Words from my son

I love this kid. Every once in a while we'll have a conversation and he'll say something that gets me thinking. We just had an out of the blue conversation and it went like this...

Mom, there are people out there that think being gay is unnatural. Running around naked is natural, *looks over at the cats* I don't see our cats wearing clothes, and being gay is natural too.

I'd have a little bit of respect for those people, not much but a little, if they actually tried to live a natural life. You know, if they ran around naked in the woods, eating what they found and building a tent with their bare hands. Fending off bears with sticks. And if a tree fell on them, they just lay there because going to the hospital's unnatural.

If they want to claim they're for what's natural, they shouldn't be online or driving cars or wearing glasses or watching TV. *looks at me seriously* You know what's unnatural? It's unnatural to hate gays.

Obligatory kid photo...

 And he's right. How can someone sit in a climate controlled house that's wired with electricity, wearing clothes made with man-made fibers, heating their food in a microwave, while whining about what's "natural"? There are a lot of unnatural things in our lives, who someone loves isn't one of them.

(Attempts at) exercise...

I've got the day off today and my son went back to school, leaving me seven whole hours to myself. Talk about bliss! Or it would have been if I didn't immediately tackle his room in search of dishes and laundry. Now I know why he has nothing to wear the day after I do the laundry and where on earth all my bowls and spoons went. I'm *this* close to slapping a condemned sign on his door and writing it off.

After I carried a few loads of dishes into the kitchen and heaped my laundry basket with all the clothes son didn't see, I decided to head downstairs to the gym. I bought a new exercise bra this weekend and an arm band for my MP3 player and wanted to try them out.

Also, I'd dearly love to know if I'm the only one who's ever accidentally hog-tied themselves with an exercise bra and if it gets easier to put on. I'm a bit scared of that thing now.

I walked into the gym and there was a lady on the treadmill. Kiss of death, she had the TV on; that's when I know someone's there for the long haul. The treadmill's the best piece of equipment in the room, especially now that the elliptical died. The elliptical's usable but there's no resistance option now that the battery's dead.

And, of course, she turned the TV up shortly after I arrived. Maybe she was concerned I wouldn't hear the TV through my headphones. I already keep the music low enough I can hold conversations with my headphones on, when the TV's turned up, I can't hear the music at all. Thanks lady but I'm not interested in the beautiful doctors or Jamie Lee Curtis.

I exercised for fifteen minutes (missing my 20 minutes on the treadmill) then headed over to the pool area and discovered it's closed for a pump issue. Thankfully it should be open by this evening. When I left the room, the lady was still on the treadmill.

I walked into the elevator in gym clothes and runners, a towel draped over one arm, water bottle in the other hand, headphones over my ears, and an MP3 player strapped onto my upper arm. There's a woman in the elevator. She looks over and asks, "Are you doing laundry?" I wonder if she'll ask if I'm going to the gym when I drag my waist high laundry basket downstairs.

And now, while it's quiet, I'm going back to edit Small Dreams a bit more.

--------> off to sharpen my hatchet

Mid winter ramblings

I haven't been writing here in a while. Not that I haven't been writing, it's just that my writing time has been reserved for brief updates on Facebook and mostly working on my novel, Small Dreams.

Today, however, is different. Today I'm home with a cold and my thoughts are skittering around madly like cockroaches when the light's turned on. I'm not really focusing well enough to edit my novel so I'm inflicting my thoughts here where they're being read for free. Not that I'm actually getting paid for my novels yet but I'm hoping that will change some day. I've got no financial hopes pinned here.

I confess, I stink at editing. Small Dreams is continually bouncing around between 452 and 460 pages, kind of like a yo-yo dieter. I hack out some pages, mostly days where the main characters do nothing but go to work, come home, chat over dinner, and wash the dishes (what on earth was I thinking when I wrote those days?) then the pages creep back up in the form of dialogue and observations.

I've been observing my kids more and more for dialogue, especially now that they're teenagers and come up with interesting statements. My son, while hilarious, ends up saying things that don't really suit the characters so it's more my daughter I use. Son, I will share with you.

My son showed signs of his offbeat sense of humour years ago. Picture it. We're standing in a busy line at the movie theatre, waiting to buy tickets. He's the picture of innocence. Bright blue eyes, gleaming dark blond hair, and a smile curving his lips. He clasps both hands together, tilts his head and announces in the sweetest voice ever, "I'm a disturbing little boy." Right out of the blue.

Last week we were grocery shopping and I needed salad fixings (I pretty much always need salad fixings). I went to grab my usual mixed greens and son blurted, "No, you need to buy this one" then pointed at one of those packages of lettuce alive. It was fresh and green so I picked it up. That was when son noticed the root ball underneath.

