it all EVERYDAY and that if I require assisstance I'm supposed to flitter over to him and in my best Oliver Twist voice ask for some more...well, hell no!
I'm sorry if I offend but this is not a democracy. I am not the Dalai Lama. I am in charge of this family's happiness and peace and well being and you are either with me or you are not. I get that my man is tired from work, I get that the internet is really cool, I get that beer tastes better when you're on the couch but for heaven sakes man...pick up your kid, give your wife a kiss and a hug, grab the broom before she aks you, sit down with the teen and talk about Zach Efron. The rewards will be great and vast...promise.

ps. I just re-read this post. I think I may need a vacation! (or a life)

trying to deal with it

I'm stealing a bit of a day for myself. Mostly what I am trying to do is think loving thoughts about people, especially a certain person who seems hell bent on bringing anger and negativity into my life. I am tired of being accused of stuff by passive-aggressive people who cannot bear to take responsibility for their own shit and who just behave as if they are the only people in the world with stuff to do. It's a drag and it makes me want run run run away from them.
I have been thinking lately that perhaps the reason this person came into my life was to teach me how to deal with anger-not my own-but with other people's. My father was an "angry man" with a terrifying temper and I was petrified of his rages as a child. As a teen I showed bravado, I guess a certain bravery, but I was still quaking in my boots whenever I argued with my dad. The odd thing with my dad was we usually argued politics and sometimes it would get so intense it would come to shove. But I would never back down, even if I thought I was about to get knocked ass over head. Now, I am learning to back down with this person in my life, learning to choose my battles, learning to bite my tongue and look the other way. But I don't know if that is dealing with it. I guess what I mean is that I am trying to learn how to express my own anger, feel someone else's anger and not get up the next day feeling as though my soul has been sucked out of my body.
Today I am filled with a deep sense of remorse over feeling that this someone has too many difficulties in communicating with me to create a positve experience and knowing that this person's capacity to change is limited by his refusal to see his life as a series of choices he makes leaves me feeling somewhat hopeless about the future of my friendship with him.

Frustration

I am going crazy this morning-I am waiting for someone to come and fix my fridge AGAIN and there are people in my backyard installing a fence that I don't even want (city issued) and I do not even have a gate on that fence so I am effectively being locked out of my forest and park by the city who made these rules 40 years ago when some kid fell out of a tree house he had built in the forest. If I can't have a gate, I'll build a staircase up and over.
The most frustrating part is dealing with city bureaucracy over trying to get some changes made to their by-laws. I just wish that rather than having an adversarial relationship with its citizens, a town could take on a partnership relationship. I live next to this forest, so of course I have a vested interest in protecting and maintaining its health and integrity. I also do not think that it is right to expect me to get in my car and drive over one km to the park entrance just so that I can use it-especially when there is a park entrance right outside my back door. This city makes a lot of noise about being a livible city but for me these outdated bylaws make this city LESS livable for me and my family. The city claims that it doesn't want people dumping things into the woodlot, but a 4 ft high chain link fence will not keep anyone from doing that, if anything it will create a barrier that divides the space from "mine" into "not my problem" thuis creating the opposite attitude that it needs to create if it wants the forest and park to continue on in health.
There is always a fight with city officials and the system is set up to create so much frustration that people end up giving up. I do not want to give up this fight so easily.

my favourite show

Has anybody every watched Video on Trial on Much Music???? ohmygod I love that show. I want to be on it. I'm laughing. I can't write I'm laughing too much.

What I am

Running the other day, it occurred to me that I wasn't a runner. Runners are athletes and I am not one of them. I am not co-ordinated, not strong and flexible enough to be an athlete. Besides, I only run about 35-40 minutes through the woods admiring squirrels and trees and shadows. When I am finished running I do some light weights then about 30 minutes of yoga to stretch and cool down. I do that about 5 days a week-the other 2 being days that have slipped away too quickly to fit in a run.
As I ran I thought about that idea-the idea of me not being a runner-and I realized that I have always felt like an onlooker, an outsider-not a participant. I am an imposter, they are the real thing. They, being anyone else. I began to expand that idea and I then realized that throughout my entire life, I have placed these truths in my mind and heart and body. I became acccustomed to them and accepted them and they have usually proven true because I let them guide my choices and identity.
Some of the"nots" are as follows: I am not pretty or attractive and certainly not sexy, especially to members of the opposite sex.
I am not interesting.
I am not athletic or co-ordinated.
I do not stand out.
I do not belong.
I am not capable of wealth, that is for others.
I am not visible, or valuable enough to notice.
I am not the mothering type.
My body is not attractive or normal.
I am not good at math or science and I should therefore not pursue any dreams or goals that may require me to do so (basically all my childhood dreams of being a vet or an archtiect!!)
I do not belong in University-that is for ""other"people (rich? handsome? driven? I can't remember now).
I am not good with computers (this one is ,alas, true.)
I am not loved or worthy of love.

I need to start getting back to separating the truth from the fiction in my life so I can start defining myself in terms of what I am.

Freedom coming

From my relatively quiet post I observe the goings on around me. Reading emails but not responding, taking a few choices away from myself to make life easier, not getting into the drama. I am glad for the week's sunny warm days and the promise of a getaway. Not a getaway from the kids, from whom I rarely feel the need to escape, but from the monotonous rythm of my relationship with R which many days leaves me feeling a bit drained and somewhat hopeless. Not always. I am always the secret cheerleader, the hallway monitor, the guidance counsellor and I recieve little recognition or thanks or response to my work. Just like a grown up! I am looking forward to the happy chatty female energy, the laughing at rude joks, the freedom of not having to coax someone into conversation, the freedom to go back to bed! (the margaritas I will savour).

