Instant Award

So I won a workplace award. When I first got the e-mail informing me of the fact I thought it was a bit of a joke. The award is called an “Instant Award.” Sounds hokey, no?

Here’s what the website says:

iBoutique is the exciting, new instant recognition program from the Government of Canada. It offers a terrific selection of gift items that celebrates you the recipient…

Your dedication rises above the ordinary and has not gone unnoticed. This selection of gifts is our way of saying thanks and acknowledges our praise and respect for you…

Congratulations, we hope you will enjoy your gift and the sincere appreciation behind its giving.

Okay – yay me. I received my award – along with my team and a host of other people working in our division for work we did on something called “Committee of the Whole.” Let’s just say Committee of the Whole ruined May for me. I’ve also supposedly been recognized for running my little team for the last little while. Everyone received an award at the i3 level. Mine was i6 (there are 8 levels) I’m not sure if that’s because I’m being recognized for doing more on Committee of the Whole or just more in general. Dunno.

I don’t know what to pick. The prizes are weird. Luggage is leading the way right now but I'm not all that certain we need luggage. I can pick anything from any of the categories up to i6 but feel that I might be cheating myself somewhat to pick something from a lesser category.

Not my lifestyle

So I started the South Beach diet 8 days ago ostensibly to support my mother whose doctor instructed her to cut her carbs in light of some health problems. My mother bless her heart “cut her carbs” by going out and buying a ton of fruit. Sigh. So, I bought her the South Beach Diet book (so she would be informed) and told her I would do it with her. I’m doing it alone.

She’s not about to give up carbs – really. She’s still eating white rice and potatoes. We went out for dinner on Sunday and while I had some sort of salad with grilled chicken, beans and cheddar cheese, my mother had steak, prawns and French fries. I wasn’t perfect – I had a SMALL desert (called a bite of brownie – literally half a white chocolate brownie with two tablespoons of ice cream) – my only cheat all week. My mother had a berry and apple crisp. But Mom is stubborn and can’t be pushed or reasoned with. I’ve watched her diet my entire life. She has the discipline of a drunken marine. What I learned from her – a good lesson – was not to diet.

I’m not thin. I generally haven’t been fat either. I did Weight Watchers over ten years ago (wow!); lost 50 lbs and have allowed it to slowly creep back over the last 7 years or so - never actually regaining it all. Lately though I think (I don’t know since I won’t step on a scale) I’ve been getting close. And while I’m comfortable at a size 12 (really I am – I’m 5’9” for heaven sakes); I’m not ready to start buying size 14s (at my heaviest size 14s were tight). There was this roll at my belly that REALLY bothered me. So I thought I could kill two birds with this stone – help my mother; kick start some of my own weight loss.

Everyone complains about how hard it is to lose weight after 40. Well at 42, I can still guffaw at that statement. Perhaps things will change in a year or two but I think I’m advantaged by not having spent my adulthood on a diet. I’m also advantaged by the fact that I thrived on carbs by taking them out of my diet there is practically nothing left. The weight is coming off. But here’s the stupid thing – I didn’t weigh myself before starting (this was about Mom not me – ya right!) so I have no idea how much weight has come off. I do know that the skirts that were getting embarrassingly tight on me fit nicely again. I know that the cute jean capris that I put away last summer because the waist band threatened to cut me in two now fits as well. Sadly the really nice blouse I bought two weeks ago is now too big. So the weight is coming off. Maybe 5 pounds? Maybe more? According to the book I’m supposed to lose between 8 and 13 pounds the first two weeks. I’m generally a slow loser so I expected to lose 8. I intended to stop at the end of the two weeks because I didn’t really believe that this diet was sustainable or smart but now I may be hooked – on losing.

The nice thing about losing weight is getting back into clothes you never thought you’d wear again. I’m really enjoying that and its especially easy because I really wasn’t all that far out of my clothes. So I’m liking that. I like that the roll has shrunk to what I deem acceptable (with the right support it’s gone entirely!) I like the discipline of the diet. I’m good with discipline.

But I HATE this diet.

Right now what I’d like most in life is a latté and a muffin (and I don’t even like muffins). I miss crackers with my cheese. I miss cereal. I miss toast. I crave potatoes. I want to have a chocolate bar. I can’t see accepting low-carb as a realistic lifestyle choice and that means that this weight loss is unsustainable. Which is very sad because I really like how my clothes fit today.

Weight Watchers works so much better because I never felt deprived. I may have been hungry sometimes but I could ignore that and if I wanted a chocolate bar I could have it. On the other hand, the freedom in the end was my downfall. I never journalled properly which makes it so very easy to cheat. So I guess I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. I don't want to go back to points and all that hassle but I'm not good with not eating anything good. So I'm just whiney.

Before the week is out I will have a solution. I'm hoping that the freedom to add some carbs back into my diet will help but I'm not terribly optimistic.

