Hurry Up and Wait

Country music makes me cry. It does. I can’t help it. It hits me almost every time. Happy tears, sad tears, “oh I so get that” tears. There’s this one Tim McGraw song called “Live Like You Were Dying”. It gets me every time. I’ll be sitting at my desk at work, iPod playing to distract from environmental noise and then wham…some upbeat and energetic tune gives way to Tim and I tear up. The song is about a man choosing to live his fullest life after receiving devastating news about his health. We can presume from the song that he recovers and lives to tell the tale but maybe not. It’s subjective. Maybe that I choose to believe in the happy ending means that I err on the positive side.  I hope so.

Last night, my son told me that he had a strange feeling that something was going to change.

This morning, I visited my doctor.  A follow-up appointment. Tests to “rule things out” following abnormalities that surfaced during my regular physical exam. Those things she wants to rule out include cancer. Just cancer. Tests were done and now we wait for results. She talked to me about next steps in the event of both positive and negative results.

And then I Googled. Don’t Google.

I’m a little shell shocked but mostly…neutral. It all seems very surreal and impossible. That I’m even facing this very vague possibility seems unbelievable. I can’t wrap my head around it. I think I’m writing about it now as a bit of a safe release. Saying it out loud might make it just a little more real and then I’ll have to think about it or talk about it. I’m almost completely sure that everything will be fine or at least minor and not cancer-level-unfine.

There is a nagging worry though, of course.  I am a largely single parent. My single biggest worry in life – aside from something befalling either one of my children – is that something will happen to me to keep me from them.

In the song, the man tells of how he chose to be a better friend and husband, seize every day and make the best of it. Part of me envies that conviction. A much bigger part of me hopes I never have to come to it the way he did.

Bliss, found

If you live in or near the Ottawa/Outaouais area you simply MUST visit Le Nordik.

I hesitate only slightly in sharing this little piece of bliss as it will only make it that much busier but it’s worth it if it means that someone else will relax even half as much as we did. For a few glorious hours, MM and I (actually) enjoyed doing next to nothing and I enjoyed being utterly pain-free while in the hot baths.

Go
Now

Ouch

About 2 months ago I developed a little rash. The kind of “oops I shouldn’t have eaten this or that” rash that results in itchy little hives that subside after 48 hours or so. The problem with my little derma-episode is that it is now impossible to know whether or not it was directly related to the events that followed.

A few days after the rash went away, my hands and feet started to swell. They got big and puffy and sore and then, inexplicably improved. A few days later it started all over again but this time did not improve. In fact, after days of being stubborn and progressively immobile, I found myself literally stuck in the bathtub at 1am. I reported to the hospital the following day and was given copious amounts of anti-inflammatory and morphine.

When I got home the following day I was helped into bed, where I stayed, for several days. I marked improvement by how long it took me to get to and from the bathroom and whether or not I was able to get there alone. Day 1: 28 minutes. By day 6, I was getting back and forth in 6 minutes or less without help. Triumph!

I am not good at being still. And worse yet at being cared for; that’s my job! Not having a choice in the matter was the best thing that could have happened. I was forced, by pain and people stronger than I, to heed doctors’ orders and rest.

The people in my life amazed me and I am so thankful!

My children were patient and gentle.

I and my kids were cared for by “The dads”: my dad, my kids’ dad and his dad.

My father slept over! My EX-father-in-law slept over! (they took turns so we’d never be alone).

My EX-husband stepped up and took the kids for meals and over a weekend that wasn’t his. He also, it should be noted, took me to the hospital and stayed with me for many hours.

My mom took the weekend shift when I was a little better and could spend the night alone (as the kids were with dad).

Every thread of laundry in my house was washed, folded and put away. I and my children were fed and entertained. MM visited with goodies and, with Pdot’s help, gave me a pedicure that I was powerless to stop .

I missed a solid week of work – something I have never done outside of vacation or maternity leave – and went back to work sooner than I should have.

Now, more than a month later, I am much better than I was though, for the most part, have ceased to improve and am dealing with a certain level of pain each day. Doctors are running tests and I am maintaining a medication protocol designed to allow me to function and keep the swelling bay (I can wear shoes again!). I am hopeful that whatever it is will work its way through my systems and that I will be myself again soon.

…Makes us stronger.

