Exactly five years ago this weekend my life imploded with a cosmic *SMACK*. Life as I knew it was over [for the whole gory story go here LifeQuake . LSS - marriage ended on Friday, Mom died on Sunday.
It would be easy to say that I grieved, did the emotional and psychological work, and moved onto a wonderful new life in record time and with minimal disruption. It would also be a lie. The combined losses of my marriage and my mother, in that order in that many days flattened me.
For the first while, I went into autopilot. I knew what I was supposed to do and what the 'right' responses were and I kept to the script. Honestly, the 'role' of responsible, directed woman planning both her mother's funeral and her husband's move from the matrimonial home at the same time came easy. It felt like I was in a 'Lifetime' movie. . . perhaps being played by Valerie Bertinelli (before she lost the weight -- we want authenticity here).
I wrote the obituary and the eulogy. I sat with my siblings to select a casket and plan the order of service. I scurried around the music store to locate a copy of the sheet music to Amazing Grace (I still shake my head in wonder that it doesn't appear in the hymnal of the Church I attended as a child).
I gave Renfrew the time and space to move from our home to a nearby friend's house with the plan that the Pumpkin and I would move to the City once we found a place. But for the time being, she and I would stay in the house.
Three weeks after my LifeQuake, I went back to work. My siblings and I had cleaned out most of Mom's apartment -- shredding 30 years of bank statements and old cheques, receipts for everything from utilities to her Readers' Digest subscription. Furniture that could be used by family members was re-homed and that for which there was no current purpose was donated to the nearby thrift store. Everyone who wanted a memento was allowed to take something that reminded them of Mom.
It was time for things to get back to "NORMAL"... Normal, I now know is simply a setting on the washing machine. That December was unquestionably the lowest my life has ever been. Slowly, and I do mean S L O W L Y, I started to find a new way to be in the world. During the course of my journey I learned some pretty amazing truths:
Failing at marriage did not mean I was a failure. My marriage was, truthfully, everything to me. I had made that commitment with the view that it was irrevocable. Divorce was NEVER in my playbook. But I had to recognize that marriage was making Renfrew miserable and he did not believe that it could be fixed. I had no choice to let go. It was a slow and sticky process and I am the first to admit I did not handle it gracefully at first. I cried buckets of tears. But as the 'process' moved along, I began to realize that the ending of marriage did not nullify the years we had shared -- most of them pretty happy.
Don't get me wrong, there is still a small part of me that mourns not having a life partner to whom I can say "remember . . . ." and have him smile. The shared history still exists, but it is no longer accessible. I just read in a book about marriage end (a memoir by a woman who lost her husband not to your average mid-life crisis, but to his gender change to a woman) that one of the hardest losses in a divorce is the loss of the collective memory of a family.
Slowly I cried less and smiled more. I would heal and the edges would soften around the wound. Then something would pull the back the scab and I would bleed tears again. At some point, the tears more or less stopped. My focus moved away from what was lost to what remained. . . a beautiful child and a friendship with her other parent.
My kid is both smarter and stronger than I ever imagined. Shortly after we separated, we (I) dragged the Pumpkin to a clinical social worker. I figured she'd been handed a couple of biggies, just like I had been and as a good parent it was important to give her someone to help her debrief. Her assessment of our separation: "If living together makes you unhappy, why would you live together?" Wisdom from the mouth of a 9 year old. In the intervening time, she has continued to grow -- and WOW. She is self-possessed with a confidence and sense of humour about life that will take her far.
Forgiveness is truly the path to Peace and Happiness. Along my way I discovered A Course In Miracles . It is not a religion (and I remain as irreverent as ever), but a spiritual mind training program, the goal of which is to FORGIVE everyone for everything as a way to PEACE.
Trust me, I did not WANT to forgive Renfrew for pulling the plug on our marriage. I was hurt and, for a time, I was pretty good at trying to reach out and hurt him too. It wasn't until I was given the 'miracle' of seeing things a different way, that I forgave. It was a conscious choice I made initially for two people: my child and myself. I knew carrying anger and resentment toward her father would spill over onto her. I also got really tired of trying to move forward with that stone around my neck. I set it down . . . at first for only seconds at a time, but eventually I left it in the distance.
I have gotten SO MUCH out of that one choice. In addition to a child who sees her parents behaving like adults, when Renfrew married my Wife-in-Law (or WiL as I'll call her) three years ago, I got a friend and another co-parent for her. Seriously, Renfrew always had great taste in women (with a few exceptions that occurred during his post-marriage break up craziness), so why would I not like his choice in a partner? And if I did, what on earth would it say about me?
Now, I am substantially healed. I am not the person I would have been if neither of those losses had happened. I am stronger. I am more cynical. I am more patient. I am less trusting. I am more at peace. There have been losses and gains. It was a weekend . . . and I sincerely hope I never have another one like it.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
This is not a light, fluffy post . . .
Although much of what I read on a regular basis is pretty fluffy - - psychological thrillers, serial killers, all manner of supernatural creatures (except sparkling vampires, even I have standards), self-indulgent memoirs - - I occasionally read something that makes me stop and think. Yes, every once in a while I read a book that raises questions that are larger than can fit between the covers. A Handmaids Tale did that. To Kill a Mockingbird did that. Most recently, I read a book called "Unwind", which is part of the genre known as 'young adult fiction' aka something my kid would read (and she has). This book raises more issues than Readers' Digest.
