Party on, dudette

Well, it's been a hell of a party and there are no current signs of abating. Lack of sleep and CU-4's very wonky sleep pattern (It's 2 a.m. and I'm UP! Oh. It's now 3:15 a.m. and I'm UP! Oh, look the kitty waaaants to have his ears pulled, and it's 4:10 a.m. why not? I'm UP!)

As the rotten cycle goes - I get tired and think - "Oh food is a fast pick-me up to give me the energy I need to make it through just long enough to put CU-4 down for a nap!". So I eat. I put him down for his nap, then, in the fog-induced state, think - I haven't had breakfast/lunch/a real meal ... and the circle of life spins out of control, and I rock on.

Lately, in order to distract myself from my current state, I've been trying to bake - not necessarily all that successfully, I might add. The worst of it happened yesterday when I was painting on the last finger nail to four dozen Witches' Finger cookies.


Bea-utes aren't they? Well, this is batch two. Batch one looked just as good or better when IT happened. The cookie sheet with ALL THE FINGERS slid - CRASH! BOOM! onto the floor. Not even the most expert surgeon would have been able to put these digits back together.

These babies went to school today. I was super grossed out by them. We'll see how CU-3's crew takes them.

Happy Hallowe'en eve!

Opinions

Yesterday night, while at ball hockey with CU-1, I got tapped on the shoulder and was asked to participate in a focus group regarding health and safety of our kids at home, at school and withing the neighborhood and community.

I thought this was a rather obtuse topic to deal with within the confines of 40 minutes. I was also surprised that they had to recruit parents at a ball hockey night to get opinions. Why was there no advertising about this anywhere in the community prior to the two minute warning?

But, I attended and listened to three other moms talk about criteria they see as being important to providing the stability in a child's life.

Of the four of us who participated, I knew two of the others and extrapolate my observation to the fourth mom. We're all educated (which means we are more likely to be liberal and open to ideas, seeking assistance, and be willing to work towards and with solutions presented.) What I found interesting was that before this meeting I wouldn't have classified the the four of us as a representational cross-section of the people living in this community/catchment area. The women's self-declaration of the challenges they face helped me realize that we may have a greater level of education then my neighbors, but we are all struggling.

It was really helpful to hear about other parent's struggles raising their children. One mom had a son who was having difficulties in school and commented how schools were quick to want to label a kid, and that the community services and the pathways to assist the parent are not readily visible. Another parent talked about the difficulties of providing a stable home life when a parent may have to work multiple jobs or a swing shift, meanwhile juggling day or after school expenses, and personal needs and commitments.

And then there was the likes of me who waffles between panic and calm trying to figure out where the money's going to come from for the next two years until CU-4 is into regular day care (versus baby day care - there's a $900/month difference in the fees).

We self-identified as the working poor. Working to make ends not necessarily meet, but get a bit closer together.

* * *
Start of pity party

Because this is a pseudo-anonymous blog, I can further out myself by saying I make a good wage - well above the poverty line, as does DH. We're very careful with our money. We make our choices not based on support of the environment (which most people like to think is our motivation), but because our finances dictate greater frugality. We shop a the second hand shops. We use our local GT for at least half of our weekly groceries. We don't own a car because, well, where would the insurance and car payments come from?

To walk through our house, you'd never know we're running that close to the bone. It's not super fancy, but it has its luxuries (flat screen computer monitor (adult toy) and lots of kids toys in the yard). It's not because we spent a lot of money to get these things.

With some pride I can walk through my house and tell you what curb, or former home 85% of the things in my house came from. We have very very few new things -- which, I keep telling myself, is ok. The kids don't seem to mind. (Christmas is coming, though, and we can't get them anything that they've asked for.) I think I've fooled myself into saying that it's even fun to try to beat my system and stretch that dollar as if it was running a marathon. Alas, brain washing isn't permanent.

So, if you've read this far, you're probably asking "What's the point of this blog post?" Whining, dear readers. Full blown whining, an opportunity to wallow in self-pity about choices I've made and how I have self-inflicted problems. I just need to worry out loud. Panic, more like it. Sometimes it helps free up space so that I can come up with parts of a solution.