I got married 8 years ago today. It was a perfect fall day.
I made my own veil and designed my own invitations.
It was an early evening ceremony and I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm to Sarah Brightman’s Ave Maria (my mother had walked down the aisle to the same song on her father’s arm 28 years earlier).
I was 27 years old and beyond nervous.
Nearly 200 people watched us get married that day and even more attended our cocktail party reception at a downtown hotel later that evening.

Fast forward 8 years, 4 moves and countless crises. Today we’re divorced co-parents to two pretty fantastic children and, in my mind, can find ourselves struggling to maintain simple courtesy towards one another.

Would I have hesitated if someone had told me, as I stepped into that church 8 years ago, that the man waiting for me at the end of the aisle would walk away from our family or that I would soon be a largely single parent? Would I have gotten back into that ridiculously long, white limo and driven away if I’d known that less than 5 years after taking a vow to honour and cherish each other we’d be standing at opposite ends of our kitchen island crying while our children slept? Would I have called the whole thing off I’d had a clue what it would feel like to file for divorce of if I’d been given a glimpse of what our divorce decree would look like?

No.

Although, if I’d asked those same questions of myself 3 years ago I suspect my answer might have been different…and a damn site more emotionally wrought.

It goes without saying that if I hadn’t taken that plunge 8 years ago, I wouldn’t have the honour and privilege of being a mom to two incredible little people who, by their very existence, make every moment of every day immeasurably precious and worthwhile.

While I still find myself sobbing on occasion at a RomCom or country song whose protagonist male’s undying devotion is natural and implicit, it has given me the opportunity to grow as a person. I am able to find my independence and embrace it in a way I wouldn’t otherwise have been able to do. I have friends that I could never have hoped to have otherwise. I know that I am stronger now, more decisive.

The truth is that I’m almost grateful for the experience.
Almost.

Run baby, run

I have long wanted to be a runner. I’ve started and stopped more times than I can remember. Yesterday JT sent me a simple message saying “we’re doing the Army Run 5K. you in?”.

I hesitated.

Laughed out loud.

Tried to come up with reasons not to do it.

But a voice from a dark little corner of my mind said “Oh just do it ya pansy”. Without thinking I replied to JT with a resounding and enthusiastic “Yeah, I guess”.

Now normally, this is where I would come up with 101 reasons not to do it (no time to train, need to be with kids, this hurts, inner ear thing, prohibitive work schedule, too damn lazy and so on…) but I was reminded of 101 reason to do it, namely my dayzeroproject list which includes Run in an organized 5K race. And so, before I could succumb to the reasons not to, I signed up and paid for it. I quickly sent CH a BBM asking her to guide me (she’s a Runner – capital R) and warned her that I will try to get out of it and that I may come up with very convincing reasons to back out and I begged her not to let me. She said simply “I know you will. You’re doing it.”

Training starts tonight. I’ll have to schedule carefully and plan to run on the days when Pdot and Vman have dinner with their dad. I’ll also have to ask him to be consistent in the days he has dinner with them and the time he brings them home (this has long been a struggle but he was supportive of my WEWC walk activities and I am sure that I can rely on him for this for most of the next 6 weeks until the run…).

I’m feeling good about it. I know I can walk if/when I need to on race day. I am doing this for me, for a number of reasons: health, challenge, me time, a new playlist .
Stay tuned.

nine days

Less than 3 working days remain until I get to spend NINE uninterrupted days with my children. I can’t begin to describe how excited I am…how excited we all are.
Vman has started each day by asking me how many days are left until we get to hang out “just us”.
Pdot always answers him.
I just smile

We’ve got things planned – a small road trip, some day trips/activities, time with friends and just staying home and hanging out together.

I am taking some of my 10 annual vacation days to spend the week with my children. I have been looking forward to it since I booked the days in April. Immediately following our week+ together, they will spend 3 weeks in day camp and a final week with their (awesome!) grandfather (dad’s dad) before heading back to school. Our caregiver is due to give birth to her second child on August 16th and rather than scramble when we get the call, I decided to cover the basis throughout the month of August and into the first 2 weeks of September – just in case.