As with many books that encourage reflection and question commonly held views, it is set in a dystopian future where the Second Civil War (known as the Heartland War) has been fought over abortion and the right to life. The two sides, polarized and neither willing to consider the other's side are bent on destroying each other -- the original issue all but forgotten. In the midst of this with both sides holding intractable positions, the military (who have been caught in the middle and who are, frankly, tired of the fight) make a proposal:
“With the war getting worse,” says the Admiral, “we brokered a peace by bringing both sides to the table. Then we proposed the idea of unwinding, which would terminate unwanteds without actually ending their lives. We thought it would shock both sides into seeing reason–that they would stare across the table and someone would blink. But nobody blinked. The choice to terminate without ending life–it satisfied the needs of both sides. The Bill of Life was signed, the Unwind Accord went into effect, and the war was over. Everyone was so happy to end the war, no one cared about the consequences.”
In trying to be King Solomon, the military unwittingly sets up an even more grotesque tableau. Abortion is outlawed. But this does not lead to a culture of pre-marital celibacy or vigilant birth control use. Every indication is that unplanned pregnancies arise as often as they do today. The difference is that pregnancies are all carried to term. After that, well, the swell of unplanned and unwanted babies often end up in State Care Homes . . . a newer version of orphanages. As these facilities fill to bursting, children are periodically sent to the Harvest Camps to be unwound, thus freeing up space.
Another possibility is that the unplanned infant gets 'storked'. Upon giving birth to an unwanted child, the mother can essentially drop the baby on someone's doorstep and it becomes a strange game of finders-keepers. That is if the finder gets caught finding the baby -- it is theirs, just as if that person had delivered it -- no give backs. However, we learn that some stealthy finders simply 're-stork' the baby to a neighbour before anyone has noticed. As can be imagined, this can have disasterous or fatal consequences for the baby. The helpless infant gets passed from home to home with no one providing 'care'. One of the central characters experienced such a scenario resulting in the death of an infant after several days of being passed around.
One of the characters considers the question this way: “[w]hich is worse, Risa often wondered, to have tens of thousands of babies that no one wanted or to silently make then go away before they were even born."
Unwinding, as we learn, is a process where youth between the ages of 13 and 17 are systematically disassembled and their body parts used for transplant into other people. They are not 'killed', as the live on in a 'divided state'. The unwinds are a mix of kids from the State Homes, surrendered children whose parents have signed them over (usually because they are difficult to manage or have other behaviour issues) and Tithes. Tithes are children who were specifically born to be harvested. Seriously. They are seen as an altruistic gift from their parents to society.
Perhaps the most disturbing chapter in the book tells the story of a character who gets 'unwound'. His thoughts, interspersed with the comforting words of those engaged in harvesting his body, are both serene and horrifying. Essentially, unwinding is seen as okay as essentially ALL of the person continues to live. Body parts that wear out or that are defective in members of the population are simply 'replaced' with portions of the unwound. An endless supply of young, healthy body parts for transplant -- everything from limbs and organs to skin and tissue. The more you are willing to pay, the better quality your new parts will be. The corollary to this is that treatment of illness and disorder is taught less and less in medical school. Why treat an old worn and damaged heart, when you can just replace it with a 16 year olds? Teeth are replaced in their entirety and a full head of hair is just a surgical procedure away.
"[O]f course, if more people had been organ donors, unwinding never would have happened... but people like to keep what's theirs, even after they are dead. It didn't take long for ethics to be crushed by greed. Unwinding became big business, and people let it happen."
I was very impressed by the author's use of his characters' voices to discuss large issues: WHEN does life start; WHEN does it end; WHO makes those decisions; WHO should be making those decisions; WHERE are our memories stored. He doesn't give the answers, but rather let's the characters put out the possibilities for discussion.
“I wrote Unwind for lots of reasons, and it poses questions about a lot of subjects. To state it briefly, I wanted to point out how when people take intractable positions on an issue, and stick to extreme sides, sometimes the result is a compromise that is worse than either extreme. I meant it as a wake up call to society -- and to point out that sometimes the problem IS that we take sides on an issue, when a different sort of approach is needed. It's also to pose questions about what it means to be alive.
Where does life begin, where does it end -- and point out that there is no single answer to these questions. The problem is people who think there are simple answers. People who see things as simple black-and-white right-and-wrong are the type of people who will end up with a world like the world in Unwind.” Neal Shusterman
Like life, this book is about more than the issue it is about. It is about what taking sides without questioning does to a person. Belief without examination and critical thought is limiting. Being able to say both what one believes and the 'why' behind it is what makes us human. When I took mediation training I learned a lot about positional thinking. When two people are locked in a conflict, until they can at least consider that there is another way to view the situation, nothing can be gained or changed. This book is a consideration of what happens when society itself becomes so positional that no resolution is possible and the only alternative is something that neither side would have imagined.
To put it in the words of the author: You see, a conflict always starts with an issue–a difference of opinion, an argument. But by the time it turns into a war, the issue doesn’t matter anymore, because now it’s about one thing and one thing only: how much each side hates the other.
