The World According to the Peevish Kitty
Aug
31
I know this is probably going to cost me the Perfect Mom of the Year award, but… My kid spends time with the TVSitter.
I know. It’s not good.
If I am perfectly honest, I’d say my kid watches too much TV. I’d love it if she were out running around all day. I’d be so happy if she was making things out of PlayDoh, or colouring, or reading. I’d love it if she were doing crafts.
But I’m not that mom. It’s just not who I am. I can’t micromanage and direct her activities that much, and honestly, at three, she has the attention span of a soap dish. And I have things I have to get done in the course of a day. It’s just the way it goes. I have to chop onions, or unload the dishwasher, or sweep. I have to throw stuff in the laundry.
And sometimes? I just want a little time to connect to the outside adult world via the Internet. Truth be told, I spend a lot of time alone with a three year old. Some days, on soccer days, the only meaningful adult conversation I get is with the checkout people at the supermarket, or via the interwebs and email. So sue me.
I’m finding it’s just an easy out, sometimes, when I have something to do that requires my time and concentration, to plonk my kid in front of a DVD for awhile. She’s three, and she’s at that stage where she wants somebody to play with and interact with and whatnot. But I find that sometimes, I just can’t be that person.
The Wiggles can. She sings along, and dances, and does whatever moves they do. Same thing with Sesame Street. And a couple other educational TV videos. She’s learning and moving and dancing and counting. And it’s not like she watches commercials or daytime TV or endless Dora crap or anything — we have a limited number of things for her to watch, thanks to DVD, Netflix and no cable.
(Okay. I’ll confess she watches Top Gear with us. WHAT SHUDDUP YOU DON’T KNOW OUR LOVE OF THE HAMSTER AND CAPTAIN SLOW. Okay, and Mythbusters too. WHAT? IT’S KIND OF SCIENCE-ISH.)
And, because of her oral-motor issues, our OT recommended watching something during mealtime, to distract her from the textures and fear of what is in her mouth. A piece of toast used to take an hour and a half. This morning? 40 minutes. That is progress. So until we get over the issues, we do what it takes.
But we DO get out. Our schedules are fairly busy, with swimming lessons and gym classes and our regular errands and going to the sitter. And, in a couple of weeks, school is in the mix. And we go for walks, and go for play dates, and go to the park, and swim, and play in the yard…
And yet? It’s the TV time she has that gives me the endless Mommy Guilt. I cannot help but think I am Harming My Child by letting her watch TV. It’s what the books say. It’s what the interwebs tell you. Good Moms are ENGAGED and CRAFTY and ORGANIC and GREEN and GRANOLA. And I am so not.
Oh well. That Girl is healthy, and happy, and thriving. And as she gets older, she’ll get busier and more independent. And it’ll be less of an issue. I hope.
Besides, I was raised by a TVSitter. I was a latchkey kid who grew up during the golden age of TV comedy, and saw world events unfold on the nightly news. And look at me! I have an encyclopaedic knowledge of useless trivia, a love of good quality television, and can recite most of the first 4 seasons of M*A*S*H dialogue by heart. I owe much of my love of music to The New Music. I learned about atoms from Venus Flytrap. I’m only just SLIGHTLY deranged.
She’ll be fine.
Aug
30
Our little neighbourhood here in Suburbiaville is tucked away up against conservation land. It’s mostly quiet and calm. It feels a lot more… rural… than it actually is.
On one side of the conservation is one of the busier streets in town, and on the other is our “expressway”, the main highway through the city. You wouldn’t know it, really, because all the trees and watershed area act as a very good buffer from the noise. You almost forget they are there.
But recently, we’ve been venturing out into these busy thoroughfares on some of our errands, and will continue to do so. One reason is because Stinkerbelle’s school, while just over a kilometre away, is actually on the busy street to our east. So we will be traversing this busy road twice a week, hopefully on foot for some exercise a lot of the time, but likely more often in the car. Especially in winter.
But the other, and more fun reason, is that in the last month or two, one of the best coffee shops in town has opened a store just down the road from That Girl’s school. Chock full of cool places to chat and excellent fair trade coffees — my favourite being the Ethiopian Sidamo — I have been itching to go there since I first saw the sign go up on the outside of the building under construction.
It is open now.
