Wednesday, 30 November 2005

going out

At work, two of the company's representatives from Europe are here for meetings. They're both good-looking guys (Cute! with accents! I swoon.) and I realized the other day after meeting them how much I miss dating. The flirting, the wondering - the newness of it all. I used to go out on dates that would start after work and end around sunup, with both of us logy from learning all this new information about each other, and exhausted (but wide-eyed) from cigarette smoke and too many cups of diner coffee.

No, I don't want to trade in my husband. Not at all.

Somewhere in between the first time I saw him and having our second baby, though, I think we figured each other out. There isn't a lot of newness anymore. Which is terrific for coming home to, but makes me miss that far-off single past of mine.

Friday, 25 November 2005


Is it cold where you are? It's getting colder here - the night-times are frosty, and the mornings glitter. We haven't had any snow yet, (Ha! You thought I lived where the Eskimos are, didn't you! So many people think Nova Scotia is right off the tundra.) thank goodness, but it's coming. It'll be good to have for Christmas.

How was everyone's Thanksgiving? Bear scored beeg brownie points. I was moping around, missing my family and thought I was doing a pretty good job of hiding it, but he noticed.

So Thursday I came home to... an entire Thanksgiving feast!

He had roasted the turkey, made his special family recipe stuffing, cooked carrots and sweet potatoes and squash. There was cranberry sauce. He even made (non-lumpy, even!) gravy.
So I stuffed myself achingly full,(after I pounced on him and kissed him breathless, because how else do you thank someone who makes a surprise like that??) and then he smiled with a hint of mischief and said "Oh, and there's dessert, too." which of course, made my ears prick up.

No, not pie (sorry Tessa!) but a delicious, piping hot Apple Brown Betty.
Oh. My. God.

I'd love to be able to say (and I'm sure he was hoping) that I then repaid him with some extra long holiday quality time, but really - I need to work off all the food first. You just can't stuff a girl and expect gymnastics an hour later.

Saturday, 19 November 2005

here comes the bride

I've been trying to convince myself that I need to scrapbook, but I can't make myself do it. I'm not sure I have the patience, and it seems like one of those things where there would be no end to it, once I started fussing with different papers and twee little charms and whatnot. And what do you do with all the extra photos?? I saw a very nice page the other day on a baby's first bath - there was one picture. ONE. Holy Mother of God, what sort of people are those that can take ONE picture of their baby's first bath? I have three rolls of film on that alone! (AND video!) I think I'm doomed to have shoeboxes full of pictures under the bed for the rest of my life.

Last night, I was rooting around under the bed for a sock (There is no scientific basis for this, but I am convinced they move around while you sleep) and pulled out a wrinkled gift bag with my (gulp!) wedding photos in it.
The Boy came in and started looking at them with me, and we were talking about the day and why Mommy was wearing the big dress (Mommy had bad fashion advice) and the even bigger thing on her hair (Honestly, I looked like a fat Rockette. I was wearing the biggest head-piece thingy and was encased in veil. I looked like The Bride - On Steroids! I looked like I was bound and determined to squeeze every little-girl wedding fantasy out of me - at the same time. ) and why Daddy looked so serious.

And then Cass turned to me and asked where he and Rosey were.

(Oh, crap, don't I get a few years before I have to have this talk? Assuring you that I hadn't lost my penis was bad enough...) I began carefully. 'We didn't have you and Rosey yet, honey.'

But no. Cass was determined that it was after his bedtime, see, and he and Rosey were sitting in the back crouching under the lady's skirt, because they didn't want to go to sleep.(And thinking about Reverend Karen hiding children under her robes is priceless.)

The Boy went on to tell me that he liked the speeches but it was a little long. He then said "And Papa was there in his suit!" and a little light went on. A-ha, you've been talking to Papa about the picture at his house, hmm? Because the sad truth about my wedding (as my father-in-law will readily tell you) is that it was beautiful. Beautiful and about ten minutes too long. Again with the packing in of everything wedding-ish.

Cass leaned in close. 'And the best thing was afterwards. Me and Rosey went to McDonalds and had nuggets!'

Too cool, kid. You hung out for awhile, bore the speeches, and then went to MickeyD's. Sounds like a heck of a party to me.

Thursday, 17 November 2005

and the beat goes on

Not a real post tonight, just stuff:

Panda is home with us. The vet couldn't find anything wrong (some of the lab work isn't back yet), but he didn't think she needed to stay. So that's good.

