EDITED TO ADD: Just to further prove my insanity, I am wearing my Obama "Yes We Can" shirt today. The whole idea made me smile. To a rink. In Canada. Oh the comments I can expect today! Should make time fly...
Ever have those days? weeks? months? How about years?
Last year sucked. This year? Not much better.
At the moment hockey is killing me.
Shel left Friday morning with Son #3. For a hockey tournament 5 hours away. (Readers in Vernon, BC - go meet Shel. He's the tall one, limping, with the goalie son). He probably looks relaxed and well rested. Thoroughly enjoying his quiet nights with the "easy" kid accompanied by plenty of adult conversation and more than a few rye and cokes. He has a grand total of 3 games to attend this weekend. Did I mention I might be a TAD resentful because I was SUPPOSED to be the parent going away??
Son #2 has a HOME hockey tournament this weekend. That means in ADDITION to transporting 3 boys, feeding 3 boys, catching up on house work and watching hockey games, I have to (yes HAVE to) volunteer an additional 15.5 hours a the rink.
I had 45 minutes after work this afternoon off.
5 hours after that of volunteering.
I have to be back at the rink for a 5:30 am start. I volunteer straight through until noon. Then I watch Son #1 play a game, then Son #4 play a game. Then I volunteer again from 4:00pm - 7:30 pm.
Then I have to be back at the rink for 7:30 am on Sunday morning until at least noon. Then I have my weekend off. Ok, its only 3 hours because Son #1 has to be back at the rink by 3, but you know, how much rest does a woman REALLY need?
I am not sleeping. I am stressed. I cry over nothing. My emotions feel like they are on a yo-yo. And there is simply NO TIME to process anything. A-N-Y-T-H-I-N-G!
So enjoy my 4 minute blog post whine because its the only time I am going to have to think about anything in between running to the rink.
By the way, I forgot to brag last weekend and while I was in Edmonton visiting my Nan, Greg was attending a tournament. He won MVP ... TWICE. Well done son. Remember, you are paying for your own damm college education after how much it cost to send you to that tournament so keep scoring those goals.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
The Gift of Time
Our visit was precious, wonderful and worth every tear.
It was goodbye. Hugs, tears and death bed promises asked and made. She told me to be a "good grandma" one day so I can be as lucky as her. She reminded me of how blessed I am with the family I have. She held my sister and I close and shed tears of grief of the loss about to come, and tears of joy for all we have shared together.
We laughed. We giggled. We ate. We cried. We reminisced. We sang. We listened. We talked.
We played crib. She skunked me. Twice.
We prayed.
She is ready to see heaven, but I am not ready to let her go. This dance of letting go and holding on is tragic. Brutal. Heart breaking. And at the same time, beautiful.
Beautiful to have a chance to celebrate her life with her while she is still aware of what she means to us, and us to her. Beautiful to KNOW that this time I have a chance to say what I need to.
To say good bye. Thank You. I love you. You have taught me all you needed to teach me. I will be ok. I will keep your legacy going. I will never forget you. Your memory is alive with me. It's ok, you don't need to be afraid.
All those the words I whispered in her ear, while inside I was screaming "Not Yet! Please God. Please Nan, NOT YET! You might be ready, but I am not. I need you, please, I need you. I need you as you were. I need your advice, your wisdom, your unconditional love. I need my Nan."
But she is not who she was. She suffers now and wants to go home. To see her daughter, grand daughter, husband, mother, sisters and brothers, friends and her Savior who wait for her. She talks of the curtain she dreams about with the light behind it. Of pulling back that curtain and not being able to see out it yet, but knowing its beautiful and bright. She wants to go. And I hold tight to the memory of the time when she was fully present and I celebrate that. Because I love her, I tell her what she needs to hear. It's ok to go. We will be ok. But I wonder.
And the present calls me back and I watch my sons gently show her love while she so gently offers it in return. I want them to remember her. Her little parties, their sleepovers at her house. The $5 that came in the mail for "an ice cream with your mom" every few months. The card games she so patiently taught, and then lost, for their sake. Her pictures of them that invariably had a thumb in the middle. Her legacy of college funds for each of the 8 great grandsons saved out of her own self sacrifice. She has loved them all. Equally treasuring them and honoring them. For Tanner's gentle nature. Eric's beautiful smile. Greg's love of hockey. Caden's love to snuggle. She is a GREAT, Great-Grandma. And she is so loved.