Shiny Happy People

I know this name sucks but I can't think of a different one. The only thing that comes to mind is Permanently Pissed Off and that's just not very friendly.
I'm not really permanently pissed off but I do have several moments throughout the day and night when the thought comes into my head that there are a lot of assholes in the world, and that pisses me off-even if they have nothing to do with me. It only really bothers me when they get into my trajectory. R makes fun of me when I am being "tough" but he really doesn't know that I am just scratching the surface. If I was a comedian, I'd be the Dennis Leary sort, except with more swearing.
For many years I really wanted to be the kind of person who called themselves something sweet and feminine like Morningstar Butterfly.. (retching)..but when I finally realized that that was not my particular brand of personality I relaxed into my edginess, embraced it in a way. Still, hope springs eternal, even for me, and everyday is an active exercise in positivity and loving acceptance-words and concepts that are the hot topics right now in our culture as if that is all it's gonna take to make things better. I guess it can't hurt which is why I am slowly but surely becoming a happy morningstar butterfly type of gal. If only those happy people didn't piss me off so much .

September

Back to making lists and getting things done and watching the clock.
Back to getting up early and being productive.
Being home for me, home with the girls is a choice but is also a circumstance. I try to make the most of it but I do admit to being lazy in the summer especially. Unfocused.
My natural way is to procrastinate the big stuff. Piddle around all day with the small unimportant stuff. Wasting.
Now it's back to reality as it were.

I fight the urge to label myself as a waster of life and time and money. I try to convince myself that it's worth it, that my choices are choices freely made. I try to believe that the best is yet to come, that life is long and good and gracious. That the feeling of a successful, well-lived life is not as elusive as it sometimes seems.

I'VE GOT THE BACK-TO -SCHOOL BLUES

I suck..hehe

Everyone is on vacation 'cept me.
I blew a load of cash at the CNE-totally worth it.
I had rebellious thoughts about the "schedule" that it to say, my daughter's rotation of homes. She's only been home a few days and now she must leave again, just when we were getting comfortable. I can't stand that schedule. I hate it and wish it into oblivion with a burning intensity that worries me. I resist the urge to try to convince her to choose sides . I barely succeed.
I'm out of milk.

Ouch!

My shoulder hurts. It's been hurting since last thursday. I remember when pain would only last a day or two but now it's been almost a week and constant massage has not been as helpful as it's been enjoyable. The knots are slowly working themselves out but it seems that I am going to have to wait until they do it at their pace, not mine. Is that what it mean to get older finally? Accepting that your body is changing its way of being?

My official one year goal is to be leaner and stronger than I am now, and age has not really occurred to me. I will not abuse my body in this process as I have learned that I need to be more like a supportive mother than a drill sargeant with it-it rebels. But this week it is not co-operating. It wants to have heat and stillness. I push it as far as I think I can get away with-not too much, but a bit more. Some things just take longer now, but I do believe it is quite possible to be stronger at 42 than I was at 22. I hope so.

higher ground

I just gotta get away from the gossip mongers and the drama queens. they're startin to get in my head just a little too much; it's gone way beyond merely amusing stuff to wag on about to those of us who should know better. So, gather around all you people of wisdom and insight, people of interest and faith and curiousity. Come sit in my parlour, share a glass of wine or scotch or coffee or tea. Let's come and talk of the way the light looks after an evening storm, the way it feels to get slammed by a bigger body than your own, the day you felt like the only one you could rely on was you. Let's rail against the government or big business or the very rich. Let's commune over the growing of tomatoes and the planning of great big futures. Let's notice the art and share the good stories and laugh and laugh until we pee our pants almost.
I'm going to shut the door to the drama queens and vampires. Not answer the phone to the gossip girls. Raise myself a little higher in the world. Come sit with me.

old books, old loves

I just finished re-reading a favourite book, one that does not have a happy ending but one which I love whole-heartedly. As I approached the end of this book I became more and more tense-knowing my beloved character was going to meet a most unhappy and violent end and trying to stave it off while being compelled to read on. I guess it's the literary equivalent of rubber necking. Now it's done and I am in the mourning period-a cooling off that I go through after I finish a good book. I have to let it work its way out of my system. I have to keep it out of sight so I am not tempted. It may take days or weeks until I feel like I can begin something new and different. I tried to pick up a new book this morning but it was too soon-I just wasn't into it. I leafed through an old OPRAH magazine last night-not even caring about it but just going through the act of turning the pages.

It's like the end of a relationship isn't it? You and these characters have been intimately involved and now it's over-against your wishes. The thought of dating someone else, someone new and different is just not appealing. You still have the language of the other in your ear at night when you go to bed, the images of that person's terrain. Invitations from other books go ignored on your shelves and bedside tables, the effort of putting yourself into them just too much to think about. Okay, so I may be exaggerating for the sake of drama. But then when you finally do feel ready to open another book and leap in-there you go! and you are in that other world again.

dinner conversation with my 4 year old

we are in the backyard. She hears the faint sound of music from inside the house. Sinead O'Conner is singing.

little r "mommy, I hear music. God's wife is singing."
big girl-"God doesn't have a wife. God isn't a man. Maybe you should marry God"
little r "I can't marry God. I already have a boyfriend"
big girl-"you're too young to have a boyfriend"
LR- (indignant) "NO I'm NOT!!
BG-"yes you are!"
LR-"NO, I'm NOT!!" (eyes rolling, chin jutting out, arms in the air as if to exclaim : the things I have to put up with).
pause. face becoming softer.
"Well, I love God"
"Actually, I love God, but I'm not in love with God"

ME-" what's the difference between being in love and just love? (the million dollar question..)

