What a horrendous couple of months I just had. Work has been insane and after the nightly chaos of dinner, cleanup and bedtime, I just never have it in me to gather my thoughts for a blog. Blech.
But so much has happened. School is rolling along and the positive difference I see every day in Kieran is quite gratifying. The school still has some policies that I think are odd and sometimes downright ridiculous (ie - they refuse to administer Kieran's asthma inhaler, if he requires it during school hours we are supposed to drive to the school and do it ourselves. Which will be fantastic considering that both Eric and I work about 45 minutes away...without traffic.I suspect I will have more to say about this in the future.)
Eric pointed out not long ago that when I do blog I have been neglecting our little Papaya. Certainly, this is not intentional. Kaya is a doll and we love her to death. Generally sweet and good-natured (except of course, when she's not), she is currently fascinated...obsessed even...with changing her clothes. When I say you will never see her in the same outfit twice, I mean, even if you were with her for 1 hour at our house, you would likely see her in several different outfits...sometimes all at once. I do remember Kieran going through this phase, but Kaya's is far worse. Of course, that may be because girl clothes can go so disastrously wrong. Kieran had an array of jeans and neutral pants and pretty much all shirts go with all pants. Girl clothes...not so much. She's gone to daycare with some pretty fantastic ensembles lately. I don't care that much though...it might be general fatigue or simple ambivalence on my part, but mostly, I let her wear what she wants because, hey, it's not like I have to look at her all day.
In other news, I have had the past two days off work. Since work has calmed somewhat, I seized the opportunity to take a couple days off to do some Christmas shopping, get a much need haircut, etc. For my 40th, a group of friends had gotten together and given me a spa day, so I figured that I would spend the first day of my mini-vacation pampering myself. They had given me some WaySpa certificates, which means there are a lot of places to choose from, but I picked one that is quite close to my house. I'd driven by it but never gone in, I know someone who had been there for a pedicure, and the reviews online were fine. So I booked the Stress Relief package which was a 30 min massage, facial, manicure and pedicure. Nothing fancy, but covering all the basics.
I arrive a bit late (I thought I was early, but turns out I had the apt time wrong) and the first thing the woman says to me was "did you remember your flip flops?" They hadn't mentioned this on the phone, but I assumed that meant that they don't provide any at the salon. No big deal I said, but the woman seemed shocked, so I offered to go home and get them. She looked at the time and said no, that we would "figure it out". Then she said she would go get the room ready. OK, I think, here is another yellow flag..I mean, I was 15 minutes late...really, instead of sitting at the reception desk waiting for me, why wouldn't they be getting the room ready? But whatever, I will be soon be getting my Stress Relief package so I decided not to be annoyed.
Once in the massage room, the therapist(Maria) asks the standard questions, and wants to know if I had any areas that needed to be worked on. Now, I hold all my tension in my neck and shoulders, so show her my tense spots and with that, we get underway. I'm lying on the table and she starts what is the second-worst massage I have ever had in my life. (The absolute worst was the day after my wedding, when the masseuse (and I use that word soooo loosely) basically tickled me for an hour, but that is yet another story for another post, I guess).
Anyway, there was no massage aspect to what she did. She basically rubbed lotion on me for the entire time. I'm not sure why she bothered asking if I had any areas I wanted her to work on since she clearly had no intention of doing any sort of massage. But then it was over (bad sign that while I was getting my "massage" I was thinking about where else I could go to get a real massage?) Then, facial began. I've only ever had one other facial in my entire life, but it seemed standard. It's just applying and removing lotion from your face for an hour. But a few times she leaves the room for an extended period while some unguent that has been applied dries, and while the therapist is gone you relax on the warm table and listen to the spa music. Except within minutes of her leaving the room, the spa music system craps out and the hallway is filled with commotion as the 4 women who are employed there (I was the only client there at that time) try to fix the sound system. Four late middle age ladies trying to fix a sound system is just as painful as you might imagine and I can hear every word. It was like listening to my mother try to fix something technical, which is to say, it just made me want to stand up and storm out of the room and try it myself) For the love of God ladies, has no one ever told you that your rooms are not soundproofed? Anyway, the music never did come back on but I got to hear the women chat about what they ate for lunch and the fact that they were running out of toilet paper.
On to the pedicure...fine, standard, nothing fancy but the toes look nice. Since I am woefully sans flip flops Maria takes what is essentially a thin piece of foam that connects at the top to make a totally low rent paper sandal, and we move onto the manicure.
We settle in for the manicure which is set up near the front of the spa. The spa owner was on the phone with Rogers trying to consolidate her services on her bill. Call centres are annoying, I know, I've been there. But I can hear things escalating out of control: she starts getting exasperated, then irate and finally angry at the poor customer service she is receiving (oh, the irony). While the owner is otherwise occupied, one of the other employees comes up to Maria to go over the purchase of light bulbs, wax strips, toilet paper and Kleenex. They take the opportunity to bitch about the spa owner who is now yelling at Rogers. ("Do NOT transfer me again! I would like to speak to a manager!").
Then, the third therapist comes over and can't figure out how to access Line 2 on the phone. Maria shows her. She comes back two minutes later because she can't figure out how to hang up. Gah. Who ARE these people?
Then, of course, my cell phone rings. I can hear it in my jacket pocket, but I'm mid-manicure so I let it go. Then it rings again. And again. I tell the woman to stop and go get my phone. It's Eric and he needs me to pick up the kids because he's running late. I tell the woman that I'm going to have skip the nail polish because I have to go, so we wrap it up.
I bend down to put my shoes on the woman is horrified. I tell her the polish is dry - the pedicure was at least a half hour ago, probably longer. But she tells me that I have leave the spa wearing the paper on my feet. I sort of snap...I had already told her that I had leave to pick up my kids from daycare and unless the massage room doubles as her bedroom, she must be well aware that it is now winter outside. There is NO WAY I am leaving wearing paper shoes in December. Maria rushes off and comes back with kitchen plastic wrap which she wraps around my completely totally dry toes before she lets me put my shoes on. Finally, I toss the certificates at them and fly out the door.
I cannot get out of there fast enough.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
The Lunchbox Blues
Now, it is definitely fall. We had to dig out hats and mittens yesterday morning and today, finally, the furnace had to go on.
School is rolling along. I think we are all getting the hang of it. Kieran no longer complains, and in fact, usually seems quite enthusiastic about going. Apparently there are still quite a few kids who are having trouble adjusting and are still crying and clinging to their parents at drop off.
Tomorrow they go on their first class field trip...to the grocery store. Seriously...not exactly the happiest or most original place on earth, but they will get to pick out a pumpkin for their class. I'm also guessing it will be another opportunity to teach them about "healthy food choices" which seems to be a rather large part of the curriculum.
Except of course on Wednesdays, otherwise known as Pizza Day, which started last week.
The already ubiquitous permission slip came home (I swear, I think I have signed at least 10 so far) saying that Wednesdays were now $2 Pizza Day, and by signing the form, Kieran would be allowed to have pizza every Wednesday provided he brought the money. I signed the slip and returned it...then I didn't really think about it again. I packed Kieran's lunch as usual for Wednesday. At pickup time, the teacher told Eric that Kieran was a very "sad little boy" at lunch that day because he was only one of two kids who didn't bring money for the pizza. I assume there were either tears or pouting, maybe both. I felt badly for him. I wasn't intentionally depriving him, but I also didn't think it would be a big deal and that lots of kids would have brought their own lunch.
But I do grumble a bit at the double standard of even offering a weekly pizza day though. After all, we went to "curriculum day" where we met the teacher, and her assistant ECE, to go over the daily routine. After the teacher wad finished, the ECE had her turn. She, apparently, had a bit of a bee in her proverbial bonnet about what kindergarteners are bringing in their lunch and snacks. She had a real hate-on for juice boxes (sugar! food colouring! juice from concentrate!...for shame, parents, for shame) Granola bars with more than 5 grams of sugar (which by the way, is all of them) and says that we should be packing more fresh vegetables. Even though I understood, and agree with, what she was saying, this sort of thing vaguely annoys me. I was also quite sure that I was probably NOT a real offender for lunch crap. Kieran always gets fresh fruit (often two kinds) and yogurt and cheese, a granola bar (for shame), a either half a mini bagel with cheese (which he rarely eats) or a thermous of soup. Occasionally I packed carrots or cucumbers or snap peas, but not every day. But he was also getting a juice box and usually some sort of cookie or treat. Now, he brings only a (reusable) water bottle, and the juice and treat have disappeared. Because, as I said...I agree with her.
However, a few days after this meeting, this article appeared in newspaper. Some nutitionist had gone into full day kindergarten classes and was appalled at what she found. Astonished! Failing grade for lunch packing kindergarten parents! But reading the article I was even more annoyed. Again there were us horrible, horrible parents packing juice boxes and almost all lunches had least one sugary treat. Hardly any parents pack milk (which I'm sorry to say, I cannot even fathom sending). Some parents packed cold hot dogs or improperly stored spaghetti. And even yogurt tubes and cheese strings were not "the most healthy choices in that group." Yadda yadda.
OK, so here is my rant: The nutritionist says kids need to eat to learn and by extension, the better the food, the better the learning. But he vast majority of 4 years old (some are still three) are notoriously picky eaters. If I had the time, initiative and resources to every day pack an entire days worth of homemade, unprocessed, exclusively healthy food, Kieran most likely would not eat most of it. To a certain extent, he would go hungry. Obviously, I do want him to eat in order to learn, so is it better that at 9:30 snacktime he eats the granola bar he loves and then can concentrate or does he open his lunchbox and chew a couple of snow peas or cucumber slices, poke at his cottage cheese and then be hungry until lunch? Because I feel like that is what will happen more often than not. Sure maybe at lunch or at the end of the day he would eat it, but what about that missed time in the morning when according to the curriculum is when most of the "learning" takes place?
Most kids like some healthy foods but you need to send quite a bit of food for the entire day. You aren't there to cajole or negotiate or bribe them into trying that new healthy food you have carefully prepared. I actually sympathize with parents who sent the cold hot dogs - I'm sure they are just trying to send stuff their kids will eat. Because maybe the well-intentioned tuna or turkey sandwich came home squished but untouched every day last week. Maybe the parent thought in a moment of lunch packing desperation that "Ethan loves hot dogs, maybe I'll pack one with a bit of ketchup and he'll eat it up and be happy". And now, there is that moderately poor decision written up in the Star for all holier-than-thou parents to mock and cluck at in distain.
But, I guess the nutritionist is vindicated because Kieran no longer gets to bring juice or a treat. He now always gets a couple of veggies, which usually come home, but dammit I send them and when they do come home, I toss them in the garbage like any good mother should.
I think it's safe to assume the majority of parents do want what is best for their kids, and do want them to eat healthy. But judging from the clinginess we still see at our school, they are also just little kids going off to school for the first time all day and we want to make them happy. Which is why I will be sending Kieran tomorrow with his toonie for Double Standard Pizza Day.
But I'm still fairly certain that our newspaper nutritionist would be astonished(appalled! failing grade!) if a kid showed up with pizza in his lunch box.
School is rolling along. I think we are all getting the hang of it. Kieran no longer complains, and in fact, usually seems quite enthusiastic about going. Apparently there are still quite a few kids who are having trouble adjusting and are still crying and clinging to their parents at drop off.
Tomorrow they go on their first class field trip...to the grocery store. Seriously...not exactly the happiest or most original place on earth, but they will get to pick out a pumpkin for their class. I'm also guessing it will be another opportunity to teach them about "healthy food choices" which seems to be a rather large part of the curriculum.
Except of course on Wednesdays, otherwise known as Pizza Day, which started last week.
The already ubiquitous permission slip came home (I swear, I think I have signed at least 10 so far) saying that Wednesdays were now $2 Pizza Day, and by signing the form, Kieran would be allowed to have pizza every Wednesday provided he brought the money. I signed the slip and returned it...then I didn't really think about it again. I packed Kieran's lunch as usual for Wednesday. At pickup time, the teacher told Eric that Kieran was a very "sad little boy" at lunch that day because he was only one of two kids who didn't bring money for the pizza. I assume there were either tears or pouting, maybe both. I felt badly for him. I wasn't intentionally depriving him, but I also didn't think it would be a big deal and that lots of kids would have brought their own lunch.
