Vancouver city council has decided to pay the savings forward after this summer's three-month civic strike. For wallowing in filth and dealing with a lack of services for three long, hot months, property owners and businesses will be getting a break on their taxes. A whopping $40 for the average property owner and $220 for businesses.
Renters, like us, get nothing.
CBC story
Wednesday, February 6
I love Carolyn Hax
Somehow, even the questions that seem to have no bearing on my life (like today's letter asking questions about dating and bad choices) enlighten me in little bits and bring me closer to understanding myself.
Read - and subscribe to her often updated feed. It is a worthwhile stop in these messy internets.
Read - and subscribe to her often updated feed. It is a worthwhile stop in these messy internets.
Tuesday, February 5
peeling off my mom pants
I've been trying so hard to figure out what to write here. Things are moving so quickly in my life. Rigby is already three months old. She is teething and will put anything she gets her hands on into her mouth. Sebastian will be three in less than two months, we're potty training (having set a deadline for ourselves of three, back when three seemed so far away). It is insane, we have no idea what we're doing. And this kid is super keen to pee on the pot, but not poop.
I hear it is normal, but just because many kids do it doesn't make cleaning various stanky articles of clothing any easier. We've switched back to cloth diapers for both kids. We've been using disposables for a little longer than I am really prepared to admit - but I am letting go of my guilt over our frivolous waste.
I am letting go of a lot of guilt.
Which is really hard and really quite necessary. It is going to take a while before I'm willing to let go of my guilt and anxiety over my home. I am proud of my home when it is clean and organized.
Friday, February 1
so long supermom
This whole idea of there being a great, amazing, perfect picture of parenthood is so fucking demoralising. I get told everyday that I should be young, fit and supple, I should be smart, saintly and creative, I should be balanced, firm and patient, I should fucking glow with buckets of love all the time.
I don't.
I don't believe that anyone does and yet I hold myself to this idiotic standard. Worse, I've held other mothers to this standard. I've totally judged another mother not against myself, but to a fucking magazine mom. I just assume other everyone does it - though I admit that I'm likely a bit paranoid, which then makes me wonder who actually cares enough to judge me, aren't we too narcissistic to really give a shit what anyone outside our immediate family does with their lives. Then, of course, I think of reality TV. We, as a culture, LOVE to judge one another - not so paranoid after all. Society has mysticised and deitised supermom and we tell each other that this is not just attainable, but something mothers ought to be constantly striving for.
Can I tell you how much this has tripped me up?
I went into motherhood around the time Gwynneth, Britney and a handful of other stars were making babies. Pregnancy was sexy, babies were everywhere, I was recently married, had recently finished college, had a huge amount of debt and wanted nothing more than to have a baby. I had heaps of reasons, but it all boiled down to two things, I was in love and I didn't have anything else going on. I didn't give any thought to the difficulties inherent in spending the majority of your time with the same short person or people, day after day. I assumed that my kid would be perfect. I had read books, plus I had a bunch of negative childhood experiences to avoid, I figured I was going to be a brilliant mother and find the whole experience profoundly satisfying.
I quickly figured out that I didn't have a clue what I was doing, so I picked up all the glossy magazines and a bunch of baby books and studied. I mean that I studied my ass off and figured I had this parenting thing down pat. I began doing all the "right things", cloth diapering, attachment parenting, breastfeeding, baby sign, I worked to change my whole life. Some of it stuck, a lot of it didn't and some of it has made me miserable.
Compared to the me of four years ago I am now much neater, I care about the environemnt, I care about nutrition, I follow politics, I listen to the BBC and NPR, I don't own a TV, I worry and fret, I have a therapist and an anti-depressant, I have lists and I nag, I'm concerned about developmental delays and toxins in toys, I can balance a lean budget, I can handle most small crises, I can bake bread, I make play dough and I sew really nice things. Yet, I don't think I do enough. Before my son's birth, I had begun thinking about not just owning my own store, but about designing and creating. When I left my job to go on mat leave I figured I would have heaps of time to do things like knit, sew, draw, paint, write, and run an online store.
My online store exists, it has a banner I spent a few days designing, a profile that was written with wit and absolutely nothing in it.
It has never had anything in it.
My focus was on making sure I provided my son with all the right stimulation and interaction. I was obsessed with making sure my kid turned out better than normal.