LR-well, I'm not in love with God, I love myself, but that's just who I am, that's me.

shit

Oh Lord I just committed the biggest sin of all sins in the parenting bible and had a very loud and drawn out argument with my ex in front of my poor kid. But it wasn't enoughtdo have it in front of her-I had to go and do it in front of half her soccer team, her best friend and her coach and teachers. Go big or go home I guess. I am such an asshole! In my defense I tried to walk away several times but the man kept following me like in a movie where I turned the other way and he'd turn right along with me and continue to yell at me. I know it takes two but I felt completely ambushed by his freakiness over something he had been given plenty of opportunities to avoid. And it was all over what amounts to a 3 hour over lap in the schedule! I hate that fucking schedule.

I apologized to my daughter and my other daughter and her friend and now I also feel that I should have the school call an assembly and apologize to them as well. I should apologize to the universe for all this bed energy.

I am off now to have a glass of wine and repent.

firefighters

Been away awhile without doing much in between these days of not writing-I've been thinking about firefighters.
As a woman who was once divorced I hooked up with some lovely firefighters one spring one summer. They were such lovely men. All divorced all brave and handsome and sexy. I made out with one of them in his car in my driveway and the man was such a good kisser that I didn't want to leave the car even though I knew I had to. Another was so sweet and sassy and had such beautiful curly hair. One day he drove me to work in the morning and he started to tell me about his job and how his station had one of the big cranes to go up high into fires and he described how sometimes you would be surrounded by flames just to do your job but it was the best way to save people sometimes. He may have been giving me a line but I have to say I practically had an orgasm just listening to him. It was the first time I understood the "men in uniform thing". It was just so masculine and brave and hot for the first true time in my life I really started to appreciate MEN for being so different from women.

The third firefighter however, was the best. He was the best. He was the kindest, sweetest, most loving man and he was fun too. And he saved children from drowning and he pulled kittens from trees. And as a recently divorced woman, I was down. I had a baby who had changed my body. I had not been loved in a good way for a long time and thought that I might never be again. I was 15 years older, not youthful anymore. I was insecure. That man loved me real good, I have to say. He'd go home and then I'd call him up and he'd come running back for more. That man made me feel like the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. I was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen when I was around him. That summer we were together was amazing and I am still sad that it had to end. I think about him a lot and wish I could see him to thank him for bringing me back up to an even higher ground. I hope he has a good woman-one who calls him up frequently and doesn't give him a hard time like we do with our men.

It may be a cliche and a stereotype to view firefighters as sex symbols-do they mind? I don't know, but I do know that these three guys changed my life. They changed my view of men at a time when it needed changing and they brought me into a part of myself I had denied. For that I don't mind.

do these things

read Fruit, The Lovely Bones and By the Light of my Father's Smile by the lovely and talented Alice Walker. also Too Soon Old, Too Late Smart. also the Gargoyle. The list is endless.

listen to Sarah Slean

watch In Treatment with Gabriel Byrne (also lovely and talented)

go eat a mango even if it IS imported and not PC. They are too delicious to ignore. Put it in your wine if you must.

I'm wearing a dress today-ok so I have pants on underneath it but it is a dress nonetheless.
have a lovely day.

day off from school

playing hookey today for the first time in a long long time. We're going to have a spa at home-massage, facials, pedicures. We're going to watch the soccer game and eat chips. The girls are setting up a fort now. All trying to heal a bit and establish a peaceful coordinate, all trying to do better than we have done in the past. Coffee would be perfect.

a new day

Lying in my bed last night late late late I wasn't asleep.
I was crying the late night cry when the tears just come and come and come and the possibility of all that you wanted just disappears with the wind and nothing else really matters anymore except salvation.
Eventually sleep came-with it dreams of drowning kittens only a few of whom I could save in the undulation of the waves higher than we had thought.
And then morning and business as usual-get up, get the kids ready, make sure they've got everything, here are your glasses, take out the recycling.
And then this calm, my eyes are still sore.

(p.s. found my kitty safe and sound under some bushes awaiting rescue)

Monday morning

7:15 am- clean up maggots that are crawling all over my kitchen floor.
7:45 am-trip over mouse on my way to the laundry room to wash rugs covered in maggots. mouse doesn't run to hide, rather simply looks confused.

9:30 am-it's a holiday in the states so i cannot get a guy over to repair my fridge which is under recall due to an exploding part. I must wait until tomorrow. Have not had a fridge since Saturday. Have no food in house save for what I can fit in my cooler. Customer service cannot explain why I cannot get a Canadian service person to service a Canadian bought appliance on a Canadian business day.

10:30 am-lose cat. she was visiting a friend with us then just disappeared. 4 year old is distraught.
11:00 am-find mouse. trap mouse. take mouse out to forest where it blindly sniffs the air. figure it will take the remaining 2 cats about 10 minutes to track and kill it.
12:00 pm-waiting to spontaneously combust.

The day

This is what it looks like: my cat tumbling merrily along behind me, crossing over in front of my feet to roll over onto her belly for a rub. Me tripping over her again and again. It repeats every six or seven feet.

This is what it smells like: the lilacs are in bloom. Every bush I pass offers up a whiff of their loveliness. The trees by the ravine exploding in their glory and nobody ever goes there so nobody ever knows how high the bees are off this scent.

This is what it feels like: We park the car between the Mercedes SUV (fucking huge beastie) and the Porsche. Walk towards the hall past the Lexus, the Volvo, the Beemer and the Range Rover. We are not worthy. We are intruders and have no right to care about this stuff-should be at our jobs packing toothbrushes into boxes. My clothes and hair confirm my low status. The hall is cool and as we walk to our seats-coffees in hand-I can hear one of the mothers just loud enough for me to hear "the sign clearly says no food or drink allowed" I laugh, still rebellious.