More musing about my allergies

This morning Kamryn came into my bathroom carrying a stuffed bat. She informed me that Cédric (the bat) is allergic to eggs and peanuts and that he has an Epi pen like mine only it's black (like him). Right.

I'm guessing my little incident on Sunday night has affected more than just me.

I did get out my Epi pen on Sunday night and admit to being a little scared that I might really need it. That's never happened before (neither needing it or being scared during an allergic response). It's changed my whole outlook on my allergies. I've really never worried about them much. I'm allergic to A LOT of things and in many ways this has defined me but they haven't been anything more than a nuissance. My mother and my husband well they get all excited but me, well I've been entirely to casual about things.

I only have an Epi pen because a Respirologist I was sent to see once begged me (most literally) to carry one. I've always seen them as a grand waste of money (they are pricey). The reason mine was expired is the Respirologist told me that if I was concerned with cost that letting them be a little expired (no more than 6 months) was fine; he probably would have frowned on two years. I have two Epi pens. On Sunday night I only knew where one was: in the corner of my bedroom, in the satchel I used to carry to work but haven't used in over 6 months, under an extra comforter, a duvet and a pile of pillows that I really need to store away properly. To my credit I was surprised that it was as expired as it was.

I've taken getting a new one as a priority but I'm still waiting on my doctor's office and the pharmacy to get their act together. I'm now uncomfortable not having one.

I'm also a little sad. I was excited at the possibilities opened to me with the false revellation that I had outgrown this allergy. I'm angry with the allergist. I had accepted my limitations. I didn't particularly miss this part of my culinary life and then my world was opened. The restaurants that I was going to visit (I REALLY wanted to try fish and chips - okay not exciting but they look so good). The recipies I was going to try. The freedom that I didn't know I didn't have. Now I miss it.

I miss it and my daughter's stuffed bat has an Epi pen. What did I say the other day? Sucks!

Doh!

Ever so often I reach saturation with work. I'm there now. I really need a day off and thought I might squeeze in a long weekend. Then today I discovered that while toiling in the seventh circle of hell last month I managed to miss not one but two important taskings. I got the e-mails. I read them and then promptly blocked them from my mind. As no one else in the section was aware of the e-mails, there was no one to remind me that contrary to popular belief we were still horrendously busy.

Bless my director's heart for saying nothing when I relayed this information to him.

July is coming. All hail July!

Well... SUCKS!

That's what Kamryn would say.

Last night we had breaded Tilapia for dinner. I admit I'm very frustrated by Sam's comments about seafood. We went out to dinner with his biological grandmother the other day and she made a (immature!) comment about not like the smell of seafood. Actually her boyfriend apologized for ordering seafood and she explained the reason for his apology. Sam - his ears wide open - decided that he too didn't like the smell of seafood and, in the way only a six-year-old can, keeps going on about it. It's annoying especially because I'm pretty certain he has no idea what it smells like.

Anyway, I threw an adult tantrum on Saturday and decreed that we would start have seafood for dinner once a week whether they liked it or not.

Since my visit with the alergist in April I have been equally excited at terrified about the prospect of eating fish. I'm completely ignorant. I don't know whether I like fish (I think probably not). I don't know how to prepare it. I don't know how to eat it (de-boning etc.) I've been rolling it around in my head for the last month. I had one small bite at the beginning of May and that's been it.

I decided that we would start with breaded Tiliapia. I'd heard it was a mild fish and pretty non-offensive and the bonus was I didn't have to prepare it. So we got a bag of frozen filets and some tartar sauce and I prepared to be initiated.

It didn't go well. Daniel doesn't like Tiliapia (too mild/tasteless) and he hates "fish sticks" but he acquieced as part of the experiment. The kids predictably hated it and had to be cajoled/ordered/forced to eat it. Me? I had three (maybe four) bites before I started to feel wierd. Actually after the first bite I started to feel wierd but I worked very hard to convince myself I was imagining things. Unfortunately I was not. I stopped eating but definitely not in time.

I immediately rustled up my Epi-pen (which I discovered expired in 2008) and took the maximum dosage of Benedryl. The funny feeling (tightness in my throat and slight swelling of my lower lip) subsided but my stomach was decidedly unhappy. I had a bowl of cereal and a glass of pepsi - mistake number 2 and 3.

After "dinner" I sat on the couch reading to Kamryn until it became apparent that I needed to stop and return my dinner to the earth from which it came - twice. Lordy did my stomach feel awful and no one told it that it was supposed to feel better after I'd been sick. But now I have no idea how much benedryl actually got into my system. Three hours had passed since I took the dosage. The inside of my ears (seriously) were itching like crazy (although I was working very hard once more to convince myself it was my imagination - like really who gets hives in their ear canals?). Hives started to appear on the oddest and difficult to scratch places - normal places too! I decided that it was okay to OD on the Benedryl as I had probably lost most of the dose I took earlier.