Okay…now for the rant portion of this post.
I get 10 vacation days per year. That’s it. 10. I have chosen (and yes I know it is a choice) to spend those days with my children. The Ex gets 25 vacation days per year. That’s 5 work weeks. And actually, I think he might be up to 30 days but I am not sure. He has taken/will take a week off during each month of the summer: June, July and August. He has not spent more than 30 extra minutes with his children in that time and though I have given him ample opportunity to so and have made many suggestions (including flipping our weekends around so he won’t have to go so long without a sleepover weekend) he has (mostly) politely refused. I am completely dumfounded by this. I recognize that it is a choice but how can he make the choice not to take advantage of an opportunity to be with them and then turn around and tell me (and them…ad nauseum) how much he misses them? It simply doesn’t make sense…and they’re getting wise to it.

But I digress.
Men and women are wired differently.

And I am about to spend NINE uninterrupted days with the best little people I know Lucky, lucky me!

Single mom?

I am a single mom.
I’m single. And I am a mom.
And I am a mom, on my own, most of the time.
Except…I’m not really a single-mom.

I share the privilege and responsibility of raising my children with their father and though we may not always see eye to eye (okay rarely ), we are at the parenting party together.

I look around at some of the “really” single parents I know and I know that I am fortunate.
• A former co-worker who, pregnant at 18, raised her son alone (with support from mom) while building a career and achieving an MBA.
• A friend whose partner decided that having a child didn’t fit into her life-plan (her new partner didn’t like the 6 month old) and handed that child of to his father to raise (now with his wife and their daughter).
• An acquaintance whose significant other left before learning of her pregnancy and has not taken any interest in his child.
• Yet another acquaintance who is due to give birth to her first child next month, while her husband serves his country thousands of miles away.

These are single parents.

I try to remind myself of my fortune when arguing about whether our kids (ages 6 and 4) are old enough to attend a Black Eyed Peas concert (they are not) or when nagging about the importance of keeping Pdot’s diet on track. I sometimes have to try a little harder when I find myself sad or tired or overwhelmed or moved by Vman wanting to help “so you don’t have to do all the work yourself mom” or when we’re running late – again. But ultimately, I know that for 4 days every month, they will be with their dad and I will sleep in, or stay up. I will catch up with friends, or do nothing at all. I will miss them like I cannot describe and the smiles and hugs they greet me with tell me that feeling is mutual. I have that downtime that real single parents don’t get without significant wrangling.

Having said that…when the Ex refers to himself a “single dad” I laugh out loud and fantasize about pummeling him with the mountains of laundry and school supplies and schedules and birthday parties and…

101 Update!

Time for an update to the 101 things in 1001 days list. I started in November here and I have to say I’ve not been doing as well as I could be…
Items in italic are in progress
Items with a strike are completed
For Me
1. Start and maintain a journal.
2. Meet and maintain my goal weight.
3. Treat myself to an entire day at the spa (and not feel guilty about it).
4. Dance like no one is watching…at least once.
5. Stop biting my nails.
6. Learn to be more patient with my kids.
7. Write…because I want to.
8. Watch a sunset.
9. Get a Job
10. Get a job I like
11. Take and complete at least one course contributing to professional development.
12. Start or join a book club.
13. Host a dinner party.
14. Have a party.
15. Start (and maintain) a blog.
16. Mail a secret to postsecret
17. Take my kids to church for more than just easter and Christmas
18. Take at least one DIY class
19. DIY something
20. Plant a tree
21. Learn about wine.
22. Buy a Wii and Wii fit – use it.
23. Buy at least one pair of designer shoes
24. Get a professional makeover
25. Eat vegetarian for 1 week 4 times a year
26. Send a note to people who have been on my mind
27. Learn to drive standard
28. Have a family portrait done
29. Update the Birthday Book and send birthday cards and notes regularly
30. Go coffee-free for one week at the beginning of each season
31. Get professionally fitted for a bra.
32. Ask someone out
33. Make a new friend
34. Drink 16oz of water (or more) per day at least while at work.
35. Learn how to change a tire
36. Go to a “real” restaurant and have a meal – alone. Fast food doesn’t count.