It was unreal, the lengths I went to - my husband and I moved in with a couple of friends because we wanted our son too grown up in a community. Forgetting the fact that I am just about the worst roommate ever, I am bossy and I have weird systems that I really do seem to expect everyone else to just automatically understand and follow. I am totally self-centred and have an unending inner dialogue that distracts me to the point that I have been known to say things out loud in response to it. I once gave my husband the silent treatment for an hour over something that was said in my head. The community life was a almost laughable disaster - a casualty of which was one of my longest friendships.
I joined and even ran a mom's group - I met a load of other mothers, many of whom I had nothing in common with and could barely relate to. It was nice to get out of the house, but there were days I could barely bear to go to playdates - being unable to stand some of the participants idiosyncrasies. I did learn not to be too quick to judge others. I did not, however, extend that as easily to parenting. I had whole books on parenthood memorised and would cluck my tongue when I saw those rules being disregarded. It helped that my son was incredible, he communicated early, was friendly, outgoing, and most importantly, absolutely adorable. People loved him and congratulated me, they asked advice and offered praise and I ate it all up. I was awesome at the mothering gig, I was SUPERMOM!
Yeah, then he changed, as kids tend to do, he grew up a little and changed a lot and I was so lost. So I just held onto my idea of Supermom, I had been it which must mean I could be it, I must have failed somewhere. I read parenting books and articles and blogs, I looked for the missing link. I would jump from idea to idea, technique to technique in an effort to quickly master motherhood "again". I was so sure there would be a simple answer. Like those questions at the end of a chapter in a schoolbook that was directly quoted and all that was required was to fill in the blanks. I thought if I could just find the right reference I could solve the problem. What the fuck is that all about?
I was there for my childhood, I remember being difficult, angry, confused. I remembered being disciplined, I remember pushing buttons, I remember giving adults hell. And it wasn't just me, my friends did it too. Did I really expect to avoid all that? Would I even want to?
And yet, and yet, there's this impression that there is a way to do it right.
What happens if I do do it right? If I do have it all together, if nothing outside of perfect happens in my little world? What happens if I achieve the ends I so desperately strive for? With the whitest whites, the healthiest meals, the cleanest counters, the kindest children?
What would it cost?
I am standing up to my internal supermom and telling her that I don't need her any more. That I don't enjoy her company or appreciate her "help". She doesn't have to go home, but she can't stay here.
I don't.
I don't believe that anyone does and yet I hold myself to this idiotic standard. Worse, I've held other mothers to this standard. I've totally judged another mother not against myself, but to a fucking magazine mom. I just assume other everyone does it - though I admit that I'm likely a bit paranoid, which then makes me wonder who actually cares enough to judge me, aren't we too narcissistic to really give a shit what anyone outside our immediate family does with their lives. Then, of course, I think of reality TV. We, as a culture, LOVE to judge one another - not so paranoid after all. Society has mysticised and deitised supermom and we tell each other that this is not just attainable, but something mothers ought to be constantly striving for.
Can I tell you how much this has tripped me up?
I went into motherhood around the time Gwynneth, Britney and a handful of other stars were making babies. Pregnancy was sexy, babies were everywhere, I was recently married, had recently finished college, had a huge amount of debt and wanted nothing more than to have a baby. I had heaps of reasons, but it all boiled down to two things, I was in love and I didn't have anything else going on. I didn't give any thought to the difficulties inherent in spending the majority of your time with the same short person or people, day after day. I assumed that my kid would be perfect. I had read books, plus I had a bunch of negative childhood experiences to avoid, I figured I was going to be a brilliant mother and find the whole experience profoundly satisfying.
I quickly figured out that I didn't have a clue what I was doing, so I picked up all the glossy magazines and a bunch of baby books and studied. I mean that I studied my ass off and figured I had this parenting thing down pat. I began doing all the "right things", cloth diapering, attachment parenting, breastfeeding, baby sign, I worked to change my whole life. Some of it stuck, a lot of it didn't and some of it has made me miserable.
Compared to the me of four years ago I am now much neater, I care about the environemnt, I care about nutrition, I follow politics, I listen to the BBC and NPR, I don't own a TV, I worry and fret, I have a therapist and an anti-depressant, I have lists and I nag, I'm concerned about developmental delays and toxins in toys, I can balance a lean budget, I can handle most small crises, I can bake bread, I make play dough and I sew really nice things. Yet, I don't think I do enough. Before my son's birth, I had begun thinking about not just owning my own store, but about designing and creating. When I left my job to go on mat leave I figured I would have heaps of time to do things like knit, sew, draw, paint, write, and run an online store.