And the present calls me back and I watch my sons gently show her love while she so gently offers it in return. I want them to remember her. Her little parties, their sleepovers at her house. The $5 that came in the mail for "an ice cream with your mom" every few months. The card games she so patiently taught, and then lost, for their sake. Her pictures of them that invariably had a thumb in the middle. Her legacy of college funds for each of the 8 great grandsons saved out of her own self sacrifice. She has loved them all. Equally treasuring them and honoring them. For Tanner's gentle nature. Eric's beautiful smile. Greg's love of hockey. Caden's love to snuggle. She is a GREAT, Great-Grandma. And she is so loved.
She is not a perfect woman. She made mistakes. She has had a very hard life full of losses that I can't imagine surviving. But she is my Nan and I love her.
Life without her presence is unimaginable. If one day I am as precious to my grandchildren as she is to me I will truly be a successful woman in the only way that matters.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Three Types of People
Imagine for a moment that you have a facial disability. A scar, a deformity, a birth mark? Maybe it was caused by an accident, maybe its a birth defect, but either way its a visible difference that everyone sees the minute they meet you. It can't be covered with makeup or wearing a hat, and really, you don't want it to be. You might be different than other people, or at least look different, but that's just fine with you.
You find, however, that there are three distinct ways people react when meeting you.
The first group we will call The Happily Indifferent. The T.H.I. meet you and notice your difference and then in a space of around 5 seconds think "oh a facial difference. Cool." and move on. They are neither emotionally vested in your face nor personally affected by it. Some might make a passing comment about it but to them, its not important or relevant. You might look different but are still normal and they treat you as such. You find this group easy to deal with and they don't affect your self esteem in any negative way. You don't share personal information with them about your disability, but that's ok because they really aren't interested in it anyways. You find that most children and 98% of men fit into this category.
The second group we will call The Supportive Set. T. S.S.'ers understand that life is more challenging with your disability. Often they are personally connected in some way and have taken the time to educate themselves about what life is like with a facial deformity. Mostly this group is comprised of your closest friends and family, but sometimes strangers fit in to it. They might approach you at the grocery store and gently say something like, "I have spent time at Facial Diffrence Hospital too, some days are hard, aren't they?" or "I am genuinely interested in understanding Facial Differences, would you mind sharing some generalities". T.S.S.ers know not to pry for your personal information. The reason why your face is deformed. How this has affected your life. They know, when you trust them, you will share those reasons. They respect you. They respect your privacy. They instinctively know your boundaries. These people are your "safe" people. The ones you trust. The ones you cry with and share with. These are the people that make life worth living.
The third group we will call The Nosy Wenches. T.N.W.'ers and their questions make you want to throw acid in their faces and stab their eyes out with little tiny sharpened pencils. You don't. But boy do you have fun imagining it some days. T.N.W.'ers see you not as a person but as a deformity. They pry. They prod. They offer unsolicited advice because their sister's cousin's son has a club foot and they obviously know ALOT about your facial issues. They ask intimate and personal questions in public places. They feel entitled to know the why's, the how's and the happenings of your history because you do not fit their idea of normal, and as such aren't entitled to any privacy. They think you should be willing to discuss your personal life no matter where you are or what you are doing because you are differerent, and they are curious. They do not respect you, or your personhood. When you try to protect yourself and your privacy by not answering their questions, they are offended. Hurt that you DARE not understand that they "just want to know". You become the benchmark by which they judge all future interactions with people with your disability. So some days you grit your teeth, smiley nicely and answer their questions. Other days you do not have the strength. You find that almost 100% of the T.N.W.s are women. "Nice" women who use politeness to hide their biting comments and morbid curiousity.
Now imagine for a moment that its not YOU with that disability, but rather your child. You smile and breathe a sigh of relief every time your child interacts with The Happily Indifferent. You cling to The Supportive Set and surround your family with safe people. Now imagine being the mother when you have to constantly protect your child from The Nosy Wenches. How you are judged if you don't protect your child from their rude questions, but also judged if you DO protect your child from having their privacy violated just because they are "different". You face questions like "Wow what did you do to cause that?" or "Does that mean they can't talk" or "You are such an angel to keep a child who looks like THAT around". Your child hears themselves discussed by strangers as if they are unable to understand, despite the fact they are close by.