As with many books that encourage reflection and question commonly held views, it is set in a dystopian future where the Second Civil War (known as the Heartland War) has been fought over abortion and the right to life. The two sides, polarized and neither willing to consider the other's side are bent on destroying each other -- the original issue all but forgotten. In the midst of this with both sides holding intractable positions, the military (who have been caught in the middle and who are, frankly, tired of the fight) make a proposal:
“With the war getting worse,” says the Admiral, “we brokered a peace by bringing both sides to the table. Then we proposed the idea of unwinding, which would terminate unwanteds without actually ending their lives. We thought it would shock both sides into seeing reason–that they would stare across the table and someone would blink. But nobody blinked. The choice to terminate without ending life–it satisfied the needs of both sides. The Bill of Life was signed, the Unwind Accord went into effect, and the war was over. Everyone was so happy to end the war, no one cared about the consequences.”
In trying to be King Solomon, the military unwittingly sets up an even more grotesque tableau. Abortion is outlawed. But this does not lead to a culture of pre-marital celibacy or vigilant birth control use. Every indication is that unplanned pregnancies arise as often as they do today. The difference is that pregnancies are all carried to term. After that, well, the swell of unplanned and unwanted babies often end up in State Care Homes . . . a newer version of orphanages. As these facilities fill to bursting, children are periodically sent to the Harvest Camps to be unwound, thus freeing up space.
Another possibility is that the unplanned infant gets 'storked'. Upon giving birth to an unwanted child, the mother can essentially drop the baby on someone's doorstep and it becomes a strange game of finders-keepers. That is if the finder gets caught finding the baby -- it is theirs, just as if that person had delivered it -- no give backs. However, we learn that some stealthy finders simply 're-stork' the baby to a neighbour before anyone has noticed. As can be imagined, this can have disasterous or fatal consequences for the baby. The helpless infant gets passed from home to home with no one providing 'care'. One of the central characters experienced such a scenario resulting in the death of an infant after several days of being passed around.
One of the characters considers the question this way: “[w]hich is worse, Risa often wondered, to have tens of thousands of babies that no one wanted or to silently make then go away before they were even born."
Unwinding, as we learn, is a process where youth between the ages of 13 and 17 are systematically disassembled and their body parts used for transplant into other people. They are not 'killed', as the live on in a 'divided state'. The unwinds are a mix of kids from the State Homes, surrendered children whose parents have signed them over (usually because they are difficult to manage or have other behaviour issues) and Tithes. Tithes are children who were specifically born to be harvested. Seriously. They are seen as an altruistic gift from their parents to society.
Perhaps the most disturbing chapter in the book tells the story of a character who gets 'unwound'. His thoughts, interspersed with the comforting words of those engaged in harvesting his body, are both serene and horrifying. Essentially, unwinding is seen as okay as essentially ALL of the person continues to live. Body parts that wear out or that are defective in members of the population are simply 'replaced' with portions of the unwound. An endless supply of young, healthy body parts for transplant -- everything from limbs and organs to skin and tissue. The more you are willing to pay, the better quality your new parts will be. The corollary to this is that treatment of illness and disorder is taught less and less in medical school. Why treat an old worn and damaged heart, when you can just replace it with a 16 year olds? Teeth are replaced in their entirety and a full head of hair is just a surgical procedure away.
"[O]f course, if more people had been organ donors, unwinding never would have happened... but people like to keep what's theirs, even after they are dead. It didn't take long for ethics to be crushed by greed. Unwinding became big business, and people let it happen."
I was very impressed by the author's use of his characters' voices to discuss large issues: WHEN does life start; WHEN does it end; WHO makes those decisions; WHO should be making those decisions; WHERE are our memories stored. He doesn't give the answers, but rather let's the characters put out the possibilities for discussion.
“I wrote Unwind for lots of reasons, and it poses questions about a lot of subjects. To state it briefly, I wanted to point out how when people take intractable positions on an issue, and stick to extreme sides, sometimes the result is a compromise that is worse than either extreme. I meant it as a wake up call to society -- and to point out that sometimes the problem IS that we take sides on an issue, when a different sort of approach is needed. It's also to pose questions about what it means to be alive.
Where does life begin, where does it end -- and point out that there is no single answer to these questions. The problem is people who think there are simple answers. People who see things as simple black-and-white right-and-wrong are the type of people who will end up with a world like the world in Unwind.” Neal Shusterman
Like life, this book is about more than the issue it is about. It is about what taking sides without questioning does to a person. Belief without examination and critical thought is limiting. Being able to say both what one believes and the 'why' behind it is what makes us human. When I took mediation training I learned a lot about positional thinking. When two people are locked in a conflict, until they can at least consider that there is another way to view the situation, nothing can be gained or changed. This book is a consideration of what happens when society itself becomes so positional that no resolution is possible and the only alternative is something that neither side would have imagined.
To put it in the words of the author: You see, a conflict always starts with an issue–a difference of opinion, an argument. But by the time it turns into a war, the issue doesn’t matter anymore, because now it’s about one thing and one thing only: how much each side hates the other.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Somedays I miss having a man around the house
Today would be one of those days. . . I am trying to install blinds in my bedroom. It is NOT going well. At this point, not only have I not succeeded in the installation process, but I have also managed to break a drill bit AND done something that has resulted in the drill NOT wanting to disgorge the broken bit.
For the record, I am a pretty handy girl. I was raised by a single mother who did it all. My late father's toolbox did not sit idle when something needed to be done around the house. She put up shelves, she repaired doors and windows, she cut down the swing (hold it, that's another post -- about not fighting over the tree swing and waking up a woman who has worked 21 straight night shifts at the local jail). Anyway, you get the picture. She was a great example of 'do-it-herself' confidence.