My job is...boring, boooring, boooring, with occasional flashes of interesting. They've asked me to stay on for two more weeks and I gather the position is actually going to open up, but I need to really sit down and work out the money situation before I jump into any job so far away from home. Based on some quick figuring, with the extra daycare and extra gas money we're paying out, I'm earning about six bucks a day....must work this out. I really hope I'm wrong here.

The daycare...oy. Today was Cass's last day, and God bless the women that work there, they put a positive spin on it and he came home excited to have a vacation. Whilst Bear was there, tidying up the last of our bill, one of them told him they hope to re-organize and be back in January. In the mean-time, Cassidy will be going to Rosey's babysitter with her - which Cass likes, because Michelle's son is about his age and they play with trucks and go out in the backyard and get sand-covered and roll around with the dogs and do little boy stuff.

I didn't realize that it was almost Thanksgiving! The Canadian Thanksgiving is celebrated in October. I have to decide whether or not to put on 'American Thanksgiving' (as they all call it here) and if so, drag the good dishes out.
Hard to pass up all that food, though. Hmmmm.

It may snow this weekend, ugh. Hopefully it won't stick!!

In closing, I want to say that I love my commenters - y'all are such great people. You leave thoughtful comments and insights - how could I not love you? Really. The best.

Tuesday, 15 November 2005

all good things

That's Panda on the right. The striped one is Katie, her daughter.

I moved here from Michigan with all my belongings stuffed (and it was tight packing) into an eight foot pull behind U-Haul. The cats rode up front with me (We are not amused. Not amused.) and we were fine until we hit Buffalo, New York. Then my brakes started getting harder and harder to operate. The cats were sympathetic (Holy shit, does this mean we get to stop??) but I pressed on - I made it (coasting in) to my fathers house in Canandaigua, there to find out my car's frame had cracked and the car was a big ugly paperweight. I finished the trip out with all my possessions taking up a teeny amount of room in an eighteen-foot U-haul. (Only certain sizes [all the biggies, natch] are allowed over the border) The cats helped me feel like this was my home.

My oldest cat, Panda, has been slowing down for a year or more. We think she's fifteen, which is a pretty respectable age for a reformed barn cat to have attained - but I don't want to let her go. Now, though, it may be just nearing her time.

She's started wandering around the house, crying like she's lost, and even when the other cats go to her she still doesn't seem comforted. She spends a lot of time dozing, and her eyes have a glassy sheen. She's lost a bit of weight, and last night we found blood in the cat box. Thursday Bear will take her into the vet and we'll see what he says.

I hate thinking that this is the end. On the bright side, she's still eating and drinking and purring and doesn't seem uncomfortable, just lethargic and...well, old. And tired.

Thursday we'll know.

Saturday, 12 November 2005

bedtime stories


Last night Bear hunted out the old ripped comforter I keep that was my mothers. One of the seams has opened, and if I learned to sew, I bet I could fix it. But I have become used to feeling the edge of the ripped batting when I pull the covers up at night. Together with the quilt we usually have on our bed it makes a lovely weight.

I have the best dreams tucked under it.

The house is gearing down for the night.
Cass just turned out his light (he is allowed to read his books for a bit after the official bedtime stories and prayers and songs) and hollered his goodnights and I love yous - he likes to get one more in before he snuggles himself down. He sleeps under an afghan my aunt Gloria knitted (he likes to curl his fingers into its' design) and his baby blanket.
His blanket is a beautiful red on the back, with a jean-coloured top and a cross with disney characters on it, and was made by the wife of an ex-boyfriend.
(He was my wild boyfriend, the one that my mother was scared I'd end up with - he went away to Desert Storm, met a lovely, warm woman, and became a preacher. But this is a story for another day.)
Tonight when I went in Cass was singing a goodnight song to Beau and Charlie (his stuffed doggies he sleeps with) and he had them tucked under his blanket - I had to perch on the side of the bed so I wouldn't wake them up.
Sometimes I am amazed at how beautiful my sons soul is. He put his doggies under there because (I am told) Beau is a little afraid of the dark, and he knew the blanket would keep him safe.

Rosemary's crib has her own comforter - it has (surprise!) roses on it, in a pale green and pink pattern, with lots of leaves and a creamy background. Her loveys are all bunnies, and there is a little lamb that makes a heartbeat noise that lives there too. She looks likes she's asleep in a garden.
She 'acquired' a bunny that was given to Cass by his aunt a few Easters ago, and has almost de-furred one of the ears, as she rubs it at night against her cheek.