Liberated woman

I saw K.D. lang singing on tv last week and as I watched her, all masculine on the outside, pure feminine on the inside-I thought she looked like a happy cat sunning herself on the terrace.
"I want to look like that" I thought-like a happy cat, belly full, fur all cleaned and smiling away to myself.

It looked like the face of a liberated woman.

No makeup, flowing robes (yes, she looked like she was wearing robes), bare feet and that voice all came together to form the zen of k.d. Lang. Lots of creativity flowing out of her, totally not giving a shit whether she fit the mold of who she was supposed to be. She knew who she was.

I began to think about what was my version of a liberated woman-and what I need to accomplish before I can feel like that cat sunning myself on the terrace in all my glory-at least as much of the time as i can weather.
It doesn't involve looking young, owning whatever item of clothing I am supposed to want, or having a certain lifestyle. It is mostly about doing the things which move me closer to God-to living in a way that brings me closer to the hearts and lives of the people I care about, and to my own hearts desire. To placing myself in the sun, so to speak.

what is your version of Liberated?

encirclement

This morning I went to one of my bookshelves to find a spell of protection or cleansing that I can use to help a situation at home which has been developing for some time with my man. I found the book and I opened it to a page (or more accurately the page presented itself to me for my consideration) which was titled ENCIRCLEMENT.

encirclement is about the desire to turn back time so that one may reverse a difficult situation, perhaps an argument, that has resulted in a relationship that is becoming too undone or distant. it is about reversing the polarity of a situation before it gets too far out of hand. The holly leaf and the colour yellow are very important factors in performing magic that can turn things around, as are magnets, compasses and the scents of coriander and tuberose. It embodies the feelings of compassion, forgiveness and a strong desire for a happier conclusion for both parties.

The spell should be performed on a waning moon.

If it is successful, both people should be able to get together no more than a week later with the same goal of repairing the damage that has been done.

yesterday, running

I should watch what I say, I am not sure what to write-how to write it. How much does one give up on these sites-information that is? Some people would be very upset to read this stuff but sometimes it is the only friend I tell, this space here.

Running through the woods yesterday with a blanket of white and pink trilliums spread out before me I thought of calling out to my women. I thought of being in the middle of a circle in a heap of tears and comforting words and soothing touches. I thought of them passing along their words of wisdom, their strength to me in my time of need. I thought of them passing along to me their charms of protection from the attackers in my life who come. I thought of the truth and what it would do to everyone.
Then as I ran I felt the power of the forest. I felt the new growth and even the power of new death as I ran over the carpet of needles made by the hundred year old white pine that didn't make it through a bad winter storm. I felt the deer and the rabbits and the foxes and the coyotes watching me as I ran. I heard the squirrels scurrying away up into the safety of the trees and the sunlight teased me through the leaves.
Then as I grew stronger in the woods I saw the faces of my women- loving, beautiful and very strong and wise. My tears ran down my cheeks as I ran. I told my sadness to the woods and the woods told me it was time to do some protective magic. I need to protect myself. I think I recognize the signs now.

the incredible shrinking woman

The morning after my wedding, my new husband arranged to have the caterers bring a breakfast tray to our apartment as a treat for me-a romantic surprise. Strawberries with cream, coffee, croissant, champagne-my perfect breakfast in a hotel. Because I was completely surprised, I still think now even 17 years later that it may have been the most romantic thing ever.

He was a romantic man-always sending me flowers and chocolates and long love letters and cards expressing his joy at having me in his life and how he loved me. He was the first man to treat me well that way and although I wasn't used to it, I liked it, liked being "spoiled" and I have to say I fell for it.

I hate holidays now. Valentine's Day, Birthdays, Mother's Day, Anniversaries are all just about me trying to wrestle my desire to be spoiled a bit and shown, if only in words some love and joy at being known with the reality of my man's attitude towards these days and I guess, toward me. It's a struggle to feel hopeful yet keep my expectations low. I hate that struggle, yet it is so hard to not want something from someone, especially when they are hiding it behind their backs.

It's hard always trying to shrink my heart so that it will fit into his.

Trilliums

My hands are dirty, dirty from the garden. My nails are short but there is still dirt underneath them. I don't even think about manicures, even when I get a glimpse of a woman with lovely hands, freshly manicured. Mine are working through the summer outdoors in the dirt with the worms and the compost. We went into the woods close by to "steal" more Trilliums-we replant them in the woods behind my backyard so they can spread themselves around a bit. I got some more ferns too. I'm in love with the woods. In love with this day.

on the brain

Things that happened this week:

two dead bunnies bodies without their heads in my backyard have gone missing. My middle cat is the murderer I am sure but I can't figure out who is stealing the bodies.

I had just finished telling a mom friend about The Lovely Bones which is a book about a young girl who is brutally raped and murdered and her afterlife in heaven when a man exited the fort in the bushes that our children were noisily running toward so they could play pirates in it. He hightailed it for the main road without looking back and had disappeared before we could catch up with him. I had originally planned on sneaking up to the fort so the kids could see how mysterious and "secret" it was. Who knows what I would've come across.

A big giant man walking in front of me at the train station made extemely rude remarks to his buddies about a young girl passing out cards for a "gentleman's club". He made these comments openly and without invitation forgetting the fact that he crossed over to the other side of the station to receive her card. Nobody said anything in response, including his buddies, but I was filled with a murderous rage so intense that I actually imagined his body hanging off a meat hook like a pig I once saw in a slaughter house (his legs reminded me of giant hams). I tried to pass him but he was so big and dumb and oblivious that everytime I made a step to get ahead he blocked my way with his meaty swagger. I decided to stop walking altogether and I waited until he had passed beyond my sight before I continued.