So today, it is sunny and warm, and I decided it was time. Stinkerbelle and I got ourselves ready and pulled out the old faithful jogging stroller, and decided it was time to go for The Big Walk. To Planet Bean.
Now, I used to walk a lot. A LOT. Some days, I did 10 km with a contented Baby Stinkerbelle cruising along, sometimes napping. But as she has grown up and gotten busier and more independent, stroller walks are less and less frequent. She still enjoys them, but nowadays she’d rather be DOING something. Like walking, for example. Or going to a park, or playing with friends, or any one of a number of activities she was too little to do in previous summers.
But I set today up as an adventure, a walk to someplace new. A Coffee Shop. Where Mommy Could Buy Coffee and Stinkerbelle Could Have A Cookie.
There’s a cookie at the end of this walk? Dude. She was ALL IN.
So off we went.
It was sunny and lovely. But it is also a warm day, and I was feeling the heat. About a third of the way into our walk, we encountered our first obstacle. With no forewarning, we came upon some construction-type guys digging up the sidewalk on the corner of Busy Commuter Street and Major Thoroughfare. The sidewalk on which we had to walk, else we would be walking in traffic. Hm.
You could have put up a SIGN, dudes.
Anyway, no problem. There’s a crosswalk at the corner, so we waited for the light and crossed to the opposite side of the street. This was actually a good thing, because by this time I was getting warm from the sunshine and the street was shaded for a few hundred metres.
We carried on, to the next crosswalk, and crossed back across the busy lanes of traffic. Oh! More shade! Huzzah. As we trundled along in the shade, Stinkerbelle chatted happily. I have no clue what was said, however, because the traffic noise was loud enough to drown out her little girl voice. Oh well. I just interjected “Oh?” and “Really?” and “Yes” into the conversation periodically, and she seemed satisfied.
I began to feel the heat, and the tired. It’s about 3.5 km there and back, which in years past would have been hardly anything at all. But I’m out of walking trim, and my legs were noticing. And I was getting warm.
And we rounded a bend, and there it was. A chorus of angels sang and light shone down from the heavens. Coffee. COFFEE. GOOD coffee.
But I was too hot. I thought OMG ALL I WANT IS AIR CONDITIONING AND TO SIT DOWN.
And all Stinkerbelle thought was OMG LET ME OUT OF THIS CHAIR I NEED TO RUN AROUND. ALSO? COOKIE.
So we made our way into the cool shop and I blinked through the cool darkness looking for a menu.
ICED MOCHA COFFEE.
I was happy. We had crossed the finish line. Victory was ours, and to the victors go the spoils! So I got an iced mocha and Stinkerbelle got some sort of hipster organic cookie and juice.
Snacks and drinks in hand, we sat under the shade of a tree in the parking lot and had an impromptu picnic. It was fun. We chatted about the construction going on in the rest of the building — “WHA’S THAT SOUND?” is That Girl’s recent question du jour — and snacked and relaxed.
And then I realized: We still have to walk home.
And Stinkerbelle realized: I still haven’t run around.
So I pulled my out-of-shape carcass upright, and turned for home. I decided to duck down a side street, in the hope that I could let That Girl out of the stroller to walk on the sidewalk where there would be no traffic. As we turned, we saw it at the same time: A PARK. Just 100 m away.
Stinkerbelle began bellowing “PARK! PARK! I NEED TO GO TO THE PARK! I NEED TO GO ON THE SLIIIIIIIDE!” so that there would be NO DOUBT that I, nor anyone within a mile’s radius of the excited preschooler commotion, would know what her wishes were.
So we went to the park. We had crossed the finish line! Victory was Stinkerbelle’s and to the victor goes the spoils! She went down the slides, and swung on the swings, and had a little run around time.
But then, we really REALLY had to face the walk home.
It was hot, and it was long, and the traffic was noisy. AND I forgot about the construction so I actually DID have to walk us out into traffic to get around it because I forgot to cross the street. But although hot and tired, it was nice. I realized how much I had missed walking, even though my muscles were all WTF WHAT IS THIS I DON’T EVEN.
But we made it home. Victory was ours! And this time, the spoils were not as fancy — blowing bubbles for That Girl, and homemade iced coffee for me — but still just as sweet.
And we decided that maybe we would walk to and from school some mornings. And while Stinkerbelle was in school, I would try to walk a bit more, sans stroller.
