The World According to the Peevish Kitty
Jun
30
I am having a case of the uninspired.
It has been a week where not much of note is happening, and I have sat down to write on numerous occasions only to realize that I have nothing to say.
It has been a hard week. I have not been in a good place in my head this week, for various reasons, some imagined and some real. I have been fighting periods of feeling frustrated and blue and crabby. A lot of the time, I have not been at my best. Mostly I have been just kind of uninspired.
We all go through times in our lives that are just kind of “down”. Maybe we’re tired, maybe we’re not healthy, maybe we have money woes… there are so many things that can influence your mood as an adult. I look at Stinkerbelle, who goes from the pinnacle of joy to the depths of despair at the change of a DVD, and while I am grateful my moods don’t have such extremes, I am kind of envious of the simplicity of it all. “Hurray! Things are GREAT!” “No, WAIT!! Things are TERRIBLE!!” She does not fret over bills, or her weight, or whether the lawn and garden are being overrun by weeds, or something that somebody said or did or didn’t say or didn’t do.
It would be nice, sometimes, to have things be so simple, wouldn’t it?
Sometimes I feel the need to disconnect. My online life of email and blogs and communities and news can be a source of great interest and enjoyment for me. But then, there are periods where it seems like my tolerance meter shows “full” and suddenly the news I read all seems to be bad and people in communities are just being annoying and people on their blogs are all whining about stupid stuff.
(Like now, for instance. “Hello Kettle? This is Pot. You’re black.”)
So I haven’t got anything useful to say.
My daughter sits here, happily colouring in crayon all over photos in a photo album. And occasionally licking them. (It’s hers. It was a gift. She can do with it what she wants. I am under explicit orders.) Maybe that’s the answer. A little simplicity in thought and deed might do me some good this week.
Or maybe not. Bills and budgets and health problems and the like need to be dealt with. The “forget about it and it will go away” approach tends to not work so well when you are a grown up.
But a little simplicity, for brief periods in the day, might do a world of good, if only to lighten one’s mood.
It couldn’t hurt.
The problems and worries and woes will still be there afterwards, though. There’s a flaw in that plan. But at least one might feel a little more relaxed, a little better able to cope.
So for now, I am short of inspired. But to illustrate, with remarkable accuracy, what I have been feeling recently, I encourage you to go read this post. I didn’t write it, but it looks JUST LIKE MY LIFE SOME DAYS. (Please note: While the illustrations might LOOK just like me, they are NOT, in fact, ME. I know. It’s scary how close they are.)
Jun
25
Behold, my peeps! The newest superhero on the block! Today I struck a blow for humanity everywhere against the forces of evil!
I walk everywhere with That Baby. It is great exercise, plus she likes to get out and see the world. And it’s good for the environment, or so I have heard.
So today, as usual, I popped That Baby in the stroller, and we set off on a trip to the pharmacy and to the grocery store for a few things. It’s not a tough walk, straight down one relatively flat street from our newer neighbourhood through an older one, to the main drag of our fair city. It’s not tough so much as it is long. But because it is mostly flat and mostly tree-lined and shady, it makes for a nice walk where we can get moving pretty quickly and work up a sweat.
The street we walk down is a main artery in a neighbourhood. It is just a regular old suburban street, but it does see its fair share of traffic as an artery through the various other crescents and cul-de-sacs of the neighbourhood. And not only street traffic, but also pedestrian traffic, which is kind of nice, because in the act of sharing the narrow sidewalk, I have taken to saying “good morning” to everyone we pass. People in Ontario just don’t do that. They put their heads down and avoid eye contact and walk. I’m trying to change that.
But that is not why I am donning the superhero cape today.
Today we were walking home, and coming the other way along the sidewalk was an old Chinese man on a bike. He’s older than dirt, anywhere between 150 and 300 years old, and looks like he just fell off a charm bracelet. He rides a rickety old bike, and we’ve seen him before while out walking.
So he’s coming along one way, and we are coming the other. He weaves to one side. He weaves to the other. And then he drives down a driveway and onto the road.
And, as he’s passing, he looks at us mutters none too subtly in Chinese.
Now, I don’t know what he said. I mean, he was speaking Chinese. But I can guess.