I am always looking for signs and omens but often fail to see them until it's too late-being a primitive human and not nurturing my connection to the divine as I should.

help

Can somebody please tell me how to teach my eldest child that stealing things and lying about it is not cool? That calling me names is not cool? That acting tough and mouthy is not cool? She is apparently not yet mature enough to realize that her actions and words can create negative or positive results for not only herself but everyone around her. She wants to be left alone (by me) but insists on using my things and sneaking around, thus inviting me into her troubles.
Of course, I blame her father who lives to buy her things and doens't like to discipline her at all who manipulates her into feeling sorry for him. When she is with him she acts sweet and passive and when she is with me she is herself-loud, relaxed and smelly. In my defence I treat both of my children with respect, am open with them and have a relaxed attitude towards many things. I do expect them to do what I ask when I ask it (homework, tidying up, getting outside to play) but am inclusive and fair.

I have people I know whose kids are rotten and it's almost always the parents fault. What have I done wrong and how can I fix it.?
p.s. she is almost certainly PMS'ing....

saturday traffic jam

Traffic jam on the highway
there's a jumper on the bridge
it's a sweltering day but the lake is blowing off a cool breeze
it's saves us from going crazy in the waiting.

I am sitting in the car watching the scene unfold-
kids playing ball in the deserted spaces
others just hanging out on the hoods
glad for their bottled water.

Worried travellers with a plane to catch
hightail it for the Lakeshore
suitcases in hand
hoping to be the ones who win the cab.

Me, I am just waiting
time has stopped for the next little while
We've got some talking to do
and the radio is playing a pretty good song.

passing it on

My mother has spent her entire adult life-possibly her entire life-on a diet. My mother is a slim woman-great legs, shapely, long and lean-tiny waist, smallish bust. I know she eats but i cannot recall ever having seen her eat. She shuns sweets and walks and dances and rollerskates. It is fair to say she hates her body and has been at war with it as long as i can remember. If i mention that she looks good, she will argue with me, pointing out some horribly fat body part to emphasize my wrongness. All this despite the fact that she is a real catch, and always has a long line up of elegible men waiting to take her out. She dresses like a fox and even her lingerie is nicer than mine (i know, I receive her hand-me-down bras because after a couple of months she insists they are too small for her). I strongly suspect she is having more and better sex than I am as well.

However, I also suspect that in every other aspect save for the clothes and sex, i am becoming just like her. Last November i vowed not to spend another summer not wearing skirts and dresses because my thighs rubbed together in a most uncomfortable manner. i vowed not to fit into those unsightly "fat" shorts that I have been wearing since I had my littlest one-4 years ago.
I prefer sex with the lights off and do not enjoy appearing naked in front of anyone except my 4 year old. I see women on the street who are bigger and curvier than me and I think they look just fine-fabulour even. I do not strive to be skinny. I want to feel healthy and strong and muscular blah blah.

However. I have not been as diligent as I had hoped. Many days I simply do not have the time to jog or do yoga or workout. I am addicted to cookies and brownies. Even now that spring is here. My thighs still rub together. the fat shorts still fit snugly. I am filled with a sense of failure at my shortcomings and shame at my own (probably skewed) body image. My body just seems to have found this weight that it likes, is comfortable with and does not want to part with even an ounce of it. I am struggling with the notion of appreciating it and loving it-as we all do no doubt. I do fear terribly the idea of spending my entire life at war with this body of mine, of not ever feeling sexy in it, of not enjoying how it looks and feels, of this discomfort with seams and buttons. I fear giving up the joys of food and drink for a notion that is unattainable.

But mostly I fear that I too will pass all that on to my girls who are still in the glory days of just how fucking beautiful they are.

Paperwork

we haven't done our taxes for 3 (count 'em) years. today I am trying to sort through the nightmare that is my man's version of organization. I keep coming across little bits of things-pictures drawn by the big girl when she was little, lists of things to do last year (half-completed), something I cut out of a magazine then promptly forgot about. There is so much paper in this house-so much of the minutiae of our lives, forgotten or put away for another day to examine so I keep getting sidetracked from my task to spend a few minutes thinking about then and now-what's changed, what's stayed the same. it's a beautiful day outside but I am perfectly happy in my dining room with these little bits of paper and the cat happily in the middle of it all, listening to Sarah Slean singing away like a bird through the speakers.

Kids these days...

We were innocently drinking our bootleg vino chattering away about who what where why and how-quietly I thought since the man on the stage had a microphone which enabled his voice to boom above ours-and it's not like he was saying anything funny, despite the laughter of the just-lost-my virginity age bracket that surrounded us-no doubt on their first big night out sans parents (which would explain the apparent hilarity of the comedian on stage) but REALLY! It's a concert for chrissakes- not an undergrad lecture. The band is the main event-the opening act just window dressing. And I just simply can't see how a 20 minute monologue which revolves around reading a fake letter to the customer service department of DELTA Airlines (Delta ???-this is Canada dude!) can ever possibly be misconstrued as comedy. However, I digress.
We were talking and then we were shushed by the pretty young things all around us because we weren't being quiet enough-at a concert. The same ones who texted their friends throughout the main event. We were the only ones with hooch.