And be sure to stop off for a coffee as a treat sometimes, too.
Aug
25
It’s true. Despite Mother Nature’s best efforts of the last little while — earthquakes and tornadoes!11!!1! eleventy!!11! — we’re still here.
I didn’t even feel the earthquake… well, you already know that story. (Which bums me out, because I like a good little mini-quake. I miss them from my time in Japan.) And then last night, it was OMG TORNADO WATCH WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP. Only, in the end, there WASN’T any tornado to speak of.
Although we did sit on the porch and watch the crazy-ass storm go by, and were treated to continuous lightning and thunder for a couple of hours, while SILs Tena and Sherri monitored the weather from the comfort of their houses in NS, and occasionally sent us OMG IT’S COMING YOU’RE ALL GOING TO DIE text messages. So that was fun.
But still. All this weather and stuff, combined with the earthquakes and volcanoes and massive storms elsewhere in the world this year, makes one wonder if Mother Earth isn’t just a wee bit tired of our shenanigans, and is trying to shake us off.
I wouldn’t be surprised. And really, if I had to endure generations of asshole drivers and old people being annoying in the supermarket, I’d want to shake us off too. Like a dog shaking the water out of his coat after a bath. WHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAPWHAP! ALL CLEAN!
But here, in our little black hole of weather, where all natural phemomena goes AROUND us but rarely comes THROUGH, it’s business as usual. Which is good. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t WANT to be dead in a hurricane or whatever. But if you spend any time watching the weather forecasts, you’d think a tsunami in the middle of a blizzard accompanied by a plague of locusts was going to happen fairly regularly.
(And don’t even get me started on The Weather Network, with all it’s ACTIVE! WEATHER! talk. Bunch of drama llamas.)
Still, a little excitement can be fun now and again. Last night, as BDH was doing his Man Of The House thing, bringing home tasty baked goods (WHAT? They’re EMERGENCY PROVISIONS!) and gathering blankets and flashlights and getting ready to camp out in the basement, it WAS a little bit of an adventure. Until I got bored and decided I needed to look at Teh Internets instead.
But therein lies our biggest problem — how can I be expected to endure ANY sort of natural disaster-type phenomenon if there would be NO INTERNETS?
I could NOT, I tell you what. NO INTERNETS??? she said, with genuine terror in her voice? I would CURL. UP. AND. DIE.
So it’s a good thing the tornadoes passed us by.
We are alive, and I have Internets. And there are snacks. Life is good.
Aug
23
And WHY, you are asking yourself, would I reference one of the worst songs in recorded history in my post title? I dunno. I felt like it. Plus, now that I’ve mentioned it, some of you have the earworm. You’re welcome.
But, D00DZ. It is just one of those weeks. Earthquakes on the East Coast. Human sacrifice. Dogs and cats, living together. Mass hysteria!
(Okay, so… maybe not so much the human sacrifice. But definitely the other stuff.)
ANYWAY…
The world, it is changing and things are happening all over. You can’t stop it. And, as evidence of this, I give you Exhibit A: Yours truly.
Hello! *waves*
(Note: Not to scale. Also, my head’s not really little and squished.)
Ahem.
So. Today, while there was APPARENTLY AN EARTHQUAKE… I didn’t notice. NOT A THING. Rien. Nada. Bupkus.
And just WHAT, you might ask, what was I doing?
Cruising the Toys Backwards R Us website (the clearance section, OBVS) FOR… wait for it… A BACKPACK FOR MY DAUGHTER.
WHO IS STARTING SCHOOL NEXT MONTH.
I know. Shocking. I should have gotten you to sit down first.
And alright, it’s PRESCHOOL, but STILL. SCHOOL.
My tiny little newborn-sized baby has suddenly all grown up and is GOING TO SCHOOL.
When did all this happen? What was I DOING???
Yesterday, we walked the kilometre or so to her school and paid her fees. And the whole way, we talked about school, and how she would go and meet new friends, and who her teachers were, and about being at school without Mom, by herself, and all that. And she was all YEP WHATEVER MOM.
Possibly she had me on Ignore. Likely, she didn’t understand any of it. Or didn’t much care.