My online store exists, it has a banner I spent a few days designing, a profile that was written with wit and absolutely nothing in it.
It has never had anything in it.
My focus was on making sure I provided my son with all the right stimulation and interaction. I was obsessed with making sure my kid turned out better than normal.
It was unreal, the lengths I went to - my husband and I moved in with a couple of friends because we wanted our son too grown up in a community. Forgetting the fact that I am just about the worst roommate ever, I am bossy and I have weird systems that I really do seem to expect everyone else to just automatically understand and follow. I am totally self-centred and have an unending inner dialogue that distracts me to the point that I have been known to say things out loud in response to it. I once gave my husband the silent treatment for an hour over something that was said in my head. The community life was a almost laughable disaster - a casualty of which was one of my longest friendships.
I joined and even ran a mom's group - I met a load of other mothers, many of whom I had nothing in common with and could barely relate to. It was nice to get out of the house, but there were days I could barely bear to go to playdates - being unable to stand some of the participants idiosyncrasies. I did learn not to be too quick to judge others. I did not, however, extend that as easily to parenting. I had whole books on parenthood memorised and would cluck my tongue when I saw those rules being disregarded. It helped that my son was incredible, he communicated early, was friendly, outgoing, and most importantly, absolutely adorable. People loved him and congratulated me, they asked advice and offered praise and I ate it all up. I was awesome at the mothering gig, I was SUPERMOM!
Yeah, then he changed, as kids tend to do, he grew up a little and changed a lot and I was so lost. So I just held onto my idea of Supermom, I had been it which must mean I could be it, I must have failed somewhere. I read parenting books and articles and blogs, I looked for the missing link. I would jump from idea to idea, technique to technique in an effort to quickly master motherhood "again". I was so sure there would be a simple answer. Like those questions at the end of a chapter in a schoolbook that was directly quoted and all that was required was to fill in the blanks. I thought if I could just find the right reference I could solve the problem. What the fuck is that all about?
I was there for my childhood, I remember being difficult, angry, confused. I remembered being disciplined, I remember pushing buttons, I remember giving adults hell. And it wasn't just me, my friends did it too. Did I really expect to avoid all that? Would I even want to?
And yet, and yet, there's this impression that there is a way to do it right.
What happens if I do do it right? If I do have it all together, if nothing outside of perfect happens in my little world? What happens if I achieve the ends I so desperately strive for? With the whitest whites, the healthiest meals, the cleanest counters, the kindest children?
What would it cost?
I am standing up to my internal supermom and telling her that I don't need her any more. That I don't enjoy her company or appreciate her "help". She doesn't have to go home, but she can't stay here.
Friday, January 25
stepping back
You might have noticed that I haven't been around much... you might not have. But since the holiday I have not been writing much. I am working through all my emotional "stuff" as well as being this mom/wife creature. There is a lot of catching up to do, things I started and really want to follow-through and finish (like last year's taxes, a commissioned piece and something to be mailed) and I can not shake this feeling that the internets are eating my time and my mind.
It isn't just that, though, I'm also at a point where I need to reduce my life to the necessary and valuable. I am tearing away the clutter, both material and figurative, and for this I need some time. There are projects to be finished or abandoned, relationships to cultivate, time to manage.
I hope this blog is something I come back to, and soon. But for now I am backing off and re-evaluating pretty much everything.
Much love to all my friends. You can always email me: idylliaATgmailDOTcom.
It isn't just that, though, I'm also at a point where I need to reduce my life to the necessary and valuable. I am tearing away the clutter, both material and figurative, and for this I need some time. There are projects to be finished or abandoned, relationships to cultivate, time to manage.
I hope this blog is something I come back to, and soon. But for now I am backing off and re-evaluating pretty much everything.
Much love to all my friends. You can always email me: idylliaATgmailDOTcom.
Friday, January 18
I am mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted.
Sebastian has resumed his toilet training. We're optimistic that this time we'll have what it takes to push through and get it done. Well, I'm sort-of optimistic. I've been feeling so lazy about this whole process, I guess I just hoped it would just happen, like so many other developmental milestones have. But he is pretty attached to his diaper and I am pretty tired of all the poopy laundry. Plus there's preschool to think about. I really, really REALLY want him to start going to preschool soon.