But I do grumble a bit at the double standard of even offering a weekly pizza day though. After all, we went to "curriculum day" where we met the teacher, and her assistant ECE, to go over the daily routine. After the teacher wad finished, the ECE had her turn. She, apparently, had a bit of a bee in her proverbial bonnet about what kindergarteners are bringing in their lunch and snacks. She had a real hate-on for juice boxes (sugar! food colouring! juice from concentrate!...for shame, parents, for shame) Granola bars with more than 5 grams of sugar (which by the way, is all of them) and says that we should be packing more fresh vegetables. Even though I understood, and agree with, what she was saying, this sort of thing vaguely annoys me. I was also quite sure that I was probably NOT a real offender for lunch crap. Kieran always gets fresh fruit (often two kinds) and yogurt and cheese, a granola bar (for shame), a either half a mini bagel with cheese (which he rarely eats) or a thermous of soup. Occasionally I packed carrots or cucumbers or snap peas, but not every day. But he was also getting a juice box and usually some sort of cookie or treat. Now, he brings only a (reusable) water bottle, and the juice and treat have disappeared. Because, as I said...I agree with her.
However, a few days after this meeting, this article appeared in newspaper. Some nutitionist had gone into full day kindergarten classes and was appalled at what she found. Astonished! Failing grade for lunch packing kindergarten parents! But reading the article I was even more annoyed. Again there were us horrible, horrible parents packing juice boxes and almost all lunches had least one sugary treat. Hardly any parents pack milk (which I'm sorry to say, I cannot even fathom sending). Some parents packed cold hot dogs or improperly stored spaghetti. And even yogurt tubes and cheese strings were not "the most healthy choices in that group." Yadda yadda.
OK, so here is my rant: The nutritionist says kids need to eat to learn and by extension, the better the food, the better the learning. But he vast majority of 4 years old (some are still three) are notoriously picky eaters. If I had the time, initiative and resources to every day pack an entire days worth of homemade, unprocessed, exclusively healthy food, Kieran most likely would not eat most of it. To a certain extent, he would go hungry. Obviously, I do want him to eat in order to learn, so is it better that at 9:30 snacktime he eats the granola bar he loves and then can concentrate or does he open his lunchbox and chew a couple of snow peas or cucumber slices, poke at his cottage cheese and then be hungry until lunch? Because I feel like that is what will happen more often than not. Sure maybe at lunch or at the end of the day he would eat it, but what about that missed time in the morning when according to the curriculum is when most of the "learning" takes place?
Most kids like some healthy foods but you need to send quite a bit of food for the entire day. You aren't there to cajole or negotiate or bribe them into trying that new healthy food you have carefully prepared. I actually sympathize with parents who sent the cold hot dogs - I'm sure they are just trying to send stuff their kids will eat. Because maybe the well-intentioned tuna or turkey sandwich came home squished but untouched every day last week. Maybe the parent thought in a moment of lunch packing desperation that "Ethan loves hot dogs, maybe I'll pack one with a bit of ketchup and he'll eat it up and be happy". And now, there is that moderately poor decision written up in the Star for all holier-than-thou parents to mock and cluck at in distain.
But, I guess the nutritionist is vindicated because Kieran no longer gets to bring juice or a treat. He now always gets a couple of veggies, which usually come home, but dammit I send them and when they do come home, I toss them in the garbage like any good mother should.
I think it's safe to assume the majority of parents do want what is best for their kids, and do want them to eat healthy. But judging from the clinginess we still see at our school, they are also just little kids going off to school for the first time all day and we want to make them happy. Which is why I will be sending Kieran tomorrow with his toonie for Double Standard Pizza Day.
But I'm still fairly certain that our newspaper nutritionist would be astonished(appalled! failing grade!) if a kid showed up with pizza in his lunch box.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Settling In.
So, not surprisingly I guess, things seem to have settled a bit on the school front. At least, I think it has. The shine of "I'm starting school!!!!" appears to have been more or less officially been replaced by the nagging feeling of drudgery that I recall from childhood. In fact it started last Thursday (Day 3) when I told Kieran to get dressed for school and he was incredulous: "I have to go to school AGAIN?". This week, he seems to be learning to accept his fate as student in perpetuity.
Although, he did finally bring home a "Welcome to JK" letter the other day, which told us his teacher's name, along with a few choice other things that would have been helpful to have known last week. You know..things like don't pack anything resembling a nut, or seafood, or apparently bananas, since a child in his class is allergic to them. I have never heard of a banana allergy...but none of the contraband items are Kieran staples anyway so that is fine.
We got called today to go get him because he was complaining of a "tummy ache". I am actually surprised we haven't received this call earlier because this kid has complained about stomach aches for as long as I can remember. He usually says it's because he "ate too much lunch" and sometimes dramatically rolls around a bit and then is totally fine. Still, he now has a Dr appointment for tomorrow just in case. I would hate to flippantly blog about his "faux" illness and then have it actually BE something legit. I'm even less thrilled that he has already figured out the trick to getting out of school early. Harumph.
On Friday, we have his "Junior Kindergarten Orientation" where, presumably,we will be able to ask questions about procedures, etc. It will come exactly a day too late for me to ask how I get my child excused from school for doctors appointments. Do we still send handwritten notes? Do I call the office? Do I show up and loiter outside his classroom until someone confronts me? (OK, probably not the last one) Argh. I hate being a newbie.
Although, he did finally bring home a "Welcome to JK" letter the other day, which told us his teacher's name, along with a few choice other things that would have been helpful to have known last week. You know..things like don't pack anything resembling a nut, or seafood, or apparently bananas, since a child in his class is allergic to them. I have never heard of a banana allergy...but none of the contraband items are Kieran staples anyway so that is fine.
We got called today to go get him because he was complaining of a "tummy ache". I am actually surprised we haven't received this call earlier because this kid has complained about stomach aches for as long as I can remember. He usually says it's because he "ate too much lunch" and sometimes dramatically rolls around a bit and then is totally fine. Still, he now has a Dr appointment for tomorrow just in case. I would hate to flippantly blog about his "faux" illness and then have it actually BE something legit. I'm even less thrilled that he has already figured out the trick to getting out of school early. Harumph.
On Friday, we have his "Junior Kindergarten Orientation" where, presumably,we will be able to ask questions about procedures, etc. It will come exactly a day too late for me to ask how I get my child excused from school for doctors appointments. Do we still send handwritten notes? Do I call the office? Do I show up and loiter outside his classroom until someone confronts me? (OK, probably not the last one) Argh. I hate being a newbie.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
School Days
Kieran started school this week. He has been excited ever since I took him to register last January and for months afterward asked me if he was starting school that day.
His school is one of the very first to offer full-day JK/SK...which I believe is both a blessing (yay! no daycare!) and a curse (uh oh...guinea pig).
However, although I'm happy he is going for a full day, I was mildly concerned a few weeks ago when I had not yet received any information from his school outlining a schedule for the First Day of School. I know that kindergarten entry is normally staggered so as not to to overwhelm any scared 4-year-olds (who may, in fact, even be only 3 if their birthdays are in the fall) but I hadn't heard any specifics yet.
So, last week, after I still had not heard anything and had no idea when he was supposed to go, I called to find out if I had missed something. The secretary (who is about 100 years old, I swear) returned my message and asked if I had not attended the info session. Uh oh. I attended an Open House back in early May where we saw the class rooms, met the teachers and had fruit and juice boxes, but that was it.
Yes, said the secretary that was the session where we got all the information.
"Okay," I said "but we didn't go over any staggered entry information or anything like that." Did we?
"There is no staggered entry for full day kindergarten. All children are to be here on September 7 at 9 am for all grades," Says Mildred, and I'm only assuming her name is as archaic as the sentence she just uttered.
"Really? You aren't staggering the entry?" I'm totally shocked.
"Well, we used to stagger them when they were half days, but with the Full Day Learning we aren't any more."
Jesus. AWESOME. Welcome to Backwardsville, kids, try not to be afraid.
So, can you guess what happened on the morning of September 7? Chaos, naturally.
We arrived, along with 40 anxious and excited JK/SK students, almost all with 2 parents, a surprising number of grandparents, dogs, strollers etc. all crowding around the gate to the fenced play area where they were taking the kids. It took almost 40 minutes before we were had reached the gate. When we got the gate, one of the teachers asked me who is teacher was. I snapped at her: "I have NO idea."
"You don't know?"
Now, I didn't want to be the bitchy parent on Kieran's first day, but how was I supposed to know this? Telepathy? Again, did I miss something, Mildred?
She checks her list..."he's not with me, so he must be with Mrs. Sportcheck." Or, at least, that's what it sounded like she said.
So, the other teacher comes over, Sportcheck apparently (who I did vaguely remember speaking to at the Open House...she was quite taken with Kaya). She is perfectly nice and personable and ushers Kieran through the gate and tells him to stand with the other kids in his class and he, finally, since he's been hopping at my feet for 20 minutes, excitedly scurries over.
At which point, since he's now far away from me on the other side of fence and soon to be heading inside the cinder block building, I start to bawl. I walk over to Eric and I'm sobbing not JUST because my little boy is growing up and starting school, but also because I'm not entirely happy with how this has all played out. I sort of can't believe I have just handed my sweet boy over to these people who I have barely ever talked to and who thought this way of starting things was a good idea. And they have him for 6 hours a day, 5 days a week. I suddenly felt like I didn't know anything about this place. I only know that his teacher's name sounds vaguely like a sporting goods store. And they don't know Kieran. No one had so much as asked me a single question about him beyond what I filled out at registration 8 months ago. I wanted to tell her that he was missing fingers on his left hand and that he was nervous about it. I wanted to tell her that he can write his name. I wanted to ask her to watch out for him because he's little and some of the other kids looked so big. But, with kids and parents (also annoyed) still crowding behind me, it wasn't the right environment.
Anyway, by the time, we left the school, I was more or less back to normal. We picked him up at 3:30 by flashing a special card with his name on it . We flashed the card to Mrs. Sportcheck and a few minutes later Kieran was standing in front of us.
"So, how was school?!"
He shows us two new bandaids on his knees and tells us that he fell in playground.
"What was your teachers' name?" I ask.
"I don't know"
"Did you meet any nice kids"
"Yeah."
"Like who?"
"I don't know. "
"Did you do anything fun"
"I don't know."
OK, so the school is still a bit of a mystery. I opened his backpack and there was, thankfully, a package with a long questionnaire about him that we were to fill out. Along with permission slips and other things requiring signatures. And next Friday, presumably after they have gone through the questionnaires, we go to a Kindergarten info session. Which if you ask me, is about three weeks too late - but at least they are having one.
He came home yesterday with a little booklet they had made on the first day of school. It had a little poem and talked about a special story they read about a raccoon (or maybe it was a beaver) starting school. The last page had a blank section where the children were supposed to draw a picture of their families. Kieran, totally NOT surprisingly, had drawn a truck.
Aaaaand, we're off.
His school is one of the very first to offer full-day JK/SK...which I believe is both a blessing (yay! no daycare!) and a curse (uh oh...guinea pig).
However, although I'm happy he is going for a full day, I was mildly concerned a few weeks ago when I had not yet received any information from his school outlining a schedule for the First Day of School. I know that kindergarten entry is normally staggered so as not to to overwhelm any scared 4-year-olds (who may, in fact, even be only 3 if their birthdays are in the fall) but I hadn't heard any specifics yet.
So, last week, after I still had not heard anything and had no idea when he was supposed to go, I called to find out if I had missed something. The secretary (who is about 100 years old, I swear) returned my message and asked if I had not attended the info session. Uh oh. I attended an Open House back in early May where we saw the class rooms, met the teachers and had fruit and juice boxes, but that was it.
Yes, said the secretary that was the session where we got all the information.
"Okay," I said "but we didn't go over any staggered entry information or anything like that." Did we?
"There is no staggered entry for full day kindergarten. All children are to be here on September 7 at 9 am for all grades," Says Mildred, and I'm only assuming her name is as archaic as the sentence she just uttered.
"Really? You aren't staggering the entry?" I'm totally shocked.
"Well, we used to stagger them when they were half days, but with the Full Day Learning we aren't any more."
Jesus. AWESOME. Welcome to Backwardsville, kids, try not to be afraid.
So, can you guess what happened on the morning of September 7? Chaos, naturally.
We arrived, along with 40 anxious and excited JK/SK students, almost all with 2 parents, a surprising number of grandparents, dogs, strollers etc. all crowding around the gate to the fenced play area where they were taking the kids. It took almost 40 minutes before we were had reached the gate. When we got the gate, one of the teachers asked me who is teacher was. I snapped at her: "I have NO idea."
"You don't know?"