But I did. And I have to say, it’s kind of bittersweet.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I want everyone to hear this now: I AM TOTALLY EXCITED AND JAZZED ABOUT MY KID GOING TO SCHOOL ARE YOU KIDDING ME? TWO HOURS IN THE MORNING TO MYSELF OMG I COULD GO TO THE DOCTOR OR GET NEW GLASSES OR MAYBE EVEN DO SOME ACTUAL PAYING WORK.
So, that’s not the problem. I am so thrilled seeing her grow and learn and seeing the awesome, way cool person she is becoming.
But part of me is sad to say goodbye to the baby times. Because, let’s face it, we hit the jackpot, baby-wise. The kid has been a dream come true in so many, many ways.
But now she is older. And we have to say goodbye to some of those things.
And unlike so many other families, having another baby is most probably not going to happen. By birth or adoption, it does not look to be in the cards, for a number or reasons. So we kind of have to make peace with that, too. (In that respect, it’s a good thing we have a kid with personality to spare to always show us we’re not missing too much.)
So… that’s hard. Up to now, it’s been theoretical. It WILL happen… sometime. But this summer, of potty training, and Big Girl Beds, and now getting ready for School… Now, it’s all happening.
Time is passing. And you begin to realize, it really IS fleeting.
I started to become aware of it in the spring, while we were beginning to plan for her support workers for preschool, and finishing up paperwork, and facing the stuff to come. So I decided to try to enjoy our summer together. There was not a lot planned, so we did stuff. We went for walks. We talked and danced and played. We spent time in the pool.
I tried to enjoy her company. I tried to cherish moments. I tried to capture things she said, and remember things she did. I tried to lock the feelings at those moments away in my heart.
Because I knew once they were gone, they were gone.
And it was nice. I really did enjoy a long, slow summer with my girl. It was nice.
Alas, time still passes. That Girl is still growing and changing. The world is still happening.
But unlike the earthquake today… I felt it.
Aug
19
I’ve seen a number of articles and blogs posted by parents of girls, in which they (usually moms, but some dads) say that so many people comment on how pretty their daughters are, and how they wish they wouldn’t.
Some parents say they think it is shallow or superficial — or even creepy — to comment on their daughter’s looks. Some say strangers come up to them and say “Oh, she’s so beautiful!” and that they would rather they comment on how smart the girl is, or her personality. I’ve also read posts where parents complain that they think that people are overcompensating about some sort of fear of the race of the child, so by commenting on a child’s beauty they are trying to show they are not racist.
And then today, a friend brought her daughter over for a play date, and we were discussing this same topic. She commented on how beautiful Stinkerbelle is, and then felt a little embarassed and apologized. She said she read a study somewhere that stated that parents of girls overwhelmingly comment on another little girl’s looks before anything else, and that she was really trying not to. She mentioned that the study talked about the superficiality, maybe, or that it shows an underlying competitiveness, commenting on another girl’s looks to get justification of your own child’s looks, or some such thing.
There seems to be a lot of apprehension out there about the concept of beauty, and talking about it.
So my friend and I got to talking about it. And I thought, when did it become wrong to tell a little girl she is pretty?
I don’t get it. I mean, I understand that parents have their reasons, and a lot of them are really quite sound in their situations. Fair enough. And I would respect that.
But here’s the thing: what is wrong with a little girl growing up believing she is pretty? What is wrong with loving how she looks?
I thought to myself, all little kids love to look at themselves in the mirror. Vanity is not an issue — they’re too little for that. But they are all beautiful. So why not let them believe it? My thinking is this: It’s going to end soon enough.
As women, we have all been there. We all hit an age, nearing puberty, or even earlier, when we begin to feel ugly. We compare ourselves to others, and we don’t measure up. We are judged mercilessly by our peers. So what is wrong with teaching a little girl, right from the beginning, that she is beautiful?
I’m not saying I would advocate saying a child is beautiful, above all else, and that’s the end of it. Of course, you want to fill your child with confidence on so many levels. But at some point, fairly early on it seems, we leave off commenting on looks. We take great pains to emphasize what our kids are good at, or the successes they have in school, or what they can do well. But we shy away from saying “You are beautiful”. Who says one cannot be pretty, and still be smart? Or athletic? Or good at math? Or play the violin? Why do these things have to be an either/or?
Maybe it’s a flaw with our definition of “beauty”. Why does beauty have to stop at the skin? Why can it not encompass both what is on the inside and what is on the outside?