So, I do it myself . . . have been for 5 years now. But it does get old . . .
For the record, I am a pretty handy girl. I was raised by a single mother who did it all. My late father's toolbox did not sit idle when something needed to be done around the house. She put up shelves, she repaired doors and windows, she cut down the swing (hold it, that's another post -- about not fighting over the tree swing and waking up a woman who has worked 21 straight night shifts at the local jail). Anyway, you get the picture. She was a great example of 'do-it-herself' confidence.
So, I do it myself . . . have been for 5 years now. But it does get old . . .
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Let me tell you about Homestuck . . . .
From the Urban Dictionary:
"A web comic pertaining to an incredibly complex network of intertwined relationships between the space-time linear parallels of a group of juvenile human beings and a slightly larger group of juvenile troll-like humanoid extraterrestrials who must work together to stop a rogue villain from destroying our universe, communicated through and perpetrated by a with the ability to manipulate time and space while simultaneously bringing about the end of the world, interspersed with interruptions from an omniscient talking cue ball as well as a separate group of gang-involved beings hellbent upon exacting revenge on a rival group of gang-involved beings, all tied together by a characteristic ironically ridiculous and self-deprecating sense of humor with homage to both classic character archetypes from throughout human history as well as the familiar internet-central humor of today’s youth." [http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Homestuck]
My own definition is a bit more personal. It is a web comic, sure. But it is also something that has created a social group my girl-child (also known as the "Pumpkin") has found commonality with. These kids (most are age 13 to 20) are incredibly funny, creative and aware. They even let an old lady play with them on occasion, even though I have not read the 4000+ pages of Homestuck and do not get many of the 'inside' jokes and references. I have managed to grasp a few of the names . . . Jane. .Dirk. . .Gamzi (or is it Gamzee). . . Jade.
The characters seem to morph and change daily but the trolls can pretty much be counted on to have candycorn coloured horns regardless of whether they are humans, sea creatures, dogs, cats, dragons or even My Little Ponies. Not all of the incarnations are the work of Mr. Hussie, in fact it seems most are created by the fandom of Homestuck devotees.
There is much "shipping" or romantic pairings of the various characters, something of which I know from my own journey into an almost as crazy fandom on the 1990s -- that of the X-Files television series. Much fanfiction and art work has been inspired by Homestuck, and my child occasionally shares it with me.
And then there's the costumes. Oh boy are there costumes. The Pumpkin's first costume was a doozy. She spent several months creating a full head mask for a character named Bec Blanc . . . who is apparently a dog-like creature with wings and a sword. Well, see for yourself. She test drove the costume at the Calgary Comic Convention in April. . . which is where the above photo is from.
In May, there is an amazing event held each year at the University of Calgary called Otafest. We went last year. . . before the Pumpkin discovered Homestuck. That year was sort of like an experiment. She dressed as an Anime character and observed. This was when she apparently saw some Homestuck fans. . . and asked them about their characters. The rest, as they say, is history.
This year Otafest was. . . well EPIC. I tagged along . . . spent much time sitting in the Student Centre reading my books and occasionally going to different sessions with the Pumpkin. There was a Homestuck "Panel" where I got to learn about Homestuck . . . or try to . . . as I said. . . it's COMPLICATED.
I learned about some of the characters. I learned about the girlchild's friends. I learned about 'cuddle puddles'.
Yup, these kids are fun. They are funny. And they even let an old lady play dress up with them. Yes, a few weeks ago when the Homestuck kids got together for a rollerskating party, my kid dressed me up and I discovered I can still skate!
Yup, my kid -- she dressed me up as a Homestuck character . . . which character -- why MOM of course.
So what is the point of this Blog post? To tell you about Homestuck. Sort of . . . it's about what being a parent means to me. It is about learning about what makes your child happy. What makes her light up. And THAT is what HOMESTUCK really is . . . something that lights up my kid. And for that, thank you Andrew Hussie.
"A web comic pertaining to an incredibly complex network of intertwined relationships between the space-time linear parallels of a group of juvenile human beings and a slightly larger group of juvenile troll-like humanoid extraterrestrials who must work together to stop a rogue villain from destroying our universe, communicated through and perpetrated by a with the ability to manipulate time and space while simultaneously bringing about the end of the world, interspersed with interruptions from an omniscient talking cue ball as well as a separate group of gang-involved beings hellbent upon exacting revenge on a rival group of gang-involved beings, all tied together by a characteristic ironically ridiculous and self-deprecating sense of humor with homage to both classic character archetypes from throughout human history as well as the familiar internet-central humor of today’s youth." [http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Homestuck]
My own definition is a bit more personal. It is a web comic, sure. But it is also something that has created a social group my girl-child (also known as the "Pumpkin") has found commonality with. These kids (most are age 13 to 20) are incredibly funny, creative and aware. They even let an old lady play with them on occasion, even though I have not read the 4000+ pages of Homestuck and do not get many of the 'inside' jokes and references. I have managed to grasp a few of the names . . . Jane. .Dirk. . .Gamzi (or is it Gamzee). . . Jade.
The characters seem to morph and change daily but the trolls can pretty much be counted on to have candycorn coloured horns regardless of whether they are humans, sea creatures, dogs, cats, dragons or even My Little Ponies. Not all of the incarnations are the work of Mr. Hussie, in fact it seems most are created by the fandom of Homestuck devotees.