Now, I didn't want to be the bitchy parent on Kieran's first day, but how was I supposed to know this? Telepathy? Again, did I miss something, Mildred?
She checks her list..."he's not with me, so he must be with Mrs. Sportcheck." Or, at least, that's what it sounded like she said.
So, the other teacher comes over, Sportcheck apparently (who I did vaguely remember speaking to at the Open House...she was quite taken with Kaya). She is perfectly nice and personable and ushers Kieran through the gate and tells him to stand with the other kids in his class and he, finally, since he's been hopping at my feet for 20 minutes, excitedly scurries over.
At which point, since he's now far away from me on the other side of fence and soon to be heading inside the cinder block building, I start to bawl. I walk over to Eric and I'm sobbing not JUST because my little boy is growing up and starting school, but also because I'm not entirely happy with how this has all played out. I sort of can't believe I have just handed my sweet boy over to these people who I have barely ever talked to and who thought this way of starting things was a good idea. And they have him for 6 hours a day, 5 days a week. I suddenly felt like I didn't know anything about this place. I only know that his teacher's name sounds vaguely like a sporting goods store. And they don't know Kieran. No one had so much as asked me a single question about him beyond what I filled out at registration 8 months ago. I wanted to tell her that he was missing fingers on his left hand and that he was nervous about it. I wanted to tell her that he can write his name. I wanted to ask her to watch out for him because he's little and some of the other kids looked so big. But, with kids and parents (also annoyed) still crowding behind me, it wasn't the right environment.
Anyway, by the time, we left the school, I was more or less back to normal. We picked him up at 3:30 by flashing a special card with his name on it . We flashed the card to Mrs. Sportcheck and a few minutes later Kieran was standing in front of us.
"So, how was school?!"
He shows us two new bandaids on his knees and tells us that he fell in playground.
"What was your teachers' name?" I ask.
"I don't know"
"Did you meet any nice kids"
"Yeah."
"Like who?"
"I don't know. "
"Did you do anything fun"
"I don't know."
OK, so the school is still a bit of a mystery. I opened his backpack and there was, thankfully, a package with a long questionnaire about him that we were to fill out. Along with permission slips and other things requiring signatures. And next Friday, presumably after they have gone through the questionnaires, we go to a Kindergarten info session. Which if you ask me, is about three weeks too late - but at least they are having one.
He came home yesterday with a little booklet they had made on the first day of school. It had a little poem and talked about a special story they read about a raccoon (or maybe it was a beaver) starting school. The last page had a blank section where the children were supposed to draw a picture of their families. Kieran, totally NOT surprisingly, had drawn a truck.
Aaaaand, we're off.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
40 and Fabulous.
Now we are 40. (Did AA Milne ever get that far in his series?)
Major birthday milestone in anyone's book. I am surprisingly ambivalent about the number. I mean obviously, I am not THRILLED about 40's arrival, but at least I'm here, right? Perspective people, the alternative is quite a bit worse!
I have blogged in the past about my horrendous birthday experiences. I have loathed my actual birth date for so many moons now that I am accustomed to dismissing the day entirely. n fact, my expectations for my birthday are exceedingly low.
Low expectations, combined with my apparent general dimwittedness, also make me very, very easy to fool. But I'll get to that...this time, I had not just a birthday party but an entire week lead up!
At the start of Birthday Week, we went to Cape Cod with my entire family (parents, siblings, nieces, nephews). Rented two gorgeous houses which I believe were as close to the beach as remotely possible in the area. The houses sit just a few hundred feet from a historic lighthouse and the location was quite stellar. What unfortunately wasn't perfect was the weather. I don't think I need to embellish anything about how having 17 people expecting a beach holiday and yet relegated instead to euchre and endless Weather Channel updates indoors was a bit disappointing. But we are a gamely bunch and were pretty much able to make the best of it. In fact, we had a very brief reprieve on the night my sister-in-law had arranged for fire permit on the beach. My Eagle Scout nephews (and I'm telling you, every family needs to have one or two of these in their ranks) managed to keep a roaring blaze going on the beach for several hours, the rain held off and it looked like things were turn around. The next day it poured for yet another 24 hours though.
Eric and I had the hardest time with the weather since our kids are the youngest and, therefore, make anything like sightseeing and shopping in glass-filled souvenir shops, slightly less than enjoyable. But the day before before we were scheduled to leave, the sun finally came out with a vengeance and we headed down the dunes for a perfectly stellar day on the seashore.
Due to Eric's band commitments...we were leaving the Cape earlier than everyone else, so Friday were packing up (on schedule! early even!) when, insert giant sigh here, Eric backed up the van into a tree and smashed the back window. So, since a 12 hour drive with the noise and wind and theft issues that an exposed window posed, seemed like a poor option, we found a same-day glass repair place that could fix it later that afternoon. On the upside, this allowed us a few extra hours at the beach as well as an unexpected day trip to Hyannis where we had lovely lunch on a sunny patio. Window fixed we left Hyannis around 3:30pm, we didn't arrive home until 3:20am, but we made it!
On Saturday, as a birthday gift, a couple of my friends had booked me a hotel room downtown for some much needed R&R. The plan was for the three of us to have a lovely dinner and then I would retire to a quiet hotel room with no kids, husband or worries.
I am not even unpacked from Cape Cod and I'm cramming new clothes into another bag, stop to purchase a new book and a frothy coffee and turn up at the hotel. My one friend had been the one who made the reservation for me, and I knew she was actually checking in first. I arrived, walked into the room all sweaty and loaded down with Eric's duffle bag and something seemed off. I realized there are all these people crammed, giggling, into the corner of the room. Turns out 4 friends (3 high school, 1 university) had flown into from various locales as a giant birthday surprise! Yes, I was quite surprised, but as soon as I saw them I realized that I should have known. There were many clues (what? I can't check in until 5:15pm?) but I'm apparently old to put them all together apparently.
Anyway, we had a great night. Lovely dinner, much wine etc.
The next day, my university friend (who was the only one that I knew was in town ahead of time) was coming out to the burbs with me for brunch. She had never met Kaya and had seen Kieran only as a baby. Eric was bringing the kids to a restaurant and her and I were heading straight there from downtown. When we arrived at the restaurant, he was waiting in the lobby and told the waitress we were ready for our table of 5. She leads us into the restaurant where suddenly there were 25-odd people singing happy birthday. NOW I was beyond surprised. While the night before I had realized quite quickly what had gone on, the Sunday brunch was a shocker. More people from out of town, friends that I haven't seen in ages etc. It took me a really long time to wrap my head around what was going on. But we had a great afternoon.
I can officially no longer complain that no one is ever around for my birthday, but I probably will anyway. Its kind of my thing.
Major birthday milestone in anyone's book. I am surprisingly ambivalent about the number. I mean obviously, I am not THRILLED about 40's arrival, but at least I'm here, right? Perspective people, the alternative is quite a bit worse!
I have blogged in the past about my horrendous birthday experiences. I have loathed my actual birth date for so many moons now that I am accustomed to dismissing the day entirely. n fact, my expectations for my birthday are exceedingly low.
Low expectations, combined with my apparent general dimwittedness, also make me very, very easy to fool. But I'll get to that...this time, I had not just a birthday party but an entire week lead up!
At the start of Birthday Week, we went to Cape Cod with my entire family (parents, siblings, nieces, nephews). Rented two gorgeous houses which I believe were as close to the beach as remotely possible in the area. The houses sit just a few hundred feet from a historic lighthouse and the location was quite stellar. What unfortunately wasn't perfect was the weather. I don't think I need to embellish anything about how having 17 people expecting a beach holiday and yet relegated instead to euchre and endless Weather Channel updates indoors was a bit disappointing. But we are a gamely bunch and were pretty much able to make the best of it. In fact, we had a very brief reprieve on the night my sister-in-law had arranged for fire permit on the beach. My Eagle Scout nephews (and I'm telling you, every family needs to have one or two of these in their ranks) managed to keep a roaring blaze going on the beach for several hours, the rain held off and it looked like things were turn around. The next day it poured for yet another 24 hours though.
Eric and I had the hardest time with the weather since our kids are the youngest and, therefore, make anything like sightseeing and shopping in glass-filled souvenir shops, slightly less than enjoyable. But the day before before we were scheduled to leave, the sun finally came out with a vengeance and we headed down the dunes for a perfectly stellar day on the seashore.
Due to Eric's band commitments...we were leaving the Cape earlier than everyone else, so Friday were packing up (on schedule! early even!) when, insert giant sigh here, Eric backed up the van into a tree and smashed the back window. So, since a 12 hour drive with the noise and wind and theft issues that an exposed window posed, seemed like a poor option, we found a same-day glass repair place that could fix it later that afternoon. On the upside, this allowed us a few extra hours at the beach as well as an unexpected day trip to Hyannis where we had lovely lunch on a sunny patio. Window fixed we left Hyannis around 3:30pm, we didn't arrive home until 3:20am, but we made it!
On Saturday, as a birthday gift, a couple of my friends had booked me a hotel room downtown for some much needed R&R. The plan was for the three of us to have a lovely dinner and then I would retire to a quiet hotel room with no kids, husband or worries.
I am not even unpacked from Cape Cod and I'm cramming new clothes into another bag, stop to purchase a new book and a frothy coffee and turn up at the hotel. My one friend had been the one who made the reservation for me, and I knew she was actually checking in first. I arrived, walked into the room all sweaty and loaded down with Eric's duffle bag and something seemed off. I realized there are all these people crammed, giggling, into the corner of the room. Turns out 4 friends (3 high school, 1 university) had flown into from various locales as a giant birthday surprise! Yes, I was quite surprised, but as soon as I saw them I realized that I should have known. There were many clues (what? I can't check in until 5:15pm?) but I'm apparently old to put them all together apparently.
Anyway, we had a great night. Lovely dinner, much wine etc.
The next day, my university friend (who was the only one that I knew was in town ahead of time) was coming out to the burbs with me for brunch. She had never met Kaya and had seen Kieran only as a baby. Eric was bringing the kids to a restaurant and her and I were heading straight there from downtown. When we arrived at the restaurant, he was waiting in the lobby and told the waitress we were ready for our table of 5. She leads us into the restaurant where suddenly there were 25-odd people singing happy birthday. NOW I was beyond surprised. While the night before I had realized quite quickly what had gone on, the Sunday brunch was a shocker. More people from out of town, friends that I haven't seen in ages etc. It took me a really long time to wrap my head around what was going on. But we had a great afternoon.
I can officially no longer complain that no one is ever around for my birthday, but I probably will anyway. Its kind of my thing.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Great Camp Out.
Aaah....camping in the great outdoors. Relaxing the by campfire, lounging on the beach, enjoying the peace and quiet of nature....(insert jarring record scratch nice here..)
Took the kids camping on the weekend. We - just the two kids and I - joined my brother and his family for a nice weekend away from the city. We went once last year and it's a good getaway for us during the summer,especially since Eric is so busy with his band (which is playing every single weekend, and then some). Since my brother and his family are borderline professional campers, all we really need to bring is our own sleeping gear, some food and drink and away we go...
Which brings me to my first mistake. I couldn't decide if we should leave after work on Friday or wait until Saturday morning. But it was supposed to be a nice weekend and, in the end, I figured that if I left Friday night we would have at least one full day to enjoy the campground.
I managed to get out of work early (a minor miracle in itself) and took the train home. A few weeks ago, the car had been in the garage to fix a crazy squealing noise, and it had come out of the shop had almost immediately began to make a rattling, knocking noise. So Friday, when Eric was finally in town for a full day, he had returned it to the garage where they said, apparently, the entire exhaust system was holding on by the merest of threads (or whatever holds cars together these days, which probably/hopefully isn't thread, but what would I know?) Since both Eric and I were out of town and the car was undriveable we had to wait until after 5 pm to pick it up and we still had to pack and pick up some groceries.
Anyway, we didn't leave our driveway until after 7pm (mistake 2)and the campground, according to Google Maps was 2 hours and 17 minutes away. Off we go...all is well. About halfway there, I missed a turn off - mistake 3- but didn't want to turn around which meant my step-by-step directions were useless. I resorted to using my usually excellent inner GPS to navigate our way there on my own. Normally, this wouldn't phase me in the slightest, but it was getting dark and I wasn't so concerned about getting lost as I was wasting time and precious daylight hours. I did have an actual GPS system which I flicked on a couple of times, but since the campground didn't have a street number or address it was pretty much useless. I typed in the "region" but then quickly realized that it was going to lead me horrendously astray if I listened to it. (And besides, every time the voice would say "turn left" and I didn't, Kieran would get distressed..he does not trust his mother over the robotic voice of the machine).