Why NOT have a little girl grow up believing that she is pretty, and growing in self-confidence, for as long as she can?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as the saying goes. I want my daughter to love how she looks. I want her to be confident as she is growing up that she can be anything she wants, as any parent would. I want her to believe in her abilities, and be happy with who she is, and to know beyond all that how much she is loved.
But I ALSO want her to look in a mirror and, regardless of shape, size, colour or conventional standards, really LOVE what she sees.
I lack positive self-image. I am loathe to get my photo taken. I am painfully self-conscious of my weight. I can tell you every flaw on my person.
I don’t want that for my child.
Dawn French once said that she owed her success to her self-confidence. And that a lot of that came from her father. Every day, her father would tell her how beautiful she was, and how brilliant, and how loved. And she just grew up believing it was so. Now, Dawn is a big woman — not the conventional standard of beauty — but she is undeniably beautiful. She is funny and brilliant and successful and loved. AND beautiful. What an amazing package.
My daughter right now is one such amazing package. I never want that to end. I love to see her look at herself and comment on her pretty hair or her pretty dress. I hope she can take to heart as she grows the comments about her beautiful almond eyes and her sweet dimple and her winning smile. I want her to be able to hold onto that self-love, and package it up with a passion for whatever she becomes passionate about, and a confidence in her abilities in whatever she becomes good at, and a joy in doing what she really loves.
I want her to be confident in the beautiful, amazing package that we see. And to see it for herself, too.
So I will continue to tell her, every day, how beautiful she is. And I will agree with whoever tells me she is beautiful, too.
Aug
18
I may have mentioned in the past that our neighbour has a groundhog we have named Zippy.
Now, Zippy is not, in actual fact, the neighbour’s own personal groundhog; he is just a groundhog who happens to live under the neighbour’s deck. He has done for almost the entire time we’ve lived here, so maybe 10 years. So he’s the neighbour’s groundhog, at least in my mind.
I also know that groundhogs only tend to live for 5 or 6 years, so this is probably not truly the original Zippy, but maybe Zippy Jr. or perhaps Zippy Mark III. Whatevs. He’s Zippy to us.
We have named him Zippy because, like most groundhogs, he’s mostly not so much zippy. I mean, he can move fast, or as fast as a furry water balloon with legs or a bag full of jello with legs can move. But mostly, he just meanders around the yard, partaking of the varied and sundry vegetational substances that my yard and garden have to offer.
Periodically, though, because he is a somewhat portly fellow, I have to go out and gently shoo him out of wherever he’s gotten himself into, mostly for fear his fuzzy girth will squash my more delicate flowers. Or that he’ll eat all my vegetables.
Zippy does not like this much. He has attitude, which is another reason why I like him.
In the past, he would scurry back into his (read: the neighbour’s) yard, where his hidey hole is, and clamber up on his (read: the neighbour’s) deck. And from there, he would glare at me. Give me the old groundhog Death Stare of Great Peevishness. Sometimes I would act intimidated, because it is our philosophy that we like others to feel they are doing well, and, well, I totally wasn’t intimidated. At all. But he didn’t know that, and I like to think it made him feel a little puffed up with pride that he had me quivering in my gardening crocs.
But mostly, I just told him to pipe down and stop sulking and wasn’t there some lovely grass somewhere to be eaten?
And thus, for years, we have gotten on peaceably.
So, it was to my great surprise and delight to go downstairs to the basement yesterday to exercise, and to walk by the window and see some movement. Movement, as it turns out, that was Zippy, IN OUR WINDOW WELL, nomming on some tasty weeds.
Now, first off, there’s a little walled garden around the window well. I was a mite concerned that the chubby old Zipster might have gotten himself into a spot he couldn’t heft himself out of. But also? MY FLOWERS. If this is not the first time he’s been there (and I suspect it was not) then I can safely assume it is HE who is responsible for the crushing and general maiming of some of my flowers contained in said garden.
It was time to go tell Zippy to shift it.
Now, dealing with Zippy is like dealing with an old, fat, errant dog who periodically wanders into your yard. You don’t want to be mean about it, but you have to be stern enough for him to know you mean business. Also, DUDE. He’s a GROUNDHOG. He’s probably not so good at the English.
So I went out and stood at the patio door.
There sat Zippy, nomming happily, a big leaf of something hanging out of his mouth in a very cartoon fashion.