Mercifully, when you OD on benedryl, sleep comes quickly. When I woke this morning I was fine although my stomach still feels a little off.

I have NEVER gotten sick to my stomach before with an allergy. Then again I've never boldly eaten something that I knew I was allergic to. I also feel that getting sick and getting hives at the same time is unfair - there ought to be a biological rule making this impossible. I did contemplate asking Daniel to take me to the hospital at one point but (despite some tighness in my throat) my breathing was all right. Having been to the hospital under similar circumstances in the past I knew they couldn't do anything more for me that I wasn't already doing. Benedryl and wait it out. I can't imagine how bad things would have gotten if I didn't get sick. And I'm really relieved I didn't have to use the expired Epi-pen.

What a night! I've learned my lesson. No more seafood for me.

The good that came out of it? Since the doctor told me that I wasn't allergic to seafood a few months back I've felt a little like a hypochondriac. How long haven't I been allergic? How many times have I told people that I couldn't eat seafood when I had no basis in fact? Did I ever really have an allergy or was it all in my mind - I REMEMBER the reactions from my childhood but maybe they were exagerated. I feel a little vindicated now. But I could have done without that vindication.

My laptop is fixable!

Got a call about my computer last night. The repair tech gave me an estimate of $300 to fix it. The optimist in me is budgeting $400. I don't know where that money is coming from right now - wonderful. Good news is that is should be fixed today, after almost 5 months of waiting. I'm excited to have it back.

I'm still angry with Daniel though. It would help if he would defend himself, bluster, complain... anything; but, no, he just looks at you like you're speaking German and then goes and does the dishes. At least we have clean dishes.

I know how the shoemaker's kids feel.

So my laptop stopped working in February. It keeps overheating - within minutes of turning it on; seconds even. It will boot up and then before the hard drive has even stopped whirring it will overheat and shut down.

Now as annoying as this was I have a handy dandy computer expert in the house as supposedly Daniel is going to school to help people with problems just like mine. And he said he would help. He took my computer and he took it apart. He told me one of his profs at school was going to help him. I was content. A week went by then two. He said something about the prof not being available. Then three. I didn't nag because he was in school; he was busy studying. I could wait a bit. A month went by. Then two. School finished.

The laptop is still in pieces.

In the interim he bought HIMSELF a new computer. Doesn't matter really because when he wants to surf the net, check e-mail, read the paper he has a handy dandy I-Touch that I bought him for his birthday last year - so nice of me.

My computer has been a bone of contention between us of late. A big Tyrannosaurus Rex bone. I can't fix it myself. I can't take it somewhere to get it fixed until he puts it back together (I don't think I can even afford to get it fixed by a real expert). During our last blow-up, he told me he would put it back together. That was at least 10 days ago.

Then I watched Parenthood the other night on TV. One of the characters told her mother to "stop making yourself the victim." I identified with that. Tonight I sat down at our old desktop to download myself some audio books. Hey - I don't need the laptop, the desktop served me well for years. I am not a victim! Woohoo for delusion.

I love audio books. I can listen to them on the bus on the way to work and not get motion sick. I haven't been able to download audio books since my laptop died. I tried to download the software I need for my audio books onto the desktop computer. I didn't work. I tried several times. I tried several ways. I swore. I cursed. I yelled at Daniel and blamed him for everything from the JFK assassination to the oil spill in the Gulf. He came into the office and stared over my shoulder as I floundered and eventually I gave up.

Then I decided I would install a video game I quite enjoy. That worked beautifully. When I couldn't find the code I needed I looked online and there is was. I downloaded everything I needed and prepared to play. Not a victim. Long live delusion! This old desktop - doesn''t have the video card needed to play games like that. I gave up.

I'm a victim. I'm facing that inevitability and going to bed.

Tomorrow I will ask Daniel where he put the parts to my broken computer - I have no idea. I will package it up myself and take it to Future Shop where they will demand part of my pancreas as payment to fix it. It's what I should have done in February.

Sigh.

This morning's conversation...

Kamryn: It's no fair. He get's to go to the dentist and I have to go to soccer. Boring! No fair!

I'm going to ban the term "no fair" from my house soon. That or go insane.

Last night's conversation ....

Kids are in the back seat of the car prattling on incessantly.

Sam: Making non-sensical conversation with no one in particular and generally being ignored.

Kamryn: Can we get a poodle?

Me: Sure, we'll just get rid of your brother and get you a poodle.

Kamryn: Woohoo! We're getting a poodle.

Sam: Non-sensical babble continues. (Pause of realization) What?!?!

It was better to actually be there but you get the point.

I have not disappeared. Just dealing with an intense amount of family stuff so my fingers are a little quiet. Back soon!

My Dad and I wrote this ...

All about Eula

Eula was born in St Lucia on the 5 of March 1922. Over 88 years — some of them, not that easy — she made the most of her life. She lived a life anyone could be proud of.