Remember when going to a show meant burning your hands because you held your lighter for too long? Or getting high even if your weren't smoking because of the thick haze of pot smoke hanging over the crowd? Smuggling in your camera and some booze to drink secretly in the dark. Standing throughout the entire show and missing the opening act entirely because you were hanging around the bus chatting up the roadies?
I feel older today.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY

scene: a small house in a quiet suburb. a man is sitting on the couch idly watching a soccer game-it is half-time. a woman enters the living room, stops just short of the tv and twirls around.

woman: Hey, what do you think of my new skirt?
man: (eyes on the tv) hmmm? oh. it's nice.

the woman leaves the room.

scene: sometime later, the game is almost finished, only 2 minutes of injury time to go. the woman re-enters the room wearing her pajamas and sits down on the couch next to the man.

woman: Hey honey, what do you think of the TFC's new uniform for this season?
man: Well, I don't like it as much as their first season. The second season wasn't bad, but this one has that high neckline that I don't really like. I don't mind their logo-I'm glad it's not like Kansas City-they have some weird crappy American style mascot thing-but it seems that now the corporations just try to put as many logos on the shirts as possible. I do like the grey stripe on the sleeves and they have the Canadian flag on the centre so that's good....

the woman gets up and goes to bed.

all that being said..

all that being said, last week I told a young woman who was thinking about having children not to do it. 'Don't do it" I said, "live for yourself" I told her. I hadn't even been drinking.

wife vs mother

In a moment of boredom the other day I turned on the tv and flicked through the channels until I passed the Oprah show-she was talking to MOMS about THE THRUTH ABOUT BEING A MOM and all the moms were SHARING their funny little stories about how they cheat and cut corners on their vision to be a PERFECT MOM and the little secret resentments they have about BEING A MOM. I couldn't help but think that it's not really being a mom that is the soul sucking thing-it's being a wife. Taking care of a kid wouldn't be that bad if we also didn't have to take care of a man, a partner, a house, a job, a boss, a bunch of things that suck our energy and time and identity. I remember in University (Women's Studies, of course) learning about the separation of wife from mother and it was like a Eureka moment. It's quaint when we say that what Moms really need is a wife. The nature of WIFE is to take care of all the domestic, all the social, all the relationships that the family needs taken care of. When we have to combine the work of mothering with the work of being a wife, it's no wonder we feel overwhelmed/understimulated. In all these years of feminism and social change, I really don't think all that much has changed for women with a few small exceptions.
Much of the time I receive great joy and strength from my children. I love being a part of their lives and a witness to their growth. My identity as a mom is something I am very proud of and has brought tons of healing and love into what was once a very broken life and heart. Mom as an identity is a good thing for me, wife something I could easily do without...

coupledom

And so it goes that couple X is carrying on with their plans and having more and better sex than ever (with each other) and I'm like whaaa?? A little juice goes a long way I guess and now I am seriously contemplating having an open relationship just so I can get some action from my man.

My newer and better therapist is actually helping me look at things in a more positive way and I actually spent time appreciating how R and I compliment each other and what I have learned from him. Who'd have thunk it..

Another couple has decided to divorce but are continuing to live together (him in the basement-whaa?) because they do not want to risk selling their house in the current market-although they live in a very "desirable" place and would not have to worry. Their youngest daughter (same age as my eldest) thinks they are not actually breaking up because of this.

So today I am thinking about a lifetime with someone and how long that might be and when do you know when the time is up? How can you stay strong despite the barriers and personality deficits of your chosen one?

We have been taking dance lessons-R's romance appeal and although it makes me feel like I am back in grade 5-one two three four, switch two three four-it is so lovely to be twirled around, his face tilted down smiling at me as if we are the only ones there in the middle of the afternoon. Romance indeed.

Ooohhh the blustery-ness of it all. The day, my emotions, the coming of Spring. The recognizing and placing of boundaries always a big deal, at the beginning when it is new to you and you are still getting sucked in to someone else's ways and emotions but keep your eyes on the horizon knowing that one day it will not be so dramatic to stand in one's truth. You will be softer and less flinty-eyed about it. One hopes. But for now, in the beginning it's all Al Pacino-You Lookin At Me?-and the bravado of the not-so-sure that has to carry me as I stand at the gates of what is okay and what is not. And then, in secret, pride and the peace of knowing my own dignity and the horizon gets closer.

the trinity

We live here in what R calls the feminine trinity. I dig that he attaches some sort of divinity to the female presence/dominance in our home. He is learning to cope with the estrogen.

The little curly girl is obsessed with death in the way that little ones are (that is the matter-of-fact-shit-happens kind of way) and has decided that her impending marriage to her boyfriend, J, will take place in a cemetary "because they are really beautiful and lovely".

After being in bed for awhile and unable to get to sleep, the elder marched into the bathroom claimed some space beside R who was shaving, dropped her robe and stood in all of her glorious puberty in front of the mirror applying body lotion. He carried on and she chatted away happily. She would never do that in front of her father. He would pass out if she did. R kept cool. (I was there too-having a pee).

He has learned how to play in feminine ways, is learning to communicate in ways that females respond well to (a very important life lesson I'll say), doesn't mind being dressed by females, knows how to compliment and when to keep quiet, and stays low when the drama overloads. I think he fells privileged to have this inside track into the lives of girls and women-perhaps a secret wish of many boys and men-and is a fascinated onlooker. A proud papa of girls!

the highway

Oh here I am back after a sweet march break at the cottage spent enjoying the sun and listening to baby beavers mewing away in their den which was built courtesy of all the trees (which used to be) fronting the property. I've never been there at this time of year, this time of awakening and melting. Everything was alive and the air had that sweet smell of spring arrived. Our main activity was crushing the soft ice with discarded sticks and watching it float away with the current, searching the skies for the (2) bald eagles that have taken up residence on a nearby island, punctuated with wine and coffee and books and sketching and long walks through the woods.