Was it a racist remark, directed at me, a white woman, pushing Stinkerbelle, a black toddler, along, and blocking his way? Well, possibly.
Was it a sexist remark, directed at me, the woman, blocking his way where, in a more traditional time and place, I should have yielded to him? Maybe.
Was it an ageist remark, directed at me, the younger of the two, not yielding to him, the older man who deserved respect? Could be.
Was it a weightist remark, directed at me, the fat woman, trudging along and blocking his way? You never know.
It could have been any of those things. I mean, I don’t speak Chinese.
But I am pretty sure what it was, above and beyond all those things: It was a jerk remark from a bike rider who was pissed at me for having to yield the sidewalk!
He had woven right and left, in the hopes that I would have moved over and given him space on the sidewalk. AND I DID NOT. First off, it’s a narrow sidewalk, and I’m a big girl with a big stroller. There’s not much room.
But also? DUDE. YOU ARE ON A BIKE, A VEHICLE. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE ROAD.
After two years of walking with my daughter, I just got sick and tired of vehicles cutting close to us and racing through crosswalks and barrelling down the sidewalk at us while we were out walking. And so I decided, in that moment, like a riotgrrl Gandalf in a scruffy t-shirt: YOU! SHALL! NOT! PASS!
Dude was NOT pleased.
But here, as in many places, it’s a well-known thing. Bikes are supposed to be on the road, as they are vehicles, and abide by the rules of the road. It would be different if it was a small child, because first off I would not want them riding out onto the road in front of a bus or whatever, and also they are small so it is easier to make room for them. But this is a full-grown adult, who should know better.
And this jerk is ALWAYS riding on the sidewalk. And I am DONE with making room for him. Whatever else he might think of me, he can add Sidewalk Superhero to the list of what he mutters at me as he passes. I don’t care — as long as he’s doing it from the road.
Jun
23
By now, you may have heard that we had an earthquake here in our little corner of paradise. No cause for alarm; it wasn’t anything big.
Now, having lived in Japan, where fairly large earthquakes are a regular occurrence, perhaps I am just in need of a larger jolt to get me to go “AAAAAARRRRGGGHHH! EARTHQUAKE!” and run around like a panicked chicken in peril. Because today? I didn’t even notice it.
Well, that is not entirely true. I was sitting on the sofa, with my laptop, having just shooed Lucy from hanging over me like a furry vulture waiting to be petted, when I noticed the cabinet doors just beside and behind me had begun rattling.
So my first reaction was, of course, to yell at Lucy to “KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!!”
(Which is, coincidentally, frighteningly similar to my reaction to my First Ever Earthquake. I was living in Ottawa with a sad bastard of a boyfriend. It was 3 am or so, and I woke up because the bed was shaking. Assuming it was my Sad Bastard Boyfriend rolling over or fidgeting, I punched him and told him to “KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF.” He was asleep, and so I realized it was not Sad Bastard Boyfriend, but an earthquake. Oh well. At least I got the opportunity to hit Sad Bastard Boyfriend. There were never enough opportunities for THAT, I can tell you.)
Anyway. Back to today’s earthquake.
Despite yelling at Lucy, who was apparently not even in the room anymore, the rattling didn’t stop. So my second reaction, being as how we live in a house of sticks like one of the Three Little Pigs, but in a considerably more windy locale and with no fear of wolves, was to then assume that the wind was rattling the house.
So I tossed a pillow up against the cabinet to get it to stop. Which it did, eventually.
However, I looked out the window, and it was not windy. It was calm.
But by then I was all “OOOOOHHH! INTERNETS!!” and had completely moved on.
It was only about half an hour later when I checked Twitter did I realize that there had been an earthquake, centred in Ottawa region somewhere, that had caused all of the Great Lakes Region to tremble.
There were reports of minor damage, some places in the area. I checked in with BDH at work and he was all “Earthquake? WTF?” while That Baby continued her nap, uninterrupted, with a slightly flute-like nose whistle going on.
Somewhere, a Sad Bastard is having post-traumatic stress twitches and feeling like he may have just been punched.
All is right with my world.
Jun
21
So, I spent a long time writing a post today. It was long and involved and very personal and emotional and oh yeah did I mention LONG.