As a girl she was athletic and adventurous and got into her fair share of mischief — things like falling out of coconut trees — which is hard to believe when you considered what a proper and upstanding adult she was to become. She was most proud to represent her school on the netball team. She also had an artistic side and loved to sing and act. Indeed, she had a real flair for drama.

As a young woman, during the hardest times of the Second World War, she went to work as a sales clerk for her Godfather to help to bring up her three younger siblings.

After her Godfather, she moved to work for one of the largest department stores, on the island.

In 1959 Eula took the bold step of migrating to Canada to join her youngest sister.

Her first job in Canada was as a nanny for a Canadian family. Her caring nature endeared her to that family and them to her. Some of them have joined us today. Over the years they were never far from her heart and she mentioned the W* family often and always with a smile.

From there she joined the department store “Freimans,” a family business that was bought out by the Hudson’s Bay Company in the 70s, as an account processing clerk. Staying with Freimans and eventually the Bay she worked as a sales clerk until her retirement in the early 80s. She was a most dedicated employee and it took a great deal to keep her from her post day after day. She took her retirement somewhat reluctantly.

Eula was a people person and she was loved by all who knew her. During her retirement she spent time helping others and being a companion to older folks. Eula valued these relationships and became a trusted friend to these seniors. One even showed her appreciation for Eula’s companionship by listing Eula in her will. Indeed, Eula was always there when anyone needed help. Even in her eighties she was the one many – family and friend — relied on to take care of them when illness threatened or some crisis rose up.

Eula was very active. A real example for her neices and nephews of how to live a full life. She travelled the world — the Carribean, Europe, the Holy Land. If someone needed a travelling companion she was always eager to go along.

She kept extremely fit. She swam every day and her swimming group was surprised to find that she was about twenty years their senior.

Eula loved sports. Her favourite Football team was the Dallas Cowboys and she was an ardent Blue Jay fan. She would scream — no exaggeration — at the players on the TV and had all kind of advice for the coaches – she called them names too. When she saw a spectacular play she would immediately call her friend and exclaim “did you see that pass?”

She loved to sing and dance. When she got sick some kind lady who sat behind her in church, sent her a get well card and mentioned that she missed her singing in church.

Eula was a very religious person – never missed a church service. She made friends easily and had wonderful ones who drove to church and back.

Eula never married but family was at the centre of her being. In her old apartment there was a credenza and every square inch of that credenza was taken up with picture frames. Pictures of her brother — whom she doted upon. Of her sisters whom she revered. Of her many neices and nephews – dozens of them. And grand-neices, grand nephews; great grands and her little great-great-grand neice. She loved them all and was always ready to hear of their accomplishments and endeavors. She had a soft spot for the boys and was ever forgiving of the mischief boys get up to. She loved the little girls and ribbons and bows put a smile on her face.

Eula passed away peacefully with her family at her side.

Man plans and God laughs

So I’m sitting in our basement office. I have a half drunk (fully caffinated!) Starbucks Café Mocha at my side at my side. I’m wearing rumpled clothes that I collected off the end of my bed (my room is actually clean I just had on set of somewhat used but still useable clothes dumped at the foot of the bed – I don’t know why it’s important you know this). My hair is combed but still somewhat bed heady. I’m feeling kind of unkempt which is a big deal for me; I’m normally too uptight to unkempt. I drove the kids to school and stopped off on the way back for a Starbucks. Now I’m hiding in the basement. Working from home – doing actual work too. It feels kind good.

It hasn’t been a good week at all.

Had my Easter long weekend all planned. I’m a planner. I like to plan. Makes me feel happy. Friday I was going to sleep late and then clean the house from top to bottom til it sparkled. Around noon I would pop down the road to visit my aunt at the retirement residence. Quick visit and then home to enjoy the weather. Since the weather was supposed to be beyond gorgeous we were going to sin like Babylonians and have hamburgers for dinner (not supposed to eat meat on Good Friday). I had Daniel buy extra foodstuffs so I could casually ask the neighbours to join us (since they are ALWAYS doing that to us and I never have the opportunity to return the favour. I’m not much for spontaneity. In this instance I planned to be spontaneous). Saturday, pick up a few last things for Easter dinner on Sunday and to get Easter baskets ready for the kids. Sunday a sumptious Easter feast. A relaxing day. Monday the kids and I would pop out to watch some of the other Novice hockey teams in the semi-finals. There a perfect weekend. Man plans …

Thursday afternoon I got a call from my mother – they were taking my aunt to the hospital; she would call when she knew more. I wasn’t surprised. I had commented earlier in the week that since she wasn’t eating (she’d had a second bout of gastro-enteritis) she needed to be in the hospital so they could feed and hydrate her. Just after dinner she called to say that my aunt had a bladder infection that – untreated – had spread to her bloodstream. She had septicemia. Her kidneys were shutting down and they didn’t hold out much hope. Could I come. Off to the hospital I went. Aunty knew me when I arrived – that means a lot. By midnight when she finally got a room she was slipping into a coma that she wouldn’t come out of. She was so very cold. I didn’t think she would last until morning.