I have noticed that I fit into an environment of solitude and quiet very easily and when it comes time to get back to civilization I get ansty. Being around people again is something I have to ease myself into. It happens everytime I am at the cottage. I get used to the landscape, the rhythm and it feels like a natural landscape and rhythm and my system goes into shock when I have to be around people again, when I have to look at buildings and hear city noises again. I have to do it in increments. I enjoy the sights and opportunities but it only takes a short time before I am turning my gaze back to the quiet and peaceful place and measuring time until I return to it. The highway is a terrible answer to a week away.

That's why I like where I live. I can gaze out my window and see nothing but the trees, hear nothing but the birds. There is a trade off but I feel calm here in the centre of myself, I can think here and hear the answers. It's enough stimulation for me a lot of the time. I may actually be becoming some sort of hermit cat lady of Oakville. I may actually be ok with that. I'll let my hair grow grey and wild and scare kids as they pass by the window.

rantings and ramblings

Okay, first of all, this almost-a-cold that has been lurking around in my head for a week needs to just make a decision about what it wants to do and do it. Then bugger off. My four year old told one of our cats to bugger off this morning so I can see that my hard work in teaching her is paying off. The older one got a pretty crappy (for her) report card so I am also feeling pretty chuffed that I was right all along and her teachers have started to call her lack of work and "I don't care" attitude with some bad grades. Now she is scared she will not be invited back to her program. Is it wrong to delight in someone else's defeat-especially your own child's?? It's just that I think sometimes you need them to learn the lesson the hard way. Then, my imagined lovely coffee meeting with my man turned into me wandering the streets of his route trying to find him, being late for an appointment because of said wanderings, then spending an hour in desperate and failing attempt at conversation only to be dumped with my little one for the evening becasue of said man's pissy mood. I did get to eat a big brownie that I made and read my book so all in all it wasn't a bad evening.

Christine's relationship rescue

I know some people who have reached the tipping point in their 20 plus year union and have made the decision to "shake things up a bit". I don't know if it will work or backfire but it makes me nervous. I guess I am old fashioned and don't really care for complicating my life-maybe that's exactly what I neeed though, a more complicated life. I get anxious whenever the status quo is threatened in my life and resist change (all the while craving it-go figure). Maybe it's the suspicion that if I've got troubles I know that there ain't a soul out there who can attend to them but me and I think that this couple is going about it ass backwards and will end up making mistakes from which they cannot recover. I am no relatioinship expert but the people who stay happily together really just seem to like each other alot and care for the other's wellness and opinion. It seems simple enough to me if you can get that simplicity to stick in your head when you start to try to complicate things as we all tend to do in this culutre. Is it possible to still like someone after 20 years of crap?

they too will turn

I honestly do not know how things go from being happy and pleasant and ohh this is going to be a really good evening to I hate you get out of my freaking life forever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Honestly, I swear to God I would sometimes like to put the event in slow motion and replay it so that I can see the moment, and then work hard to prevent it. Maybe when I am telling her for the fourth time that when she is using the computer for homework NOT chatting online with GOd fucking knows who I should just lower my voice, place a gentle hand on her shoulder and lovingly sing my dear sweetie pie, I realize how important your friends are and I realize it's been a whole hour since you've talked to them, but right now is homework time and when your done with your homework, you may chat away to your hearts content as long as your work is done. and the birds will fly around my shoulders and the deer and bunnies will gather around.
Instead, having repeated myself 4 times and getting no response-just chat away little miss sunshine-I lose my patience at having been ignored and start to yell TURN THAT FUCKING COMPUTER OFF NOW OR I WILL UNPLUG IT!!!!! and there goes the evening and I am the bad evil witch of the universe who's only goal and pleasure is creating misery and enforcing evil against my daughter. Thank God the little one still thinks I am the most wonderful mommy in the whole world. Be warned people with cute little ones-one day they will turn...

desperation

I need a job and I need one NOW

alive!

Could that possibly be Spring trying to fight it's way out from behind winter's hairy back? Why is it that even just the promise of spring coming is often enough to perk up one's dreary mood? Even I, the queen of rainy days, feel more optimistic when the weather is nice. I am determined today to do something somewhat productive with my day-something that takes me further into my life, into a better life. Today cannot be just about the day-to-day chores of keeping it all running smoothly. Today must be a day of jogging and yoga and eating well and then...what? I don't even have a clue what I should be doing to move into that better place. Somehow just sitting and enjoying the warm sun on my face-although highly desirable-isn't going to satisfy that craving for something Bigger. Something that will bring me a nice happy sleep tonight, a hopeful sleep.

Last night we finally got around to watching The Diving Bell and the Butterfly which is a lovely and sad and sensous film that ought to leave everyone who watches it with a renewed sense of joy for life and all of its pleasures. It made me want to feast and fuck and run and touch everything and feel the warmth of my children and man's perfect bodies and luxuriate in the earth. Today must surely be feast day!

my bad

I am the kind of parent who thinks it's perfectly acceptable to plop my kid in front of the tv to watch Cinderella part 2 while I escape into the computer or do various inane domestic duties. I don't mind arts and crafts but I don't like to do them-just to watch my kids do it while I take a mental break.
I am also the kind of parent who hounds my older one to pick up after herself a lot. She is the kind of kid who enjoys tuning me out so we replay things over and over quite a bit. I think there must be a degree of functionality to it all. I nag, she ignores, eventually it gets done.
I am the kind of wife who upon hearing my man becoming increasingly frustrated with his increasing lateness in the morning just sits back on the couch and amuses myself with his frustration rather than trying to help. And he never actually asks me to help. After all, I've done my duties and I have about 15 minutes in between kids, it's my ME time in the a.m. so why should I not amuse myself with his hilarious routine? Because I am-as he thinks-evil.
Sometimes I turn the heat up too high because I hate to feel cold (but not today as I was accused of by the energy police who live with me). Sometimes I throw something out rather than try to fight with a stain. Sometimes I don't recycle every single thing I am supposed to. I flush cat shit down the toilet (which apparently is bad although I am not sure why). I eat way too many cookies and sometimes I let my man deal with the little one if she wakes up in the middle of the night, despite his exhaustion, just becasue i am too lazy to do it myself.

