One goose step leads to another

I know I feature Rick Mercer's Rants a lot on this board. That is in part due to the fact he is a Newfoundlander I admire and find amusing, but also because sometimes he just nails a point.
This is one of those times.

Vic Toews' big brother quest for online surveillance of Canadians has generated a lot of media attention- but not enough public outcry. Few seem to understand the implications this kind of unfettered access into our private lives Bill C-30 would provide.

Bill C-30, or as the Tories would gift wrap it: "Protecting Children from Internet Predators Act". As much as I would like to see child molesters flayed, and then burned slowly over an open fire, I cannot support an act that would:

--> allow authorities to demand access to subscriber information from both ISPs and telephone providers without needing to present a warrant

--> require telecommunications providers to ensure that there was a back door entrance to allow all communications to be intercepted when desired. Guess who is paying for that.

--> these powers would be granted to police agencies, the Canadian Security Intelligence Service, Competition Bureau officials, as well as anybody "appointed" by the Minister of Public Safety to carry out such actions.

--> allows any of these persons to make copies of the data taken from citizens' digital devices, without oversight or a right of appeal.

--> prohibit ISPs from answering affirmatively if a customer asked them whether authorities had been searching their data.

Think about that.

A strange kind of luck

My luck, if you can call it that, has not exactly been stellar for the past little while. For some time now I have wondered if someone has created a mini voodoo doll in my likeness and is methodically pulling on its fingernails and holding its nether regions to the fire.

Nothing that will kill me- just damn annoying.

For example, my washer randomly stops washing mid cycle, and starts up again just as randomly. In my kitchen, the faucet only has one working option: spray, which makes it difficult to fill a kettle.

A leak in my kitchen ceiling alerted us to the fact our shower stall in the master bathroom had to be gutted and redone. As you can imagine, that was not exactly cheap.

Our mattress popped a spring a week ago, which meant we had to order a new one. Do you know how expensive those things are? The new one has arrived and it feels a lot like it is made of concrete and stone. I am hoping it is going to loosen up- but hope has been thin these days.

Since December my van has had a series of issues, starting with the engine light coming on due to leak in some tube, and then it died in the driveway because it needed a new battery. Two weeks ago one tire went flat on my way to work, which just happened to be the first day of exams. I was late. About four days later a second tire popped and I was late yet again. My momma didn’t raise no fool, after the second flat I replaced the set. Ka Ching.

In the midst of all this, I was called for Jury duty.

Fantastic.

But you know, just when you think someone really has it in for you, something happens that changes your view on things.

This morning as I was brushing my teeth, I made the mistake of looking up, where I saw a shadow creeping across the bathroom ceiling. I moved the towel, which was draped over the door, hoping that it was a nasty trick of the light. Nope. It wasn’t a trick.

I hopped up on the bathtub and touched the ceiling. Wet and cold.

Funny, I thought, while it has been cold, it has not been wet, and there are no pipes up there, so what in the name of holy hell is happening now? I got down and sat on the edge of the tub, numb. Distantly I heard Wil calling out to me: “Momma, come wipe my bum.”

There was nothing to be done at the time, school is waiting for my boy, work is waiting for me, and we are now behind schedule. In a daze, I wipe the little bum, brush his little teeth, kiss his little face and stuff him in the van. When we get there, I realize, I forgot his knapsack with his schoolwork and lunch in it. So back home, retrieve knapsack and back to Wil’s school. I realize at this point, I am barely going to make it to work on time for the third time, in as many weeks.

Finally on my way to work now, I am in a complete and total funk. Worry is a monster gnawing away on my innards. How much is this going to cost? Does this mean our roof is going? Are we going to have to replace that now? What next?

Cresting the hill I can see the flashing lights of the fire trucks and I can hear the sirens of the police cars. Meters away, at the corner of Tauton and Baldwin is a bad accident. “My first thought was: Gosh I hope everyone there is alright.” My second, more cynical and selfish thought: I am surprised that wasn’t me.

And then it hit me.

I missed this collision by minutes…perhaps the amount of time it took me to go home to retrieve a little knapsack.

So, leaky roof- bring it on.

That, I can handle.

Pure Energies and Rick Mercer

This week on the Mercer Report, Rick was with Mike Holmes to install solar panels on the roof of a home in Oshawa, ON. David Suzuki makes an appearance as well. They are working with an innovative Canadian company called PURE Energies. Based in Toronto, this company was created by solar specialists who design, install, finance and operate residential rooftop systems. They offer a no cost profit sharing lease or the option to buy a system for your house.