His eyes widened. "Mom! We have to plant that as soon as we get home.We can plant it in the tree in the living room." Yeah, the ficus tree I have growing behind the futon. Because, a, it would grow so well behind the futon and, b, I want to do flips over the back every time I make a salad. So I reminded him that lettuce needs light and it was not the right time of year to grow anything on our balcony. He looked so disappointed I assured him we could grow lettuce in the summer then wanted to know why he wanted to grow it in the first place seeing as he treats lettuce like it's poison.

"Ben and Bean [our guinea pigs] eat lettuce and they're my friends. I want lettuce for them." He paused and we kept walking then he continued. "They're friends... friends I keep in a cage and never allow free."

Okay then creepy child.

Later on we were walking home and son informed me that his class is learning about people and who to trust. His teacher had a page with pictures of various people and asked the kids who they would pick off the page to trust. Every child but one picked the shot of an innocent looking child. My son picked the 6ft tall man with a mohawk. Curious, I asked him why. Not that I have anything against 6ft tall men with mohawks, it just seemed like an interesting choice.

Son rolled his eyes. "Doesn't anyone watch movies? You never trust kids that age, they're the ones who know where all the bodies are hidden."

The plus side is, if I ever decide to write a horror, I just need to follow my son around with a pad of paper and a pen.

Now my throat has convinced me that an ice cream sundae is a splendid choice for lunch. The chocolate ice cream has calcium and the marshmallow fluff is full of egg whites and protein. And the salted caramel sauce has... well it has... it doesn't matter I'm sure it has vital nutritional requirements my body needs.

Parenting, prejudice, and tough love

Update: When I first posted this entry, the photo was fairly new. I searched Facebook and discovered the person's name was there and had the same profile picture as the photo. She was friends with the person who replied and that profile picture also matched. I couldn't find the matching status but her profile wasn't set to public and, if I had a status making the rounds on Facebook (in not a positive manner) I'd have deleted it too. Then I found a non-grainy photo of the status, it looked real. I searched Google for final confirmation and found about 3 or 4 entries under her name. An Etsy, Twitter, and a MyLife account. I think there might have been one more. I couldn't find the age of her son but did confirm she was a mother. I didn't tag her in this blog as I was writing more to discuss my feelings on what was written and not the author of the status, but I didn't see the point in removing names and photos from the picture.

Several days ago I posted a link to this entry on a forum I frequent. That day the woman who set up the forum posted the picture on her own blog, Regretsy. Yesterday someone came onto the forum to claim the person was her niece and had been framed; she also posted a reply on my blog. I sent her a message asking her for more information but heard nothing. Thankfully Helen, the pseudonym of the woman running Regresty, was able to talk to the person who supposedly wrote this status. Her son is three years old, no where near old enough to walk home on his own with anyone. She hadn't written it.

Now comes the scary part. Within a half-hour of my blog entry, someone had already created a Facebook page, "[name]: Homophobe and Child Abuser?" with people sending her messages and threatening violence. And, remember I said I found three or four entries under her name? Google now brings up 17,500 results. Many of which show up as "Let's draw some more attention to [name] and her friend, [name]. ... How absolutely disgusting and disgraceful, thank you, [name] and [friend's name] ..." Page after page of identical listings. I got up to the 16th page before I found an entry that didn't have anything to do with her (one of those "Did you go to school with anyone named [first name] or [last name]? Find your friend here" entries). Note that wasn't where the entries against her ended, it was just where it stopped being all her. There are many pages beyond that.

I removed the reply to this post as it mentioned her by name. I have also removed her name from the picture and from my blog. I'm keeping my blog entry up but please keep in mind the photo is fictional. And, if you have written a blog about this photo and the women involved in it, please un-tag them and remove their names. They've had enough negative attention and would like to fade out of the public eye.

***************************************************************

I have seen this picture on Facebook several times since last night and each time it makes my heart heavy. Here's a mother determined to stamp out what should be nurtured in her child; kindness, open-mindedness, and empathy. It makes me want to give both those kids hugs. Both deserve to be able to walk home with their neighbour without threats of violence.

Her friend's comment about tough love baffles me. Obviously this person has no idea what tough love is. Tough love is allowing your teenager to deal with the consequences of their actions. They do something wrong and you do not step in to fix things for them, hoping that the results will show them in a way lectures won't. Tough love involves stepping back, you are not the consequences and you don't deal the consequences. It is not an excuse to violently pass your prejudices onto your children.