For Them
37. Tell someone I am not related to that I love them, and mean it.
38. Find a way to thank my friends for being so fantastic.
39. Spend some one on one time with my sister
40. Spend some one on one time with my mother
41. Spend one on one time with each of my children – at least once every month
42. Spend one on one time with each of my 2 oldest god daughters.
43. Tell the people I love that I love and appreciate them
44. Become active in kids’ school council
45. Give blood as regularly as is allowed
46. Donate plasma at least once
47. Re-register for the bone marrow donor list
48. Institute (and maintain) weekly family game night.
49. Create opportunities to teach my children about volunteerism at least 3 times a year
50. Find an angel tree or similar project to support and explain/encourage the kids to participate and understand
51. Create and implement a chore chart for the kids and I
52. Put together and deliver at least 3 chemo care packages to the 3 random people at the cancer centre.
53. Get passports for the kids
For Fun
54. Travel somewhere outside of North America
55. Take the kids on vacation
56. Go camping.
57. Go whitewater rafting
58. Go up in a Hot Air Balloon
59. Try new food/restaurants at least 6 times a year.
60. Go skiing
61. Run in an organized 5K
62. Go to Vegas
63. See some live comedy
64. Participate in the Weekend to End Women’s Breast Cancer at least once
65. Go zip-lining
66. Meet Terri in person
67. Have a girls’ weekend away at least twice a year (1)
68. Go to NYC
69. Go to California
70. Visit the West Coast
71. Visit the Maritimes
72. Take Pdot to see The Nutcracker – invite grandmothers.
For home and adulthood
73. Put a loonie in a piggy bank every day
74. Pay off my credit card
75. Use travel mug at least every morning.
76. Redecorate MY bedroom with at least as much care and thought as was put into decorating the kids’ rooms.
77. Buy a new TV
78. Buy a grown up dining room table
79. Create a book of tips and recipes by trial and error for Pdot’s new diet.
80. Purge the kids’ closets at the end of every season.
81. Purge my closet at the end of every season.
82. Reduce my home’s energy consumption by 10%
83. Replace carpets
84. Have ducts/furnace cleaned
85. Invest in a piece of art of my house
86. Organize the basement
87. Organize the garage
88. Put baby items on Kijiji
89. Donate what can be donated
90. Have junk hauled away
91. Buy an external hard drive and back up my computer once a month
92. Plant perennials (per tara’s suggested plan) in the front yard
93. Plant veggies in the backyard – get the kids involved.
94. Compost

For no other category
95. Donate $5 for each incomplete task.
96. Update my ipod at least once a month
97. Pay for the person behind me in the timmie’s drivethru at least once a month
98. Update this list once a week
99. Go to a drive-in movie
100. Watch 26 movies I have not seen, each beginning with a different letter of the alphabet
101. Read the newspaper – online – everyday.

Pointy

• I recently turned 35. Thirty five. It really seems as though I was just celebrating my 25th birthday and all of a sudden 35 has hit me in the side of the head without mercy. I should say that being in my mid-thirties and now officially closer to 40 than not doesn’t bother as much as where I am in my life at this age. I was never one to expect that certain milestones would be met by this age or that but it seems like, at 35, I should have more going on. I have 2 children who are (mostly ) wonderful and wonderfully entertaining. I have a house/mortgage. I’m learning to make my own repairs (with a little help from dad and the Home Depot). I’m divorced/single. I indulge my love of reading and am happy to see it rubbing off on my kids. I have a few good friends, fewer still that I can trust and rely on. In fact, I would say that very few people in my life – if any – really know me. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

• My birthday came and went without much ado. My mom and sister came by and we had hot dogs. My children chose sweet cards for me. I got a few emails, a sweet phone call from a friend whose children sang to me, and the requisite facebook wall posts. I’m thankful for all of it. I am. Generally speaking I do not enjoy being anyone’s focus. That said, when a friend said “oh we’re so going out with you on Friday and we’re totally celebrating your birthday” I guess I expected that there would be some form of celebration. Maybe a “happy-birthday-cheers” as we clanked glasses just once. Instead…instead I bought the drinks and took an $80 cab ride home when same friends decided (when were already in the car and heading home) to find a new parking spot and head to another bar. And for the record…not a single clink in my honour. It’s petty that this should bother me. And yet it does. I don’t expect much. I really don’t. I go out of my way for these people…I guess I just thought that it might have been nice to feel important. Maybe next year.

• My little sister spent Friday night with us and stuck around through most of Saturday. It was nice. She’s amazing (AMAZING) with my children and I am not sure I can tell her that enough.