Anyway, my own inner navigating probably cost only me 10 minutes, and we finally arrived at around 9:30. the sun is just setting so I'm pretty pleased that I made it before it got really dark. My sister-in-law had called to check our ETA just as we got to the gate. I was talking to the gate guard when she called and I asked her what site they were at, and she said 21. I got our parking permit, verified where site 21 was and off we went. Got to site 21...and it wasn't them (mistake 4). It was getting really dark and the campgrounds roads are narrow and cars are mostly unwelcome - especially as people where heading to "comfort station" in droves with toddlers and toothbrushes in hand. I called and called my brother's cell. No answer. Drove around for about 20 minutes before I headed back to the gate...which was closed for night. No cars. Locked up tight, which I didn't realize until after I had unloaded both kids from the car and actually walked up to the shuttered door. Argh. More distress from Kieran who is convinced that we are lost and is now scared. Finally, my sister in law calls and turns out its site 421. (Never would have found them in a million years...thank God for cell phones).
Finally, we get there.
Now, at this point I should point out that as kids we camped a fair bit...but this was mainly in the north and pre-global warming. At the night the campfire was warm and we put on sweatshirts and sweatpants, covered ourselves in bug spray and toasted marshmallows until we crawled - still fully dressed - into our sleeping bags.
Not this time.
Get unloaded and eat some hot dogs on the campfire. It's very humid, so the campfire is mainly for show. Definitely no "cozying up" to it. Shortly, both kids say they want to go to bed, so off to the tent we go (my brother and his wife had already put up the tent for us. God Bless Them.) Unfortunately, the tent is very hot. I had brought the kids flannel jammies (mistake number 5) and there is no way they can wear them, so they just lay on top of the sleeping bags in their shorts and T-shirts. Argh...I had forgot pillows (mistake number 6). It takes awhile for them to settle down. Kieran would have been fine except he deals very poorly with the heat (he is too hot even when the AC is blasting) so it took him some writhing and whining before he finally rested his sweat-drenched head on my arm and crashed. Kaya....not so lucky. She roamed around the tent - the novelty was too much for her to handle - for what I'm sure was an hour wide awake and chatty, before my brother finally suggested that I put her in the car and drive around.
So, here it is, midnight and I'm driving around the campground - again. (At least this time 95 percent of the people were asleep). I finally I get back to the campsite, have a much needed beer and go to bed. Luckily neither child wakes up through the night. (A particular worry beforehand was Kaya's not frequent - but brutal - nighttime screaming fits which happen periodically and can only ever be solved by either time or, sometimes, Dora The Explorer.)
The next morning they were up predictably early, so we had breakfast and headed right to the beach. Beautiful beach/campground by the way, on Lake Erie, sandy and shallow, fantastic for kids. The waves were quite large, which Kieran and his cousins loved, but Kieran is smaller than the other two and easily knocked over by the waves, so he couldn't venture into the water alone. Kaya, on the other hand, was petrified by the waves and refused to stay on the beach and play unless I was right beside her. (Neither her aunt or uncle would suffice in this case).
After lunch, both kids were tired and since it was very hot at the campsite I decided that I would put them back in the car where they could have quick sleep and I could head out in search of pillows (honestly, it's hard enough sleeping on a rock hard "sleeping mat" in an sweltering, airless tent with two small restless children but to do so without a pillow was too much to bear). I actually drove farther than anticipated, but "pillow stores" are not normally close to Provincial Parks and besides, the kids were sleeping so soundly that I didn't mind.
Got back to the campsite...more beach (the waves were gigantic by now), dinner, playground etc. Fast-forward to the night. Bedtime started a bit earlier, but again, the tent was hot and after about 20 minutes of trying to get both kids settled I decided to cut my losses and packed them both in the van again and travelled my now well-known route around the park. I'm sure the other campers are wondering what the hell that black minivan was doing driving around all-the-freakin-time. I admit, it did feel like cheating. Perhaps to be true to the rustic, outdoor experience, I should have just waited it out and they would have both crashed eventually but, for my own sanity, I needed a break. I don't think I had un-interrupted period of more than 5 minutes to do a single thing for myself since we arrived and at that point all I wanted was to have a quiet drink in front of the fire with the kids needing me. Anyway, again, the van knocked them out and I moved them into the tent. Ah beer here I come...
30 minutes later. mid-sip....Kaya starts to cry out and I freeze in fear. My daughter wakes up at night in one of two ways. She either wakes up and calls out, plays around and falls back asleep. Or she wakes up and screams bloody murder. I knew right away that it was the latter. She's not actually awake so there no appealing to her two-year-old "rational" self. She doesn't want mommy or daddy, a cuddle, a song, a book, a drink, a snack, a toy. Nothing. So, since the decibel of the cry was definitely campground-shaking, back into the god-damn van we went. Again. Black van on the go.
But that was that. She was back out almost immediately and then we went through the night without any problems. Well, at least for them. The temperature finally dropped and I actually got got enough to need my sleeping bag. I was petrified that one or both of them would wake up from the cold. Neither of them was under any blanket and there was no chance I was going to accidentally wake them up by trying to stuff them inside their bags in the pitch dark, but they didn't move. I'm sure the entire campground was grateful.
Anyway, at least the days were quite lovely. The next day we spent more time at the beach. The wind had died down so it was easier for the kids to play in the water without having to hold onto them, and Kaya finally got the hang of digging holes and trying to bury herself in them, so fun was had by all in the end. Well, by most of us. I'm still looking for that un-interrupted relaxation by the fire...
Took the kids camping on the weekend. We - just the two kids and I - joined my brother and his family for a nice weekend away from the city. We went once last year and it's a good getaway for us during the summer,especially since Eric is so busy with his band (which is playing every single weekend, and then some). Since my brother and his family are borderline professional campers, all we really need to bring is our own sleeping gear, some food and drink and away we go...
Which brings me to my first mistake. I couldn't decide if we should leave after work on Friday or wait until Saturday morning. But it was supposed to be a nice weekend and, in the end, I figured that if I left Friday night we would have at least one full day to enjoy the campground.
I managed to get out of work early (a minor miracle in itself) and took the train home. A few weeks ago, the car had been in the garage to fix a crazy squealing noise, and it had come out of the shop had almost immediately began to make a rattling, knocking noise. So Friday, when Eric was finally in town for a full day, he had returned it to the garage where they said, apparently, the entire exhaust system was holding on by the merest of threads (or whatever holds cars together these days, which probably/hopefully isn't thread, but what would I know?) Since both Eric and I were out of town and the car was undriveable we had to wait until after 5 pm to pick it up and we still had to pack and pick up some groceries.
Anyway, we didn't leave our driveway until after 7pm (mistake 2)and the campground, according to Google Maps was 2 hours and 17 minutes away. Off we go...all is well. About halfway there, I missed a turn off - mistake 3- but didn't want to turn around which meant my step-by-step directions were useless. I resorted to using my usually excellent inner GPS to navigate our way there on my own. Normally, this wouldn't phase me in the slightest, but it was getting dark and I wasn't so concerned about getting lost as I was wasting time and precious daylight hours. I did have an actual GPS system which I flicked on a couple of times, but since the campground didn't have a street number or address it was pretty much useless. I typed in the "region" but then quickly realized that it was going to lead me horrendously astray if I listened to it. (And besides, every time the voice would say "turn left" and I didn't, Kieran would get distressed..he does not trust his mother over the robotic voice of the machine).
Anyway, my own inner navigating probably cost only me 10 minutes, and we finally arrived at around 9:30. the sun is just setting so I'm pretty pleased that I made it before it got really dark. My sister-in-law had called to check our ETA just as we got to the gate. I was talking to the gate guard when she called and I asked her what site they were at, and she said 21. I got our parking permit, verified where site 21 was and off we went. Got to site 21...and it wasn't them (mistake 4). It was getting really dark and the campgrounds roads are narrow and cars are mostly unwelcome - especially as people where heading to "comfort station" in droves with toddlers and toothbrushes in hand. I called and called my brother's cell. No answer. Drove around for about 20 minutes before I headed back to the gate...which was closed for night. No cars. Locked up tight, which I didn't realize until after I had unloaded both kids from the car and actually walked up to the shuttered door. Argh. More distress from Kieran who is convinced that we are lost and is now scared. Finally, my sister in law calls and turns out its site 421. (Never would have found them in a million years...thank God for cell phones).
Finally, we get there.
Now, at this point I should point out that as kids we camped a fair bit...but this was mainly in the north and pre-global warming. At the night the campfire was warm and we put on sweatshirts and sweatpants, covered ourselves in bug spray and toasted marshmallows until we crawled - still fully dressed - into our sleeping bags.
Not this time.
Get unloaded and eat some hot dogs on the campfire. It's very humid, so the campfire is mainly for show. Definitely no "cozying up" to it. Shortly, both kids say they want to go to bed, so off to the tent we go (my brother and his wife had already put up the tent for us. God Bless Them.) Unfortunately, the tent is very hot. I had brought the kids flannel jammies (mistake number 5) and there is no way they can wear them, so they just lay on top of the sleeping bags in their shorts and T-shirts. Argh...I had forgot pillows (mistake number 6). It takes awhile for them to settle down. Kieran would have been fine except he deals very poorly with the heat (he is too hot even when the AC is blasting) so it took him some writhing and whining before he finally rested his sweat-drenched head on my arm and crashed. Kaya....not so lucky. She roamed around the tent - the novelty was too much for her to handle - for what I'm sure was an hour wide awake and chatty, before my brother finally suggested that I put her in the car and drive around.
So, here it is, midnight and I'm driving around the campground - again. (At least this time 95 percent of the people were asleep). I finally I get back to the campsite, have a much needed beer and go to bed. Luckily neither child wakes up through the night. (A particular worry beforehand was Kaya's not frequent - but brutal - nighttime screaming fits which happen periodically and can only ever be solved by either time or, sometimes, Dora The Explorer.)
The next morning they were up predictably early, so we had breakfast and headed right to the beach. Beautiful beach/campground by the way, on Lake Erie, sandy and shallow, fantastic for kids. The waves were quite large, which Kieran and his cousins loved, but Kieran is smaller than the other two and easily knocked over by the waves, so he couldn't venture into the water alone. Kaya, on the other hand, was petrified by the waves and refused to stay on the beach and play unless I was right beside her. (Neither her aunt or uncle would suffice in this case).
After lunch, both kids were tired and since it was very hot at the campsite I decided that I would put them back in the car where they could have quick sleep and I could head out in search of pillows (honestly, it's hard enough sleeping on a rock hard "sleeping mat" in an sweltering, airless tent with two small restless children but to do so without a pillow was too much to bear). I actually drove farther than anticipated, but "pillow stores" are not normally close to Provincial Parks and besides, the kids were sleeping so soundly that I didn't mind.
Got back to the campsite...more beach (the waves were gigantic by now), dinner, playground etc. Fast-forward to the night. Bedtime started a bit earlier, but again, the tent was hot and after about 20 minutes of trying to get both kids settled I decided to cut my losses and packed them both in the van again and travelled my now well-known route around the park. I'm sure the other campers are wondering what the hell that black minivan was doing driving around all-the-freakin-time. I admit, it did feel like cheating. Perhaps to be true to the rustic, outdoor experience, I should have just waited it out and they would have both crashed eventually but, for my own sanity, I needed a break. I don't think I had un-interrupted period of more than 5 minutes to do a single thing for myself since we arrived and at that point all I wanted was to have a quiet drink in front of the fire with the kids needing me. Anyway, again, the van knocked them out and I moved them into the tent. Ah beer here I come...
30 minutes later. mid-sip....Kaya starts to cry out and I freeze in fear. My daughter wakes up at night in one of two ways. She either wakes up and calls out, plays around and falls back asleep. Or she wakes up and screams bloody murder. I knew right away that it was the latter. She's not actually awake so there no appealing to her two-year-old "rational" self. She doesn't want mommy or daddy, a cuddle, a song, a book, a drink, a snack, a toy. Nothing. So, since the decibel of the cry was definitely campground-shaking, back into the god-damn van we went. Again. Black van on the go.
But that was that. She was back out almost immediately and then we went through the night without any problems. Well, at least for them. The temperature finally dropped and I actually got got enough to need my sleeping bag. I was petrified that one or both of them would wake up from the cold. Neither of them was under any blanket and there was no chance I was going to accidentally wake them up by trying to stuff them inside their bags in the pitch dark, but they didn't move. I'm sure the entire campground was grateful.