And then I thought, “Meh, nobody comes here for deeply personal and meaningful.” Especially in summer, as my stats drop through the FLOOR because everybody is OUTSIDE enjoying the summertime. Or they should be. At least, that’s where I hope everyone has gone, and not that everybody just decided they don’t like me anymore and have abandoned me here all alone in my great big empty echoing Internetyness.
And then I lost interest.
So instead, I bring you… LOVESICK SQUIRRELS!
Well, one lovesick squirrel, who followed another squirrel around all morning one day in late May, tiptoeing along behind her and lying down to gaze up at her while she ate her breakfast, and was all “O HAI THER MIZ SQURIL UR RILLY CUTE” and “HEY BAYBEE COME HEER OFFEN” all over the place.
Light. Fluffy. It’s what we do best. Enjoy.
Jun
16
I had a moment of pure joy yesterday, because I was lucky enough to observe a moment of pure joy.
I took my daughter out for a walk yesterday afternoon. We walk around the block and she pushes her babies in their stroller. She gets some exercise and fresh air and a change in her environment and gets to see people and things. And I get… something. Anyway. It’s something we enjoy doing.
Our street is full of small children, and many of them are Stinkerbelle’s age, or close to it. Across from us is a little almost-2 year old girl and her big brother, who is almost 5, and next door to them is a quiet 7 year old girl. A few doors down is a little almost-2 year old boy and his sister Leah who is probably 4. Up the street are two sisters, aged 5 and 9, and next door to them are two girls aged 4 and 7. Up the street further still is a shy little fellow, too shy at 3 to speak to us but not too shy to walk around the neighbourhood in his new big boy underpants, and his sister Rachel, who loves Stinkerbelle’s hairdos and regularly asks her mom to imitate them — a challenge with her fine, wavy blonde hair.
There are more, many more, but they are the closest.
Anyway, we often see kids when we are out walking, and That Baby loves to see them and yearns to play with them, but she is usually too little. Or, more accurately, they don’t know her because her somewhat antisocial, older and unpretty mom doesn’t know their younger, thinner, wealthier moms, and so they don’t want to play with her. This has been bothering me, that my daughter may not have friends on our street to play with because I don’t have friends on our street that I play with. So I have been making great efforts recently to say hello to parents and kids we pass when we are out walking, rather than just quietly shepherd That Baby by as I have grown accustomed to doing.
It takes a lot of effort. It is not what I am good at.
Anyway, back to yesterday. I decided to take Stinkerbelle out for a walk. She grabbed her stroller and her babies and off we went. We started up the sidewalk, up the hill. We were pushing along up the hill, when, about 100 yards away at the top of the hill, two little girls appeared on the sidewalk. It was Leah, on a bike, and Rachel, walking.
Then I heard the most wonderful sound. Leah and Rachel began shouting, “MOM! It’s Stinkerbelle! Stinkerbelle is out! Mom! MOM! STINKERBELLE IS HERE!” And I saw them dancing with impatience.
Stinkerbelle heard her name and looked up. Leah and Rachel were rushing down the sidewalk towards us, calling her name.
And that is when I saw the most incredible look of pure joy come across Stinkerbelle’s face.
FRIENDS.
It was the first time, EVER I think, when Stinkerbelle has had little friends come running to see her. The realization that there were other children who wanted to see her, who were happy to see her and wanted to play with her, caused her to erupt in a little dance of pure joy and start barrelling up the sidewalk to meet them.
And seeing that look on my daughter’s face made me well up. With joy. With relief.
The realization that my child has friends, and the joy I felt sharing in her happiness.
The relief that I have not completely screwed up my child. Not yet, anyway.
I watched them, chattering and squealing and dancing around as excited little girls are wont to do. It was wonderful.
And, as I walked my happy, glowing baby home after her little visit, I wiped more than a few tears from my eyes.
Jun
15
Two is an interesting age. Stinkerbelle is two, in all its random, emo, listening-impaired glory, but it has its good points as well as its struggles. I plan what I do with my time when she is awake with her twoness in mind. I am trying to temper my reactions to everything That Baby does with, “Well, you’re TWO.”