I made him a chart for the fridge, bought sparkly Thomas the Tank stickers and we're off. He is currently roaming the house naked and earned his first sticker 20 minutes ago.
It may *sound* like we're off to a great start, but I am feeling so impatient and bitchy that I have a feeling I am undoing all the good that's been done.
Sebastian has resumed his toilet training. We're optimistic that this time we'll have what it takes to push through and get it done. Well, I'm sort-of optimistic. I've been feeling so lazy about this whole process, I guess I just hoped it would just happen, like so many other developmental milestones have. But he is pretty attached to his diaper and I am pretty tired of all the poopy laundry. Plus there's preschool to think about. I really, really REALLY want him to start going to preschool soon.
I made him a chart for the fridge, bought sparkly Thomas the Tank stickers and we're off. He is currently roaming the house naked and earned his first sticker 20 minutes ago.
It may *sound* like we're off to a great start, but I am feeling so impatient and bitchy that I have a feeling I am undoing all the good that's been done.
Saturday, January 12
rolling, rolling, rolling
I've been up and down and up and down lately. It sounds like a lot more fun than it actually is.
I am one of those unlucky few breastfeeding mothers who doesn't get a post-partum break from periods, nor did it help me lose any weight last time around. Jury's still out this time around, but it isn't looking great. So last week was punctuated by an intense bout of PMS. Plus our favourite family hang-out was still closed for renos, AND we were in post-holiday recovery mode. I am surprised we made it through the week relatively unscathed. I managed to lose it on both my son and my husband - all the while a voice screaming in my head that "my anxiety is creating exactly the situations I am trying to avoid. Stop it!"
I think that means I'm growing.
I have been having wonderful conversations with people. Wonderful, helpful, engaging, interesting and enlightening. I've been giving myself permission to run off and spend time with friends and family without my kids in tow (or without both kids) - I am fraught with feelings of guilt over abandoning them, but its weight is slowing me down less every time I walk out the door.
Today I left my kids and husband at home and enjoyed a lunch and shopping trip with my friend Shannon. She and I are crazy-similar, so our meetings are always full of drama, soap-boxing, challenges and lots and lots of laughter. We went shopping after lunch and I found a couple more things to send off to my very patient swap partner. I feel so bad about missing the date that I really want this package to rock her socks. Plus I'm hoping to take her up on an offer to stay a night when I go on my journey to Portland.
That's right, this girl (and her little girl) are going on a road-trip in April to see Elizabeth Gilbert in Portland. We're driving straight there, then we have three days to wander home. This is a totally indulgent trip, I hope it will allow me some time to connect with myself and experience something outside of normal. My husband and father are supporting me financially (Dad), physically (Andrew) and emotionally, and without that support this would not happen. I've been sitting on the idea for a few days, letting it sink in, and while some anxiety has creeped up over it, it has only barely dulled the excitement (perhaps to a more realistic point) and I still want to go and I still want to go alone. I've begun telling people about it. Strangers, mostly. The guy at the bookstore who mentioned her coming to Vancouver (it was sold out) and got the ball rolling, the waitress who commented on the book (which I had just gifted to my friend Shannon - purchased used from said bookstore), you...
In other news, I had my first CBT session yesterday. It was great. I like my therapist and the fact that I was able to find a sitter for Sebastian. I came away from our initial meeting with a couple of small goals, a little more insight into my thinking, and a lot of resources. I see her again in two weeks, she thinks she can get me some extra sessions (I'd normally get 5-8) if I agree to be filmed for a provincial training program (she said I'd be "great" for it - I am choosing to take that to mean she thinks I am personable and eloquent (chatty) and not that I am so nuts I'd make a great case study). I'll also start group therapy soon - as long as I can get 8 weeks of mid-day childcare... I do think it is possible.
Hang on - I just remembered I want to put another coat of paint on Sebastian's closet doors while he's out.
We are now once more coat of yellow and two coats of blue and brown away from having his room finished. This has been one long, drawn-out project, which we will likely continue to change and tweak (glowing stars, anyone? little flowers? woodland creatures?) - but it is nearly done. His room is now home to a four-wall mural depicting a nice Dick Bruna-esque outdoor scene. It makes me think of the line from Where the Wild Things Are where "his ceiling hung with vines, and the walls became the world all around." I'll post photos when it is done *and* we have a decently sunny day.