There is much "shipping" or romantic pairings of the various characters, something of which I know from my own journey into an almost as crazy fandom on the 1990s -- that of the X-Files television series. Much fanfiction and art work has been inspired by Homestuck, and my child occasionally shares it with me.
In May, there is an amazing event held each year at the University of Calgary called Otafest. We went last year. . . before the Pumpkin discovered Homestuck. That year was sort of like an experiment. She dressed as an Anime character and observed. This was when she apparently saw some Homestuck fans. . . and asked them about their characters. The rest, as they say, is history.
I learned about some of the characters. I learned about the girlchild's friends. I learned about 'cuddle puddles'.
Yup, these kids are fun. They are funny. And they even let an old lady play dress up with them. Yes, a few weeks ago when the Homestuck kids got together for a rollerskating party, my kid dressed me up and I discovered I can still skate!
Yup, my kid -- she dressed me up as a Homestuck character . . . which character -- why MOM of course.
So what is the point of this Blog post? To tell you about Homestuck. Sort of . . . it's about what being a parent means to me. It is about learning about what makes your child happy. What makes her light up. And THAT is what HOMESTUCK really is . . . something that lights up my kid. And for that, thank you Andrew Hussie.
Monday, September 24, 2012
What are the odds . . . .
Turning 50 . . . the BIG 5 - 0 . . . over the hill . . . 50 is the new 30
Whatever. . .
The more time I spend on the this planet, the younger I feel. Age, like weight, is simply a number. And numbers are things we spend much of the first part of our lives trying to make obey rules. Less than. Greater than. Adding. Subtracting. Multiplying. Dividing. Shortly after we master these concepts about numbers, new and more confusing ones arrive on the scene. For example, dividing by zero. Quadratic equations, square roots and geometry. Before long calculus and trigonometry join the game, and then everyone's favourite, Sadistics . . . err. . . statistics. I admit it, I ditched high school math before having to deal with calculus or trig.
I took my last math class sometime in my twenties. A psych stats class that was required for my degree. It was NOT a good time. The professor, who was a million feet tall, dressed in the 3-piece suit look of the 80s with flowing Rapunzel hair to boot, paced the front of the room like a tennis ball between Federer and Roddick. You could tell statistics was his religion. Having just gotten out of one, as not in the mood for conversion. Dutifully, I took copious notes, supplemented them with the notes my older sister took the previous semester when she took the class (also required for her nursing degree) and read the text book. Just when I would feel a concept solidify in my hands, whoosh, it would get swept away into the haze of my brain. I did pass the class. . . thankfully the professor was of the view that we could bring anything into the exams to help us, with the exception of someone who had previously gotten an A in the class. Somehow the combination of my sister's old notes and tests and my own gut instincts got me a B.
Now I am looking at the kind of math that makes Psych 2000 look like counting to 100.
I have now lived 50 years on this planet. Five decades. That works out to roughly 438,000 - - give or take. Two thousand six hundred weeks (and consequently weekends!). Of that time, I spent 9 years in post-secondary school of one kind or another. Over 100,000 hours being a parent. Over 170,000 hours being a wife.
At one point over the past few years, I made up a bucket list. I just looked back at it . . . and laughed. I have now come up with a new list which I call: What I'm going to do in my fifties!
1. Finish writing the book I've been working on for the past several years. Thumping around in my head for quite a while has been a novel. I know the plot outline. The characters talk to me at odd and random moments. I just need to get the bloody thing down on paper.
2. Fall in Love again and, more importantly, be successful at keeping love alive and growing over the long haul. As they say: Second marriages are proof that optimism outweighs experience.
3. Take my girl-child on a BIG adventure trip. Right now we are planning to go to the U.K. the summer after high school, which would be 2015.
See, I told you it was a short list.
What didn't make the 'cut' were places where I'd rather not waste my energy: getting over my fear of heights, learning to play the piano, drive the Alaska Highway, do daily yoga. One of the things I think I'm becoming is more focused. And for the functional ADHA poster child, this is something I am proud of. Now, if I can . . . . ooohhhh look a butterfly.
Whatever. . .
The more time I spend on the this planet, the younger I feel. Age, like weight, is simply a number. And numbers are things we spend much of the first part of our lives trying to make obey rules. Less than. Greater than. Adding. Subtracting. Multiplying. Dividing. Shortly after we master these concepts about numbers, new and more confusing ones arrive on the scene. For example, dividing by zero. Quadratic equations, square roots and geometry. Before long calculus and trigonometry join the game, and then everyone's favourite, Sadistics . . . err. . . statistics. I admit it, I ditched high school math before having to deal with calculus or trig.
I took my last math class sometime in my twenties. A psych stats class that was required for my degree. It was NOT a good time. The professor, who was a million feet tall, dressed in the 3-piece suit look of the 80s with flowing Rapunzel hair to boot, paced the front of the room like a tennis ball between Federer and Roddick. You could tell statistics was his religion. Having just gotten out of one, as not in the mood for conversion. Dutifully, I took copious notes, supplemented them with the notes my older sister took the previous semester when she took the class (also required for her nursing degree) and read the text book. Just when I would feel a concept solidify in my hands, whoosh, it would get swept away into the haze of my brain. I did pass the class. . . thankfully the professor was of the view that we could bring anything into the exams to help us, with the exception of someone who had previously gotten an A in the class. Somehow the combination of my sister's old notes and tests and my own gut instincts got me a B.