Anyway, at least the days were quite lovely. The next day we spent more time at the beach. The wind had died down so it was easier for the kids to play in the water without having to hold onto them, and Kaya finally got the hang of digging holes and trying to bury herself in them, so fun was had by all in the end. Well, by most of us. I'm still looking for that un-interrupted relaxation by the fire...
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Adventures in Parenting
Kieran is enrolled in a kids' soccer league. The key word is "enrolled" because he is, apparently, no longer attending. So he tells us.
Let me back up here. For the past two years, he has been alternating swimming lessons with a session of "Sportball" which is basically a non-competitive sports sports class for kids. One class is football, the next baseball, then tennis, soccer, golf etc. And he has loved it. He would wake up on Saturday and say, joyously, "Am I going to Sportball today? YAY!!!"
Once the last session ended in the spring,the next session was "outdoor soccer" so I signed him up. The first class was held on the lawn of the church where the indoor sessions are held The church has a gym and a couple of classrooms attached, which are part of a Montessori school. On the morning of the second class, we showed up and the class had been moved back into the gym. Turns out the owners of the house beside the church complained that the 4-year-olds playing soccer at 10 am on Saturday mornings were too noisy and were threatening some sort of legal action. Let me repeat, for 4-year-olds happily playing soccer on a church lawn. And here I was unaware that Satan and his family were living so close by.
Anyway, I digress.
The last class of the spring session, Kieran had to stop playing because he had wrenched his knee on the trampoline and he couldn't really run. We thought nothing of it, and signed him up for the summer session.
First class of summer session and Eric tells him to get ready and all hell breaks loose. Complete meltdown of outrageous proportions. Eric forced him to go. It was the hottest day of the year. Kieran went out on the field for a few minutes then sat down and refused to play.
After much tsk tsking, we managed to extract a promise from him that he would be fine next week. But the night before the class when I told him that soccer was the next day, the meltdown started anew.
They had given him a jersey and a soccer ball, which I said we would give to Kaya. He says OK. Wait. What? Hmmmm wasn't expecting that. I tried talking to him, trying to figure out where things had gone so wrong. He is unable to give me even the remotest explanation of what went wrong. The most I could get out of him was that it was "too hot", which was undeniably true, but it is a hollow argument since he was refusing to go even before he knew how unbearable it was going to be once he got there.
Eric told him that since he promised to go last week and now was refusing, that he needed to go his room and think about it. Then, we got a brilliant idea. We would threaten to take away his newest, most prized possession - a brand new Nintendo DS that he had just been given from Eric's brother. Surely, an hour of soccer cannot be worse than losing your brand new Nintendo that has a really cool car game that you love, right? RIGHT?
"OK Daddy, you can take away the DS." Jesus. The kid, really, really doesn't want to go.
So, with the Nintendo gone, we are now at a loss. Obviously neither bribes nor threats are going to work. What is left? Apparently I am ill equipped at true parenting because after about an hour of the "night before soccer" drama, I decided to throw in the towel. I called the organization and asked for a refund. The bored summer student told me they don't offer refunds once the session has started. OK, can I move him? I'm thinking I can move him back to an indoor fall session and start from scratch. No, the bored student tells me we can only move to a class offered in the same season. Which is soccer, soccer and soccer.
So, I told Kieran that he was going to have to go and that was all there was to it. He flat out says no. For the past few days he reminds me every chance he gets that he is not going. He wakes up in the morning and says "Mom, I'm not going to Sportball". He gets in the car after daycare and says "Mom, I'm not going to Sportball." I told him that he needed to finish his dinner and he says "OK, but I'm not going to Sportball." Bedtime: "Goodnight Mommy. I'm not going to Sportball." I told him to stop talking about it.
Who is going to win this epic battle? Do we force him to do something he clearly now hates just to show him who's in charge? Or do I respect his unwavering refusal to go. After all, he has already given up his jersey, ball and Nintendo (all of which he would get back if he tried again).
It's exhausting, this parenting thing.
Let me back up here. For the past two years, he has been alternating swimming lessons with a session of "Sportball" which is basically a non-competitive sports sports class for kids. One class is football, the next baseball, then tennis, soccer, golf etc. And he has loved it. He would wake up on Saturday and say, joyously, "Am I going to Sportball today? YAY!!!"
Once the last session ended in the spring,the next session was "outdoor soccer" so I signed him up. The first class was held on the lawn of the church where the indoor sessions are held The church has a gym and a couple of classrooms attached, which are part of a Montessori school. On the morning of the second class, we showed up and the class had been moved back into the gym. Turns out the owners of the house beside the church complained that the 4-year-olds playing soccer at 10 am on Saturday mornings were too noisy and were threatening some sort of legal action. Let me repeat, for 4-year-olds happily playing soccer on a church lawn. And here I was unaware that Satan and his family were living so close by.
Anyway, I digress.
The last class of the spring session, Kieran had to stop playing because he had wrenched his knee on the trampoline and he couldn't really run. We thought nothing of it, and signed him up for the summer session.
First class of summer session and Eric tells him to get ready and all hell breaks loose. Complete meltdown of outrageous proportions. Eric forced him to go. It was the hottest day of the year. Kieran went out on the field for a few minutes then sat down and refused to play.
After much tsk tsking, we managed to extract a promise from him that he would be fine next week. But the night before the class when I told him that soccer was the next day, the meltdown started anew.
They had given him a jersey and a soccer ball, which I said we would give to Kaya. He says OK. Wait. What? Hmmmm wasn't expecting that. I tried talking to him, trying to figure out where things had gone so wrong. He is unable to give me even the remotest explanation of what went wrong. The most I could get out of him was that it was "too hot", which was undeniably true, but it is a hollow argument since he was refusing to go even before he knew how unbearable it was going to be once he got there.
Eric told him that since he promised to go last week and now was refusing, that he needed to go his room and think about it. Then, we got a brilliant idea. We would threaten to take away his newest, most prized possession - a brand new Nintendo DS that he had just been given from Eric's brother. Surely, an hour of soccer cannot be worse than losing your brand new Nintendo that has a really cool car game that you love, right? RIGHT?
"OK Daddy, you can take away the DS." Jesus. The kid, really, really doesn't want to go.
So, with the Nintendo gone, we are now at a loss. Obviously neither bribes nor threats are going to work. What is left? Apparently I am ill equipped at true parenting because after about an hour of the "night before soccer" drama, I decided to throw in the towel. I called the organization and asked for a refund. The bored summer student told me they don't offer refunds once the session has started. OK, can I move him? I'm thinking I can move him back to an indoor fall session and start from scratch. No, the bored student tells me we can only move to a class offered in the same season. Which is soccer, soccer and soccer.
So, I told Kieran that he was going to have to go and that was all there was to it. He flat out says no. For the past few days he reminds me every chance he gets that he is not going. He wakes up in the morning and says "Mom, I'm not going to Sportball". He gets in the car after daycare and says "Mom, I'm not going to Sportball." I told him that he needed to finish his dinner and he says "OK, but I'm not going to Sportball." Bedtime: "Goodnight Mommy. I'm not going to Sportball." I told him to stop talking about it.
Who is going to win this epic battle? Do we force him to do something he clearly now hates just to show him who's in charge? Or do I respect his unwavering refusal to go. After all, he has already given up his jersey, ball and Nintendo (all of which he would get back if he tried again).
It's exhausting, this parenting thing.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Life's a Circus. Or a Sauna. Sometimes both.
Settled back in my regular job nicely. Of course, two of my coworkers are on vacation so I have been quite a bit busier than I would have liked. I don't have any vacation planned for July, which sucks short term because it always feels like I'm working the summer away, but I will be happy in August when I finally do have some time off.
Besides, with the crazy heat wave going on it's sort of nice to spend all day guilt-free in a nicely air-conditioned office. If I was at home, I would feel like I should be outside, which let's be honest, is very unpleasant when the air is so thick you could chew it. Coming from the far-ish north, I didn't grow up with humidity - like, at all - so I think that no matter how long I live elsewhere, I will never learn to enjoy it.
Speaking of heat waves, we took the kids to the circus last weekend. The tickets were $20 each, Kieran was half price and Kaya was free. Figured it was a cheap-ish way to do something fun with the kids. I mean, really, who doesn't love the circus. Animals, monkey firefighters, clowns, etc, right? RIGHT?
God, I am so naive.
We got there and the kids were thrilled. There were clowns wandering around, walking pretend dogs and ruffling kids hair, it all seemed good. When we got inside there was small tent where they sold their overpriced snacks and souvenirs and then we adjourned to the big tent. We walked inside the "Big Top"...and were met with a wall of heat like I have never felt indoors except in a sauna. In fact, it was a sauna. We snagged seats in the front row and sat there for a few minutes. Sure we could see but these hot lights (I swear they were heat lamps) were beating right down on us. Someone asked one of the carnies if the lights ever got turned off, but he didn't know. We figured we should move because we still had a half hour until the show started and we had only been there three minutes and all four of us where already sweating beyond belief.
So, we moved to seats away from the lights, where it was still sweltering but at least the lights weren't also blazing on us. Eric went to buy drinks and spend $15 on two bottles of juice and a big cup of lemonade. Then it was $5 for .10 cents worth of popcorn. Then Kieran wanted one of these spinning light up wands and we figured what the heck they seemed kind of neat: $15. Oy. No more spending.
The show started and these unfunny clowns come out for a few seconds, followed by a woman on a big horse who rode around the ring for 5 minutes. Uh-oh. Way to open with a show stopper. Then 5 more horses came out and ran in circles around the ring for another 5-10 minutes. I look at Eric. More uh-oh. We are pouring sweat and the "ringmaster" kept announcing they have "ice cold beverages" for sale. Our ice cold waters were already room temperature.
Next, three Asian girls with some yo-yo type things, another Asian girl who hung from some ribbons from the ceiling for a bit, more Asians balancing teacups on their heads, more Asians spinning parasols with the feet, a "funny photographer" who picked "real people" from the audience to be in his act where they were made to do funny poses in ape costumes, finally an Asian guy spinning Chinese vases on his head. Intermission.
The kids were bored stiff, the acts were not interesting enough for kids and not nearly sophisticated enough for adults. There were periodics wafts of hot air coming up from behind the seats every so often which made Eric think that they were just heating the place up to get people to buy the "ice cold drinks, snow cones, etc", Kaya was starting to roam around the seats causing trouble, Kieran was so hot he was in a stupor. I looked the program we had to buy ($1) which outlined the "acts" and almost none of it matched what we had seen. The next act said there were elephants coming up, but suddenly I doubted that was going to happen. Our babysitter had gone earlier in the week and had mentioned that there were no elephants, so I figured the program was a giant lie. The only part of the program that seemed true was the disclaimer that said "due to the nature of live performances, we reserve the right to alter these acts at any time."
Could we last another hour or so? The intermission "balloon guy" came out and Kieran wanted one (we said no), and I could just see that we were not going to last until the end without some serious money spending just to keep us cool and hydrated and quiet, so we cut our losses and split.
Even in the blazing afternoon heat it was far cooler outside. We went home and filled up the kiddie pool, put the slide in it and the kids had a absolute ball for the rest of day. For free. Take that Shriners.
Besides, with the crazy heat wave going on it's sort of nice to spend all day guilt-free in a nicely air-conditioned office. If I was at home, I would feel like I should be outside, which let's be honest, is very unpleasant when the air is so thick you could chew it. Coming from the far-ish north, I didn't grow up with humidity - like, at all - so I think that no matter how long I live elsewhere, I will never learn to enjoy it.
Speaking of heat waves, we took the kids to the circus last weekend. The tickets were $20 each, Kieran was half price and Kaya was free. Figured it was a cheap-ish way to do something fun with the kids. I mean, really, who doesn't love the circus. Animals, monkey firefighters, clowns, etc, right? RIGHT?
God, I am so naive.
We got there and the kids were thrilled. There were clowns wandering around, walking pretend dogs and ruffling kids hair, it all seemed good. When we got inside there was small tent where they sold their overpriced snacks and souvenirs and then we adjourned to the big tent. We walked inside the "Big Top"...and were met with a wall of heat like I have never felt indoors except in a sauna. In fact, it was a sauna. We snagged seats in the front row and sat there for a few minutes. Sure we could see but these hot lights (I swear they were heat lamps) were beating right down on us. Someone asked one of the carnies if the lights ever got turned off, but he didn't know. We figured we should move because we still had a half hour until the show started and we had only been there three minutes and all four of us where already sweating beyond belief.