“Zippy!” I said.
Zippy looked up, startled.
“Zippy! NO NO! No, Zippy!”
He scrambled up out of the window well, over the garden, squashing my flowers. You will note he still had a GIANT leaf of some weedlike thing hanging out of his mouth. I stifled a giggle.
He froze on the deck, in the manner of generations of rodentia before him. “OHO! Perhaps if I FREEZE, the big two legged thing will not NOTICE ME!”
FREEZE, went Zippy.
I was not fooled.
“No Zippy!” I said. “NO NO! BAD BOY! Bad Zippy! Scoo scoo!”
And I made that vague little hand waving motion one makes to encourage small elderly fat dogs, and indeed, fat groundhogs, to move their girth elsewhere.
Zippy did not take kindly to my exhortations. He game me THE LOOK, and then scurried off the patio, and under the fence back into the safety of his (read: the neighbour’s) yard. PROBABLY MUTTERING UNDER HIS BREATH THE ENTIRE WAY.
I giggled.
I felt bad because he was only eating weeds, after all. So, you know, at least he was being USEFUL. But I don’t really want him making a habit of hanging about in our window well and stomping on my flowers.
Although, secretly, I loves him. So I kind of don’t mind so much.
But I am sure he will be back. He always is. Groundhogs, fortunately, do not hold grudges. And he is welcome, too. As long as my perennials aren’t too squashed to make it through the winter.
Aug
17
It is time to get ourselves back on track.
The last few weeks have seen a bit of upheaval and rushing about, and we are feeling the strain. Well, more accurately, we are feeling the OMG TIRED. We are people who do well with routine and structure and plans, so when the structure goes out the window for a while, for whatever reason, we struggle. We let things slide, and we get run down and tired.
All of which is happening right now, as I sit in my comfy chair and type, amid a mess of kid’s toys, with dishes to be done and groceries to be put away over there in the kitchen. I am pooped.
Stinkerbelle is feeling it, too. She is ready for naps when the time comes and crashes hard, and is ready for bed well before bedtime in the evening. And this morning, when I asked her if she wanted to go out and swim, she told me instead she’d rather go out after naptime. She wants some down time.
But we don’t do well letting things slide. Our eating habits suffer, we don’t keep on top of the chores around the house, and we become somewhat lump-like in front of the TV or computer.
But we have to get back at it, because with a diabetic and a kid in the house, it’s important. Plus, September is right around the corner, and with that, preschool, and swimming lessons, and a bunch of plans for things to do.
It’s time. Time to dig in and get things back on the right track.
So this week, we’re slowly gearing back up to normal. First and foremost… eating. It’s hard to eat well when you are away, and for some of us emotional eaters, even harder when we’re stressed. So I have been making meals and buying groceries to get our healthy eating habits back after the ZOMG JUNKFOOD-O-RAMA drives across eastern Canada. No snacks besides the stuff Stinkerbelle consumes. Lots of veggies and lean meat. Fresh fruit for me (the others turn their noses up.)
Okay, I will admit that I’ve been overdosing on the iced coffee. WHATEVAH DON’T YOU JUDGE ME I AM TIRED YOU WILL HAVE TO PRY THE CAFFEINATED BEVERAGES OUT OF MY COLD DEAD HANDS.
It’s nice. I like the routine of cooking and eating well again.
The flip side of the coin, exercise… well, that’s a little harder to get back on track. When I am tired, the last thing I want to do is to drag my sorry carcass downstairs and put in time on the Helliptical. And my knees are all ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME. But all you can do is try. And if that doesn’t work, try to take some walks or whatever, like taking That Girl over to the park and playing for an hour. Maybe do some yoga here and there.
The other stuff is harder. Getting back into a regular housework routine — especially after leaving the house in that post-packing tornado-hit state — is a chore. It’s fair to say we’d been letting it go a little bit for a couple of weeks even before we hit the road, and it shows. But I’ve been trying to do things in short increments, by running the vacuum here, or doing some sweeping there, and hopefully without too much bitching and moaning we’ll get it shipshape again. The yard is a disaster area, but a good mow, some judicious weeding, and maybe watering a bit before fall will put things to rights nicely.
The angry-looking mass of hornets who have taken up residence under the eaves above our patio door? Not even going to think about that one yet.