The other part that confuses me is their ages. How old are they? If they're prepubescent children then how does she know this boy is gay? Is she assuming because of interests or personality? My son was uniformly described as "sweet" when he was a child. He used to bring his baby doll to school and loved the colour pink. He's 15 years old now and hanging out with his girlfriend as I type. You can't judge kids (anyone for that matter) based on stereotypes. And, if they're old enough for this kid to have actually come out, then why on earth is she spanking her son? If she is putting her hand on her teenage son's backside, I hope someone from child protective services is investigating this family.

One proud moment in my life came one afternoon when my daughter got home from school. This was back when she was in grade eight and, for some unknown reason, the school decided it would be fun to invite all the boys and girls in the senior classes to stay at school for a sleepover. It was going to be heavily supervised and my daughter was eager to attend. All the kids were talking about it. That afternoon, however, my daughter was angry. Sarah*, a classmate of hers, had confided in one of her friends that she was bisexual. On the bus ride that morning, the friend had spread that information around. Her excuse was that she felt everyone should know before the sleepover. And, of course, that information spread within minutes of the buses arrival. Daughter got to school in time to hear a group of her classmates loudly proclaim that there was no way they'd sleep anywhere near Sarah. That was when my daughter walked up to her and told Sarah that she could put her sleeping bag beside daughter's bag. She wasn't going to spend the sleepover alone.

Anyone who's had a preteen/young teen girl knows what these years are like. Sleepover central. Two days later my daughter got an invitation to go for a sleepover at Sarah's house. What does a parent do? In my home, I request to go and visit the parents. I spoke to the Mom and got a general idea of what their home was like. Squalid and disorganized but I didn't see anything that would actively harm daughter and hoped maybe the rampant messiness would be an eye opener to prod her into cleaning her own room (it wasn't). They slept over at each other's homes a few times before Sarah moved.

I allowed daughter to deal with the consequences of her actions, with support and praise from me. If you stand up for someone in front of bullies you paint a target on your shirt. Daughter learned this as vandalism of school property (namely graffiti against Sarah) quickly occurred and was blamed on daughter by the same girls who had refused to sleep near Sarah in the first place. What did daughter learn from her actions? She has about three friends now who are "out" (I'm sure she will tell me the exact number once she reads my blog) so I figure one thing was standing up for friends and supporting them.

This woman too has learned one thing from her actions, her page is no longer totally public since her status went viral (her friend, on the other hand, seems to have missed this lesson). I can only hope she's learned something as well that her son already knew, kindness and empathy.



* yes, I just picked a name at random

Ethics, rights, empathy, and fried chicken

A couple of weeks ago my son came up to me. He was furious with Tide for discriminating against men. I haven't seen their ad as I don't watch TV, but my son explained they showed women doing a variety of household chores while thanking them for using their products. It wasn't fair that they didn't share clips of men doing household chores while thanking them.

I tried to explain to him that women, overwhelmingly are stuck with the day to day chores. Chores which no one seems to notice, let alone offers thanks for a job well done. Even in families where both the man and the woman work, the woman still has the majority of the chores land on her shoulders. Son found this hard to grasp. He lives in a house run by me, his single Mom, and he doesn't see his father often. To him, life is pretty much run by women and he's the one scrubbing dishes while I call him on the way home from work saying, "I'm on the last bus, please make sure they're done before I get there."

The discussion ended with frustration on both sides. Frustration for son because I didn't understand how he felt and frustration on my side because he wouldn't listen to what I was saying and understand the facts. Neither of us got anywhere.

Around the same time as our discussion, I began seeing discussions about Chick-fil-a on Facebook, in the online news, and on a forum I frequent. Before this I'd never heard of the restaurant. We don't have it in Canada. The basic issues of unfairness and discrimination reminded me of the discussion I'd had with son; along with the feelings of frustration on both sides.

I've done a lot of thinking over the past few weeks, helped along by copious amounts of Facebook pictures, comments, online articles, and discussions, and have finally organized my thoughts enough to share.

My first thought is on rights. We talk a lot about our rights as a society in general. When you get right down to it though, none of us have rights. We have privileges based on where we live. Just ask an Iranian woman who was a university student in the 1960's if she still has the same rights she had back then. Human rights only exist when the majority of people are willing to treat everyone relatively equally and fairly and create and follow laws to uphold those values.

That being said, I am strongly for equality and fairness. I think a society should be judged on how well the weakest members are treated, not the strongest. I feel that all people should have the right to live their lives fairly and peacefully and that children should be protected. Rights are not something that happens automatically. They are something to strive and work for. And they are worth working for.

Tightly tied to rights comes the concept of discrimination. Discrimination is being treated less than equally compared to others around you. The key words there are "less than equally". I had an interview at a fast food restaurant that ended when the owner of the store realized I was a single mother. She seemed interested in hiring me right until then. I was a great prospective employee right up until "So what does your husband think about you working?" "You don't have a husband? But you have kids. Oh. Thanks for coming in. We don't have a position for you." That's discrimination. Granted, I did nothing about it but I couldn't see the point in trying to fight to work at minimum wage for a busy body who was that interested in my personal life.

