On a more family oriented note...

Sam was not in my good graces this weekend. I was so disappointed in him. The kids Halloween candy has been sitting in a bag in the corner of the kitchen since Halloween. I have not been stingy with it and was actually starting to question my parenting in letting them gorge themselves on candy ad infinitum. But I figured what the heck they are only young once. The rule has ALWAYS been that they ask before they take and no, my answer wasn't always "go ahead."

Friday while preparing dinner (back to the candy) I heard a distinct rustle of candy wrapper and turned just to see Sam hightailing it down the hall as quick as his little feet would carry him. I called him back and demanded to know what was in his hand.

"Nothing," he countered.

So I asked again. On the third try my little candy pilferer revealed the bag of nibs hidden behind his back. He got a time-out - for lying. For taking the candy (which was community property!!) without asking I told him that the remaining candy was now ceded to Kamryn. I gathered it up at this point and put it where only the Mom can get at it. There was much crying and carrying on and begging for forgiveness (always is with Sam). I was mad but thought the incident was done with until bedtime when Kamryn informed me there was "something orange all over the light switch in the bathroom." Sam is a really cute kid. A master criminal - not so much. The orange stuff was quite obvious to me Doritos dust (he LOVES Doritos). He was already in bed. I went in and asked him if he'd had any other candy without asking. He swore to me up and down that he had not. I warned him that if he lied to me again the would not get to attend the birthday party he was invited to the next day. He was very earnest and believable. I didn't believe him ... quite. It also crossed my mind that he might be innocent and I felt a little guilty as I really laid into him. I looked in the trash in his room - did a cursory check and left. Guilt over accusing my innocent little moppet growing ever stronger. Then I went into the bathroom to clean up the orange dust.

Cue dramatic music...

There was a washcloth on the counter just covered in orange chip yuck (I do not share Sam's love of Doritos).

Hmmmm....

When I went to toss the paper towel I had grabbed to wipe down the wall I noticed a carefully arranged kleenex covering the top of the trash. Now my kids can barely get a kleenex in the trash on the best of days. This one was laid out as if the trash was cold and needed to be tucked in. I lifted the kleenex and the trash was FULL of empty candy wrappers. Oh rockets went off! I was soooooo very mad and so very disappointed in him.

Yes, he lost the party. I felt it was a harsh punishment (at times, at times not so much) but I had already promised it (note to self: must refine interviewing techniques) and I didn't feel that I should go back on my promise. And he got to spend a delightful Saturday with me at all times. He was either holding my hand or holding on to my clothing if my hands were busy. If I was working in the kitchen he was sitting in the corner watching. He learned (I hope) that if I can't trust him he will have no freedom whatsoever. We went out for dinner as a family and he sat and watched the three of us eat the complimentary chips before dinner. He had none. He lost TV for the weekend. On Sunday we visited the little boy who's party he had missed to deliver the birthday present and apologize. He pranced out of party-boy's house delighted to have received a grab bag - and was shocked and horribly upset when I grabbed it. We dropped him off with his grandparents for the evening (so I could get to my interview nice and early this morning) and he thought he would get sympathy there. Oh did he misread his grandparents. Not a pleasant weekend for any of us.

I so hope he learned something from all this. Sadly, I'm thinking not.

The big comment EVERY ONE makes about Sam is his inability to accept responsibility for his actions. He just doesn't get it. It's always someone else's fault. Someone always hates him (I took his grab bag because I don't like him anymore - not because he was being punished for lying and stealing). It's never fair. Sigh.

I am a little worried.

So that didn't go particularly well...

Had my interview this morning. It was a stressful experience. I bombed at least one question big-time. I just didn't have the information at hand to readily answer the question. I knew before the interview that I was in trouble.

I arrived, as requested, an hour early and was given the 6 questions that I needed to answer. I then had 45 minutes (and 6 blank sheets of paper on which to take notes) with whatever material I had brought with me to answer the questions. The key point being whatever material I had brought with me. I can't get into details about the question(s) I couldn't handle because the competition is on-going but I just didn't have what I needed to compose a reasonable answer(s).

Mercifully, the hour went quickly and it's over and I won't have to do it again for another two years or so. Regrettably, there will likely be no raise for me. Ah well. Next time.

I'm not particularly sad about (although I thank everyone for their good wishes) it but that might be because my sub-conscious is still holding out a glimmer of hope. I won't know officially for some weeks but my gut says no-go.

Too Much Stuff

So the kids wear uniforms to school. As a boy, Sam's wardrobe in that respect is pretty simple. Kamryn's though - makes my eyes roll. The girls have such options - dresses, skits, skorts, shorts, pants, blouses, t-shirts, golf shirts, long-sleeved, short sleeved, fitted, not fitted. Ugh!