I don't think my crimes are all that bad, but there are certain people I live with who would disagree. Let them eat cake.

life and death

When I read other blogs I sometimes get the impression that my life is very small-too small for my liking. Other people blog about art and politics and sexuality and peace and God and all kinds of shit, but me? i blog about my boring little life in the suburbs and how boring it is. I am concerned that the flowers on the dining room table are wilting and need to be thrown out, or that my kid left her stuff splashed all over the kitchen table, or that my man is on a mission to terrify my cats into submission. I actually watched the Bachelor for the last two weeks-including last night's ratings grab extravaganza-that's how dull it is. I'm watching the fucking Bachelor.

But this is my life now and I must own that. Life is small sometimes and I think that's ok. I am glad I am not one of those people who are running around trying to accomplish forty things every day and then collapsing into bed at night too exhausted to even think. I am going to a funeral today for my grandmother's sister-in-law who passed away the other day leaving my grandmother as the last of her peer group. She was a very lovely woman, the kind who held your hand when she talked to you and actually listened to the answers you gave when she asked you how you were. She laughed a lot and had a twinkle in her eye and was always very kind to me when I was a kid. My grandmother turned 93 on Sunday and I baked her oatmeal-chocolate chip cookies and made some chili for her gift (2 of her favourites). Her eyesight is poor so we all signed her card with a black marker in very big letters and she said that ours was the only one she could read and I felt happy that my kids had the opportunity to hear that-the special little consideration and how important it is. Boring? perhaps. Small? probably. Fantastic? absolutely.

a proud mother brags

First of all, not only did I dump the therapist but I managed to turn it into a routine that got me a few laughs. Turns out she was right-I feel better already.

My big girl who is a fencer was in her first tournament on Saturday and we all turned out en masse to watch her and cheer. She did very well in her group and left the building tired and sore and happy. But what I liked the most was how bloody proud and pleased I was watching her play-because for her that's exactly what it was-at something she liked and was good at. I learned a lot about her that I already knew but had forgotten. She was the one who laughed and talked with everybody and she kept smiling even when she got "obliterated" (her words). She enjoyed the competition and was thrilled when she won but not to the point of bragging and kept focused even when she was very sore from four hours of competing or fighting a competitor she knew she had no chance of beating. Her coaches commented to me on how cool she was and how good she could become. And she did it with style. That's my girl-I just love her so much. I love bragging about her.

ps. the stripey socks are not obligatory although they do make it easier to spot her in the sea of white.

my adventures in therapy

Upon having decided that I needed to see a therapist I called my man's work assistance program who then kindly hooked me up with someone that I could see so that I could try to sort myself out a bit. So, I booked an appointment, walked 5km's to see her (it was a lovely day) and got to her house-office in a very ritzy part of town. I needed to use the bathroom which was on the upper level of the townhouse-perfect fucking house. Everything in it's place, tasteful decor, tasteful art, tasteful fridge magnets, the works. Bad sign. It kind of went downhill from there. The woman/therapist looked like someone who grew up summering in the Hampton's and who's childhood nickname had to be either miffy or buffy and who was the living example of the perfect wasp right down to the greying blond bob and the preppy-yet-elegant light grey pantsuit. Oh my God she was so perfect and cold. Not that there's anything WRONG with that but I am one of those wacky people who requires a degree of warmth and empathy from my therapists. After I filled out the required forms I took a seat in her office on the couch while she sat in her ELEVATED office chair with her feet on a stool so that she could reinforce her superiority over me as if her perfect house and perfect clothes weren't enough. According to the many degrees and certificates she had on her wall, she was an "advanced" sex therapist so I amused myself by imaging her having sex with her clients. I am an open minded woman but I just couldn't imagine talking about feeling depressed to this woman never mind my sex life. It gets better. She quizzed me on my level of happiness and then declared me "on the upper level of a mild depression" and recommended I see a doctor so that I could get some meds "just to get over the hump", then she proceeded to talk my ear off for the next 45 minutes about all of the things I should be doing to get out there and get a job, get over my depression and be happy and grateful for the good life I have. I am not kidding. I think I spoke 3 times and each time I had to interrupt her. Half the time I tuned her out so I am not exactly sure what she said but I do know which years she earned her degreees and I did make a mental shopping list. The woman had all the answers and no warmth whatsoever. I think she even got mildly irritated with me when I tried to explain to her that since I have seen Oprah I was already aware that a gratitude journal is a great way to start the day, but when one is depressed it's hard to get the energy to feel grateful about much, so I quickly dropped the subject and let her continue on with her great advice. Don't get me wrong-her advice was good: KEEP JOGGING, NETWORK TO GET A JOB, KEEP A GRATITUDE JOURNAL, FOCUS ON BEING POSITIVE. but she completely missed the point andI ended up pissed off that I didn't get a chance to talk about ME.
Of course when the session was over I told her it was helpful and booked another appointment for the next week. What an idiot.