Less than equally also means in similar situations. It's discrimination if you're getting less hours at work because of your religion or skin colour. It's not discrimination if you're getting less hours at work because you show up 10 minutes late every day and call in "sick" two Fridays a month.

I am also tired of hearing about discrimination where it's being defined as "I used to get special privileges above everyone else. Now I'm expected to be treated equal to others, that's discrimination". Some handy tips to distinguish between discrimination and wanting special privileges. Discrimination is being told that you cannot pray silently to yourself in a public place or that you cannot marry another consenting adult due to gender. Wanting special privileges is when you're fighting to keep other consenting adults from getting married because it's against your beliefs or insisting that a court house is the perfect place to showcase the 10 commandments because you feel everyone else should live by your beliefs. Discrimination is a lack of acceptance for your beliefs while wanting special privileges is a lack of acceptance for other's beliefs.

And, while I'm on the topic, a lack of religious displays is not discrimination or pandering to atheism (a complaint I've heard before). A public place with no religious displays is simply a public space. Last time I checked, the library and local park were not hotbeds of atheist activity due to lack of religious symbols. If you ever see a public building with a giant scarlet A prominently displayed and the third Humanist manifesto carved in the wall, you can talk to me then about discrimination.

Also, the reason of "it's always been done this way" isn't a reason either because nothing has "always been done this way". Even if you've had every single person in the room pray before a public meeting for the past 20 years... twenty is not the same as always. And in 20 more years people will be equally convinced that meetings have "always" started without a prayer. Don't think I'm right? Listen to the people in the States who claim there's "always" been the words "In God we trust" on their money then do your own research.

The twin excuses of "it's always been done this way" and "these are my religious beliefs and you can't discriminate against them" are playing out almost daily in the States lately to the detriment of both gays and women. Like I said above, discrimination is when you are personally being affected by someone else. Wanting special privileges is when you want to be treated above others because, in your mind, your beliefs are more important than others' rights. If you personally are against birth control, the answer is simple. Don't use freaking birth control. But you have no right or reason to ban others from using it because you don't like it. Your religion keeps you from even prescribing birth control. Don't get a job where you'll need to prescribe it. If you want to be a doctor, specialize. I'm willing to bet that ophthalmologists and gerontologists are never asked to prescribe birth control.

As I mentioned above, around the same time my son was upset with Tide, there came a tidal wave of discussions regarding Chick-fil-a... a company I hadn't even heard of before. From what I understand it's a religious fast food place that sells chicken and has the weirdest slogan ever. When I first saw the slogan I thought one of my friends was mocking them. It wasn't until yesterday that I realized it's supposed to be on signs held by cows.

I was already pretty much the last person on their list of potential customers. As a Canadian I live nowhere near their restaurants. As an atheist I have no interest in going into a restaurant where the food wrappers have religious slogans and praise music blares through the speakers. And as a vegetarian I don't think they've got anything other than fries for me to eat. So my boycott of Chick-fil-a was pretty much symbolic.

What I want for all my friends is for them to be able to marry the person they fall in love with (or live common law if they so choose). I want them to be able to have kids if they want. I want them to be able to share dental benefits, go broke on a mortgage together, and in the worst case scenario be there in the ICU signing papers and speaking to doctors.

If your religious beliefs don't allow for same sex marriage, the answer is pretty simple. Don't get married to someone of the same sex. Same sex marriage has been legal in Canada for about a decade now and our country is chugging along just as usual. God did not smite us. Marriage between straight couples still occurs. Children are still being born. There are still Christians. There are still churches. There are still Christian churches who won't perform same sex marriages. And there are Christian churches who willingly do.

The thing about prejudice is it's an "us versus them" situation. Once you lump people into a group, you lose sight of individuals and see nothing more than a formless mass of "them".

My great-grandmother was born in Northern Ireland in a small town near Belfast. She moved to Canada when she was a little girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old. In Ireland, she used to drive her own little pony and cart to and from school. My parents still have her little wooden riding crop. Every morning her mother would warn her to "watch out for those Catholics... if they catch you they'll drag you off your cart and throw you over the cliffs". Nanaimo Nana lived to be 83 years old and to the day she died she believed there were Catholics and then there were good Catholics, the ones she knew personally who were different from the rest.