On Friday morning they withdrew all drugs. Removed her IVs. Stopped checking her vitals. We sat and waited for her to pass. All day Friday. I left the hospital at midnight. I expected a phone call in the middle of the night telling me it was over. Not my aunt. She was a strong woman. She made it through Saturday and then Sunday.

I hosted a subdued Easter for the family. My parents left my Aunt’s side to join us for a meal (my Dad REALLY needed that I think) and then returned to the hospital (after three days of virtually no change they knew they could leave for a bit). They got back to the hospital at around 9:30; Aunty passed just before 1 am on Monday morning.

It’s an awful thing literally watching someone die. It’s affected me profoundly. I don’t think I realized how much my Aunt’s passing would affect me. She was so strong; so active. I never expected her to be gone so quickly (it’s been 6 months since her stroke and I haven’t really even processed that yet). The last conversation I had with her was about how difficult this was and that I knew it was hard and I was sorry. I know her passing was for the better but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Daniel left early Monday morning for his friend Grant’s funeral in Winnipeg. The funeral was yesterday. He’ll be back sometime tomorrow. I’m kind of trapped here alone because someone needs to watch the kids. Monday was a very odd day. At dinner I brought the kids and all the leftover Easter food (in a prelude to the food avalanche that was yesterday when ALL their friends delivered food) to my parents house so that everyone (Aunts and cousins that were hanging about) could eat.

Yesterday I went to work in a fog and left early. I came home and helped write the obit and the eulogy. Then there was the mechanics of taking care of the kids – who I’ve sorely neglected. Maya had a school project to do today that I helped her through last night but poor Dominic had to remind me that they needed dinner. They happily munched on sandwiches made from leftover ham and leftover crudites but it seemed like a rather pathetic offering to me. I have some leftover lamb for them tonight – a hot meal at least. Thank heavens for my family inherited habit of cooking too much food for holidays.

Today I thought better of going into work. Thus the rumpled clothes and the attempt to find comfort in my empty home. It’s raining today. I like rainy days at home.

So I’m going to finish off a speech I need to have off to my subject matter experts for vetting by noon and then I think I might try to put the house in some kind of order. I also have to get a hold of my brother (who can’t be here through no fault of his own) who is worried about how Dad is handling all this (not well) and assure him that I’m paying attention and trying my best here.

Sigh.

It's like summer today...

I can't remember an Easter like this. The temperature is something between 15 and 20 degrees warmer than it normally is this time of year. Tomorrow I will risk eternal damnation (eating meat on Good Friday) because I NEED to barbecue (God will understand no?). Loving it!

Perspective

Got home from work on Friday and plunked down on the living room couch to listen to Kamryn practice her piano. Noticed that there was a message on the answering machine. There were actually two – a half message from my mother that made no sense whatsoever (not unusual) and a message from a very close friend in Winnipeg asking that Daniel call her using her husband’s cell phone number. Odd I thought.

It made me a little nervous that she was calling. Daniel and her husband have been friends since they were teenagers, she, like me, doesn’t make the “catch up” phone-calls. If it was something casual the call would come from Grant. Something was wrong. I suggested maybe Grant's dad had passed away. Daniel looked at me like I was brain addled and pointed out that his Dad had died several years ago (I vaguely remembered that). Ooops. Daniel mentioned that Grant had had some health problems of his own lately – irregular heart beat etc. and I remarked that I guess it was time he lost a little weight and started taking better care of himself. NOTHING seemed all that serious.

As the kids and I sat down to dinner, Daniel returned the phone call. He didn’t come into the kitchen when the call was over. My stomach twisted a little. When he did come back in, I casually asked what was up and he replied that Grant was dying. In response to my total confusion Daniel told me Grant had had surgery for a brain tumour discovered after he complained a few weeks ago of sinusitis and that either during the surgery or immediately following he had a stroke and was brain dead. They were waiting for confirmation so that they could donate his organs. Sadly, that confirmation came on Saturday. Grant, an enormous man (he was at least 6'5")with the kindest heart imaginable, was 46. His kids who were the sun and the moon to him are 9 and 13. I can’t get my mind around the fact that he’s gone… at 46… from what two weeks ago he thought was a stubborn case of sinusitis. It doesn’t make sense.

Daniel is a mess. He’s a pretty emotional guy in the first place and his friends are VERY important to him. He doesn’t have many but those he has he’s generally had for LONG time. They have deep history together. He always tells the story about how he met Grant as something that was ordained – he claims he had a dream about it before it happened. Daniel is extremely loyal and so easy to take advantage of because of that. I’m pissed at most of these friends he’s had forever because I’ve seen how they take advantage of him and Daniel never does. Grant never did. He always bent over backwards for him. He was the best of Daniel’s friends in so many ways. It’s so unfair.