I think this is a fantastic idea! While this is something I would seriously consider, I have to admit, I am still looking for the catch.

Also, I wonder how the solar panels will affect the cost of replacing the roof? Eventually those shingles are going to need to be replaced. Would I have to call PURE Energies back to first remove the panels, and then get them to come back and put those suckers back up once the roof has been redone? What about a leak? How much more would the panels complicate things?

Regardless, this is something I plan on looking into. Have any of you had experience with this kind of thing? Suggestions? Concerns?

We Have Come a Long Way Baby

But have we come far enough?

Today is International Woman's Day, and yes, we have many things to celebrate and be grateful for but it is clear there is still a great deal of work to be done.

Women in Canada struggle with our lack of parliamentary representation and resent that our average wage is less than that of our male counterparts. We are more likely to live in poverty and become the victims of violent crime than men. However, we have recourse in many cases to try and address these issues- all the women who struggled before us have given us a voice.

We forget that far too many women in this world do not have a voice at all. Too many women on our planet live in a society where rape is a weapon of social control, where women struggle for reproductive rights and have limited access to education (if at all), where women continually suffer at the hands of men, in the name of religion and politics.


James Bond (Daniel Craig), traditionally the very example of a character who uses and objectifies women to further his own needs, takes a turn at highlighting many of the issues women struggle with daily- not just in the developing world- but everywhere.

Stream of Consciousness

“Dadda has icicles on his car and when you eat them they go down in your belly. Dadda is a transformer and he gets the bad guys with his sword and the bad guys get on the fire truck and they go to his house and they break the windows and then I smack them with the light saber and they fall on the ground. Don’t clip my toes. I will put my toes under my bum so you can’t clip them. Ok. Not today. Tomorrow. Look at the woobbies on my toes Momma. They are silly. Get them off Momma. Don’t clip my toes. My red car is fast. It wins. The blue car is fast too but it doesn’t win. Dadda plays with the blue car. Sometimes when it snows outside you can make a snowball but you can’t throw it or you will go to the office. Noah was singing “Who let the dogs out..who who who who”. I like that song. And you dance like this .... put your bum out like this.

Momma, I have to go poo!”

By Wilson
Age 4

Life in a Day

One of the most talked about movies at Sundance this year was Life in a Day. Dubbed an experiment in citizen film making, this documentary makes use of YouTube videos shared by thousands of people across the globe- sharing the silly, mundane, disturbing, poignant and achingly sad moments in brief snatches of time. The aim is to show the shared experience that is our lives in one single day (July 24, 2010).


The result can be seen tonight at 8 p.m., when Life in a Day is screened live on YouTube from its Sundance world premiere. Ridley Scott, and Kevin Macdonald direct.

Magic Santa

So here we are, it is December once again. I had a small panic attack yesterday when I realized that it was December 1^st. I am nowhere near ready.

However, I am determined not to let the commercial side of Christmas weigh on me this year. I am not going to give into neighborhood pressure to dress the house up like a Griswold family Christmas card or suffer the crushing throngs of mad shoppers nattering over goods at the mall. I really want to focus on time with my husband and son this year. I would rather do more than buy more. It is not really about what is under the tree for me- it never was.

Although, I am sure I will be buying too.

My first Christmassy act of the season was done today. My sister sent me this link where you can create an online personalized message from Santa to your children. I tried it out with a junk mail account and it worked really well. I am looking forward to opening Santa’s email to Wilson with him later tonight- I can just imagine his little face now.

If this sounds like something your children would enjoy, check it out:

Magic Santa

Happy Turkey Day had by All

Thanksgiving weekend this year gave me a much needed semi-rest. It seems like I started running at the beginning of the school year, and I haven’t stopped since. It has been nutso. However this weekend I refused to do any school work. And even though every free moment was taken up with cleaning, baking and cooking I still feel like I had a bit of a break.

My sister, her boyfriend and family friend came to stay with us a few days. I like having people over for holidays and special occasions, it makes the house feel more like a home. We did the usual Thanksgiving traditions: we ate, and we drank, and then we ate and drank some more. Before we passed out into a turkey coma we decided to have a few games of cards. There is nothing quite like a game of 120s or Asshole to get the blood pumping. A few oaths were sworn- but all in all most of us came out without scars. I wish we could all get together and do it more often.