• I finally made a choice and bit the bullet. I got a new TV. A pretty, shiny, 40 inch LCD. I feel a tad gluttonous but am going to convince myself that I deserve it. I will say that SpongeBob looks outstanding on the widescreen “Theater 1” setting

• Pdot and Vman were exposed to a child with lice at their daycare. I’ve checked and rechecked. The pharmacist checked and rechecked. They appear to be lice-free but I have decided to treat (and re-treat) just in case. What an onerous task! BUT our mattresses, carpets and curtains have never been son pristine. Also, kudos to my kids for their patience through the process. The Shampoo, rinse and comb-through-with-torturously-fine-tooth-comb process is less than enjoyable and they have been amazing.

• I have been in a rage of a mood lately and I’m not sure how to kick myself out of it. I am endlessly awed by happy, positive people. I really am. I follow a few on Twitter – acquaintances, people I’ve met in real life – who are such positive/bright side people. I envy that. I wish they could bottle it or teach it in a way that I would listen. Although…I’m pretty good (I think) at helping the people I care about to find their bright side and I see that as a gift that I wouldn’t trade.

parenting 101??

I like to tell myself that I’m a good mom. My kids are smart and funny and clean and well fed. They have hobbies and friends and stuff. I tell myself that I’m doing a decent job and I occasionally pat myself on the back that, as a mostly single parent, I do most of the “tough stuff” without any help.

But then there are days like today when I wonder if any of it matters. Ultimately my children are people and being a good parent is about more than knowing their friends names and their favourite colour of the week. I feel like I spend so much time doing the “tough stuff” – like reprogramming after a weekend at dad’s that consisted of takeout, Wipeout on the giant screen TVs (which I am then reminded we don’t have) and kitchen dance parties to the (inappropriate) sounds of Enrique Iglesias – that I allow myself to get too frustrated over little things. I worry if its days like today that they will remember – instead of the good stuff.

They are the people that their dad and I have made them (so far) and I have only myself to blame if they are rude or lack respect (for me, their things, each other or themselves – they do pretty well in the respect for others category). I suppose I could also say that I am also in some way responsible for their warmth and humour too. I want them to be good people. I want them to be respectful and honest and responsible and trustworthy and fun and happy…and I know they are only 6 and 4 but I feel like now is the very brief window in time during which those lessons might actually be retained.

So how do I engage them? How do I teach them in a way that will be retained that it is important to help, to respect, to listen, to be honest…and so on. I can repeat it until my face turns blue, if they aren’t listening they won’t hear it. I wonder if there are exercises we could try to help us listen to (and hear) other just a little better. I try to teach by example but again, it seems that its days like today that stick more than that day I took them to see my friends at the food bank so we could help them pack up food for families in our community that can’t afford all the great things that my children take for granted. Perhaps I also need to take a closer and more objective look at the way I treat them on an average day.

This is fueled in part by a rough part of this morning during which Pdot got entirely too upset about the way in which her toast was cut. I did not react well. I know that she would only react that way with me and it drives me crazy. She’s 6. She doesn’t understand that. It’s not her fault. The VERY LAST thing I want to do is put any pressure on them at all to feel like they HAVE to act a certain way at home. They already feel pressure to ensure that their dad feels like they love him. And I will kick myself for at least the rest of the day that I reacted the way I did. It’s not okay. She cries over things like that with me and no one else because she’s home. How dare I threaten that comfort by making her feel like her feelings are unjustified? That said we need to communicate better with each other – but that’s another issue altogether and one that I will address aggressively before she’s a tween (memories of my sister as a teen will inspire me) – Perhaps another exercise to consider.

It’s also fueled by guilt. I am doing it alone. I am doing a lot alone. That’s not their fault and it is the best thing for them, and for me. Though I didn’t choose to do it alone, I am glad that it has worked out the way it has. BUT – I get tired and frustrated and occasionally just a little down in the dumps that every day is the same with very little opportunity for fun. The time they spend with their dad is ALL fun/no responsibility and yes, YES, I am sometimes jealous of the freedom of their relationship. But then I can walk down the hall and watch them sleep 26 of 30 nights a month and I know how lucky I am. Vman wants me to sit with him to watch SpongeBob instead of putting the dishes away. Pdot wants me to sit with her and comb her hair instead of sweeping. And I want to…I really, really do. It seems like we get home after a day at school/day care and work and we still don’t see each other. That’s on me. That’s a time management issue and one that I aim to correct – starting today…well maybe tomorrow.