I’ve been where Daniel is – losing my bestest of best friends when I was 17. Still I don’t know what to do for him – save keeping the kids from bothering him. I don’t know what helped me – being left alone was what I really wanted at the time but I was a 17 year old girl so pretty much what you’d expect. I also had an enemy to fight which helped a lot as my girlfriend Tammy was killed on a sunny Wednesday afternoon by a drunk driver. My other friends and I threw ourselves into a huge campaign against drunk driving. It helped to have something to focus on. Still, over 20 years later and I had to wipe away a tear remembering.

I’ve provided what logistical support I could – finding a plane ticket was a bear! The memorial is the Tuesday after Easter – there are no airmiles flights available and purchased flights are astronomically expensive. It was a financial hit we didn’t have room to take but its not as if we had a choice. I wanted to go with him but once we saw we had to pay for tickets that decision was taken away from us. Scatter-brained and stressed as I am I managed to book him a ticket this morning but put the ticket in my own name (hopefully the airline is remedying that situation – I called them).

Sigh.

Hug your loved ones and spare a thought or a prayer for “the Boy” (as Daniel referred to him all Friday night as he called each and every one of his friends to share the news) and his family.

Leave my kids alone

Kamryn has swimming lessons on Thursday nights. Daniel has class until 8 or 9 and isn't available to watch Sam so I take him with me. He’s so good during Kamryn’s classes I occasionally find myself wondering about all my other “Sam-worries”. He sits patiently until class is over and follows directions reasonably well as I try to get Kamryn organized both before and after. I think what he really benefits from is being alone – alone he’s a different kid. But back to yesterday …

Lessons have been running for 10 weeks now. Next week is the last week. For the first month or so we used the family bathroom but the showers were broken in there for WEEKS so I just started taking DD into the woman's change room. In the end it’s much is easier: the family change room is has limited space and facilities (you have to line up for everything from showers to a changing booth). The only difference between the family change room and the ladies’ change room are the changing booths. The showers are communal. This is important.

Sam accompanied us last night, as always into the ladies room. The first week we did this I was somewhat concerned about his maleness but really there are no adult ladies changing (if there were I would re-think the practice) when we are using the room there are just children there the oldest being MAYBE eight.

Yesterday, I sat Sam on a chair in the corner and told him not to move; I got Kamryn started in the shower and then popped around the corner to the locker to get her shampoo and conditioner. While there, I bumped into a friend so I was gone a little longer than I intended - say 2 minutes. I get back and Kamryn says something about some lady yelling at Sam. I told her it was nothing and she must have misunderstood (there is another child with the same name as Sam and I just assumed she'd misinterpreted another parent disciplining their own child; because why would any parent have cause to say anything to my child who's sitting on a chair as he was told and minding his own business?) I finished with Kamryn in the shower and we left. It wasn't until we got to the car that I listened properly to what the kids were telling me and got the whole story.

The mother in question was angry because my 5 year old was in the change room while her daughters ( who I’d guess are no more that 5 or 6) were showering/dressing. Her children shower naked, wander aimlessly all over the place, take forever showering and generally annoy me to begin with (there are limited facilities – shower quick and get out of the way so someone else can use the showers). I’ve never said anything or done more than frown inwardly cause hey they are kids and kids will be kids.

What gives her the right to say anything to my children?!? Not to mention it was an ADULT conversation that they had no part of and they were doing nothing wrong whatsoever:

First off Sam’s only 5 (rules say no children of the opposite sex past age 6) and doesn't care that her daughters are naked.

Second, her kids don't have to take their suits off to shower. That’s her personal choice. This isn't a day spa it's a public pool thus the communal shower room (note there is also a communal shower in the family bathroom; no one is expecting nude showering here).

Finally and what really makes me the most mad is that she said NOTHING to me — neither last night nor in the 5 or 6 weeks Kamryn has been showering in the ladies’ shower room and Sam has been sitting in the corner (I'd put him in the locker room but it's got all sorts of nooks and crannies and places for him to hide and get into trouble; it's also got a door to the outside. And if you're worried about him seeing naked girls -- which I'm not -- there is a greater likelihood in the locker room than in the shower.).

What kind of parent attacks LITTLE kids with something that is obviously not of their own doing and waited for their mother to leave to do it. What kind of coward shuts up completely when mom comes back?!? I've got some words for her! I told Kamryn (who told me that she tried to explain to this woman that someone needs to watch Sam and her Dad wasn't available - bless her little heart) that if that ever happens again she is to repeat "I'm sorry you need to talk to my mother; she's right over there." I stopped short of instructing her on what name she should use to address such an individual – but I have a few. There may be some fireworks next week… just saying.

Random thoughts.