So, we moved to seats away from the lights, where it was still sweltering but at least the lights weren't also blazing on us. Eric went to buy drinks and spend $15 on two bottles of juice and a big cup of lemonade. Then it was $5 for .10 cents worth of popcorn. Then Kieran wanted one of these spinning light up wands and we figured what the heck they seemed kind of neat: $15. Oy. No more spending.
The show started and these unfunny clowns come out for a few seconds, followed by a woman on a big horse who rode around the ring for 5 minutes. Uh-oh. Way to open with a show stopper. Then 5 more horses came out and ran in circles around the ring for another 5-10 minutes. I look at Eric. More uh-oh. We are pouring sweat and the "ringmaster" kept announcing they have "ice cold beverages" for sale. Our ice cold waters were already room temperature.
Next, three Asian girls with some yo-yo type things, another Asian girl who hung from some ribbons from the ceiling for a bit, more Asians balancing teacups on their heads, more Asians spinning parasols with the feet, a "funny photographer" who picked "real people" from the audience to be in his act where they were made to do funny poses in ape costumes, finally an Asian guy spinning Chinese vases on his head. Intermission.
The kids were bored stiff, the acts were not interesting enough for kids and not nearly sophisticated enough for adults. There were periodics wafts of hot air coming up from behind the seats every so often which made Eric think that they were just heating the place up to get people to buy the "ice cold drinks, snow cones, etc", Kaya was starting to roam around the seats causing trouble, Kieran was so hot he was in a stupor. I looked the program we had to buy ($1) which outlined the "acts" and almost none of it matched what we had seen. The next act said there were elephants coming up, but suddenly I doubted that was going to happen. Our babysitter had gone earlier in the week and had mentioned that there were no elephants, so I figured the program was a giant lie. The only part of the program that seemed true was the disclaimer that said "due to the nature of live performances, we reserve the right to alter these acts at any time."
Could we last another hour or so? The intermission "balloon guy" came out and Kieran wanted one (we said no), and I could just see that we were not going to last until the end without some serious money spending just to keep us cool and hydrated and quiet, so we cut our losses and split.
Even in the blazing afternoon heat it was far cooler outside. We went home and filled up the kiddie pool, put the slide in it and the kids had a absolute ball for the rest of day. For free. Take that Shriners.
Friday, July 2, 2010
Back to Reality
Now that the Letter Numbers Meetings are over and I am free (free, FREE!), from the shackles of a government contract, I can only say what a relief it is to have it over and done with.
In one way, I am sad the second meeting...hereafter known on this blog as the G20...will now forever be associated with violence, riots and the violation of human rights. From my point of view, so many people worked really hard to bring that event together only to have its legacy obliterated by a small group of violent idiots who's only goal was create chaos. But I'm not going to blog about that. That part of it, I only saw on the news like everyone else.
However, if you would like, I can wax poetic for hours on leaders exiting airplanes, Obama and his three helicopter fake out (were I a terrorist and had to guess which helicopter he was on, I would have taken out the wrong one) and frakkin' Sarkozy and his giant ego that help up just about every event. I stood mere metres away from all 8 leaders as they stood outside on an astroturf covered golf green for the "family photo" all the while remembering to move vewy, vewy, slowly lest any sniper get over-excited. Or I can talk about how the Russian media stood over the snack table feeding their faces directly over the plates so nobody else could even sneak by and take a cookie.
I fully realize that my story is going to be profoundly different from many serious blogs about G20 arrests and the unlawful detainment of innocent people, but I have something that I want to talk about. Something of infinitely less importance. But, I simply must tell you about the buffet at the media centre at Deerhurst Lodge. I can only assume that the lodge thought that they needed to feed the international news crews a 5-star buffet of three meals, plus snacks, plus afternoon poolside barbecue, plus open bar, as though said media were there to review its restaurant and amenities rather than follow around a rag-tag bunch of heads of state on goofy photo ops and boring press conferences.
I'm talking full breakfasts with personalized omelet bars and a chef at the end of buffet carving slabs of juicy peameal (er, Canadian) bacon and maple syrup made on the premises (as the hostess told me) and it went on from there. Poutine (real cheese curds, homemade gravy) on the poolside terrace, pheasant for dinner, a selection of desserts worthy of the finest pastry chefs.
God, I'm so shallow.
Anyway, back to my buffet-less real life. The fences are coming down and we are just waiting for the concrete girders to be removed. I surely will not miss a life sans 24/7 security (my first night home, I woke up to the sound of Kaya crying and in my semi-awake state was trying to remember where I put my accreditation badge so that the security guard would let me into her room).
I was gone so much over the last two weeks that I feel actually out of touch with the world. I haven't watched any real news, visited any other blogs and only realized a day or two ago that I was several episodes behind on The Bachelorette. (Which I find I don't care about because I actively dislike the woman is The Bachelorette). For the first time since May 29 (when my kids were in our babysitters wedding) I have a free weekend. (Well, free except that we are going to the circus on Saturday). I need to catch up on my sleep, get ahead on my laundry and hopefully do a whole lot of nothing.
In one way, I am sad the second meeting...hereafter known on this blog as the G20...will now forever be associated with violence, riots and the violation of human rights. From my point of view, so many people worked really hard to bring that event together only to have its legacy obliterated by a small group of violent idiots who's only goal was create chaos. But I'm not going to blog about that. That part of it, I only saw on the news like everyone else.
However, if you would like, I can wax poetic for hours on leaders exiting airplanes, Obama and his three helicopter fake out (were I a terrorist and had to guess which helicopter he was on, I would have taken out the wrong one) and frakkin' Sarkozy and his giant ego that help up just about every event. I stood mere metres away from all 8 leaders as they stood outside on an astroturf covered golf green for the "family photo" all the while remembering to move vewy, vewy, slowly lest any sniper get over-excited. Or I can talk about how the Russian media stood over the snack table feeding their faces directly over the plates so nobody else could even sneak by and take a cookie.
I fully realize that my story is going to be profoundly different from many serious blogs about G20 arrests and the unlawful detainment of innocent people, but I have something that I want to talk about. Something of infinitely less importance. But, I simply must tell you about the buffet at the media centre at Deerhurst Lodge. I can only assume that the lodge thought that they needed to feed the international news crews a 5-star buffet of three meals, plus snacks, plus afternoon poolside barbecue, plus open bar, as though said media were there to review its restaurant and amenities rather than follow around a rag-tag bunch of heads of state on goofy photo ops and boring press conferences.
I'm talking full breakfasts with personalized omelet bars and a chef at the end of buffet carving slabs of juicy peameal (er, Canadian) bacon and maple syrup made on the premises (as the hostess told me) and it went on from there. Poutine (real cheese curds, homemade gravy) on the poolside terrace, pheasant for dinner, a selection of desserts worthy of the finest pastry chefs.
God, I'm so shallow.
Anyway, back to my buffet-less real life. The fences are coming down and we are just waiting for the concrete girders to be removed. I surely will not miss a life sans 24/7 security (my first night home, I woke up to the sound of Kaya crying and in my semi-awake state was trying to remember where I put my accreditation badge so that the security guard would let me into her room).
I was gone so much over the last two weeks that I feel actually out of touch with the world. I haven't watched any real news, visited any other blogs and only realized a day or two ago that I was several episodes behind on The Bachelorette. (Which I find I don't care about because I actively dislike the woman is The Bachelorette). For the first time since May 29 (when my kids were in our babysitters wedding) I have a free weekend. (Well, free except that we are going to the circus on Saturday). I need to catch up on my sleep, get ahead on my laundry and hopefully do a whole lot of nothing.
Friday, June 11, 2010
All in a Days Work
Friday night, another week down. Letter-Number Meeting gig is getting closer and closer to being over, which is definitely worth a slug or to of wine in celebration. The event gets more ridiculous by the day. Now that everything is more or less in place, they are dreaming up various "disaster scenarios" and we are tasked to figure out how would we overcome them. For example: What if the International Media Centre is set on fire? The obvious answer..."we go home" is not acceptable. For the government to approve a plan, it needs to be something both pointless and expensive, so we have about 11 layers of backup scenarios. Trust me, barring full on Armageddon (which is possible) this event will happen even if every leader has flown standby on the first jet out of the country.
On another note: I had my first commuter train debacle this week. I started taking the train again when this contract started because the office is right in the heart of downtown. I am enjoying the train and since I have some freedom with my schedule both coming and going, it's really working well for me. I have had zero complaints about the service or the reliability. Never had a single problem (or at least anything that could compare the crap shoot that is driving). Until yesterday. While I was waiting for the train, an announcement came over the loudspeaker saying that due to a "pedestrian incident" at another station, the trains going west were delayed. I, and 99.9 percent of the travellers, were going East, so we all disregarded the message, the eastbound train pulled up and and we left our station right on schedule.
And then two minutes later, we stop. Announcement: "Due to passenger incident at (upcoming) station, all trains are delayed." Thanks GO for not announcing that 3 minutes sooner.
Now, train seats are set up in pods of 4, two seats facing two seats. There are three other women in my pod. Directly across is an older woman in a sparkly blazer. A young east Indian woman sits beside her. Beside me is a power business woman.
We converse, as strangers do, about how long we could be delayed for, who can afford to be late to work, blahblahblah. The East Indian woman has a thick accent and I cannot understand a bloody word she is saying, but yet, for some reason, she keeps directing her conversation to me. I obviously confuse her with a lot of inappropriate nodding, because she starts to look at me strangely and begins directing more of her comments to Sparkly Blazer. I start to fiddle with my Blackberry so she will stop including me in whatever she's on about. We wait and wait.
East Indian woman: "Ahh! Good thing I brought a Reader's Digest. The jokes are very funny." She pulls out a dog-eared copy of RD and says, I kid you not: "Would you like me to read you some jokes?" Luckily, she has directed this question to all of three of us. Sparkly Blazer, I think to be nice, says OK. Power Suit and I both respond by looking down at our Blackberries. I'm sorry, but is way too early for this.
She begins to read aloud from the Readers Digest, and Sparkly Blazer (who is a nice, grandmotherly sort) thankfully, hoots in glee at the jokes, which may or may not be funny. I still can't seem to grasp the woman's accent.
Finally, the train starts to move and we pull into the next stop, which is only one stop from where I got on. It's been about 30 minutes so far. More announcements come on about delays. Finally: "Due to passenger fatality at the (upcoming) station all trains are suspended indefinitely." Ah fatality. Code for suicide jumper. The word fatality sobers the crowd up a bit, seems to make everyone slightly less cranky and more philosophical.
People start getting up and flooding off the train and I'm thinking: "where are you all going? We are in the burbs! Are you all going to catch cabs to work?! Really?" They announce that the city bus will take passengers to the next Go stop, where they can get on a streetcar to go downtown. Sounds like a colossal hassle to me, but both Sparkly Blazer and Power Suit decide to get the bus. I decide that I just do not need to get into the office that badly and am going to work from home. But Eric is at a breakfast meeting so we I can't even get a ride for another 30 minutes or so. So, it's me and the East Indian woman and the Readers Digest. I can understand her better now that the train engines are off, but she is a real chatterbox. I have a feeling that when Eric is finally free to come get me, I'll be giving her a ride somewhere. I start answering emails and doing some work (it is now well after 9) and people are milling around sort of lost, and suddenly, they announce that everyone can get back on the train and we are cleared to go.
Power Suit and Sparkly Blazer do not reappear. Two businessmen sit down instead. East Indian woman is still talking to me and I sense both men fear they are going to be sucked into small talk. The train starts moving and continues to move at a pace only marginally faster than walking. In the end my 2o minute ride took 3 hours.
Oh Jumper.
On another note: I had my first commuter train debacle this week. I started taking the train again when this contract started because the office is right in the heart of downtown. I am enjoying the train and since I have some freedom with my schedule both coming and going, it's really working well for me. I have had zero complaints about the service or the reliability. Never had a single problem (or at least anything that could compare the crap shoot that is driving). Until yesterday. While I was waiting for the train, an announcement came over the loudspeaker saying that due to a "pedestrian incident" at another station, the trains going west were delayed. I, and 99.9 percent of the travellers, were going East, so we all disregarded the message, the eastbound train pulled up and and we left our station right on schedule.
And then two minutes later, we stop. Announcement: "Due to passenger incident at (upcoming) station, all trains are delayed." Thanks GO for not announcing that 3 minutes sooner.