That's prejudice; the scary, faceless them. An amorphous mass of other, identified by nothing more than a name. How many of you who are against gay rights are thinking of people when you hear the word "gay"? Are you thinking of the red-headed teenager ringing in your order? Are you thinking of the women ziplining at a nearby park? Or the two men sitting quietly at an outdoor concert? Are you thinking of your child's music teacher? Someone in a military uniform.You probably aren't thinking of any people at all. And if you are, are they the "exceptions"? Because there are no exceptions when you're talking about a group of people. If you know one person out of a group, you know one person. An exception assumes that everyone else in the group is pretty much the same.

I tend to rant about prejudice in general. I don't want to hear about "them". You start talking about Hindus and I think of my boss who gave me a bunch of peppers out of her garden. Muslims and I think of my young co-worker who shyly explained the bracelet on his wrist, symbolizing the love between him and his sisters. Blacks... I think about my coworker who shares her lunch with me (I share too) and the friend I used to go camping with when the kids were small. The list goes on. I'm a white, middle aged Canadian female. That doesn't make me the same as every other white, middle aged Canadian female. As soon as you start referring to a group of people like they're all exactly the same, I know you're prejudiced.

All I'm asking is that when you start thinking of people as a group, stop and think. Get to know people, listen and learn. Don't just go with feelings in an argument. Your religious beliefs are just that. Yours. Use them as a guide in your life, live by them, but please remember they are yours. You  have no right to tell others how to live based on your own beliefs. Let them have their own lives and their own beliefs.

Above all be kind and be fair.

I want it and I want it NOW!

I left for work yesterday just before 5:30am and got home just after 4pm with plans of making either pancakes or waffles for dinner. Both were nice and easy and both could be used for a quick lunch for son today. I checked the fridge as soon as I walked in and we had just enough milk left. Of course, a half hour later when I went to make the pancakes, son had already drank over a cup and we no longer had enough.

I grumbled and we headed out to the grocery store to pick up milk and something for dinner as by that time I didn't really feel like making pancakes. We headed down the dairy aisle first then son started down the ice cream aisle. We looked at the huge row of tantalizing confections and son burst out, "It's not fair. I can't get ice cream because of your stupid diet". I assured him we could go back to the dairy aisle and pick up cream then he retaliated with, "No! Then we'd have to wait until tomorrow and I don't want to have to wait. I want ice cream now!"

At the time I simply empathized with him. It wasn't fair. Why does our food have so much stuff in it? I'm not talking about added vitamins and minerals. I'm talking about edible fillers used so our food is almost the same as the original but cheaper to produce. High fructose corn syrup instead of plain sugar. Cellulose gum in cartons of 35% whipping cream. And I said to him, "What does it do to our bodies when so much of our food has fillers added so they can be made more cheaply? Things that are edible but taking the place of food with real nutritional value. Why can't we buy a carton of ice cream at the store that has nothing but cream, eggs, sugar, milk, and vanilla? Why can't I buy a simple carton of whipping cream that has an ingredient list comprised of cream?" Or more specifically why can't I buy a 500mL carton for under $9 when the rest of the cartons are $3.99?

This morning I thought back to one day last week. It was a hot sunny day and I knew I had an hour ahead of me, after work, before I got home. This includes a walk around a city block through downtown to transfer from one bus to another (thanks darn one-way streets). But I'd made two different batches of ice cream the night before and was looking forward to having a bowl after dinner. I couldn't wait to open the freezer and pick my ice cream. That's when I realized we're missing out on one other crucial ingredient these days. Anticipation.

My Mom commented once about credit cards and layaway. That up until the 1950's, people simply didn't have credit cards. If you wanted something, you saved up your money until you could afford it then bought it. If there was something you wanted desperately, like an engagement ring, and were worried it would be gone ahead of time then you put it on layaway and made payments towards it until you'd paid it off. But you didn't get it until you'd made your final payment.

These days there's no waiting. If you want something, go out today and get it. From the little things like a bowl of ice cream to the big things like furniture. We live in the NOW. Not mindfully, not the Buddhist tradition of "living in the now", but like toddlers who can't wait for their cookie. "I want it and I want it now", versus "I will not fret about the past or worry overmuch about the future, instead I'll savour today and live life for this moment".

That afternoon, while I pondered my ice cream, felt a little like Christmas. Something good was going to happen when I got home. Something tasty. Something I liked. And I couldn't rush it. It was going to happen in it's own time.

These days anticipation happens less and less frequently. It doesn't matter what we want (especially in urban areas) we can get it right away. Our grocery store is open 24 hours a day and so is our drug store. At least one of the local fast food outlets is open about 22 hours a day and several more for the full 24 hours. If you want burgers at 2am, they're good with it. If I want to watch a TV show, on demand television brings it to my living room any time I want. If I want to read a book, I can buy it and instantly download it to my ereader this second.