If you have nothing to say ...

I grew up with a the Mothership using a lot of adages to get me through the day - of the several that comes to mind is goes something like "If you don't have anything nice to say about some one, don't say anything at all." Now I've used that adage a couple of times -- like many years ago when a work colleague brought in her baby that looked like a very small chimpanzee. Today, well, I have something not nice to say, and I'm trying really hard to be polite about it.

Today I had to take CU-2 to the hospital to have her cast and break looked at. (Did I mention this is the second time she's broken her arm? This time, it's her other arm and she broke it falling out of a tree. Oh my talented child!)

Anyway, I was under the impression that it was to take her cast off. She was the same. This is the information implied, though not necessarily directly relayed by her father's partner who apparently took CU-2 to the hospital to have the break set. This is the same guy who is not a legal guardian of this child and who, by law (and our arbitrated agreement), should not be bringing her anywhere medical, unless either her father or her mother (ME!) are unreachable. (In the event that her father can't take her, I'm supposed to go.)

So here I am. Trying to find nice things to say about the situation. I'm of two minds. One is I appreciate that one of the two (hmmm, trying very hard to choose nice words here) actually cares enough about children that aren't his biologically. And I do appreciate at DXH's partner is taking steps to communicate with me in a more open and direct manner. It helps a bit.

That doesn't stop me guts from churning that they're passing my kids the kids off as theirs. It's bullshit. Sheer bullshit.

Though, in counting my blessings it's not as bad as my friend (see previous posting).

I may have that to look forward to in a couple of years when we have to help CU-1 choose the next school (high school).

Disbelief, that's a word for it

Ok, this one is easy to blog about, but may not be of interest to that many people.

I have a friend (yes really, it's not me) to whom I was introduce based on a commonality - divorce and children. She had and I have. That's were much of the commonality begins and ends on this particular topic.

She's an interesting woman to know. Smart, attractive, sporty and capable. And let me not forget, crippled by the Canadian (in)justice system.

In the divorce decree that was made at the time many years ago, she was not healthy and was unable to defend herself against the much better (financially) positioned ex-spouse. He went at her tooth and nail and walked away with the children. Over the years, he has continued to verbally, emotionally and financially rein rough over his ex-wife (and their children but not using the money she sends him to raise their children). One could say the family has fallen apart after the divorce -- in so many ways.

She has paid, big time. She has supporting three children who have learned (by simply going through the process of teenagers in a ME-ME-ME world and by his own example) to continue to sustain the abuse when they are with their mother.

She has been kept in an economic vice for so many years that she is close to the poverty line.

While this story isn't uncommon - the part that I find so discouraging and that makes me so fearful for having to deal with my ex-husband is the burnt-earth financial policy that some judges allow to stand.

In the case of my friend, she was back in court recently to request lower payments as her eldest child was not in school, had joined the military, and was married. The judge refused to hear her case, lambasted her for wasting the court's time and gave her an additional financial penalty to her already heavy burden.

I read this account with great disbelief.

Where is the justice in the law. I am aware that law IS black and white. It makes me question the greater good. What lesson can be learned by beating some one continuously? Why does this woman receive NO compassion or relief any time she is before the courts?

From the side of the ex-husband - he continues to hold the upper hand. He continues the financial warfare and is encouraged to do so every time the judge rules.

I hope the karma bus comes for you Sir.

Super cute

A super cute video that deserves attention.

Struggles

I've been struggling with this weeks word assignment: Achievement.

It's easy for me to think of other's achievements, and I could certainly write about the pride I have for my siblings who are successful - my sister the triathalete and amazing parent, my brother who gets to go to Hawaii for two weeks to look at dams, and my other brother - the former scientist with several patents to his name. I can wander in and around and through my memories of their various life achievements. I can even do this exercise for my children - CU-2 who's done an amazing job in Girl Guides despite only getting to go to less then half the meetings. CU-3 who shows talent in so many areas that I'm looking forward to her growth with both fear and excitement.