I am one of those unlucky few breastfeeding mothers who doesn't get a post-partum break from periods, nor did it help me lose any weight last time around. Jury's still out this time around, but it isn't looking great. So last week was punctuated by an intense bout of PMS. Plus our favourite family hang-out was still closed for renos, AND we were in post-holiday recovery mode. I am surprised we made it through the week relatively unscathed. I managed to lose it on both my son and my husband - all the while a voice screaming in my head that "my anxiety is creating exactly the situations I am trying to avoid. Stop it!"
I think that means I'm growing.
I have been having wonderful conversations with people. Wonderful, helpful, engaging, interesting and enlightening. I've been giving myself permission to run off and spend time with friends and family without my kids in tow (or without both kids) - I am fraught with feelings of guilt over abandoning them, but its weight is slowing me down less every time I walk out the door.
Today I left my kids and husband at home and enjoyed a lunch and shopping trip with my friend Shannon. She and I are crazy-similar, so our meetings are always full of drama, soap-boxing, challenges and lots and lots of laughter. We went shopping after lunch and I found a couple more things to send off to my very patient swap partner. I feel so bad about missing the date that I really want this package to rock her socks. Plus I'm hoping to take her up on an offer to stay a night when I go on my journey to Portland.
That's right, this girl (and her little girl) are going on a road-trip in April to see Elizabeth Gilbert in Portland. We're driving straight there, then we have three days to wander home. This is a totally indulgent trip, I hope it will allow me some time to connect with myself and experience something outside of normal. My husband and father are supporting me financially (Dad), physically (Andrew) and emotionally, and without that support this would not happen. I've been sitting on the idea for a few days, letting it sink in, and while some anxiety has creeped up over it, it has only barely dulled the excitement (perhaps to a more realistic point) and I still want to go and I still want to go alone. I've begun telling people about it. Strangers, mostly. The guy at the bookstore who mentioned her coming to Vancouver (it was sold out) and got the ball rolling, the waitress who commented on the book (which I had just gifted to my friend Shannon - purchased used from said bookstore), you...
In other news, I had my first CBT session yesterday. It was great. I like my therapist and the fact that I was able to find a sitter for Sebastian. I came away from our initial meeting with a couple of small goals, a little more insight into my thinking, and a lot of resources. I see her again in two weeks, she thinks she can get me some extra sessions (I'd normally get 5-8) if I agree to be filmed for a provincial training program (she said I'd be "great" for it - I am choosing to take that to mean she thinks I am personable and eloquent (chatty) and not that I am so nuts I'd make a great case study). I'll also start group therapy soon - as long as I can get 8 weeks of mid-day childcare... I do think it is possible.
Hang on - I just remembered I want to put another coat of paint on Sebastian's closet doors while he's out.
We are now once more coat of yellow and two coats of blue and brown away from having his room finished. This has been one long, drawn-out project, which we will likely continue to change and tweak (glowing stars, anyone? little flowers? woodland creatures?) - but it is nearly done. His room is now home to a four-wall mural depicting a nice Dick Bruna-esque outdoor scene. It makes me think of the line from Where the Wild Things Are where "his ceiling hung with vines, and the walls became the world all around." I'll post photos when it is done *and* we have a decently sunny day.
Wednesday, January 9
catching up, clearing out
I've been on a cleaning and culling rampage. I've been ruthless in my drive to clear our tiny apartment of unnecessary clutter, ridding my life of those mountains of miscellany that threaten to drown us.
Case in point, we haven't filed our '06 taxes yet. I didn't even realise it until our mid-month child tax benefit money stopped showing up in our bank account. Yeah, this is just one of the reasons I laugh when people accuse me of being really organised. Anal? Yes. Organised? No.
It was a process to get our information updated with various government agencies, but one I am glad we finally got done. In all of our moving about we'd downright confused pretty much everyone to the point where *we* stopped being able to recall our own post code, phone numbers and address. Next time we move (fingers crossed, it will be a good couple of years) we will remember to take care of all that crap right off the bat. Not that I adore everyone we owe money to knowing how to find us, but it is better than not knowing we have a problem because no one has been able to reach us. I discovered, in the process, that one of my student loans is nearly paid off! Score!