And I have some projects to get done around the house, painting and such. And I want to tend to my blog more regularly and more frequently. And any number of other little projects.
But honestly? HONESTLY? I just want to sleep for a week. And when I am not sleeping, knit and eat chocolate. OH TO HAVE THE RESILIENCE AND METABOLISM OF A TWENTY-FIVE YEAR OLD AGAIN. Bah.
So, for me, the big thing is getting out my little blue notebook, and writing out my daily “to do” lists every day. And being sure to check them continually, and check off what I have accomplished. I need the accountability.
But to be fair, one of the things that I will put on my list will be to take the time to enjoy the last of the summer with my little girl, who will be starting preschool in a few short weeks. If there’s one thing I have learned, it is that time is precious. Do not waste it.
Getting life back on track again means, for me, that I am aware of my time, and making the most of it, and thus present to enjoy as much of it as I can.
Aug
15
Well now, it seems as if people want something fun and family oriented for August’s movie (and I don’t blame them). So, by popular demand, our movie for August will be
Nothing like a fun, animated family flick to finish out the summer. Something relaxing and happy — it sounds like we could all use it! (Sorry Rana, it’s not on Netflix… but it’s totally worth buying. Stinkerbelle loves it, so maybe your little man will too!)
And if you’ve not heard of it before… you really should. Here’s the IMDB page for information and trailers.
Since we’re slow to get started this month (sorry about that) I’ll post the discussion for the movie a little later in September — rather than the first Wednesday as we normally do, I’ll push it back a week.
Have fun! Enjoy!
Aug
10
Anyone up for a movie night in August? I know the end of summer can be a very busy time for a lot of people. (It’s already been a busy one for us, and I wasn’t even planning on anything!) So I’ve been slow to get posts up for our movies this month. Sorry about that.
But if you’re feeling like a night to just sit and put your feet up and unwind and watch a flick… we can do that!
Leave your suggestions for what you want to see below — a movie, a genre, a theme, whatever. Or, if you want to just try something new and be surprised, I can put a bunch of titles in a hat, and pick one. It’s all good.
Aug
9
Thank you to all for your good wishes. I can report that after a fairly scary morning yesterday and more surgery yesterday afternoon, Stinkerbelle’s beloved GrandadGrandad is resting as comfortably as can be expected, after significant surgery and two weeks in hospital, and two and a half weeks mostly without food.
He’s been a tricky patient, our GrandadGrandad. Just when we think he’s on the mend, something else comes up. We’ve done the surgery! But now you have an obstruction. Yay, blood pressure is up! But you’ve got some serious jaundice there, pal. Okay, you can eat! No, don’t eat anything. You have to get up and walk around! No, you have blood clots and fluid in your lungs so lie down! You’re mending well after surgery. Whoops, your bowel isn’t healing up and there’s a leak somewhere. Okay, time to sit up! Hey! What are you doing sitting up?
He turns a corner one one issue, only to duck down a side alley of complications.
He’s had a hard few weeks. So, when Grandad said “I hope you’re here to take me home” to BDH after yesterday’s adventures… I’m guessing he’s had enough of the hospital experience, thankyouverymuch. I’d say he’s sick of the hospital food but OH YEAH HE HASN’T BEEN EATING FOR 3 WEEKS. (But what he did eat was pretty bad.)
So I did what I think was necessary yesterday: I threatened him. Oh yes I did. ALRIGHT MISTER MAN TIME TO GET WELL. DON’T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE I WILL KICK YOUR BUTT. Tough talk? Yes. But I think it was effective.
(Bah, who am I kidding. All I did was sit here on my butt with assorted kids watching movies and manning the phones. He did all the hard work himself, I can’t lie. Plus he knows I am the Queen of the Idle Threat by now.)
Anyway, we are cautiously optimistic after yesterday’s surgery. Time will tell. And if not, it’s not like I can play the tough talk card again.
OH I KNOW! I will go down there with another bagel with cream cheese and a coffee, and lead him out of there like the Pied Piper.
I’m just crazy enough to do it, too.
Aug
6
Okay, it’s not Friday. But it feels like I have had two Thursdays and gone straight to Monday.
I confess:
Aug
3
Welcome back from the comfy couch, movie night friends! It is time to open the discussion of our movie for July, the lush, languid, period comedy/drama Enchanted April.