Now obviously, the vast majority of my readers would understand that questions about a physical disability of a personal nature are rude. Inappropriate and completely unnecessary. A good mother protects her children from the nosy wenches. A good mother surrounds her children with supportive people.
Now imagine for a moment being a transracial adoptive family. Obviously, being a minority is not a "birth defect" or a "deformity" and I by NO MEANS am implying that, but what I am doing is hoping that people begin to think and understand. Being visibly different in ANY way does not automatically mean all rights to privacy are sacrificed to fulfill curiousities. If your child was missing an eye, I would hope you wouldn't feel it necessary to tell me it was caused by your prenatal drinking binge because I am standing behind you in line at the grocery store and am curious. I would hope that OTHERS wouldn't think it necessary for you to answer that question if I asked it of you (ESPECIALLY in front of your child) just because I wanted to know.
If you dont get that basic privacy rights are still held by the minorities of our society - By the different, By the visible - you have some learning to do.
You find, however, that there are three distinct ways people react when meeting you.
The first group we will call The Happily Indifferent. The T.H.I. meet you and notice your difference and then in a space of around 5 seconds think "oh a facial difference. Cool." and move on. They are neither emotionally vested in your face nor personally affected by it. Some might make a passing comment about it but to them, its not important or relevant. You might look different but are still normal and they treat you as such. You find this group easy to deal with and they don't affect your self esteem in any negative way. You don't share personal information with them about your disability, but that's ok because they really aren't interested in it anyways. You find that most children and 98% of men fit into this category.
The second group we will call The Supportive Set. T. S.S.'ers understand that life is more challenging with your disability. Often they are personally connected in some way and have taken the time to educate themselves about what life is like with a facial deformity. Mostly this group is comprised of your closest friends and family, but sometimes strangers fit in to it. They might approach you at the grocery store and gently say something like, "I have spent time at Facial Diffrence Hospital too, some days are hard, aren't they?" or "I am genuinely interested in understanding Facial Differences, would you mind sharing some generalities". T.S.S.ers know not to pry for your personal information. The reason why your face is deformed. How this has affected your life. They know, when you trust them, you will share those reasons. They respect you. They respect your privacy. They instinctively know your boundaries. These people are your "safe" people. The ones you trust. The ones you cry with and share with. These are the people that make life worth living.
The third group we will call The Nosy Wenches. T.N.W.'ers and their questions make you want to throw acid in their faces and stab their eyes out with little tiny sharpened pencils. You don't. But boy do you have fun imagining it some days. T.N.W.'ers see you not as a person but as a deformity. They pry. They prod. They offer unsolicited advice because their sister's cousin's son has a club foot and they obviously know ALOT about your facial issues. They ask intimate and personal questions in public places. They feel entitled to know the why's, the how's and the happenings of your history because you do not fit their idea of normal, and as such aren't entitled to any privacy. They think you should be willing to discuss your personal life no matter where you are or what you are doing because you are differerent, and they are curious. They do not respect you, or your personhood. When you try to protect yourself and your privacy by not answering their questions, they are offended. Hurt that you DARE not understand that they "just want to know". You become the benchmark by which they judge all future interactions with people with your disability. So some days you grit your teeth, smiley nicely and answer their questions. Other days you do not have the strength. You find that almost 100% of the T.N.W.s are women. "Nice" women who use politeness to hide their biting comments and morbid curiousity.
Now imagine for a moment that its not YOU with that disability, but rather your child. You smile and breathe a sigh of relief every time your child interacts with The Happily Indifferent. You cling to The Supportive Set and surround your family with safe people. Now imagine being the mother when you have to constantly protect your child from The Nosy Wenches. How you are judged if you don't protect your child from their rude questions, but also judged if you DO protect your child from having their privacy violated just because they are "different". You face questions like "Wow what did you do to cause that?" or "Does that mean they can't talk" or "You are such an angel to keep a child who looks like THAT around". Your child hears themselves discussed by strangers as if they are unable to understand, despite the fact they are close by.