This morning I learned that, when motivated, I can make it from my house to the bus stop in just under 3 minutes. That is of course when there is no snow on the ground and I don't have to stick to the pavement. Of course I didn't even run (more of a race walk) and an hour later my chest still feels tight. I tell myself it's my asthma but really I'm just in terrible shape.

The reason I risked a heart attack to catch the bus? I couldn't get out of bed. I lay there after the alarm went off and seriously considered taking a mental health day. And then I was late. Like always... I dragged my butt out of bed and in to work because there is nothing wrong with me. Had a discussion with a good friend the other day on why we are incapable of pretending to be sick. Neither of us could pin it down. We even made a pact to fake sick the day after and take a much needed mental health day. We both were into work the next morning.

What's with American Idol? I watched a PVR'd episode last night and wow have they ever had such a large group of useless singers? Who would buy tickets to see these awful performers (I can't call them singers) on tour?

I took my watch off a couple of days ago because my arm was all hivey. I can't find it now and I NEED to know what time it is every second of the day. I really miss it.

Kamryn really wants to connect with a boy in her class using her Nintendo DSi. I have no idea how to do it. I don't really want to learn. She's terrible insistent and too sweet to ignore.

Silly season is about to end

This coming weekend are hockey playoffs.

Sam – who isn’t advanced enough to have play-offs – has his last practice at 7:am Saturday. Kamryn has a game at 9:00 am and then again at the same time on Sunday and one last game at 5:00 pm Sunday night. Her two Sunday games are at one of the very few arenas not in our immediate neighbourhood. I don’t have much to complain about on average we drive 15 minutes to a game. In this case the drive is about a half hour. Nevertheless, I’m spoilt and it seems a pain. This particular arena is in the middle of absolutely nowhere. We don’t live that far from nowhere! Actually we live extremely close to nowhere but have to drive through somewhere to get to nowhere again. What it means is that we can’t go play the game, grab some lunch, run some errands and then pop back for the last game. It will be a ½ drive out there a ½ drive back x2. An awful waste of time and gas. Four hockey “events.” One weekend – or non-weekend as the case will be. Still… it means that hockey season is almost over. Do the dance of joy!

I had fun this year. I didn’t think I would. I was prepared to hate the other hockey parents. But they were nice – for the most part I liked them. Although I must admit to not connecting very well with the parents on Sam’s team. His team is BIG (so hard to meet people consistently anyways) and the kids on his team… most of them…well… they’re going to be Good (I capitalized the G on purpose) or at least their parents assume they are going to be good. His team are the “top-ranked” (hilarious) 5 year-olds on skates in our district (this means they can skate without falling down… most of the time). Some of the parents are WAY to into hockey for my liking. One kid is the grandson of some hall-of-famer. He is an amazing little hockey player but his mother… she has to learn some humility. Sam isn’t that far behind this kid in skills (and has really caught up as the year progressed) and I’ve managed to keep my hat size down.

Manager Mom has told me that I’m likely in for a ride with Sam as the parents only get worse as the kids get older and the teams more competitive. Ugh! This summer Kamryn is going to do a power skating course to help her improve her skills a little. We purposefully didn’t sign Sam up. I’m considering having his legs casted all summer to further handicap him before Fall skating evaluations. Our goal – two years down the road is for him not to make A hockey. He needs to play B for his parents’ sanity. He’s already too good for C (he plays better than many of the 7 year olds on Kamryn’s team right now).

He is something to watch though. If only I didn’t have to deal with the parents of all the little Sydney Crosby’s out there. I had the chance to go and watch Sam play soccer a few weekends ago (normally I’m tied up with hockey and miss his games). I must say: soccer parents – not much better. I was really surprised. Who knew that athletic talent could make people so catty.

Anyway, I’m so looking forward to having our weekends back. We will drop from Soccer, Hockey and Piano lessons to just Piano lessons. That will last until mid-May when we’ll add in a Saturday morning soccer practice for both kids. Piano lessons should end around that time. It’s going to be heavenly.

I’m hyper critical of over-scheduled kids and we’ve always had strict rules to guard against this descent into insanity. I don’t know how we ended up here.

Hi Anne

Hi everyone else too (honestly, I never really believed more than about 5 people read this blog). Today, I received a comment directing me to read a comment on another blog. Very cryptic; I felt a little like I was on a treasure hunt. The other blog writer over at Pithydithy was writing about anonymity and how we aren't so anonymous and does it matter. Would it freak me out to know that others knew who I was? No not at all. Just depends who.

Many people who read know my real identity. And I don't work very hard here to hide it. In fact, I regularly slip up with the names and am reminded by kind readers. I've often thought that maybe my attempts to be marginally anonymous were a little silly but I perservere mostly for the kids. I moved over here from TLOL Journal site where I kept no secrets whatsoever. I'm a pretty open person face-to-face; it's a character flaw perhaps; not that I think I should be secretive but often I realize that my honesty (read: big mouth) has put me at a disadvantage in certain situations but there is nothing to be done after the fact.