Each one individually isn't a bad thing. I love being able to pick out a book to read at bedtime. And when we moved in here and were still unloading the moving truck at 11pm, it was great to be able to run to the store for cold drinks and food. But as all these conveniences move into our lives, we experience anticipation less and less. I could run across the street and buy a loaf of bread right now. I could go a few more blocks to an actual bakery and pick up a loaf of fresh bread. But we'd miss out on the aroma of fresh bread permeating the apartment for the last hour before the bread was done. We'd miss out on that first slice, the one where the bread is finally cool enough to cut but still warm enough to melt butter.

And that's what I want for my kids. Eat an apple, have a piece of cheese, but otherwise you have to wait because Mom's making real food for dinner. Anticipate. It's good for you.

Exercise and all that good stuff

A few years ago, when I weighed 212lbs, I fluffed off mobility issues as "middle age". Rolling over in bed was a struggle. I couldn't do it in my sleep, in fact I had to haul myself over using my headboard. But, well, I was almost 40 years old. I couldn't expect to stay young forever. I woke up every morning with an aching back (which thankfully faded away by breakfast). I chalked that up to an old mattress. Forty(ish) pounds later I know I was deluding myself. Rolling over is easy again and my back never hurts even though I have the same old mattress. These days I revel in how well my body moves.

I got off work early today and suggested a walk to my son. He promptly asked if we could ride our bikes instead. The busses in our area all have bike racks so I agreed. We took the bikes downtown and headed onto the trail. Of course, since he rides his bike regularly and I've only been riding since the beginning of the month, I almost never saw him. He'd wait for me by a bridge or bench then, within seconds, he'd be down the trail again while I peddled along by myself.

The trail, as you can see in the picture to the left, is quite lovely. It wends its way from the downtown core to the lakeside, alongside a creek. There are no interruptions, no roads to cross. It goes under bridges (alongside the creek) along the whole route. I love walking this trail and it's just as nice to ride. I know we're in the middle of the city but I love biking along listening to the birds and the leaves rustling.

When we got to the lake I immediately discovered a swing set off in the corner of the park, facing the lake. I promptly asked my son if he wanted to swing and he did. The swings were quite high off the ground and I had to pull myself up by the chains to get to the seat. There I sat, legs dangling and toes unable to reach the ground, until I asked my son for a push. I also asked him to take a photo. He took six, this was my favourite.

We went home shortly after this photo was taken, which turned out to be a good thing as thunderstorms started rolling in about an hour after we got home. It was clear skies and sunshine for our whole bike ride.

I went for a swim with my son last night and think I'll head downstairs with him soon for another swim. Just because it feels good to get my body moving.

Beginnings and endings

My son and I took the bus to our new neighbourhood on Saturday. We walked around looking at local shops while I handed out resumes then took a walk around the outside of our new building and through the nearby park. Both of us agreed we couldn't wait until we moved. Everything is so close by and convenient. Three grocery stores, a big drug store, a mall, pet supply stores, bakery... the library just a walk through the park... conservation area a short bike ride away.

That night I packed a few more boxes and wondered at how quickly our home is turning into just another apartment. Each box removes a bit more personality. I looked forward to pulling everything back out in a few weeks and making our new apartment a home. Our days here are ending and our lives in a new home are about to begin.

On Sunday, son and I walked to my work to pick up a big packing box. Soon we noticed flashing lights ahead and a police car parked on the sidewalk. Then police tape came into view. My heart sank, and I commented to son that I hoped nothing happened to the elderly couple in the first house. We drew closer and realized it wasn't their house, it was the house my friend's ex-husband used to live in. Him and his girlfriend moved less than a year ago. They have shared custody and that was the night he always had the kids.

We walked past and looked at the damage. The front of the house looked the same but there were huge holes burned through the roof and the windows on the east side were charred and broken. I hoped no one was home and we continued on our way. Of course, before long we were informed by several people that three adults had died in the blaze. A tragedy for sure, but it didn't directly affect us. I was mainly relieved my friend's children weren't living there when the fire broke out.

I had a short shift at work yesterday and the phone rang within minutes of me coming home. It was my son and he was clearly in tears. He wanted to come home. Could he please come home? I, of course, asked why. 

"Mom, Hollie died. She was in the house that caught on fire and she died. Please let me come home."

We talk about how teenagers think they're immortal but that belief extends to adults too. I never thought I'd have to comfort my children over the death of a classmate, a peer, a friend. We walked home in the rain, while my son asked me all the hard questions. Why did she die Mom? Did she hurt? Why do bad things happen to good people? Could I have made a difference? What if I'd been allowed to be outside until after midnight? Could I have seen it and saved them? How come the fire hydrant didn't work? Who's supposed to check them? Why couldn't they get out? Why didn't the landlord have safer stairs?