What did you all do for the Thanksgiving weekend?

Hey you!

Well it has been awhile since I blogged. I feel kind of out of touch now.

And rusty.

I have not written anything other than a grocery list and various lesson plans since my last post. Not very exciting stuff.

Part of the reason was a serious case of writers block. I just had very little to say. And when I did have something to write about I was too busy to get here and do it. I had to take a bit of a break from social media for awhile- no blogging, very little email, hardly ever at Delphi, and sadly I did not follow any blogs either. The only thing I did do on a semi regular basis was hop on Facebook. Facebook is a quick and dirty medium, the blog needs more time.

I missed this and I missed reading my favorite blogs. I am going to try to start posting on a regular basis now- maybe once or twice a week to start. Anyway, it is good to see you.

We will talk again soon.

Visits from home

My Mom and Dad are here visiting for a few days and it has been so good to have them here. My mom usually comes at least once a year; my Dad is a little more sporadic because it is harder for him to get time away from work. Having them both here at the same time is a treat. But there is a problem, Don and I don’t have any time to take off to spend with them, and this means my mom has a lot of downtime at the house- unsupervised. Dad is doing what normal people do while on vacation- he is reading, watching movies, going for walks and exploring the area. My mom- not so much.

On Thursday I came home to find the front hall painted. On Friday she plastered and painted the basement staircase and attempted to adjust my son’s curtains, only the lack of materials prevented her from completing the task. On Saturday, my sister came in from Kingston and we kept mom busy with a trip to the mall and a few other stores. This did not keep my mom out of trouble though- while we were buying mom a latte at Second Cup (they don’t have that back in GFW) she was in Bonnie Togs completing my son’s summer wardrobe- she bought one of everything in that store I swear. While we were at Bed Bath and Beyond, helping my sister pick out drapes, mom managed to sneak in an extra set of curtains for Serena’s place. On Sunday I came home with a new Duvet cover and a pair of shorts I didn’t know I needed. I am very grateful, however, I am a little worried about what to expect when I get home today.

If shopping were an Olympic sport my mom would win gold. She can sniff out a deal, find flaws in material, knows what is a good buy and what is not, and what time of year is the best to get deals on things like paint and furniture.

My son is being spoiled rotten. It is not just the new clothes, or the toys she and dad brought down for Wil, it is the sheer amount of love an attention they lavish upon him. He loves every minute- I am sure he will miss his entourage when they go on Thursday.

I know I will.

What a mother knows

It was story time at my house just a few short moments ago. Don just finished negotiating his way through the bedtime ritual where Wilson tries to finagle "Just one more book", and then "A drink of water please daddy?", and "Where is my Gaugi?" When all his demands were met it was my turn- it is my job to tuck him in and close the light. I also ask for the last goodnight kiss. Tonight the response was a nonchalant "Sure". Then he thrust his arms up in the air and raised his chubby little cheek to my lips.

In that moment, with his tiny little hands around my neck, I am reminded of him as a baby. It was a sweet moment, but it gave way to sadness, and a little fear. This is all going too fast. My baby is gone- he has grown into this soft spoken funny little boy who is trying to master the alphabet and Velcro shoes.

I just seems like months ago that I was desperately trying master being a mom to an infant. My first challenge was to breastfeed him. I had it drilled into to me by the Breastfeeding Nazis that this was best for baby and that everyone can breast feed- it is a matter if you care enough too. Besides, they stressed, breastfeeding is natural!

Yes, it might be, but some mothers in the wild eat their young. That is natural too.


To any of you ladies out there in cyberspace who are gestating right now, or perhaps your bun is just fresh out of the oven, listen to me: Breastfeeding is a learned behavior; it takes time and it can be painful. Do what is best for you and baby, sometimes the bottle is best for you both. I was foolish, I hung in there for nine months of breastfeeding- but man I suffered. He was feeding every 45 minutes, he had a horrible latch, and he would not take a bottle of expressed milk. I remember one afternoon, after a particularly long night, holding Wil in my arms and dreading feeding him. I was just too sore: cracked and bleeding sore. I looked down at this cute little bundle crying and thinking to myself: I don't know how much longer I can do this kid.

My sweet little babe just looked up at me and smacked his lips.

I lost part of my right nipple at one point. Not pretty.