Now, train seats are set up in pods of 4, two seats facing two seats. There are three other women in my pod. Directly across is an older woman in a sparkly blazer. A young east Indian woman sits beside her. Beside me is a power business woman.
We converse, as strangers do, about how long we could be delayed for, who can afford to be late to work, blahblahblah. The East Indian woman has a thick accent and I cannot understand a bloody word she is saying, but yet, for some reason, she keeps directing her conversation to me. I obviously confuse her with a lot of inappropriate nodding, because she starts to look at me strangely and begins directing more of her comments to Sparkly Blazer. I start to fiddle with my Blackberry so she will stop including me in whatever she's on about. We wait and wait.
East Indian woman: "Ahh! Good thing I brought a Reader's Digest. The jokes are very funny." She pulls out a dog-eared copy of RD and says, I kid you not: "Would you like me to read you some jokes?" Luckily, she has directed this question to all of three of us. Sparkly Blazer, I think to be nice, says OK. Power Suit and I both respond by looking down at our Blackberries. I'm sorry, but is way too early for this.
She begins to read aloud from the Readers Digest, and Sparkly Blazer (who is a nice, grandmotherly sort) thankfully, hoots in glee at the jokes, which may or may not be funny. I still can't seem to grasp the woman's accent.
Finally, the train starts to move and we pull into the next stop, which is only one stop from where I got on. It's been about 30 minutes so far. More announcements come on about delays. Finally: "Due to passenger fatality at the (upcoming) station all trains are suspended indefinitely." Ah fatality. Code for suicide jumper. The word fatality sobers the crowd up a bit, seems to make everyone slightly less cranky and more philosophical.
People start getting up and flooding off the train and I'm thinking: "where are you all going? We are in the burbs! Are you all going to catch cabs to work?! Really?" They announce that the city bus will take passengers to the next Go stop, where they can get on a streetcar to go downtown. Sounds like a colossal hassle to me, but both Sparkly Blazer and Power Suit decide to get the bus. I decide that I just do not need to get into the office that badly and am going to work from home. But Eric is at a breakfast meeting so we I can't even get a ride for another 30 minutes or so. So, it's me and the East Indian woman and the Readers Digest. I can understand her better now that the train engines are off, but she is a real chatterbox. I have a feeling that when Eric is finally free to come get me, I'll be giving her a ride somewhere. I start answering emails and doing some work (it is now well after 9) and people are milling around sort of lost, and suddenly, they announce that everyone can get back on the train and we are cleared to go.
Power Suit and Sparkly Blazer do not reappear. Two businessmen sit down instead. East Indian woman is still talking to me and I sense both men fear they are going to be sucked into small talk. The train starts moving and continues to move at a pace only marginally faster than walking. In the end my 2o minute ride took 3 hours.
Oh Jumper.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
And Now We are Four
My son turns 4 today. Officially, I mean. Unofficially, he has been 4 in my mind for several months now. To me, three is still quite babyish whereas 4 is all about independence and responsibility. It’s Goodbye,Diego and Hello, Batman.
Now Kieran has always been a fair amount of work. Up until he turned 3, the absolute last words I would have used to describe him were easygoing or independent (both words which, incidentally, I would wholeheartedly apply to his little sister). But in the last year the change has been dramatic. Thankfully. Truly, as a toddler my son had some terrible qualities – while many children are shy around adults, Kieran went a step further into open hostility. Old ladies who would coo at him in the grocery store were usually met with a glare or a pout or a loud grunt of how-dare-you-address-me-displeasure. Totally embarrassing, totally not cute and very different from the little boy I knew privately. And don’t get me started on waking him up early from naps…the crying and screaming could last for (and I say this without the slightest exaggeration) HOURS.
But things are much better now. Now, if he is excited about an upcoming outing, he is the child who will actually shout at people on the street: “I’m going for ice cream!” or “I’m going the park!” I’ve had to tell him many times that people, especially older kids, are not interested, but he is totally unfazed.
He’s been taking a Sportball class (a pre-school sports program that introduces them to a new sport each week- golf, basketball, tennis etc) for quite awhile now. The indoor section ended and the new outdoor part began and once it moved outside, parents were allowed to watch. Last week, we went to his class and I had Kaya with me. I was busy chasing her around and was totally oblivious to what was happening on the field. At one point another parent said to me “your son is a total athlete!” My immediate and obviously inappropriate response (“My Son?!”) implying that he was obviously confusing my undersized half Asian child with some strapping blond kid who looked remotely like me, but he wasn’t. Yet another surprise! And it was true…even though I think the use of the word “athlete” is a bit dramatic, it was obvious that while most of the other kids were distracted lollygaggers, Kieran was different. He was listening to the instructor and putting in all the effort. Can’t ask for more than that.
He starts school in the fall and he is so ready. He talks about it all the time and is practically brimming with joy at the prospect. I’m hoping he can maintain the momentum he has going. He and his daycare friends will go separate ways and there will be a whole new group of kids to get to know. I feel there will be some hard lessons he has to learn about being different and making friends, but I can only hope that he comes out even stronger on the other end. But, I have a good feeling it will all be OK.
Happy Birthday Kieran!!
Now Kieran has always been a fair amount of work. Up until he turned 3, the absolute last words I would have used to describe him were easygoing or independent (both words which, incidentally, I would wholeheartedly apply to his little sister). But in the last year the change has been dramatic. Thankfully. Truly, as a toddler my son had some terrible qualities – while many children are shy around adults, Kieran went a step further into open hostility. Old ladies who would coo at him in the grocery store were usually met with a glare or a pout or a loud grunt of how-dare-you-address-me-displeasure. Totally embarrassing, totally not cute and very different from the little boy I knew privately. And don’t get me started on waking him up early from naps…the crying and screaming could last for (and I say this without the slightest exaggeration) HOURS.
But things are much better now. Now, if he is excited about an upcoming outing, he is the child who will actually shout at people on the street: “I’m going for ice cream!” or “I’m going the park!” I’ve had to tell him many times that people, especially older kids, are not interested, but he is totally unfazed.
He’s been taking a Sportball class (a pre-school sports program that introduces them to a new sport each week- golf, basketball, tennis etc) for quite awhile now. The indoor section ended and the new outdoor part began and once it moved outside, parents were allowed to watch. Last week, we went to his class and I had Kaya with me. I was busy chasing her around and was totally oblivious to what was happening on the field. At one point another parent said to me “your son is a total athlete!” My immediate and obviously inappropriate response (“My Son?!”) implying that he was obviously confusing my undersized half Asian child with some strapping blond kid who looked remotely like me, but he wasn’t. Yet another surprise! And it was true…even though I think the use of the word “athlete” is a bit dramatic, it was obvious that while most of the other kids were distracted lollygaggers, Kieran was different. He was listening to the instructor and putting in all the effort. Can’t ask for more than that.
He starts school in the fall and he is so ready. He talks about it all the time and is practically brimming with joy at the prospect. I’m hoping he can maintain the momentum he has going. He and his daycare friends will go separate ways and there will be a whole new group of kids to get to know. I feel there will be some hard lessons he has to learn about being different and making friends, but I can only hope that he comes out even stronger on the other end. But, I have a good feeling it will all be OK.
Happy Birthday Kieran!!
Monday, June 7, 2010
I feel like Garfield...but I really do hate Mondays.
I’m not sure I’m awake enough to be updating this, but I’m going to try:
I spent the weekend in Niagara Falls where my husband’s band was playing at the Casino. It was a fantastic weekend, I love the band and would follow them around like a groupie were it not for the fact that I need childcare. Well, and also that apparently staying up until 4 am is not for the weak and soft (which apparently, I am). It’s now Monday and my head is still pounding and I could easily crawl back into bed and nap until tomorrow. But alas, I cannot.
Still working hard (ha!) at the Letter Number Meeting Office. I am happy to report that the security department did not find and flag me as a security risk due to my last update. Still counting the days until this whole thing is OVAH. I’m tired of it all…the meetings, the security, the oddness. The office cleaning staff is not allowed in here on evenings and weekends so they come in during midmorning. A bunch of old ladies with their vacuums trying to clean around all the staff. It’s reminiscent of childhood when your Mom would ram the vacuum into your feet while you were trying to watch cartoons, only this time we are grownups and probably on conference calls. But it’s just as annoying. And we all collectively learned the hard way that one cannot dispose of one’s lunch leftovers in your desk garbage on Friday lest you want to still smell it on Monday morning. Gag.
Of course, this would also be the month that is insanely busy on the personal side. Every single weekend is completely booked…so much so that I am having issues trying to find a day to have Kieran’s 4th Birthday party. I think I have an available date a full two weeks after his birthday has passed, slotted in mere hours before I depart for cottage country and the Letter-Number extravaganza really begins (and hopefully ends...peacefully).
Also, I had another post written in my head last week, and naturally as all blog posts are, it was eloquent and funny in my imagination. Now it is a week later and I'm tired, so my well written post will now be condensed to this one lame-o paragraph about our last -and also crazy - weekend.
Last week the kids were the ring bearer and flower girl at our babysitter’s daughter’s wedding. They were very cute and very good, but, as a parent having your child involved in a wedding where you aren’t involved is both strange and freeing. I didn’t need to go to a single dress or tux fitting. I didn’t have to worry about shoes or hair or photographs. On the morning of the big day, I dropped Kaya off at the house to get ready with the bridal party and didn’t see her until she came down the aisle. However, I did have to get myself and Kieran ready (Eric, of course, was out of town), which meant 10 minutes of trying to cram his feet into his shoes – I resorted to using a spatula as a shoehorn - followed by not being able to FIND my own shoes, getting caught in crazy traffic and then arriving with him five minutes before the ceremony began (and 25 minutes after I was asked to have him there). So, even though I barely had anything to do I still almost managed to screw it up.
Anyway, I should get to work. I think my headache has subsided enough to allow me to actually get work done. And I hear the vacuums coming this way….
I spent the weekend in Niagara Falls where my husband’s band was playing at the Casino. It was a fantastic weekend, I love the band and would follow them around like a groupie were it not for the fact that I need childcare. Well, and also that apparently staying up until 4 am is not for the weak and soft (which apparently, I am). It’s now Monday and my head is still pounding and I could easily crawl back into bed and nap until tomorrow. But alas, I cannot.
Still working hard (ha!) at the Letter Number Meeting Office. I am happy to report that the security department did not find and flag me as a security risk due to my last update. Still counting the days until this whole thing is OVAH. I’m tired of it all…the meetings, the security, the oddness. The office cleaning staff is not allowed in here on evenings and weekends so they come in during midmorning. A bunch of old ladies with their vacuums trying to clean around all the staff. It’s reminiscent of childhood when your Mom would ram the vacuum into your feet while you were trying to watch cartoons, only this time we are grownups and probably on conference calls. But it’s just as annoying. And we all collectively learned the hard way that one cannot dispose of one’s lunch leftovers in your desk garbage on Friday lest you want to still smell it on Monday morning. Gag.
Of course, this would also be the month that is insanely busy on the personal side. Every single weekend is completely booked…so much so that I am having issues trying to find a day to have Kieran’s 4th Birthday party. I think I have an available date a full two weeks after his birthday has passed, slotted in mere hours before I depart for cottage country and the Letter-Number extravaganza really begins (and hopefully ends...peacefully).
Also, I had another post written in my head last week, and naturally as all blog posts are, it was eloquent and funny in my imagination. Now it is a week later and I'm tired, so my well written post will now be condensed to this one lame-o paragraph about our last -and also crazy - weekend.
Last week the kids were the ring bearer and flower girl at our babysitter’s daughter’s wedding. They were very cute and very good, but, as a parent having your child involved in a wedding where you aren’t involved is both strange and freeing. I didn’t need to go to a single dress or tux fitting. I didn’t have to worry about shoes or hair or photographs. On the morning of the big day, I dropped Kaya off at the house to get ready with the bridal party and didn’t see her until she came down the aisle. However, I did have to get myself and Kieran ready (Eric, of course, was out of town), which meant 10 minutes of trying to cram his feet into his shoes – I resorted to using a spatula as a shoehorn - followed by not being able to FIND my own shoes, getting caught in crazy traffic and then arriving with him five minutes before the ceremony began (and 25 minutes after I was asked to have him there). So, even though I barely had anything to do I still almost managed to screw it up.
Anyway, I should get to work. I think my headache has subsided enough to allow me to actually get work done. And I hear the vacuums coming this way….