We go through life blindly assuming everything will stay the same. If things don't work out today, we'll have another chance to make things better tomorrow. Like life has a guarantee. Hug the people you love today, tell your kids you love them, show your friends you care. As I told my son, there isn't a reason why. There's no one sitting there deciding who is going to die and who will live. Sometimes life plain stinks. Sometimes bad things happen to good people. Sometimes wonderful things happen to bad people. All we can do is try our best to be good to the people around us. If their lives are going great we can make them even better. Otherwise, we can try to be a bright spark on a gloomy day.

Rest in peace kids... I hope you were aware in life how much you meant to so many people.

Conversations with my son

Yesterday afternoon, my son poured himself yet another glass of milk. He goes through a 4L bag of milk in about a day so him pouring a glass isn't that odd. He looked at the milk, sighed, then said, "If I could have any superpower in the world, I'd love to be able to make milk. It would come shooting out of my fingers every time I wanted a glass."

My first thought was, of course, mess. I've seen how easily he can trash a room even without milk spurting from his fingertips at a thought. Slopping while pouring a glass is nothing compared to a child who got thirsty in the middle of the night and flooded his whole bed and floor with milk.

Then came my second thought. "I had that superpower," I commented nonchalantly. His eyes widened. "You did?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes hon," I reminded him. "I breastfed you for years and your sister too."

I'm not sure if me having his "superpower" moved me up a notch in his mind, or bumped his superpower down.

Then came our conversation last night. In the past week, son's picked up a weird cough. It doesn't happen often, maybe once or twice a day. But when he coughs it's disconcerting. He asked if he could have asthma and I jump and think he's choking each time. He draws a gasp of breath in then chokes and wheezes for a few seconds... then is fine again. Of course he picked this up the day before going away to visit his grandmother and came home on Friday evening, after the doctor was closed. I'm making him an appointment tomorrow but, as of yet am clueless as to what it could be.

We're chatting on the couch when my son looked at me and asked, "Mom, why do I keep coughing like this?"

I'm known for being just a tad sarcastic and my reply was a deadpan, "It's the bubonic plague. I'd write my will now if I were you."

Son sits upright and eagerly asks, "Really? What's the bulbic playground?"

Sarcasm works so much better when the person you're talking to is listening and knows what the hell you're talking about.

Also, I labelled this post "bubonic plague" just to see how many people find it through that tag.

Trip to the dentist... take two (and Thanksgiving)

Back in August, my son went to the dentist and needed a filling. Just a small filling but it was deep enough that the dentist decided he would need some freezing. It would only take five minutes total.

Son freaked. Completely and utterly freaked. Enough that the dentist decided he would do better sedated. Naively I pictured a mask (as did son) and agreed.

We went into the dentist last month for the initial assessment. This was when we realized it was IV sedation. But he would get oral medication to relax him first and laughing gas. He probably wouldn't notice the needle. Famous last words.

Fast forward to today. We went off with Emla patches on his hand and inside of his elbow. Son got two little pills to place under his tongue, then we sat in the waiting room for a half hour while he got sleepy and a bit giggly. He giggled his way to the dentist's chair and laughed at his "clown nose" (the laughing gas mask). So we were all taken a bit by surprise when he went into freaking hysterics when the needle was being inserted. Son is not a little kid, they actually thought he was 18 years old when we walked in (they were off by four years) and he's strong. There was no way we could hold him down for a needle... not even the four of us together.

They decided to pull out the big guns and stuck him in the arm with some needle. Note I don't have a freaking clue what they injected him with... I'm sure they told me but I was draped across a hysterical teen and it flew right over my head. Whatever it was worked though, he was frantically crying one second and asleep the next. He never even noticed the IV being inserted.

They called me in after the filling was done. His eyes were open but he wasn't home. He didn't react to my voice... didn't track my finger when I waved it in front of his eyes. Then he started shaking. The nurse said that was common. Then informed me he was so out of it, he'd probably sleep all afternoon. I had visions of me working on my novel and getting some baking done while he blissfully snoozed on the couch. HA!

The first warning sign was when he woke up and discovered we were at the dentist. Where was the treasure box? He needed a prize. Thankfully he got his toy, even though he hasn't had one in years. The box is full of toys aimed at small children (bouncy balls, plastic bracelets, foam airplanes) as a reward for making it through their appointment.

Second warning sign was on the way to the car when he started insisting he could walk on his own... while falling against my arm with his head lolling on his shoulder.

For the last two hours he's been up every minute (two at the longest). He's hallucinated, cried, laughed, demanded food (only to want a single bite of yogourt), then passed out for a minute. Only to start up again and again. I'd naively figured I could run downstairs and chuck in a load of laundry while he napped. Instead I found myself scared to use the bathroom because son was positive he was fine and could walk and kept getting up.