Another window into my utter lack of organisational skills is the delay between my daughter's birth and the mailing of her registration of birth. I rock. Oh and there's the gift swap I totally flaked on that I am now scrambling to finish and send off (it'll be extra-special, because I feel like an ass, plus my swapee is an awesome woman who deserves a super special gift).
To make me feel even assier, and also wonderful and loved, I received a gift from my partner this morning. A gorgeous set of bug-themed wine-glass charms, inspired by my ladybug visit the day before Rigby was born, with a wish for "many more lovely encounters with harmless bugs." Also in the package was a great hair-tie, a egg-shaped shaker from her daughter to Sebastian, a very nice card and two really neat magnets made from peel&stick magnet paper and found images. She even threw in some blank magnets for me to play with!! I'll be saving them for something inspired.
Ahhh - my mama-sense was tingling and I made it to the bedroom what I can only assume was moments before my son made another attempt at putting on makeup*. He found my box of crap from last year's misguided decision to become a Mary-Kay consultant (oh, I shit you not) and was playing with a sample card. The box will likely be gone by the weekend as I get it and everything else posted free and cheap on craigslist. Someone is coming by on Friday to take the most annoying set of toys** that has ever lived in our house. Well, maybe not *the* most annoying, there was that singing bunny:
But anyways, the cleaning. It is making me mad, driving me absolutely batty, keeping me up at night (a little). Last night I was writing a list and at the bottom added the lines: "I should be sleeping, but here I am, up making lists," and "Stop thinking things through to their improbable conclusions." The first one is obvious, the second not so much. It came after I again had a fantasy of fame and fortune as a result of pluck and serendipity. I get those a lot. I go just as far with bad things, envisioning my son as a burly biker, starting fights for kicks when he does something like today's stand-off over the climbing toy in the mall play-pit.
*The first attempt was last week, shortly before heading out with friends for the morning, when he dug into my brand new waterproof mascara and got it all over his face. Later, we discovered he'd actually managed to put it in the right place too - with his glasses on we couldn't tell, but when they came off for the night, sure enough his eye lashes were clumped with the stuff. Frankly I'm proud of him, putting mascara on properly is hard, and from the smudges on his frames, he didn't even remove his glasses to do it. I keep my mascara and most makeup up high now.
**Don't click this unless you hate me already.
Case in point, we haven't filed our '06 taxes yet. I didn't even realise it until our mid-month child tax benefit money stopped showing up in our bank account. Yeah, this is just one of the reasons I laugh when people accuse me of being really organised. Anal? Yes. Organised? No.
It was a process to get our information updated with various government agencies, but one I am glad we finally got done. In all of our moving about we'd downright confused pretty much everyone to the point where *we* stopped being able to recall our own post code, phone numbers and address. Next time we move (fingers crossed, it will be a good couple of years) we will remember to take care of all that crap right off the bat. Not that I adore everyone we owe money to knowing how to find us, but it is better than not knowing we have a problem because no one has been able to reach us. I discovered, in the process, that one of my student loans is nearly paid off! Score!
Another window into my utter lack of organisational skills is the delay between my daughter's birth and the mailing of her registration of birth. I rock. Oh and there's the gift swap I totally flaked on that I am now scrambling to finish and send off (it'll be extra-special, because I feel like an ass, plus my swapee is an awesome woman who deserves a super special gift).
To make me feel even assier, and also wonderful and loved, I received a gift from my partner this morning. A gorgeous set of bug-themed wine-glass charms, inspired by my ladybug visit the day before Rigby was born, with a wish for "many more lovely encounters with harmless bugs." Also in the package was a great hair-tie, a egg-shaped shaker from her daughter to Sebastian, a very nice card and two really neat magnets made from peel&stick magnet paper and found images. She even threw in some blank magnets for me to play with!! I'll be saving them for something inspired.