And as you can probably already guess… I lovedlovedloved it. And maybe you did too. Maybe you liked it, and having watched it, discovered a heretofore unknown love of costume dramas. Possibly you found it relaxing and pretty but it wasn’t your cup of tea. Or perhaps you hated it and thought it was a snorefest that ended a raging case of insomnia you have been having for weeks.
Either way, bring it on. Tell us what you think!
I’ll post my thoughts once the discussion gets going. Because I could talk for HOURS.
And as always, start thinking about your suggestions for August’s movie. (Even if you come up with a theme, maybe a particular genre of movie you’d like to see this month, we can go with that.)
Aug
2
Just a reminder that tomorrow (Wednesday) is our discussion of the Movie Night movie for July, “Enchanted April”. I’ll post the start of the discussion… sometime tomorrow.
Also, just for fun, here are my most recent knitting works-in-progress, two blankets for two special little girls:
And for all passengers not going ashore, there will be a shuffleboard tournament on the Lido Deck starting at 2 pm.
That is all.
Aug
1
So, you may have noticed that I took a bit of a break. I’ve been here, just not posting much except our weekend photos.
I’ve had a bit of a hard time, having a good old-fashioned existential crisis, like every parent has every now and again. I’ve been stressing about stuff, and feeling isolated, and struggling. I’ve had a couple of challenging, tiring, hard weeks.
And I generally don’t feel it’s something to write about on The Internets necessarily. Not everything needs to be put out there for public consumption. I try not to be that Drama Llama Mama.
But the reality for everyone is that the challenging times happen. And you just put your head down, and you work through it. You cry, and you bitch and moan, and you work through it as best you can. And you don’t take yourself too seriously. And eventually, like every other down time in life, you come out the other side.
You try to learn some lessons.
I learned that my kid does indeed have significant language delays. I admitted that I need to recognize that it’s not my fault. And I learned that since it’s not my fault I shouldn’t take the therapy and the discussion and the exercises personally when they happen. And that this stuff doesn’t show what she CAN do and what She DOES know and What she DOES understand, and I have to bear that in mind. And I decided that she’s happy and healthy and talks and sings all the livelong day and that this was the most important thing, and that she will catch up eventually.
I learned that my kid’s oral-motor issues will take time and patience. I recognized that I have to dig deep and continue to find that reserve of patience, and that capacity to think creatively at mealtime. And I can’t show my frustration to this beautiful child who wants nothing more in the world than to please me, because it is NOT HER FAULT. I learned that it’s a challenge that we’re just going to have to continue to roll with. And I still have to learn how to advocate better for more effective help for her.
I learned that conventional milestones can bite me. And that anyone who questions why we do what we do when we do it, just because it doesn’t fit with their arbitrary milestones or expectations of conventional behaviour or whatever, can just fucking bite me too.
I learned that feeling isolated and alone passes. I recognized that I have to share the burden with my husband. I admitted that I have to find some ways to make friends and get out of the house and make myself happy.
And I reconfirmed what I’ve always known — that by comparison to what I know other people are dealing with, or what challenges I observe other parents facing, or the myriad other things that could cause stress and difficulty in my life… this stuff is minor. Easy peasy.
Perspective. It is important to get some.
And now, at the other end, I realize the good things that happen during the hard times.
My kid is doing great at using the potty, with only a few accidents here and there.
Her language production is growing by leaps and bounds and I think her comprehension is way beyond what we believed it to be. But what’s important is making sure we understand each other and are patient with each other when trying to communicate.
She’s really, really trying to eat what is put in front of her, even if it’s just to venture a taste. And she’s working really hard to chew and swallow as best she can what she feels she can eat, which is huge. And I have tried to just go with it and blend up the challenging stuff and not letting it feel like failure.
She loves her big girl bed and goes to sleep without fuss. Waiting until she was better able to comprehend the change and the new rules was absolutely the right idea.
The bottom line is, no matter what the challenges, our daughter is the greatest thing to ever happen to us. She is and healthy and happy and bright and funny and beautiful. We fall madly in love with her over and over again, a hundred times a day. She makes us better people, and she has filled our lives and our home and our hearts with love.
Just have to keep it all in perspective, is all. I’m not saying it’s always easy, but it sure does make life happier and easier to roll with if we can.
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