"Mo-om... I can walk all by myself," he'd slur while staggering into a wall. "I just want to sleep in my own bed," he'd protest. Meanwhile he has a loft bed. Mr. Staggering-into-walls is not climbing a ladder to his loft bed. Especially when he's going to attempt climbing back down in 60 seconds.

I think, hope, the worst is over. He's physically able to sit up on his own now (something he couldn't do a half hour ago) and is calmly watching YouTube videos. He just walked into the kitchen a minute ago without holding onto anything or walking into a single wall.

I had grand plans of blogging what I'm thankful for this weekend. Then ended up busy enough that I didn't have time. Which, in itself is something to be thankful for.

I worked on Saturday and walked home in absolutely incredible weather. It felt more like balmy mid-June weather instead of early October. I was tired of being inside and packed son up so we could go on a walk. Unfortunately, I worked until 3:30pm, so by the time I got home, collected son, got a bite to eat, and hopped on the bus, it was after 5pm. The sun was setting at the beginning of our walk and dusk began to fall just as we got into the more heavily wooded part of the trail. Since it's not lit, we decided to bail. Thankfully we were about a block away from the bus that takes us directly home. The walk was still wonderful and I got a few amazing pictures of the moon. This is one of my favourite shots.

Sunday was even more incredible than Saturday and, once again, I couldn't imagine just sitting at home. Son was a bit more resistant about going out so I agreed to just go across the street to our local trail. The first part of the trail is very short and, for a decent hike, I usually walk into the back of the park and hit the dirt trails. I hadn't been there since July when I discovered the trails were completely overgrown and was thankful to discover those vines had died off and the trail was once again clear. The sunlight poured like thick, warm honey across us and the trees. It truly was bonus weather! Son invited his friends over for Thanksgiving dinner then went to their place for a sleepover.

I'd just woken up on Monday morning when my phone rang. A friend of mine wanted to know if I'd be interested in going to his sister's house with him. I didn't have any plans for the morning so said "sure". I'm pretty easy to entertain. I'm equally as likely to say "sure" for a run through the car wash. I was a little surprised to find out his partner wasn't coming with us, then more surprised to discover his sister didn't know son and I were coming. Surprise doesn't cover finding out we were heading over there so he could read over his father's will. Thankfully his father's alive and well and the will reading was over in five minutes.

As I said in the car, when I start wishing that I could get out of the house and talk about *anything* other than elevators and Minecraft (which I don't play)... I really need to get more specific.

The visit was fun though. My friend's nephew is a year younger than son and both are right into Lego, Pokemon, and Nintendo. Friend's sister asked if we wanted to go to the Brick Works and I, of course, said "sure" even though I really wasn't sure what the Brick Works were.

The Brick Works were amazing! We started out at the kilns. The whole area is covered in spray painted art and there was a bride getting her pictures taken in there. Scattered around the building are long, skinny tunnels with tracks running through them. They were originally built for drying bricks. Behind that was a courtyard where I took this picture. We didn't get into the wooded trails as son was wearing flip-flops. Instead we followed trails around a turtle pond, while the kids ran up hills. Monday, weather-wise, was the best day of the weekend. It was shorts and t-shirts weather and felt more like a hot August afternoon.

We went to my parents' house for dinner that evening and had a quiet family dinner. Then sat out in the backyard until dark.

I've spent much of the weekend thinking about what I'm thankful for and there are a lot of things. Most are pretty obvious. I'm thankful for the health of myself and my family. I'm thankful we live in a country with fresh, clean water readily available at the turn of a tap.

I'm thankful that I live in an area where driving isn't a necessity. I'm scatterbrained and almost never remember my left and right so this should be something everyone's thankful for. I have four buses that go by my home almost every day multiple times a day (one bus doesn't run on weekends).

I'm thankful I live in a country where being an atheist is seen as more of quirk than a sign of moral deficiency... unlike the States which had George Bush announce, before he was elected, that he didn't know if "atheists should be considered as citizens".

I'm thankful that I can walk across the street seven days a week and pick up clean, fresh, and healthy food at a reasonable price. And I'm thankful I have a kitchen with a stove, fridge, sink, and microwave in which to prepare that food.

I'm thankful for my pets... goofy critters that they are.

I'm thankful I'm literate and surrounded by books.

I'm thankful for my kids. They have enriched and changed my life in uncountable ways.

I'm thankful for my friends. They have shared my laughter, my tears, and seen me in all states of quirky.

I could go on forever but, since I've crammed the equivalent of three blogs into one, I won't.