And if you can do that, then there’s some of the battle won. But it is not always easy.
Today, we are trying to spend some time outdoors. It is warm and breezy, so we can sit in the front of the house where there is shade in the morning, and then plan to be out back in the sun and shade after naptime. So I have been trying to come up with things to do outside with a two year old.
Some days, she likes to walk. And walk and walk and walk. Whether she is pushing her babies in their stroller or just walking with Dorothy in hand, she likes to walk.
But not today. Today? Is NOT for walking.
Believe me, I tried.
We walked with her babies, for a bit. Say, 200 metres. And then, she decided to sit down on the sidewalk amid someone else’s drawings in sidewalk chalk. And go no further. So I found myself cajoling and compromising with and exhorting and just generally nagging at a small person covered in purple and yellow chalk who has absolutely no intention of recognizing my presence.
There will be NO WALKING TODAY. So we went home.
There’s not much for a two year old to do at home today, apparently, outside. There are no kids to play with, or at least, none outside today, which is unfortunate because they are an excellent way to keep That Baby amused for quite some time. So we must look to ourselves for amusement. And that is a challenge. Blowing bubbles held no appeal today. Reading books diverted her only momentarily. And many toys are not a good option. We live on a hill, so riding her bike, playing with a stroller, playing with a ball, ALL are ill-advised. Unless you wish to a) supervise constantly to keep whatever rolly object she is playing with from rolling away down the hill to much baby giggling, or 2) allow your child to careen out into traffic on or in pursuit of said rolly object.
Neither looked like much of an option today.
All That Baby wanted to do, for AN HOUR, was sit and lick my keys. So, I grabbed our weed puller and a basket to take care of the front lawn, while she sat on the step, keys in varying degrees of hand and mouth.
Well, there are worse things in the world to lick. The cat, gravel, and the car all come to mind. Believe me, she’s licked them all. So in the grand scheme of things, my keys are not so bad. And it keeps her mostly in one place as she is too absorbed in having the keys in her mouth to do anything else.
It works for us.
But that, too, eventually became boring, and I would look up from my weeding to find my daughter had somehow teleported over to the neighbour’s porch.
She did this a couple of times. So, either the keys/mouth combination has some magical time/space altering properties, or That Baby is getting bored AND fast.
So we needed to find something else to do.
But here’s the thing: on days like this, Stinkerbelle has no discernible intention of listening to my suggestions of going for a walk, or reading some books, or whatever, and her own suggestions of wandering off, licking various things, and running out into traffic are not going to work for me. Don’t even THINK about suggesting going into the backyard — a safe, enclosed, flat expanse of grass and toys and other fun things, but where there is NO POSSIBILITY OF KIDS!! — without Teh Big Drama, and lots of crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth. So, no matter what we choose, there’s bound to be either boredom or tears from That Baby a lot of the time.
Another problem is that the average two year old has the attention span of a gnat or a bowl of pudding or a soap dish, and so even if you DO find something to amuse them, it will last only about 45 seconds, if you are lucky, before they are on to the next thing. So once the book is “read”, it is heaved off the porch. Once the playdoh is “played with”, it is chucked off the tray. Once the shapes cease to amuse with their varied shapey-ness… well, you get the idea.
And often, when this happens? It is YOUR FAULT. Or the TOY’s fault.
Well, it is SOMEBODY’S FAULT. Oh, the humanity!! And a great wailing will occur.
But then, the upside is that a two year old’s day lasts, what, 5 hours or so, from breakfast to lunch, and a goodly portion of that time is occupied with eating and changing diapers and such, and then comes the blessed naptime and then it’s like a NEW DAY, as she wakes up renewed and refreshed and starts over again with an optimistic attitude and a renewed outlook on Things To Do Today.
Some days, it is very hard being two. But as long as I can keep perspective, keep reminding myself that This Is TWOOOOOOO!!! (“This Is SPARTAAAAAA!!!!”) and just going with WHATEVER with a sense of humour and calm, then it is not so bad being a two year old’s mother.
Jun
9
Still on vacation. Still doing nothing. Lots of nothing.
Although, today we have very good reason for doing nothing, as it is cold and dismal and rainy. Which is a drag, because last night we not only finished putting in our vegetable garden, but we also got our gorgeous comfy patio furniture put out on our lovely patio… and now we cannot sit in it.