I love the hushed-ness of the house as the children settle into sleep.

Good night.

Wednesday, 9 November 2005

worker bee

I am tired.

It's a good kind of tired, the kind after you've accomplished much and feel the night and bedtime approaching in your bones. I have done a lot today.

The job is just a job. I shuffle papers, answer the phones (trying to decipher the who-to-page-and-who-to-voicemail code) and smile at people I don't know. The steel-toed boots have been on once - a tour through the four buildings, seeing Production, Assembly, Design, Storage, Shipping. Everyone is very friendly. I'm trying hard not to really let go and enjoy myself, because even if they offered me a full time permanent job I don't think they could afford to pay me enough to make my gas bills worthwhile. It's just over seventy kilometres one way. (44 miles)

The drive home is nice, though. I get to be just me, not Mommy.

And I get to turn my music up really loud.

It almost makes it fun.

Sunday, 6 November 2005

the death of the laptop

Our computer has been acting up for days - we found out our anti-virus program had expired pretty dramatically, as all of a sudden the computer just wouldn't work. So much fun! I ran a new anti-virus and found that during the programs' quarentine and destruction of the seven (yup, seven) viruses that were chummily causing havoc, the guts were torn out of the basic programs that run my computer.
Corrupted the internal whoosee-whatsits. Basically, a job for the official computer guy.

Tra-la-la! Only I would kill the computer by trying to fix it!

Tomorrow I start a temporary job, an hour away from my house. It's an administrative position, but I'm required to bring steel-toed boots so I can.... deliver the mail.
I'm thinking I'll be full of stories come quitting time!

Friday, 4 November 2005

finding a new place for my little guy

It's a piss-poor day here at the daygobys.
Our sons day care is disbanding - in two weeks he will be cast afloat without the net of teachers, helpers and friends he's loved for almost three years - people who have helped him learn and really enjoyed him - and made me enjoy being his mom a little more, too. They were the ones who caught that he was a little slow to do new things, who pushed to have him tested and helped me find resources to help him overcome his fine motor problems. They gave me tips on how to survive the potty training marathon, suggested ways to introduce Cass to the idea that he was going to have a sibling, and remembered every day what new and wonderful thing he had done or said that day.

I will miss them. He will be heart-broken.

What am I going to do?

Tuesday, 1 November 2005

night games

Cass wanted to ride his bike tonight, so after supper I bundled both kidlets up, opened the front door....and noticed how dark it was. Oops, guess I'm not used to the time change yet! The boy-child threw a fit (But I wanna...) so I threw him the Mommy death-look, (which doesn't faze him, as he's the deluxe kid model and apparently came with Anti-Glare software) and tossed them both into the car.

About five minutes away from where we live is a tiny little park next to a church in one of the sea-side towns here. It does have a streetlight, so I headed for that. Needless to say, we were the only ones there. The Boy chewed his lip. "We're"
I was busy extracting his sister from the car and managed not to say what I was thinking, which was something along the lines of "Don't worry, dear - the trolls only come out after full dark" and instead settled for a breezy "Looky! A new slide!"

It was clear and a little breezy in the park, but certainly not the cold November nights I remember from growing up. I trundled Rosey around on my hip and we watched Cass run from the slide to the rope bridge to the swing to the climber to the bouncy and back again. It's amazing how much energy a small boy can run through in a play yard.

The girl was getting heavy, so (Oh brilliant me) thought 'She's never been on a slide!' and set her down about halfway from the top of the curvy, young'un slide. I did the standard 'Woo!' as I held onto her and let her go down the slide, peering expectantly at her face for a smile, a giggle, some indication of pleasure. After all, don't all babies love the slide?

Rosey was silent, so I tried again, putting more gaiety in my voice. "Woo-hoo!" Maybe I just wasn't hearing her chortles of glee??

Finally, she turned her head and looked at me with a clear expression of 'WTF is this, Mom?"
I guess sliding down a damp cold slide in the middle of the night wasn't her thing?
Okay. Snagged her up and went to go push the boyo on the swing.
At least he had a good time.

Yarn over and over

Someone, an old babysitter maybe, taught me to crochet when I was six. I remember making long braided loops of yarn and thinking how pretty ...