It's pretty rare (Although it does happen. My method of birth-control? Not really a topic for the workplace.) I am marginally more open here.) that I would disclose something here that I wouldn't tell a colleague at work. My take on it is that I'm a pretty boring person and as such have nothing really to hide - in person or on this blog. This horrifies my husband - in person and on the blog - so the anonymity, thin as it is, is also a nod to him. I'm a lot like my mother: Look at me. What you get is what you see. This is me; the real me. Like me or hate me but this is all you get.

Do I share everything - no. I try to stay away from finances, relationship issues and work. Then again those parts of my life could be more boring but it would be hard. Sometimes the omissions are simply because I'm too busy or lazy to write about stuff. Sometimes I write long, detailed and angst filled posts and then delete them because in the end I know I'm not anonymous. It's not that my life is that terrible but when I'm upset I write. I've always done that. It's the origin of this blog - my infertility struggles needed an outlet or I was going to go mad. But sometimes pain has to be private (oh and sometimes I realize that I'm just hormonal and silly!) It's also why I can go weeks and not post anything. To write about happy stuff I need to motivate myself and often I'm too busy being happy to find that motivation.

People I wouldn't want to read this blog (and would likely stop blogging if it were to happen):

The kids' birthfamilies; there are some things I just don't want to "discuss" with them (even if that discussion were one-sided). I can't describe what the adoptive parent/birth parent relationship is like (and each one is different anyways) but I still constantly feel like one does when meeting a new partners' parents for the first time: terrifed that I'll do something to disappoint them or earn their disapproval. I'm not always completely honest with them (mostly to spare their feelings more than anything else) and I don't want to have to deal with that.

My own family. It would just be weird.

Close friends who I see on a regular basis. Again on the weird side. Nothing inherently wrong with it because they know all this stuff anyways but just weird.

Anne, would my stomach have done flip flops if you said you knew me from my blog. Probably a little. In such a situation, I'd be at a real disadvantage because you'd know so much about me and I, well, I'd know nothing about you. But if you read this blog you'd also recognize that I'm terrible at making friends and wouldn't mind another one (unless of course you think I'm a complete kook and to be avoided.)

So ya. Is it nice to be anonymous? Yes. Do I rely on that anonymity? A little. It's nice to be free to speak my mind with few repercussions. Do I count on it? Not really.

Hives - revisited (got some great news!)

So I still have hives - despite my earlier half-hopeful post about them abating. While, they didn't go away entirely they did moderate to a point where I could live with them and they have SLOWLY continued to improve. I'm still itchy enough that when I went into the powder room this morning to check my outfit one last time before leaving for work - Daniel's comment was "one last scratch before you go?"

It turns out (or at least seems that way) that the NuvaRing connection was more a hormonal coincidence and nothing more than that. Three cheers there.

Yesterday (2 1/2 months post appearance of the hives), I finally got in to see the allergist. He gave me an allergy test (something I haven't had done in 20 years or so) and informed me I'm not allergic to anything new. Yay team! He thinks my current "discomfort" is a combination of a virus, my normal allergies and really sensitive skin (my family doctor said as much so three cheers for her too).

The real good news though is that for 41 years I've lived with TWO anaphalactic allergies - tree nuts and seafood/fish. The tree nut allergy is alive and well (boo!) but I had no reaction whatsoever to the seafood/fish allergy. This is huge news. People are pretty careful about nuts. Nuts is an allergy I only had to casually worru about because society did all my worrying for me. That was never the case with my fish allergy. No one ever thinks twice about. Restaurants could be so much of a crap shoot - did they use the same frying for my chicken as they did for someone else's fish and chips? What about that big bowl of chopped crab at Subway sitting right next to the cold meats? Did the Chinese Food take-out take care to keep the spoon they used for shrimp away from the one they used for fried noodles?

This was an allergy so severe that casual contact had put me in the hospital 3 times. I have NEVER eaten seafood. When I was a kid there were two sets of dishes in my seafood loving family's home - my dishes and everyone else's. When my parents cooked fish, I had to leave the house (okay they shouldn't have been cooking it at all but I guess I survived ).

Anyway, my instructions for the doctor are to wait until my current problems subside and then to go ahead and try a SMALL amount. I'm so excited - all sorts of things I want to try. 'Course the doctor laughed and warned me that I might not LIKE fish once I get a chance to try it. I'm just so excited that I can - never thought I would. My mother is dead set against me trying anything whatsoever. Daniel not so adamant but certainly not as happy as I am about the whole prospect. Seriously though - my arm didn't even tingle during the scratch test.

Now if this confounded itching would just stop...

I'm so confused

I don't get it. I know that as Moms (or Dads) we lead pretty busy lives and we want to feed our children nutritous meals quickly. But seriously? Washing, peeling and chopping are that difficult? Seriously? People spend money on this?