Now obviously, the vast majority of my readers would understand that questions about a physical disability of a personal nature are rude. Inappropriate and completely unnecessary. A good mother protects her children from the nosy wenches. A good mother surrounds her children with supportive people.
Now imagine for a moment being a transracial adoptive family. Obviously, being a minority is not a "birth defect" or a "deformity" and I by NO MEANS am implying that, but what I am doing is hoping that people begin to think and understand. Being visibly different in ANY way does not automatically mean all rights to privacy are sacrificed to fulfill curiousities. If your child was missing an eye, I would hope you wouldn't feel it necessary to tell me it was caused by your prenatal drinking binge because I am standing behind you in line at the grocery store and am curious. I would hope that OTHERS wouldn't think it necessary for you to answer that question if I asked it of you (ESPECIALLY in front of your child) just because I wanted to know.
If you dont get that basic privacy rights are still held by the minorities of our society - By the different, By the visible - you have some learning to do.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Living on a precipice
Its hard to put into words what life feels like right now.
On edge? Teetering? An infinite pause?
We sit and wait. We celebrate the fact that end isn't here, but we all breathe shallowly because we know its close.
I grasp at hope that I might get another visit, another few days together, and carry the reality that I really shouldn't count on it. I need to be ok if I don't. I have said what I needed to say. And still I hope.
And we focus now on the visits. The memories. The pictures. We laugh and reminisce.
We talk in circles around the idea of a funeral. Burial.
But what we all avoid is the reality of the shattering that will occur when we are plunged off that precipice. There will be no going back. No holding it together. No repairing the damage.
She is the glue that has held us together. The reason we hold on to our facade of a family. For her, we try.
My heart will break. And then my family will crack along the lines of difficult relationships.
And we wait. Until today? Tomorrow? Another week? Another month?
We sit upon this precipice of death.
On edge? Teetering? An infinite pause?
We sit and wait. We celebrate the fact that end isn't here, but we all breathe shallowly because we know its close.
I grasp at hope that I might get another visit, another few days together, and carry the reality that I really shouldn't count on it. I need to be ok if I don't. I have said what I needed to say. And still I hope.
And we focus now on the visits. The memories. The pictures. We laugh and reminisce.
We talk in circles around the idea of a funeral. Burial.
But what we all avoid is the reality of the shattering that will occur when we are plunged off that precipice. There will be no going back. No holding it together. No repairing the damage.
She is the glue that has held us together. The reason we hold on to our facade of a family. For her, we try.
My heart will break. And then my family will crack along the lines of difficult relationships.
And we wait. Until today? Tomorrow? Another week? Another month?
We sit upon this precipice of death.
Monday, October 6, 2008
What I did and didn't do
What I didn't do this weekend?
Blog.
Laundry.
Vacuum.
Dishes.
What I did do this weekend?
Attend 3 hockey games. One of which required me to be at the rink by 5:50 am.
Volunteer at a free "Celebrate Family" swim
Volunteer at a free "Celebrate Family" skate
Attend church.
Teach Sunday School
Teach a Preventing Child Abuse class to Sunday School Teachers
Handle various travel arrangements for kids and cousins
Do assorted shopping, planning and baking for a birthday party.
Have a dozen kids over for a birthday party.
Fit in a couple conversations with friends, my husband and children.
Fall asleep by 9 every night.
Blog.
Laundry.
Vacuum.
Dishes.
What I did do this weekend?
Attend 3 hockey games. One of which required me to be at the rink by 5:50 am.
Volunteer at a free "Celebrate Family" swim
Volunteer at a free "Celebrate Family" skate
Attend church.
Teach Sunday School
Teach a Preventing Child Abuse class to Sunday School Teachers
Handle various travel arrangements for kids and cousins
Do assorted shopping, planning and baking for a birthday party.
Have a dozen kids over for a birthday party.
Fit in a couple conversations with friends, my husband and children.
Fall asleep by 9 every night.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Do our kids REALLY need a higher education?
So I have 4 kids playing on 5 hockey teams. The oldest 2 on "Rep" teams (that's the highest level), 3rd son on a Development Team (that's the second highest level) and also playing on a "house" team because its required to play development (basic level) and then our little guy on a house team as well.
We got a notice yesterday for JUST Greg's hockey expenses for THIS week.