Anyway, we order new uniforms for the fall in the spring. Kamryn grew MUCH more slowly than I anticipated over the summer (much slower than her doctor was pleased with as well something that continues to be a battle - the kid doesn't eat!) and the benefit was that all of her things from last year fit just fine so I took most of the new things that I had bought in the spring and placed them at the back of her drawer because she didn't need them. I promptly forget all about their existence.

Last week, I looked at the shirt she was wearing (a long-sleeved golf shirt) and thought that's looking really small. She most definitely needs a new one. Never thought for a moment about the things I'd put away. There is a uniform sale on the 23rd. Yesterday I checked out the uniform suppliers website - dismayed to discover that the new shirts she needs are $25 a pop. Ugh! I thought and prepared to pull out the credit card. Then last night when putting away her laundry I saw these shiney bags at the back of her drawer... Yup three brand-new golf shirts.

Too much stuff!

I need to write something happy.

Kamryn served her first penalty as a bona fide hockey player on Saturday. Why is that happy you might ask. Well, first off, it was because it was so darn cute - she was so innocent and confused. Secondly, because she didn't do anything wrong.

At the adult level it was nasty and a little infuriating. The egos of men ... sigh. What happened was our coach called for a line change. He's really bad at timing these and the kids are really bad at executing them. So all of a sudden we've got 11 players on the ice. All of them moving in slow uncomprehending motion.

The ref says, "you have to many men on the ice; I'm going to have to blow the whistle."

Our assistant coach growls, "well blow it then."

The ref stares him down and blows it. Then he arbitrarily picks a kid - Kamryn - to serve the "2 minute"*** penalty. He knew I was her mother and as he ushered he off the ice he mentioned to me that he just happened to grab her.

The other parents on the team were a little dumbstruck at Kamryn (the least aggressive player on the entire team) - one of them called her "little Kamryn" - in the penalty box.

I had to spend the rest of the day explaining penalties to "little Kamryn"

*** The kids were only serving 30 seconds of their penalties (yes we had other penalties). I don't know if this is a Novice thing or what. One of the parents told me he didn't think they called penalties for Novice C. Apparently they do.

How to Pack up a Life

My mother just called me to ask if she could put my name down as the a contact for my Aunt when the time comes for them to move her to a long-term care facility from the hospital. My parents will likely be away when a bed becomes available and they need a back-up. This morning the hospital social worker shared with my aunt (who is still and will likely always be 99% non-verbal) that she will not be going back to her life. That when and if she leaves the hospital she will not be going to rehab. That her next move is to that long-term care facility I mentioned. The CAT scan of her brain showed a devestating injury. Half her brain is obliterated. The doctors think she can understand when you speak to her but only to a certain level. They think any attempt at rehabilitation would be futile. It was crushing news for my father who held out such hope. I kind of expected it. I think my experiences with Daniel's Dad helped somewhat. I was sad but resigned to things.

This past weekend we began ripping apart her apartment. Literally. It was an awful, depressing and tearful occasion. The only comforting thought was that we weren't also having to make funeral arrangements. That wasn't all that comforting though. To paw through her treasures. To divide up her life. To discuss who wanted what and what should just go in the trash. To throw away her Christmas lights because we know she won't need them ever again. To look at her running shoes lying in a heap in the corner and know she doesn't need them. I held it together - mostly - until I pulled an apron out of a kitchen drawer that was missing one of the apron strings. It was just so Auntie Eula in a way that I can't really explain to anyone.

My other Aunt was there - hovering things like the Cat in the Hat. I was a little embarassed for her. It wasn't clear whether it was an emotional response or simple greed (unfortunately I think the latter). We took very little: a mahogany photo cube filled with pictures of Kamryn that we gave Auntie Eula for Christmas one year, its centerpiece a picture of my Aunt in happier times holding a cerubic Kamryn; a gorgeous crocheted table cloth that I can remember her making when I was a child; an apron (Aunty was all about aprons)... We don't need anything and it felt wrong to fight over Auntie Eula's things. If my other Aunt wanted something I let her take it (my cousin asked her at one point where she thought she was going to put all the stuff she NEEDED to have).

Aunty Eula's jewelry has already gone missing. Sigh. The apartment is a grand mess and I hope the jewelry just been mislaid. We have until the end of December to empty and clean up the apartment. It will take that long. There's a lot to do. No one is very enthusiastic about doing it.

All Snacks. All the Time.

The Canadian Government hired me to be a defence policy development officer. At present they pay me a decent wage to run the speechwriting section for the Department of National Defence. On the side, I'm sell a veritable cornicopia of treats.

Right now, in the lunch room I have an old paper box filled with packaged popcorn - $2 a bag please. I'm raising money for the concert band I play with.

I also have an in-box filled with chocolate bars - roasted almonds enrobed in creamy caramel. Also $2 - raising money for the Sam's hockey team.