As difficult and painful those late night feedings were I do miss that part of his life. I loved the feel of his little body tucked in close to mine. While he fed, whether it was the breast or later the bottle, he would rub my arm softly and would stare up at me until he passed out in a milk coma. For a little while longer I would hold him, rocking him slightly and trying to coax out any burps that might be bubbling within. I remember the soft whisper of his breath on my neck, the scent of his bath oil, and his tiny little hands on my chest.

More than once- as I stared into the blue of his eyes, I wondered to myself if he knew: if he could ever know, just how much he was loved?

And here I am, with Mother's Day approaching, as I tuck my young son into bed, suddenly wondering if there was a time when I was a baby, that my Mother held me in her arms and asked herself: "Does she know, could she ever know just how much she is loved?"

Yes mom. I do.

Thank you.

It's resolution time again

It's resolution time again. Common resolutions like losing weight, quitting smoking, spending more time with family and less time at work are likely to be on the top of many resolution lists. I have not made New Year’s Resolutions these past few years because they rarely stick, and there is nothing more pathetic than a lie you tell yourself.

I asked friends how successful they were with resolutions in the past and the question is met mostly with laugher followed by an unconscious bow of the head and a sheepish admission that most of the resolutions they make don’t make it past February. Why is it so hard to keep those promises to ourselves throughout the year?

It is simply a lack will power; or is it unrealistic expectations? Whatever the answer may be I have decided I am going to make a resolution this year. And here it is:
I am going to take better care of myself and enjoy the time I have.

Yep. That is it.

Now I know a lot of you are asking what that means- and I am not sure I can really quantify it for anyone. Actually, I think that is part of the point.

I can say it means if I have to make a choice between mopping the floor, or coloring with Wil before he goes to bed- I am going to break out the Crayola. It means I am going to eat breakfast most days of the week rather than just on the weekends- but I am not going to flog myself if all I can manage Monday morning is a mug of tea when I get to work. I will reduce my portion sizes, try to drink more water, and as soon as my foot heals, I am going to exercise again. Not to lose weight, or to look better, but to feel better. To be around as long as I can with the people I love. However, I will have the occasional cookie with my son after school but it is more important to me that we will bake them together.

I don’t know if it was the four soldiers and the first Canadian journalist who were killed over Christmas in Afghanistan , or the poor men sent to the winds on a scaffold Christmas Eve but I have just decided that I don’t have the time to waste of worrying or berating myself over things that really have little meaning.

This is one New Years Resolution that I really hope I stick with.

For Wicket

The first year we moved to Ontario , we lived in a very small Junior one bedroom apartment on Jarvis Street in Toronto. It was cramped and noisy, and all kinds of interesting characters came out to play at night…well mostly at night. I was missing home pretty bad- everything here seemed so crazy to me, the speed of life, the insanity of some of my neighbors, and the lack of community. I was having trouble adjusting to life in the big smoke. Even though I had Don, I was lonely.

Shortly after the New Year, I got a really bad flu, and I was home for days. It was January 8^th and bitterly cold. I remember crawling back into bed that afternoon, Don tucked me in set a glass of juice on the side table and told me he was going to the store to pick up a few things. I promptly passed out in a Tylenol Cold induced haze.

I woke up to the sound of Don unlocking the apartment door. He had a kind of grin on his face that made me worry; I was about to ask him what the heck he had been up to when he produced a cage from behind his back. Inside there was a little black and white fur ball we named Wicket. This little kitten was to be my birthday gift- even though Don is allergic to cats, indeed Don never really liked cats. As Don was handing the little kitten over to me he made sure I was clear on one condition: “The cat cannot be allowed in our room. That has to be a cat hair free zone; I need to be able to sleep”. That sounded reasonable so I agreed.

The first night Wicket cried and cried and cried to be let in our room. It was a long night.

The second night, Don said: “Maybe he is lonely, let’s let the cat in the room but not on the bed. He can never get on the bed.” That sounded reasonable so I agreed.

It wasn’t long that night before the cat scaled the bedclothes and crawled on top of the bed. Purring the whole time. Don would pick the cat up and put him back down each time until he finally gave up. Wicket was both persistent and smart. Those first few nights Wicket wisely slept at the foot of the bed. But as days and weeks past, he slowly moved up to sleep at our knees, then cuddled into the small of our backs, and finally we woke up one morning to find Wicket between us, with his head on the pillow and his body tucked under the sheets. He was smart I tell ya. Strangely, Don was not suffering any allergic reactions.