Le sigh. That would be a LOVELY way to do nothing.
So, today’s post is brought to you from INSIDE, in my comfy but-not-as-comfy-as-my-big-cushy-patio-chair chair. But at least I find the weather warrants a giant mug of tea, so you know… it’s not a total loss.
edited to add: I found it! And the Oscar-winning animation that goes with it!
And so, since it continues to rain and be cold outside, I will nurse my giant mug of tea and find myself a comfy spot on the sofa, and after BDH goes to soccer tonight, I will curl up with some BBC television and my knitting.
There are worse ways to spend a day of vacation, all things considered.
Jun
8
We are on vacation this week, which means we’re doing a whole lot of nothing.
Well, that’s not ENTIRELY true. We are keeping busy when weather and time permits. But we’re staying close to home, and we’re relaxing a fair bit, and we’re just generally taking it easy. Except for the yardwork. And the constructiony bits.
So here is what is happening in my world this week.
Jun
4
Okay, so BDH has taken some vacation time this week and next. He’s been working, like, STUPIDRIDICULOUS HARD lately, so it was time for time off.
We like time off. Vacations are good. And what do we do with Vacation?
GO SHOPPING.
We like to shop. We often have no money, in which case it’s just shopping for windows. Sometimes, we are bargain shopping, of which I am a BIG fan. Or maybe it’s just time for That Baby to wear herself out by running headlong through the mall, looking down at her feet in the manner of OHMYGODIHAVESHOESON!!1!11!!eleventy!1!!11!!! and then falling splat in the middle of a busy mall thoroughfare, or running smack bang straight into the arse of another shopper.
Good times.
Anyway, yesterday was a bargain shopping kind of a day. We went to Children’s Place at the mall, where there has been a sale of late. We got Stinkerbelle some cute little sundresses with bloomers, very girly girl and perfect for hot days and very colourful in a 60s Partridge Family Bus sort of a way that I LOVE. But she also needs summer jammies, the kind where her feet and legs are free, as opposed to foot jammies, for warm nights this summer.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but where I have been shopping there are not a lot of girl summertime jammies for the under-two set (That Baby is a long skinny kid so she’s still in 18-24 clothes). But on the rack with the sundresses, I noticed some blue rompers — the t-shirt and shorts all-in-one combos. I thought, these would make PERFECT summer jammies! And at $6 per pair, I picked up two.
So I headed to the till with a blue and purpley flowered sundress, and two blue striped rompers. And a blue plaid hat that would match all of them.
The rompers? BOYS’ ROMPERS. With the tag “Handsome and Huggable” on them. I didn’t notice the tag until just now, as I was tidying up and putting some things away.
Good thing That Baby can’t read. Talk about confusion.
And so this morning, we thought it might be a good idea to get Stinkerbelle out and running around a bit again. Shopping tires her out, so she naps and sleeps well. So we got her up and fed and dressed in the cutest little yellow frock with bows on it, with yellow and pink flowery yoga pants on underneath, and bright pink shoes.
And we took her to Home Depot, where she ran happily amok among the lumber aisles, laminate flooring and power tools.
Good thing we’re putting lots of money away for therapy.
Jun
2
We are a family of three. People usually assume we will want more than one child, and so often ask when we’re going to start our next adoption.
The answer is alternately “we’ll see” or “we’re not”.
It’s a very personal decision, whether to have kids at all, let alone if and when you will have more. And it is one that people should not take lightly. Generally speaking, most families plan the number of kids they want, and how far apart to space them for purposes of ages, or ease, or expense.
Some don’t, obviously. I sometimes see, in families growing through birth or through adoption, a “collection” mentality. Like puppies or handbags or computer upgrades, there’s an obsession with obtaining the next one. As soon as one arrives, the rush is on to get pregnant again or get the paperwork for the next one underway. And the next one, and the next one, and the next… until there is a mob of kids around, and barely the time for parents to actually parent their children. You’ve all seen these families, especially the famous ones. You know the obsession.
Fortunately, the majority of families don’t work this way. Large families or small, generally the decision is a well-thought-out one.