However, that wasn't enough. I just sent out an e-mail to my colleagues encouraging them to lay out $10 for fresh chips and salsa that Kamryn's hockey team is selling in cooperation with a local Tex-Mex place.

Just call me the snack pusher. I feel a little like a grocery magnate.

Is it still survivor's guilt if you haven't survived anything?

Well I guess we got our vaccinations just in time. They announced yesterday that they will be closing all clinics at the end of today because of a shortage of vaccine.

I must admit to being a little embarrassed to have been vaccinated. Before getting the vaccine I told everyone that I wasn't getting vaccinated before my children because that was just wrong (yes my logic is flawed; I never said I was being rational). Truth is I didn't feel like I should be getting the vaccine at all.

Despite my entitlement as someone who easily fits within the profile of high risk, I feel guilty. Like I need to justify it to people. Partially it's because I feel pretty healthy, normal, average even. I look healthy, normal, and average. Before going to the clinic yesterday I felt compelled to search out my old medical alert bracelet. I haven't worn it in years. It embarrasses me (silly I know!). I couldn't find it. I just thought I should have proof for when the nurse asked me if I was in a priority group. I couldn't find it.

I can remember a few years back when for some reason there were priority lists for flu shots (can't remember the circumstances) and one of my doctors looking me in the eye and speaking slowly like I was a moron - "you are a high risk patient." Yes, its difficult for me to understand and accept.

Worse I'm a rule follower. Having to listen to them repeat over and over - if you're not high risk you will not get a shot just pushed my incertitude to new heights. Daniel was my beard - see all my husband isn't getting a shot even though he's here in this empty clinic. We aren't a family of cheats and queue jumpers. We're justified. Nor did I lie about Kamryn. The nurse asked if she was high risk (even though in my head I'd worked out how to lie about this with a straight face) I answered "no" without pausing or reflecting. I did want to scream loudly but she's only 7 years old for criss sakes. I didn't. I think I was honest about Kamryn because I was nervous about my own status.

When I had to answer the question about me, I wanted a follow-on - how are you high-risk? Which group do you fit in to? Can we have your doctor's name and phone number so that we may follow-up with them? Please describe your illness in detail. But there were no questions; just a nod. I wished I'd found my medical alert braclet. I wonder what I did with it? I don't even know for sure why I stopped wearing it.

Once again, I need counselling. I'm way too obsessive for any one's good.

Edited to add that I recognize that most people who get H1N1 have relatively minor illnesses. I'm actually not at all sure that I haven't already had it. I just keep thinking of the children around here that have died and it terrifies me. I was scared for my children and I feel so much better that they got the vaccine.

C'mon people; this is ridiculous

All the panic over getting vaccinated. I went tonight with the two kids. They are still only vaccinating "high risk" patients. I'm considered high risk as is Sam. Kamryn is not. I brought her anyway because they claimed they would not turn away school age children (who are it seems considered high risk if I drive 45 minutes away). Daniel came with us but didn't get the vaccine because he isn't high risk and didn't want to take the vaccine from people who needed it.

Last Friday public health released a statement that they thought they were done with all the high risk patients in our area but couldn't release to the general public until they got permission from the provincial government.

Tonight we arrived for our vaccine. There were 5 people in front of us in line. I stalled because I had put numbing cream on the children's arms about a half hour before we got there and it needed to be on for an hour for it to take full effect. The room was PACKED... with public health nurses and security guards. Barely anyone was there to get a shot. Just a bunch of clinic staff (about 40 people) sitting around doing pretty much nothing. Ummm... come on! First there were horrendous lines and awful stories about people waiting 6 hours to get vaccinated and then being turned away and now while there are still millions left who want a vaccine, while vaccine is still available (although speculation is they will run out next week) the clinics sit empty.

I'm beyond incensed.

Sick? Or Maybe not.

Kamryn had a runny nose all weekend. She had hockey practice at 7 am Sunday morning - so an early (6 am) start to the day. Last night right before dinner she came to me all teary-eyed (I suspect Daniel yelled at her over something she shouldn't have been doing) to complain about being tired. I chalked it up to getting up at 6 am to go and play hockey but Mommy - instinct made me take her temperature before putting her to bed at 7:30 pm. 99.5F. Now I don't count that as a fever. If I did Kamryn would never leave the house because she runs a low-grade temp if she skins her knee. Yes, her system is that sensitive.

Still I figured it was the start of something and that there would be no school (or work!) today. This was good because it meant I could conceivably spend the day studying and bad because I'm saving my "family days" (we get 5 a year) to use for when the kids get H1N1 (I don't want to have to use vacation time). Anyway, resigned: I didn't make lunches; I didn't plan my wardrobe; and I didn't prepare the myriad of letters and folders and notes that have to be signed and sent back to school on Monday mornings.