This cat did not know he was a cat. He was part dog I am sure, perhaps that is why Don did not have any allergies to Wicket. Our cat would fetch. If you threw a stuffed toy, he would run after it, pick it up in his teeth and strut back to you like a lion on the Serengeti. When he reached your feet, he would drop his kill at your feet and step back proudly, waiting for you to pet him and toss it again. He could do this forever.

If Wicket found something interesting or when he really wanted your attention, he would stand up on his two hind legs hold his paws up like a Prairie Dog and sway back and forth like a cobra. He could hold this stance for a long time, and it unnerved many a guest to the apartment. Also, he did not meow- he trilled. It was the oddest little noise.

When we moved into our new home in Whitby we noticed more of Wicket’s interesting little quirks. Wicket loved all dogs, was not afraid to run up to the biggest of them on days he escaped outdoors, sniff them, walk along side them. Try to talk to them. Most dogs shied away from him at first, but warmed up to him before long. Cats however, were a different issue. If a cat came to our door, or to our back patio Wicket turned into a feral little creature. His eyes would get black and wide, he would puff up to twice his size and make this woofing sound, sometimes even throwing himself at the door in a desperate attempt to get at the cat on the other side. It was scary to watch Wicket go bye-bye.

While Wicket fiercely guarded the house from other cats he was very welcoming to other visitors. If you knocked on our door Wicket would be there to great you and once you were in the house you were going to be cuddled. He insisted. He would see you out too- walk you to the porch and all.

Because we bought a new house, and because we bought one from Liza homes, that first year we had a steady stream of contractors come in to repair or redo things around the house. Wicket was an indoor cat- so we had it on our standing orders that if a contractor came to our house; they were not to let the cat out. One day I happened to be at home when one of the contractors came by to fix the leaking bathtub upstairs. Wicket watched the guy the whole time, and when he was ready to leave followed him downstairs. The man came and spoke to me about the repairs, and commented on how friendly Wicket was: “He sat there the whole time” He said. “He purred all the time, and just sat at my feet”. He looked down at Wicket who was circling his legs while he spoke, and petted him. Then he gathered his stuff and headed for the door. I was making supper so I figured he could see himself out. A few moments later I realized that the contractor was still there; he had opened the door and closed it several times, but had not left. I peaked out, my hands full of dough. The contractor looked at me, a little chagrined he said: “The cat won’t let me out”

Then I saw the light bulb over his head. He started laughing.

“This is the House!” he said. His face red, tears streaming down his face”. This is the house they were talking about!

By this point I was curious and laughing myself, the guy was just howling and it was kind of infectious. “What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Kirk was here last week fixing your ceiling I think, and he had to call the guys from the site to come let him out. He saw the order not to let the cat out, but the cat would not leave his feet long enough to let him open the door and squeeze out. We asked him why he didn’t just pick the cat up, step out and then toss him back in, and he said the cat was not normal. He would not pick him up.”

Apparently Kirk was teased mercilessly about having to be rescued from a cat, and the story had made the rounds.

As Wicket got older he started to get a series of bladder infections which caused him to pee in places he should not. Antibiotics and special food only kept him clear for so long. The poor guy had all the fur licked off his paws and his belly was raw from licking. A few weeks ago we noticed a furball on the top of his head. We let it go, because Wicket usually works those out himself. But he hadn’t, and he wasn’t himself. His infection was back we thought at first. When Don tried to cut the furball off himself we discovered a lot more was going on.

Wicket was put down two weeks ago now. I still find myself listening for the sound of his paws patter across the floor at night and waiting for him to hop up on the bed. Don has to stop him self from making sure all the toilet seats are up and clean (Wicket would only drink out of the toilet). I have a cold now, and I miss how Wicket seemed to know I was sick, he would stay near me all day, and sit on my feet to keep them warm.

I will never have another pet. Telling the vet it was ok to put Wicket down was very difficult. Saying goodbye to Wicket hurt. But boy am I grateful I had that little furball in my life. I know some people will laugh at this and wonder why someone would get so upset over a cat- but the thing is he wasn’t just a cat to me; he was a member of the family.