Ahhh - my mama-sense was tingling and I made it to the bedroom what I can only assume was moments before my son made another attempt at putting on makeup*. He found my box of crap from last year's misguided decision to become a Mary-Kay consultant (oh, I shit you not) and was playing with a sample card. The box will likely be gone by the weekend as I get it and everything else posted free and cheap on craigslist. Someone is coming by on Friday to take the most annoying set of toys** that has ever lived in our house. Well, maybe not *the* most annoying, there was that singing bunny:
But anyways, the cleaning. It is making me mad, driving me absolutely batty, keeping me up at night (a little). Last night I was writing a list and at the bottom added the lines: "I should be sleeping, but here I am, up making lists," and "Stop thinking things through to their improbable conclusions." The first one is obvious, the second not so much. It came after I again had a fantasy of fame and fortune as a result of pluck and serendipity. I get those a lot. I go just as far with bad things, envisioning my son as a burly biker, starting fights for kicks when he does something like today's stand-off over the climbing toy in the mall play-pit.
*The first attempt was last week, shortly before heading out with friends for the morning, when he dug into my brand new waterproof mascara and got it all over his face. Later, we discovered he'd actually managed to put it in the right place too - with his glasses on we couldn't tell, but when they came off for the night, sure enough his eye lashes were clumped with the stuff. Frankly I'm proud of him, putting mascara on properly is hard, and from the smudges on his frames, he didn't even remove his glasses to do it. I keep my mascara and most makeup up high now.
**Don't click this unless you hate me already.
Tuesday, January 1
douze - non défini
Why do I feel compelled to start the year off with a list of things I don't like about myself and want to change?* It feels like a duty of the adult - the kid in me thinks it is simply absurd. I am going to borrow an idea from some women wiser than me and make mine a list of things I am and things I aspire to be. I don't know if that changes anything at all, but it might.
1) I love myself.
2) I care deeply about my impact on the environment and do things to lessen it. I walk when I can, I reuse, I recycle, I bring my own bags to the shops and I compost.
3) I am a calm and patient person. I am compassionate and empathetic.
4) I am a writer. I practice writing daily so that I can grow up to be a good writer.
5) I make clothes for my kids and what I can't or don't make I get second-hand.
6) I am funky, I have funky kids, but I'm not worried about being trendy or cool.
7) I spend my downtime working on worthwhile endeavors. I rarely flit about the internet aimlessly. I sew and knit and read.
8) I am frugal, I save money by shopping in thrift stores and by owning less stuff. I shop responsibly and limit waste. I put the money I save to good use by paying down our debts. One day we will be debt-free.
9) I buy organic food. I rarely buy meat, but the meats I do buy are either organic (beef, chicken, etc) or wild (salmon). I always buy organic eggs and milk.
10) I am humble and seek out wisdom and knowledge. I meditate and do yoga.
11) I am organised enough to keep on top of the necessary and manage to have some kind of social life. I rarely lose my keys. My house is tidy. My bathroom is clean.
12) I can read and understand simple French.
That's it. I could likely go on (and on and on). Some of the list is stuff I already do/am but want to keep consciously working on. Some of it is stuff that I imagine would make me a better person, or happier and more complete. I have no time for resolutions that weigh me down (like the one that says I want to lose weight), so they're gone this year.
*last year's list hit about 45 and could have kept going
1) I love myself.
2) I care deeply about my impact on the environment and do things to lessen it. I walk when I can, I reuse, I recycle, I bring my own bags to the shops and I compost.
3) I am a calm and patient person. I am compassionate and empathetic.
4) I am a writer. I practice writing daily so that I can grow up to be a good writer.
5) I make clothes for my kids and what I can't or don't make I get second-hand.
6) I am funky, I have funky kids, but I'm not worried about being trendy or cool.
7) I spend my downtime working on worthwhile endeavors. I rarely flit about the internet aimlessly. I sew and knit and read.
8) I am frugal, I save money by shopping in thrift stores and by owning less stuff. I shop responsibly and limit waste. I put the money I save to good use by paying down our debts. One day we will be debt-free.
9) I buy organic food. I rarely buy meat, but the meats I do buy are either organic (beef, chicken, etc) or wild (salmon). I always buy organic eggs and milk.
10) I am humble and seek out wisdom and knowledge. I meditate and do yoga.
11) I am organised enough to keep on top of the necessary and manage to have some kind of social life. I rarely lose my keys. My house is tidy. My bathroom is clean.
12) I can read and understand simple French.
That's it. I could likely go on (and on and on). Some of the list is stuff I already do/am but want to keep consciously working on. Some of it is stuff that I imagine would make me a better person, or happier and more complete. I have no time for resolutions that weigh me down (like the one that says I want to lose weight), so they're gone this year.