Now I am looking at the kind of math that makes Psych 2000 look like counting to 100.
I have now lived 50 years on this planet. Five decades. That works out to roughly 438,000 - - give or take. Two thousand six hundred weeks (and consequently weekends!). Of that time, I spent 9 years in post-secondary school of one kind or another. Over 100,000 hours being a parent. Over 170,000 hours being a wife.
At one point over the past few years, I made up a bucket list. I just looked back at it . . . and laughed. I have now come up with a new list which I call: What I'm going to do in my fifties!
1. Finish writing the book I've been working on for the past several years. Thumping around in my head for quite a while has been a novel. I know the plot outline. The characters talk to me at odd and random moments. I just need to get the bloody thing down on paper.
2. Fall in Love again and, more importantly, be successful at keeping love alive and growing over the long haul. As they say: Second marriages are proof that optimism outweighs experience.
3. Take my girl-child on a BIG adventure trip. Right now we are planning to go to the U.K. the summer after high school, which would be 2015.
See, I told you it was a short list.
What didn't make the 'cut' were places where I'd rather not waste my energy: getting over my fear of heights, learning to play the piano, drive the Alaska Highway, do daily yoga. One of the things I think I'm becoming is more focused. And for the functional ADHA poster child, this is something I am proud of. Now, if I can . . . . ooohhhh look a butterfly.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
No Regrets
A person does not get to age 50 without a few regrets. Looking at my life, I probably have more than some people and less than others. From questionable fashion choices in the 80s to even more questionable career choices. In retrospect I could have made my life both easier and more enjoyable (not to mention more stylist) if I knew then what I know now. But that is not how life works. I believe we are here to learn and to grow; to make mistakes and to learn from them. In all seriousness, there is only one thing in my life about which I have never had second thoughts, even for a moment. That is becoming a Mother.
I did not come easily or lightly to motherhood. Growing up in a culture and community where motherhood was revered above all other possible choices for a woman, I did the sensible thing and rebelled. While my childhood friends were busy choosing baby names for their future offspring, I was planning not only my escape from my hometown, but my wild and crazy life full of excitement that did not include the mundane task of rearing offspring.
When my now former husband and I married, I was honest in saying I did not know if I would ever want to have children. My future had 'career woman' written all over it in large New Times Roman letters as I studied law and planned how I would change the future of the world. Renfrew, having come from what could be described as a challenging family background, was nominally okay with my position -- at least I never remember him making parenthood a deal breaker. My dear Mother-in-Law did frequently inquire as to our 'family' plans, since he was the only one of his siblings (including his 16 year old sister) who was childless.
If I had to pick a moment when I realized that I wanted the honour of becoming a mother, it would be August 14, 1994. That was the day that we lost a pet -- Jennie, a sweet energetic bundle of terrier who had escaped our backyard and was struck by a pick up truck. We rushed her to the Vet, but there was nothing they could do for her but end her pain. In the aftermath of that loss, something in me clicked and I realized that while 'parenting' pets was rewarding, I did not want to live my life without experiencing motherhood.
Although it took almost four years, the Pumpkin was more than worth the wait. Now, I cannot imagine my life without her.
She makes me laugh at least daily. Her way of seeing the world has opened up new adventures and experiences that I would never have encountered without her. She has introduced me to music called 'alternative' but what I would simply call excellent. I have found myself surrounded by people in costumes of all kinds having fun. How often does an adult get to play dress up?
She has an insight into human nature that is beyond her years . . . or maybe we all have that understanding when we are young and lose it as we age. The empathetic child her father and I watched on the playground, has grown into a young woman who has the ability to see beyond the obvious in situations.
I was just reminded of the 'joy' of age three by a blog I follow http://dooce.com/2012/05/10/dreaded-year and, yes, age three was a challenge. Other times, as well, have tested both my patience and my faith in my ability to parent. But all in all, so far the ride has been an adventure and I have made the following observations about my philosophy of parenting:
First, our job as parents is NOT to mould, train or educate our children into the adult they will be. Our job is to give them a safe place to figure that out for themselves. It isn't OUR life and when we remember that fact and do not give into a need to preach to our children what WE believe to be the Truth, our kids will grow beyond any limited idea we may have for them. I specifically remember my own mother NEVER telling me that couldn't do something -- even if she knew I couldn't. She let me figure it out on my own and I am glad I recognized that 'gift' and was able to thank her for it while she was still on this earth.
Second, if you don't have your child's back, who will? When I was in college, I remember going home for a weekend and telling Mom how one of my classmates had been afraid of going home for the break because she had gained a few pounds and she just knew "my Mom is going give me a hard time". My Mom, without looking up from her coffee said: "I don't get that. The world gives kids so much negative and criticism, parents shouldn't add to it." Criticism, even 'well meaning' criticism, eats away at person's confidence and joy.
Third, get to know your child's friends, classmates, teachers -- basically their 'world'. I've heard many parents of teens say that they can't connect with their kids. While this breaks my heart, I want to ask what steps they have taken to nuture and build the connections they are missing. I work overtime or take vacation days so I can go on school field trips and participate in my daughter's activities.
I still remember the first time I had to make a 'choice' between career and the Pumpkin. She was in preschool and I was still working as a lawyer in the North. I had taken a Legal Aid file with a custody trial set for November 1. About 2 or so weeks before the trial date, the Clerk called to ask if I would be okay moving the trial to October 31, since the matter for that date had settled. My answer was no, I had other plans. Those plans (as you may have guessed) were the Hallowe'en party at the Pumpkin's school. My reality check was that in 10 years no one would remember what day the trial was held, but I would remember if I missed the Pumpkin's party -- and so would she.