We got a notice yesterday for JUST Greg's hockey expenses for THIS week.
- $275 - fee for "carding" which essentially means drafting him by his team and registering him with Hockey Canada so he is eligible for the "bantam draft"
- $250 - Team Fee. This is to cover the team start up costs.
- $200 - Tournament Fee. The cost of travel, bus, food, hotel for next weekend's tournament. The first of MANY tournaments.
- $85 - Track Suit. New track suits required this year because the team logo is changing.
That is $810 THIS WEEK. So our 13 year old can play hockey.
Did I mention Eric has to be carded. Has a team fee and goes on a tournament the week after next?
Did I mention Tanner has a team fee and is also going on SEVERAL tournaments this year.
Oh and they both need new track suits too. And you know ... food, a roof over their heads, heat and shoes.
Their college education fund has evaporated (or more accurately, froze).
We are practicing applying for scholarships starting today.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Sent my Babes on a Jet Plane
Today I hugged my oldest son and my youngest son goodbye and sent them on away. Alone. On a plane.
They are currently, at this very moment, winging their way across the country straight East to where their beloved Great Grandmother is. She is awaiting their visit; While waiting to die.
Its a complicated feeling allowing your children to go through something like this alone. Alone meaning without ME. My mother is joining them part way through their trip. My 6 year old nephew is also going to be there.
It was a last minute decision. These 3 grandchildren weren't going to get the chance to join us for our pre-planned visit next week. We were hoping to be able to wait until later this winter. When word came that time was short, these 3 began to protest that they too wanted the chance to see Grandma Nan.
Monday, Caden sat in my lap and sobbed. Heart breaking, gut wrenching sobs. He needed this chance to to tell his Great Grandma that he loved her. He needs to hear it from her. In reality, he needs to say good bye.
Greg deserves the same chance. Wants the same time. And so, my sister and I made the decision to send the boys on ahead to have a visit now, while they can. Neither of us could make the trip this weekend. And so our mother got called into Grandma duty.
They will never regret going, but they might have always regretted not. And so they are sent.
To prepare, the 4 boys sat down last night and wrote her letters. Letters they will get to read to her. Letters talking about their favorite memories with her. Their favorite treats she would bake. They all talked of their love for her.
I read Caden a book called "Always in Our Heart" about a little boy whose Grandpa died. I showed them both pictures of her in the hospital so the tubes aren't quite so scary.
I went shopping for gifts that I wrapped and packed and signed with cards from my Nan to the boys. I know she will love to feel like she is giving them something too. She won't remember that she didn't buy them. They promised to pretend like she had.
Caden packed his precious album that he inherited from my Nan when we packed up her home last fall. An entire album of pictures she had lovingly put together of her and our boys. More than anything he wants to look through it with her one more time.
And so they get to say goodbye.
Nan, with 6 of "her boys"
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Parenting Techniques Available for Patent
Remember how I threatened to accompany my dear 13 year old to French Class if he didn't start behaving? The teacher had reported that he was being "overly social" and in a class of 30 BOYS, that's really not going to work with a young, female teacher trying to maintain control.
We had a little chat, my son and I. Responsibility. Privileges. Expected Behavior. You know, mom rhetoric.
I got his interim report card today. His french mark? 95.36%
And his teacher attached the following note;
We had a little chat, my son and I. Responsibility. Privileges. Expected Behavior. You know, mom rhetoric.
I got his interim report card today. His french mark? 95.36%
And his teacher attached the following note;
We won't be having our next quiz until next week. Some of the students are
struggling with the concept of verb conjugation, so I'm going to allow them
more time to practice. Greg, however, is very capable with grammar tasks,
and has been able to help other students in the class. He's making excellent
progress, and I'm really pleased with his mature behaviour in class.
Did you notice the part about MATURE BEHAVIOR? I handed him a gallon of ice cream and told him how very proud I was.
Mature Behavior. MATURE Behavior. From MY 13 year old son. It's a miracle. This almost makes up for the You Tube video circulating right now his "friends" posted of him beating the tar out of another student during a school club wrestling practice while hordes of students stood around and chanted his name, cheering. All school sanctioned of course. But not overly mature.
BUT I HAVE HOPE. Maturity shall find us. One day. One day ... MATURE BEHAVIOR. Today, I brag.
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