So, while I can talk about achievements of others I find it greatly difficult to look at my own. It's been three nights that I've been trying to draw up a list as a sort of self-identifying exercise. The only things on my list so far are that I've walked Miles-for-Millions, a fund raising activity twice and both times I walked the full 26 miles (in one day). I also walked 26 miles to follow up a Chinese food craving when I worked in Yellowstone National Park.

My sister's boy did this type of exercise (identify things you've done in your life that show your achievements) as part of a high school course. She said it was an enriching process for him to see everything that he'd attained to date (racing medals, swimming awards, and report cards). She told him he could use this to build his resume, and, better yet, when he's going through a crappy time in his life, he'll be able to sit down with this record before him to show himself that he can be successful and feel pride in his achievements.

96 bottles, er, days left

Jealousy is one of the seven deadly sins, and rightly so. It tends to eat away at the very fabric of one's core if not held in check.

Regrettably, I figure this attribute is my worst character flaw.

What brings on this bout of angst you may wonder? I checked in with work this morning to read the weekly departmental wrap sheet.

Sigh.

With being out for a year on maternity leave, it's hard for me not to be part of the work environment. I feel fulfilled there and I get fulfillment from the work I do. I feel like I'm doing something more then laundry, which is not what I wanted to do when I grew up.

In today's release, there's a good, dedicated space to a colleague who picked up the 2nd, and more visible half of a project I struggled with. On one hand, I'm thrilled to be away from the project. It was gross, and my bain. On the other hand, I can be big enough to recognize that she's well on working a difficult project. On the other hand, without me mucking about in the trenches, I don't think she would have had the chance, nor would it have been this amiable.

Thus the bout of jealousy. It's eating at me. I want to be back at work. It was MY project damit! It was my turn to shine. It was my turn to get a chance at the golden ring! (Chances for me seem to come around less often then for my colleague. I just don't have the perky personality to grease the way up the ladder.)

Ooooh. Is that being too bitchy?

Like a cow, I'd like to be outstanding in my field.

My bald baby

It took three children to have the dreaded hair cut incident.

She'd walked away with a kid's scissors.

We'd thought she was working on crafts.

CU-4 was providing cover for her, distracting us by pulling down papers and getting into the tangle of computer wires.

Then it got quite.

"Where's CU-3?"

"CU-3??!"

"I'm in here Da-a-a-hd."

[It's dark in there.]

"Whatchadoing?"

"Cutting my hair."

The air caught a collective OH SHIT!

So she's got a big bald spot on the side of her head. That's an achievement the other three haven't done yet.

Addictions

Hi, my name is MongoAdventurer and I'm addicted to my kid's Webkinz games.

There. I did it. It's a first step. An achievement of sorts.

Friday's love list

Meg Fowler's thrown me a twist today - I'd have to come up with a Megish love list. Arrrgh. I find coming up with my own a tricky feat. I'd started my own, when I realized that I thought I misread the post (I had ...). Thus, for you two or three readers, here's *my* Friday love list:

Love list?

1. A back that doesn't ache.
2. Wet, cold, rainy days. I so much more appreciate the bed, a warm cup-a, books, bathes, TV, CBC radio, especially when they play jazz.
3. An old fashioned snow storm.
4. Shoes that fit well.
5. Scallops.
6. That my body still does what I need it to do, despite the abuse I've put it through.
7. Creative thinking.
8. Humor.
9. Holding hands.
10. Walking through fallen leaves.
11. The smell of a cold morning.
12. Hats.
13. Hats on babies.

What do you love?

Sadly but true

From the good fellows at Demotivators.

P.S. A good combination of the Conair back-thumper, some over-the-counter meds, and an amazing nap with CU-4 means the back is BACK! Wahoo! Laundry here I come!

Slim pickings today

Today could be a country-western song, though instead of heart-=ache, I've got back ache, and big time. Thanks to CU-4, I kind of pulled muscles in some pretty bad places.

I've also been spending my time trying to distract myself from the pain by reading other people's blogs. Meg Fowler's trash-talk was particularly funny and helpful to relieve the endorphins today.

I'll do just about anything to speed the recovery.

Free hugs

Ok, I got this off a link to a link of a blog that I was reading. It's worth reposting I think.