In sum, the parenting philosophy I learned from my Mom is simply that we are here to support, love and cheer on our children. If we do our job right, our children will become all they are meant to be.
Today I am blessed with a confident, funny, smart, loving and beautiful child. Whether I get a bouquet of dandelions or breakfast in bed for Mothers' Day, I already have the BEST gift: A Daughter who is beyond Amazing. LOVE YOU PUMPKIN and thank you for letting me be your Mom!
I did not come easily or lightly to motherhood. Growing up in a culture and community where motherhood was revered above all other possible choices for a woman, I did the sensible thing and rebelled. While my childhood friends were busy choosing baby names for their future offspring, I was planning not only my escape from my hometown, but my wild and crazy life full of excitement that did not include the mundane task of rearing offspring.
When my now former husband and I married, I was honest in saying I did not know if I would ever want to have children. My future had 'career woman' written all over it in large New Times Roman letters as I studied law and planned how I would change the future of the world. Renfrew, having come from what could be described as a challenging family background, was nominally okay with my position -- at least I never remember him making parenthood a deal breaker. My dear Mother-in-Law did frequently inquire as to our 'family' plans, since he was the only one of his siblings (including his 16 year old sister) who was childless.
If I had to pick a moment when I realized that I wanted the honour of becoming a mother, it would be August 14, 1994. That was the day that we lost a pet -- Jennie, a sweet energetic bundle of terrier who had escaped our backyard and was struck by a pick up truck. We rushed her to the Vet, but there was nothing they could do for her but end her pain. In the aftermath of that loss, something in me clicked and I realized that while 'parenting' pets was rewarding, I did not want to live my life without experiencing motherhood.
Although it took almost four years, the Pumpkin was more than worth the wait. Now, I cannot imagine my life without her.
She makes me laugh at least daily. Her way of seeing the world has opened up new adventures and experiences that I would never have encountered without her. She has introduced me to music called 'alternative' but what I would simply call excellent. I have found myself surrounded by people in costumes of all kinds having fun. How often does an adult get to play dress up?
She has an insight into human nature that is beyond her years . . . or maybe we all have that understanding when we are young and lose it as we age. The empathetic child her father and I watched on the playground, has grown into a young woman who has the ability to see beyond the obvious in situations.
I was just reminded of the 'joy' of age three by a blog I follow http://dooce.com/2012/05/10/dreaded-year and, yes, age three was a challenge. Other times, as well, have tested both my patience and my faith in my ability to parent. But all in all, so far the ride has been an adventure and I have made the following observations about my philosophy of parenting:
First, our job as parents is NOT to mould, train or educate our children into the adult they will be. Our job is to give them a safe place to figure that out for themselves. It isn't OUR life and when we remember that fact and do not give into a need to preach to our children what WE believe to be the Truth, our kids will grow beyond any limited idea we may have for them. I specifically remember my own mother NEVER telling me that couldn't do something -- even if she knew I couldn't. She let me figure it out on my own and I am glad I recognized that 'gift' and was able to thank her for it while she was still on this earth.
Second, if you don't have your child's back, who will? When I was in college, I remember going home for a weekend and telling Mom how one of my classmates had been afraid of going home for the break because she had gained a few pounds and she just knew "my Mom is going give me a hard time". My Mom, without looking up from her coffee said: "I don't get that. The world gives kids so much negative and criticism, parents shouldn't add to it." Criticism, even 'well meaning' criticism, eats away at person's confidence and joy.
Third, get to know your child's friends, classmates, teachers -- basically their 'world'. I've heard many parents of teens say that they can't connect with their kids. While this breaks my heart, I want to ask what steps they have taken to nuture and build the connections they are missing. I work overtime or take vacation days so I can go on school field trips and participate in my daughter's activities.
I still remember the first time I had to make a 'choice' between career and the Pumpkin. She was in preschool and I was still working as a lawyer in the North. I had taken a Legal Aid file with a custody trial set for November 1. About 2 or so weeks before the trial date, the Clerk called to ask if I would be okay moving the trial to October 31, since the matter for that date had settled. My answer was no, I had other plans. Those plans (as you may have guessed) were the Hallowe'en party at the Pumpkin's school. My reality check was that in 10 years no one would remember what day the trial was held, but I would remember if I missed the Pumpkin's party -- and so would she.
In sum, the parenting philosophy I learned from my Mom is simply that we are here to support, love and cheer on our children. If we do our job right, our children will become all they are meant to be.
Today I am blessed with a confident, funny, smart, loving and beautiful child. Whether I get a bouquet of dandelions or breakfast in bed for Mothers' Day, I already have the BEST gift: A Daughter who is beyond Amazing. LOVE YOU PUMPKIN and thank you for letting me be your Mom!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
I don't know why anyone is surprised my child takes fandom seriously. When she was just a cluster of cells the size of a pea she went on an X-files Fan weekend in Vancouver. I was (and still am) a proud X-Phile having done the on-line newsgroup, written X-files fanfiction and generally been a geeky uberfan.
Now I pass the torch to my child. Unlike her mother, the object of her fandom is an on-line graphic cartoon series called "Homestuck". Initially the Pumpkin went through a Japanese anime phase collecting and reading books with such titles as Ouran School Host Club, DeathNote, Peach Basket, Pet Shop of Horrors and Souleater.