But, on the flip side of the coin, people also don’t expect you to willingly stop at one child. And in a lot of respects, I think people are taken aback and think you are kind of weird when you tell them you may only have one child.
For us, it’s something we waffle on periodically. I think we had, early on, thought we would have a number of children. But circumstances being what they were, biological children were not going to be an option. And so, adoption became the way we grew our family.
Adoption is wonderful, and something I have wanted to do for as long as I can remember. I can remember for most of my life thinking I did not want to have biological kids but knowing that I wanted to adopt. So our adoption of Stinkerbelle was a dream come true in many, many ways. But, being as challenging and as expensive as adoption is, doing it again would require some careful consideration on our part.
The bottom line is that we cannot afford to do it again without carrying some serious debt. Some families are okay with that, and good on them. We are not sure we are. There are ways to offset the debt, tried and true in the adoption community, such as loans and fundraising and the support of churches and whatnot. None of those are suitable for us.
Some families will research various programs and agencies and find one that is less expensive or has better timelines or whatever, to help make the expense more bearable. And some families are simply drawn to different countries for various personal reasons. This is also not an option for us. Ethiopia is the only country we want to consider. Beyond the fact that it is part of us now, and part of Stinkerbelle’s heritage, it is also the only country we ever considered when we first started out. And it is the only country that I ever wanted to adopt from, since I began thinking of adoption as a teenager. Ethiopia has been a part of my consciousness almost my whole life. Now, maybe with research and time and reflection, that could change — there are many great possibilities. But right now, it doesn’t feel right for us.
Beyond the debt — let’s say we decided we could afford to do it — there are a lot of logistics involved. Not least is the fact that there is only one agency that we would consider, even if there were many options available to us, and they are not taking new clients at this time.
Then there’s the whole issue of paperwork. We know what to expect having done it before, and have a good social worker to guide us, but still — anyone can tell you, the paperwork is stressful and is a real pain in the ass.
And then there’s the wait. Some will tell you that once you get your child, the pain and anguish of the waiting just fades away. I am here to tell you that it doesn’t at all — at least, not for all of us. I remember it like it was yesterday, and believe me, our wait was a walk in the park compared to the experiences of many families. You have to really steel yourself against the stress and hurt and shifting expectations and pain in an adoption wait. Maybe we would be better at it this time, I don’t know.
But aside from all the practicalities, there’s a very personal thing to consider. There are days when I feel that we need to ensure that Stinkerbelle has a sibling, that she needs someone to grow up with and be with when we are gone. But many days, I am not sold on the idea.
There are days, like today, when I am tired and lacking patience and feel like I need a break, and I just don’t know if I want to do it again. There are days when I miss the tiny baby part of having a child. There are days when I love the cuddles and the snuggling and the hilarity and the firsts of having a child. But there are just as many days when I am tired and struggling to get housework done and missing a little down time. Is it all worth it? Of course it is. But that doesn’t mean it is easy.
And then there’s the whole issue of lightning striking twice in the same place. One of the big things we discuss, when we discuss possibly adopting again, is the fact that we got so unbelieveably lucky with Stinkerbelle. She is a joy to parent, a pleasant, easygoing, funny kid. I read about other parents’ experiences and I talk to other parents and I realize just how lucky we are.
But I also realize that, perhaps, I am not cut out to parent a more challenging child. Could I have the patience to parent a difficult child who has more anger or more sadness or presents more serious parenting challenges to me? In many ways, because Stinkerbelle has been so easy, I still feel very much like a rookie parent. I don’t see myself with the patience or the energy or the parenting skills that some parents of more challenging kids have, and I wonder if I would fail miserably for all involved if I were thrust into that situation.
There’s no way to know, obviously, without trying it. But I don’t know if I am prepared to take that chance.
Being a parent, and raising children, and doing it decently well, is a heck of a commitment. It takes a lot of effort and a lot of energy and a lot of time and a lot of money. Whether it is through adoption or birth, it requires a lot of thought beforehand in order to do a good job at it.
And I know that we will continue to waffle and discuss and look at all the various issues and considerations. Some days we’ll say we might want to do it again and other days we will say we won’t. And we may never decide, and maybe that will be the decision made FOR us.
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