Happy Turkey Day

Gawd I'm knackered and stuffed! Got gross Pepto stuffed. Just nice and all roundy feeling from a pleasant dinner, great wine and fun talk with good friends.

Thank you all and happy turkey day 2007.

"Diff'rent is nice but it sure isn't pretty"

From A Chorus Line, "At the ballet"

Mother always said I'd be very attractive
When I grew up, when I grew up.
"Diff'rent," she said, "With a special something
And a very, very personal flair."
And though I was eight or nine,
Though I was eight or nine,
Though I was eight or nine,
I hated her.
Now,

"Diff'rent" is nice, but it sure isn't pretty.
"Pretty" is what it's about.
I never met anyone who was "diff'rent"
Who couldn't figure that out.
So beautiful I'd never lived to see.
But it was clear,
If not to her,
Well, then... to me...
That ...

Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.
Every prince has got to have his swan.
Yes,
Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.

Hey!...

I was pretty...

At the ballet

***
When the word different came up as the word of the week, this is what I immediately thought of. It seems, that to some degree, I live my life through snipits of musicals. When I'm happy, I sing in full voice (in my head) OKLAHOMA! or Singing in the Rain. And when I'm sad, there's a sound track to that.

I'm different. Always was. Auburn haired. Speckled like a ripe banana. I stood out from my peers. Didn't help that my mother dressed me a little more creatively then other students at my clique-y elementary school. It was too late by the time I reached junior high.

Over the years I've wanted to be part of the in crowd, or any crowd. (Much like the line from Ferris Bueller's Day off - he was popular with the dweebs and the potheads, motor heads and jocks.) Oh how I tried. Looking back, I figure I must have had some guardian angels pulling the feathers out of their wings trying to keep me on track!

A few major wrong turns, a few overcorrections later, and here I am. Happier with myself. Finding myself amongst the creatives who are different and who see it as a good thing.

I've got children who are different; each with his or her strength. I look at them and wonder if they're going to be outsiders looking in, or insiders looking out. Will they reach out or within to show compassion when there is an opportunity. How different or how conforming will they be to smooth out their journey.

Two of the four CU-s already live a different life. How is this going to mold them for the future?

They too face an amazing journey. I looking forward to watching them as they take steps, and hope they find peace with their differences.

The more things change ...

This week's word from Blog Friday is journey. Funny that.

When I first thought about it, I thought about the band Journey ("I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you" fame - for me, anyway.) Then I thought about what kind of photo response entry I could put in over at I Spy, though I don't know how many more responses I can link from that account, as I read the fine print that said it was to induce writing. Then I started to look in one of the Canadian house magazines to which I subscribe - the title of the editorial was about journies. And DH just returned from his trip, and one of the parental units left for his.

This is becoming more of a spooky coincidence thing ...

What's the point?

Little Debbies and Diet 7-up. Do the calories of one knock the other out?

Away

I was a way for four days. Just f-o-u-r little days, and what happens? All h-e-double-hockey sticks breaks loose.

- One of the three furry roommates pooped, albeit discretely, in the corner.

- My bank account got decimated (all legitimate expenses coming out).

- The paper recycling didn't get picked up. (Mind you, it might have been plastic and tin this week.)

- I got almost no mail.

- The mail I got was to tell me that my flipping order didn't go through because I had the nerve to give them a wrong credit card number!

- No one got me groceries so I came home to an empty (and dirty) refrigerator.

- I find out that sheet has been breaking out at work and I don't return for another 110 days.

- No one scooped the cat box (see first entry).

- CU-3 has overdue books.

- Came home to a message on the answering machine that CU-2 broke her arm again. (This time it's her other arm, the one she writes with.)

- Picked up emails from DXH part 2 (who's getting really really chummy) to say that CH-1 vomited in his car during the drive home on transfer day and was wondering what he'd had to eat. (It could be your breath that CU-2 complains about regularly.)

So, I'm having an OMG moment right now because DH is still away - not that I can't cope - I just can't cope with ALL OF THIS AT THE SAME TIME.

** Deep breath **

Dancing with the stars is almost on, and there was a sale of Little Debbies at our local neighborhood department store, so, I gotta' go.