Last year I dusted off my sewing machine and made her an orange kimono as part of an anime character costume for the annual Otafest in Calgary. Despite the fact I thought my kid's costume ROCKED, she was much harder on herself. No one, it seems, recognized her as the character she was portraying. Okay. I get it. I think.
The past 12 months she has been busily planning, revising, rejecting, re-planning, sketching, Googling, researching and basically focusing her attention on having not just one, but two costumes for this years' festivities. The amount of time and energy she has joyfully invested in this project is amazing. Once she settled on her choice of characters, she looked at what others had done for CosPlay (a term representing a joining of the terms "Costume" and "Play").
The 'main' characters in Homestuck are a group of 12 'trolls' who are each represented by a zodiac symbol. I'm not all that clear on the origins of the trolls but gather it involved some type of apocolyptic event where the only survivors were a small group of teenagers. The story/online comic has been evolving for just over two years.
This past weekend she 'test drove' one of her costumes at the Calgary Comic Expo. This particular character is named Bec Blanche and, as far as I can garner, is a winged dog/warrior who has the power of teleportation.
The costume, as you can see, is not your 'throw a sheet over your head and call yourself a ghost' variety. The head alone took my kid hours of work. She carved the doggie snout from florist form, using our 4 year old terrier as a model -- which confused him since her normal reaction to him coming near her bedroom is to chase him out. Not only did she not chase him out of her room, she came and scooped him up off the sofa and plopped him on her bed to pose! I did sew the skirt and I covered an old t-shirt in ribbed fabric to give the character the look of bandages it sports, but the concept and idea were all hers.
Anyway, we took her costume out for a test run. It is clear that the only thing more fun than riding the C-Train is riding the C-Train in costume. Watching people do double and triple takes was pretty entertaining.
We arrived at the location of the Comic Expo and spent about an hour in line. Next year, we buy tickets in advance. Apparently, people who came even 1/2 an hour after we did, did not get in on Saturday. Although the venue (even as large as it was) was pretty packed, we had an adventure. At least 50 people stopped and asked to take the Pumpkin's photo. She even posed with a couple of little kids -- who thought she was very cool.
Part of the reason for going to the Expo was to meet up with other "Homestuck" fans -- and that we did. I got many photos of the Pumpkin with other fans of her favourite on-line comic. The trolls not only have grey skin, but they sport horns that look very much like mutated and overgrown candy corn. There were several other non-troll characters, which the Pumpkin took pains to try to explain to me.
Although we left after about 3 hours -- all that walking around was exhausting and there wasn't anywhere to sit and relax. The day was a success. Pumpkin has figured a few things to 'tweak' on her costume and I have decided that this month, when we go to Otafest, I am definitely going in costume. You are never too old to have an adventure. . . . .
Now I pass the torch to my child. Unlike her mother, the object of her fandom is an on-line graphic cartoon series called "Homestuck". Initially the Pumpkin went through a Japanese anime phase collecting and reading books with such titles as Ouran School Host Club, DeathNote, Peach Basket, Pet Shop of Horrors and Souleater.
Last year I dusted off my sewing machine and made her an orange kimono as part of an anime character costume for the annual Otafest in Calgary. Despite the fact I thought my kid's costume ROCKED, she was much harder on herself. No one, it seems, recognized her as the character she was portraying. Okay. I get it. I think.
The past 12 months she has been busily planning, revising, rejecting, re-planning, sketching, Googling, researching and basically focusing her attention on having not just one, but two costumes for this years' festivities. The amount of time and energy she has joyfully invested in this project is amazing. Once she settled on her choice of characters, she looked at what others had done for CosPlay (a term representing a joining of the terms "Costume" and "Play").
The 'main' characters in Homestuck are a group of 12 'trolls' who are each represented by a zodiac symbol. I'm not all that clear on the origins of the trolls but gather it involved some type of apocolyptic event where the only survivors were a small group of teenagers. The story/online comic has been evolving for just over two years.
This past weekend she 'test drove' one of her costumes at the Calgary Comic Expo. This particular character is named Bec Blanche and, as far as I can garner, is a winged dog/warrior who has the power of teleportation.
Anyway, we took her costume out for a test run. It is clear that the only thing more fun than riding the C-Train is riding the C-Train in costume. Watching people do double and triple takes was pretty entertaining.
We arrived at the location of the Comic Expo and spent about an hour in line. Next year, we buy tickets in advance. Apparently, people who came even 1/2 an hour after we did, did not get in on Saturday. Although the venue (even as large as it was) was pretty packed, we had an adventure. At least 50 people stopped and asked to take the Pumpkin's photo. She even posed with a couple of little kids -- who thought she was very cool.
Part of the reason for going to the Expo was to meet up with other "Homestuck" fans -- and that we did. I got many photos of the Pumpkin with other fans of her favourite on-line comic. The trolls not only have grey skin, but they sport horns that look very much like mutated and overgrown candy corn. There were several other non-troll characters, which the Pumpkin took pains to try to explain to me.
Although we left after about 3 hours -- all that walking around was exhausting and there wasn't anywhere to sit and relax. The day was a success. Pumpkin has figured a few things to 'tweak' on her costume and I have decided that this month, when we go to Otafest, I am definitely going in costume. You are never too old to have an adventure. . . . .
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