*last year's list hit about 45 and could have kept going
Monday, December 31
a year in review
What an incredible year. I look back on it and my little complete family and wonder a little how so much drama could have possibly left me so whole.
Last year at this time I had grand plans - I was going to go back to school, run a playgroup, write, have an etsy store, lose weight, make friends, eat healthy, save money, be a better person.
Turns out I didn't go back to school, my pregnancy a convenient excuse to put my academic future on hold for a while longer; I briefly ran a playgroup, but it was a pain in the ass, really; I wrote - this little blog is all the writing I did, but for someone who only recently discovered a love of writing, it ain't so bad; my etsy store still stands empty and that's okay - one day I will think of something clever to put in there, but for now I am happy to let my little shop rot; I did lose weight, but I also gained weight and I am ending the year at nearly the exact same size I began it; I did make friends and I connected with old friends (it was the year of facebook, after all), I also lost friends - some with a great bang, some faded away and one left on a jet-plane, I miss every one of them.
Eat healthy, save money and be a better person are sort of bullshit resolutions. We all make them, but most years they don't really mean anything other than "I want to make better choices." I think that if I were to tally up my good choices and my bad ones, the good would come out on top. Every year since I left my mother's home I have eaten a bit healthier*, this past year no exception. I buy organic, unprocessed foods, we eat mostly local and vegetarian fare BUT we also have the occasional fast-food meal, or pizza or greasy chinese. Next year I plan to continue that trend towards more responsible eating. Saving money is a hard one for us, but this year we were more responsible with our money and our budget, next year we will keep trying and, with luck, we will begin to see the end of our debts (this year we did see the end of calls from angry creditors - a start!).
As far as being a better person... I am. I am better at being me at the end of 2007 than I was at the beginning. Hopefully I will be even better next year.
I am happy to see this last complicated year pass - but I am not going to delude myself into thinking 2008 will be a great year. The world is big and a little scary, I don't know what will happen, so I will do what I can right here at home. I will keep working to raise responsible kids, I will keep working to reduce my impact on the environment, I will support local farmers and local businesses, I will give what I can and I will take only what I need, I will love with compassion, I will think a little less and I will do a lot more.
Cheers!
*my mom is a great cook and always served healthy meals. It was after I left that I started really gorging on crap food.
Last year at this time I had grand plans - I was going to go back to school, run a playgroup, write, have an etsy store, lose weight, make friends, eat healthy, save money, be a better person.
Turns out I didn't go back to school, my pregnancy a convenient excuse to put my academic future on hold for a while longer; I briefly ran a playgroup, but it was a pain in the ass, really; I wrote - this little blog is all the writing I did, but for someone who only recently discovered a love of writing, it ain't so bad; my etsy store still stands empty and that's okay - one day I will think of something clever to put in there, but for now I am happy to let my little shop rot; I did lose weight, but I also gained weight and I am ending the year at nearly the exact same size I began it; I did make friends and I connected with old friends (it was the year of facebook, after all), I also lost friends - some with a great bang, some faded away and one left on a jet-plane, I miss every one of them.
Eat healthy, save money and be a better person are sort of bullshit resolutions. We all make them, but most years they don't really mean anything other than "I want to make better choices." I think that if I were to tally up my good choices and my bad ones, the good would come out on top. Every year since I left my mother's home I have eaten a bit healthier*, this past year no exception. I buy organic, unprocessed foods, we eat mostly local and vegetarian fare BUT we also have the occasional fast-food meal, or pizza or greasy chinese. Next year I plan to continue that trend towards more responsible eating. Saving money is a hard one for us, but this year we were more responsible with our money and our budget, next year we will keep trying and, with luck, we will begin to see the end of our debts (this year we did see the end of calls from angry creditors - a start!).
As far as being a better person... I am. I am better at being me at the end of 2007 than I was at the beginning. Hopefully I will be even better next year.
I am happy to see this last complicated year pass - but I am not going to delude myself into thinking 2008 will be a great year. The world is big and a little scary, I don't know what will happen, so I will do what I can right here at home. I will keep working to raise responsible kids, I will keep working to reduce my impact on the environment, I will support local farmers and local businesses, I will give what I can and I will take only what I need, I will love with compassion, I will think a little less and I will do a lot more.
Cheers!
*my mom is a great cook and always served healthy meals. It was after I left that I started really gorging on crap food.
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