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Letters and Numbers
Wow...I last updated in February.
Well, I guess that would mean this blog is/was officially 'on hiatus" and that if I'm thinking anyone would still be reading this I'm nuts. But I hold out hope that someone somewhere will Google "crazybabyTylenoldrivewaymonkey" and wind up here. (Although i guess now they will for sure).
Anyway, I have so much whining to do! I'm so far behind in my pointless ranting, I'm not sure where to begin.
But here is a good place to start: God, this laptop is beyond annoying. The cursor will randomly scoot all over place whilst I am typing. I often wind up suddenly typing back in the middle of a sentence 3 paragraphs prior for no discernible reason, which means there is an excellent chance you are reading typos that I missed or am just to damned irritated to fix. My apologies, I am indeed a poor workwoman blaming her tools.
Next, I've been working for the past month from a different office than usual. I'm on loan from my regular job and for a few months am working on a huge international political event that, apparently, cannot be named on the internet. Well, I could say what it is, but there is an entire security group here who spend their days plugging the name of this event into search engines to track every single mention of it on the web. I know this for a fact because not too long ago somebody who posted something like "I can't wait for this (event that cannot be named) to be over" on Twitter got hauled into some top floor offices and roundly chastised. So, for my purposes here let me call this event the Letter-Number Meeting. (Ha! take that security goons!).
However, I will say this..I totally agree with my Twittering co-worker. (I like him even though he Twitters.)I think I speak for all Letter-Number employees when I say that none of us can wait for this to be over.
The worst thing about working here at Letter-Number is the amount of meetings. These people think that nothing can ever be accomplished without a meeting. A long one. Preferably one where people are joining in via video conference and where agendas are passed out that include a "lunch break - user pay" and a couple of "health breaks"(which is ironic since many people use it to smoke). I don't know what they think they accomplish at their huge meetings because it's clearly next to nothing. Mostly, everyone fiddles with their Blackberries (which has replaced pen-doodling of years past) while one by one, we are expected to speak about the status of our particular task. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the people who are working on broadcast don't care about carpet colours and the people working on signage don't care about warehouse load-in but there we all are. Attendance mandatory.
Anyway, enough about Letter-Number for now. I'm sure it will be a rousing success and we as host country will bask in many international accolades. There. Now they can fire me.
Well, I guess that would mean this blog is/was officially 'on hiatus" and that if I'm thinking anyone would still be reading this I'm nuts. But I hold out hope that someone somewhere will Google "crazybabyTylenoldrivewaymonkey" and wind up here. (Although i guess now they will for sure).
Anyway, I have so much whining to do! I'm so far behind in my pointless ranting, I'm not sure where to begin.
But here is a good place to start: God, this laptop is beyond annoying. The cursor will randomly scoot all over place whilst I am typing. I often wind up suddenly typing back in the middle of a sentence 3 paragraphs prior for no discernible reason, which means there is an excellent chance you are reading typos that I missed or am just to damned irritated to fix. My apologies, I am indeed a poor workwoman blaming her tools.
Next, I've been working for the past month from a different office than usual. I'm on loan from my regular job and for a few months am working on a huge international political event that, apparently, cannot be named on the internet. Well, I could say what it is, but there is an entire security group here who spend their days plugging the name of this event into search engines to track every single mention of it on the web. I know this for a fact because not too long ago somebody who posted something like "I can't wait for this (event that cannot be named) to be over" on Twitter got hauled into some top floor offices and roundly chastised. So, for my purposes here let me call this event the Letter-Number Meeting. (Ha! take that security goons!).
However, I will say this..I totally agree with my Twittering co-worker. (I like him even though he Twitters.)I think I speak for all Letter-Number employees when I say that none of us can wait for this to be over.
The worst thing about working here at Letter-Number is the amount of meetings. These people think that nothing can ever be accomplished without a meeting. A long one. Preferably one where people are joining in via video conference and where agendas are passed out that include a "lunch break - user pay" and a couple of "health breaks"(which is ironic since many people use it to smoke). I don't know what they think they accomplish at their huge meetings because it's clearly next to nothing. Mostly, everyone fiddles with their Blackberries (which has replaced pen-doodling of years past) while one by one, we are expected to speak about the status of our particular task. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the people who are working on broadcast don't care about carpet colours and the people working on signage don't care about warehouse load-in but there we all are. Attendance mandatory.
Anyway, enough about Letter-Number for now. I'm sure it will be a rousing success and we as host country will bask in many international accolades. There. Now they can fire me.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Retraction
So, clearly, I need to retract my most recent update. Imagine that, I'm away from this blog for months, come back here to write an irate post about Canada's Olympic athletes crashing and burning and now, here I am, during the Closing Ceremonies writing a happy retraction. In fact, I am happy to report, that after an iffy first week of the Games, those athletes DID rise up and claimed more Gold Medals than any other country has ever done during the Winter Games. Yay!!!
But perhaps, since it was during the writing of my last blog that the tide turned in our favour, so I thought I might as well just go out on a limb and take credit for the turnaround. I write...they listen.
But, as usual, I am sad the Games are over and have to go back to regular life and routine. As of right now, I can go back to being oblivious and totally unconcerned about things like the weather conditions at Cypress Mountain.
I do take solace in the fact, however, that come the next Winter Olympics my children will be 6 and 8 years old and hopefully, will allow me to watch the Games uninterrupted. Today, during the Gold Medal Hockey Game that had this entire country gripped in front of their plasma screens, Kieran must have asked me 4000 questions... could we...say...play Hide and Seek, build his train, take a bath, decorate cupcakes, go outside, watch Mickey Mouse, watch Scooby Doo, read him Pirate Pete, go to the "lunch store", listen to music, have hot chocolate, have juice, and on and on and on. Although, he did learn how to sing O Canada. It's his new favourite song. He fell asleep tonight singing it to himself.
Go Canada!!!
But perhaps, since it was during the writing of my last blog that the tide turned in our favour, so I thought I might as well just go out on a limb and take credit for the turnaround. I write...they listen.
But, as usual, I am sad the Games are over and have to go back to regular life and routine. As of right now, I can go back to being oblivious and totally unconcerned about things like the weather conditions at Cypress Mountain.
I do take solace in the fact, however, that come the next Winter Olympics my children will be 6 and 8 years old and hopefully, will allow me to watch the Games uninterrupted. Today, during the Gold Medal Hockey Game that had this entire country gripped in front of their plasma screens, Kieran must have asked me 4000 questions... could we...say...play Hide and Seek, build his train, take a bath, decorate cupcakes, go outside, watch Mickey Mouse, watch Scooby Doo, read him Pirate Pete, go to the "lunch store", listen to music, have hot chocolate, have juice, and on and on and on. Although, he did learn how to sing O Canada. It's his new favourite song. He fell asleep tonight singing it to himself.
Go Canada!!!
Friday, February 19, 2010
OW! The Podium!
Oy. It's not like I have nothing to blog about.
In fact, now that I have finally decided to devote some time to updating this , I feel like I could be here all night recording all the exciting happenings of the last few months. OK. Not exciting. And I'm here because I think if I watch one more second of the Winter Olympics my eyes will begin to bleed. It was this or Ice Dance. Again.
I will start by addressing my long absence from this space. It's not that I have lost interest or have naught to say. It can be partially explained by the fact that my job only allows for "blogtime" during the summer. At the beginning of the NHL Hockey Season all bets are off that I can reliably devote more than 9 consecutive minutes to crafting even an email response to my mother, let alone a full on blog post. And my other blogging window, which was on weekend nights when Eric was out playing with his band, dried up when the female singer of said band was gestating/birthing/breastfeeding a baby which necessitated a several month hiatus from performing. But, whaddya know? The band is onstage somewhere right now, the Olympic brain seizure is in effect, so blogging it is.
And you know, I could go back and start chronicling all that I have missed (Christmas..awesome. Winter...where snowflakes only ever fall during my commute. Registering Kieran for Kindergarten...Yeehaw!!) but I think I would like to talk about my current/recurrent obsession, which is the Olympics.
If you know me in person you will likely know that I am not a sports fan, and yet I am, and have always been, an Olympic addict. I remember during the 1988 Games in Calgary, re-enacting Olympic Figure Skating routines with my friends in our basement. I remember the following September watching Ben Johnson win the 100 metre in Seoul and, even more clearly, the horror and collective mourning that followed two days later at my high school when he failed that drug test and lost the Gold. But being Canadian, I identify more with the Winter Games... Lillehammer, Albertville, Nagano, Salt Lake City, Torino (and no, I did not have to check with the internet to verify the order of the cities...I do remember them all.)
And now we can add Vancouver 2010 to the list. Hopefully, years from now I will have forgotten how the Games opened, that unfortunate juxtaposition of a jubilant torch run that cut to the sight and sound of a Georgian luger smashing into a steel girder and knowing right then that, even though they wouldn't officially say it for at least another 90 minutes, that he was dead. (This was the one and only time that having an HD Plasma screen installed three feet from my head in the office was very, very bad.) But things have been brighter from there...at least now all I hear all day long from the huge TV beside my head is the collective suck of Canada's best athletes. It's like they are just now saying: "What? OWN the Podium? Dude...I thought that read "OW! The Podium! Because it really, like, hurt when I careened off the hill and smashed into it "
But, even still, I am a fan. I think I can come to terms with the undeniable fact, that, with notable exceptions, no matter how much they try, Canadian athletes can rack up World Championships, International Accolades and World Records...until the Olympics. Its like we see those mascots, hear the orchestra swell in a David Foster-esque theme song and dive for cover. I accept that. And I love the Games regardless. Which is why, I must now return to Ice Dance.
ETA: While I was writing this, Canada won a Gold Medal. Ah, sweet irony.
In fact, now that I have finally decided to devote some time to updating this , I feel like I could be here all night recording all the exciting happenings of the last few months. OK. Not exciting. And I'm here because I think if I watch one more second of the Winter Olympics my eyes will begin to bleed. It was this or Ice Dance. Again.
I will start by addressing my long absence from this space. It's not that I have lost interest or have naught to say. It can be partially explained by the fact that my job only allows for "blogtime" during the summer. At the beginning of the NHL Hockey Season all bets are off that I can reliably devote more than 9 consecutive minutes to crafting even an email response to my mother, let alone a full on blog post. And my other blogging window, which was on weekend nights when Eric was out playing with his band, dried up when the female singer of said band was gestating/birthing/breastfeeding a baby which necessitated a several month hiatus from performing. But, whaddya know? The band is onstage somewhere right now, the Olympic brain seizure is in effect, so blogging it is.
And you know, I could go back and start chronicling all that I have missed (Christmas..awesome. Winter...where snowflakes only ever fall during my commute. Registering Kieran for Kindergarten...Yeehaw!!) but I think I would like to talk about my current/recurrent obsession, which is the Olympics.
If you know me in person you will likely know that I am not a sports fan, and yet I am, and have always been, an Olympic addict. I remember during the 1988 Games in Calgary, re-enacting Olympic Figure Skating routines with my friends in our basement. I remember the following September watching Ben Johnson win the 100 metre in Seoul and, even more clearly, the horror and collective mourning that followed two days later at my high school when he failed that drug test and lost the Gold. But being Canadian, I identify more with the Winter Games... Lillehammer, Albertville, Nagano, Salt Lake City, Torino (and no, I did not have to check with the internet to verify the order of the cities...I do remember them all.)
And now we can add Vancouver 2010 to the list. Hopefully, years from now I will have forgotten how the Games opened, that unfortunate juxtaposition of a jubilant torch run that cut to the sight and sound of a Georgian luger smashing into a steel girder and knowing right then that, even though they wouldn't officially say it for at least another 90 minutes, that he was dead. (This was the one and only time that having an HD Plasma screen installed three feet from my head in the office was very, very bad.) But things have been brighter from there...at least now all I hear all day long from the huge TV beside my head is the collective suck of Canada's best athletes. It's like they are just now saying: "What? OWN the Podium? Dude...I thought that read "OW! The Podium! Because it really, like, hurt when I careened off the hill and smashed into it "
But, even still, I am a fan. I think I can come to terms with the undeniable fact, that, with notable exceptions, no matter how much they try, Canadian athletes can rack up World Championships, International Accolades and World Records...until the Olympics. Its like we see those mascots, hear the orchestra swell in a David Foster-esque theme song and dive for cover. I accept that. And I love the Games regardless. Which is why, I must now return to Ice Dance.
ETA: While I was writing this, Canada won a Gold Medal. Ah, sweet irony.
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