You guessed it. Kamryn flounced into my room happy as a clam this morning. Fully dressed and raring to go. When I went to take her temp (99.1F) she informed me that last night she was "just tired." Her nose is still running like faucet but she insists she feels fine.

So I sent her to school but I've watched the phone all morning for "other developments." It's almost noon though and neither my office phone nor my blackberry which I keep staring at has rung so that's good news.
It's always hard with Kamryn because she NEVER acts sick. With a temperature of 104F she is always "fine." If she complains then I worry terribly because something is very wrong.

As a rule I ignore any temp under 100 F. My doctor tells me I should throw away the thermometer and just treat symptoms. Unless a child is complaining let the fever do its work she counsels. I can't ignore that 100 though. Because invariably its followed by 101, then 102, then 104 and tepid baths with a screaming child in the middle of the night as I desperately try to get a rising temp under control.

Thing is though - is it fair to ignore those non-fever fevers when it comes to deciding whether to send a child to school or not? I don't want to expose other children but really all she has is a cold. She was acting normal, playing fine and I only took her temperature because I'm obsessive. She missed so much school last year (for much more serious illnesses) and it had an effect. I don't want to start that again this year if I can help it. And as you may have picked up - I'm waiting for H1N1. I'm not being flippant. Our city has been identified as a hot spot. Hoardes of children are absent from the childrens school. No vaccine is in sight for our family. I figure a conservative estimate is a week of missed school per kid. I don't want her to miss school for a minor cold if she needs to use that sick time later in the term.

So she's not sick enough to keep home. I still feel a little guilty having sent her.

Sceened In

I've just been invited to interview for the post I wrote about a few weeks back. Normally there is an arduous 3-hour written knowledge exam for these processes. Not this time. They are going straight to interview. Doesn't mean the interview won't cover knowledge though. So I'm studying - hard.

My immediate supervisor is on the board. Even if I don't win the position; I don't want to look like a moron in front of him. He strongly encouraged me to apply.

Interviews begin late next week. I feel ill.

Mortality

When I was little - maybe 6 or 7 - I told my Aunty Eula that I couldn't wait until I was thirteen because when I was thirteen I wouldn't have to listen to her anymore. What a lovely child I was, eh? She liked to tell that story. Or the time my parents were away on vacation and knowing that my aunt liked to have a wee sip of scotch in the evenings after dinner I went down to Dad's liquor cabinet and hid all the bottles. Wouldn't you have liked to adopt me? She liked to tell people that story too.

My aunt lived with my parents from before I can remember (I'm guessing I must have been around 6) until I was about fifteen. It wasn't easy. She's thirteen years older than Dad. She's not particularly fond of my mother. It must have been hard for two opinionated women to share a household AND in many respects a man. My aunt never married and can be a little needy and is bizarrely naive. She didn't live on her own for the first time until she was almost 70.

She'd gotten good at it though. I've been pretty impressed with her independence over the last couple of decades. At 88 she kept her own apartment, swam everyday, went to church every Sunday and was the person my MUCH younger (by more than a decade) and whinier Aunt looked to when SHE needed to be nursed. We're a long lived family. My grandmother passed just shy of her 98th birthday. Her mother saw her 104th. My father and aunts like to tell me how my great-grandmother was climbing coconut trees at 102. Nevertheless, for awhile now I've been reminding myself that Aunty Eula is 88 and that even with a lot of luck we probably didn't have a lot of time left. I look at Kamryn and realize that Aunty Eula won't be at her wedding. Those thoughts made me sad. Still she was healthy and active and it was easy to push sad thoughts from my mind.

On Saturday morning Aunty Eula had a stroke (brought about by a suddenly bad heart discovered a week earlier). Saturday - with the stroke and her heart problems - things looked truly dire. She got to the hospital in time for clot busting drugs to be administered but things got worse before they got better. There was some paralysis and a loss of speech. My mother advised that I visit. Daniel and I sat with her Sunday for about 2 hours. While the paralysis has subsided encouragingly, she still could not speak at all and swallowing was obviously a problem. She was scared and I felt so awful for her.

I keep thinking of all the things she will never do again. I keep thinking about how sudden and unexpected this was. I wonder how much time she has left with us (her heart problems remain unresolved and not a little scarey). My Dad is looking into getting rid of her apartment because she won't go back. He's looking into homes for her. No relative of mine has ever lived in a home - we tend to be healthy until the end and then go fast. This is all very surreal.

The good news is that she is doing very well today. When my parents visited this morning the physiotherapists had her up and sitting in a chair. When my Dad asked when they sat her there she responded clearly: "this morning." A few moments later she was back to nodding "yes and no" so the recovery isn't complete but its progress.

I know to be patient and that she's not going to recover from a stroke overnight but I also know that she is 88 ...

If you can spare a thought or a prayer ...