Christmas on Thanksgiving

As many of you know, I live far away from my family. We are all spread out, with the bulk of the clan living in different parts of Newfoundland, and everyone else is spread out all over Canada. The only relatives I have here in Ontario are my Uncle Brendan and his family in Oshawa, and my sister Serena in Kingston. It makes holiday times kind of lonely. While all family gatherings that I miss are difficult, missing Christmas in Newfoundland damn near kills me. I spend much of the holiday in a bit of a funk, prone to spontaneous bouts of weeping. Even Christmas commercials get to me.

You may be wondering why I am talking about Christmas so early this year, and the answer is that I had my Christmas this past Thanksgiving weekend. The plan was that my parents were going to fly up and my sister was going to drive in from Kingston to spend the long holiday weekend together. I was really looking forward to the holiday- even if only half my family could come.

However, my mom is a bit of a sleeveen. Unbeknownst to me, she had arranged for the entire family to be together. Mom, Dad and my brother Cas all flew in to Toronto together, and my little sister Cassandra flew in the next day. It was the first time we were all together in 3 years. It was wonderful.

We spent the time playing cards, spoiling my son Wilson (he is the only grandchild), laughing and teasing each other, and eating. We were all together, enjoying each other, we were busy making memories; in short, it was Christmas for me. Who knows, maybe, with a little luck, we can make this a new tradition for the family.

Thanks Mom, Merry Christmas.

Beautiful

For the longest time I had my life planned out. I was going to be a Marine Biologist when I grew up: move to Vancouver, work at the aquarium and swim with the Orcas. However, I also had thoughts of becoming a puppeteer (and work with Jim Hensen), an environmental lawyer, and an anthropologist but none of those flights of fancy came to fruition either. The marine biologist dream lasted the longest though, from about the age of 9 to 16, and it is the one I still think about often. The one I always wonder about. Especially when I see videos like this:


Absolutely stunning.

It was shot at the Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium in Japan. The main tank called the ‘Kuroshio Sea’ holds 7,500-cubic meters of water. Whale sharks and manta rays are kept amongst many other fish species in the main tank

I like to move it move it

About four years ago I got really serious about getting healthier. I had the time, had a little disposable income and I really wanted to make a change. I signed up with Executive Fitness & Wellness in Toronto, under the care of personal trainer Domenic Mirabelli and nutritionist Angela Carte. They were great! My progress was very slow, but I lost weight, got stronger and felt wonderful. I even started jogging, which for me was nothing short of a miracle. Ever see a mountain move? That is me jogging.

The funny thing is that while I hated cardio, I really enjoyed lifting weights. I discovered that was so much stronger than I thought I was.

And then I got pregnant, and it all went to hell.

Since having Iron Will, a couple of things happened. Disposable income? Gone. Free time? A memory. And when I do get the free time where the hell do I get the energy?

However I do want to get healthier, I would like to get that sense of strength and wellness back. I know it will take twice as long as last time, and it will be twice as hard but I do want to do it.

One of the things that helped with cardio was my cheap little MP3 player. I normally listen to classic rock. I don’t like a lot of the new crap that is out there, and country music? I would rather floss my teeth with my own spine than listen to that twangy caterwauling. But for some reason, when it comes to music to work out to, I could stomach some poppy tunes, and even techno. If I got the right songs on there, I could walk faster. And here is where you come in. I need new workout music!

The songs I used to have lost their punch for me, I need some new suggestions. Right now the only songs I am going to keep are: “Twilight Zone, Radar Love, and the Vampires Bar Dance Club song from the movie Blade (weird choice I know, but that song really got me going!). I need new suggestions.

What do you listen to when you are working out? What songs really get your blood pumping? What do you have on your IPod or MP3?

Becoming a Dad

We never really planned for our little guy. Neither of us wanted kids. The plan was to go it without children, and since I had been told I would likely have trouble conceiving we really hadn’t given it much thought.

Until I projectile vomited in the wastebasket at work one cold January morning, after what I thought was an extended bout of the stomach flu; then, suddenly, frighteningly, being pregnant was all I did think about.

When I finally peed on the stick and it came up with the “You’re knocked up” symbol, I could hardly believe it. I was terrified, scared, and nervous. I did not want this! I did not plan for this! Cripes I was plastered over Christmas, what if I pickled the baby already? All of the changes and challenges lay open before me, and I was very unsure of my ability to meet them.

I yelled out to Don, who was downstairs, oblivious to the fact I was even testing for pregnancy, when he came upstairs I handed him the stick. Hoping he would tell me I read it wrong. I hadn’t.
I will never forget the look on his face, and I know I can’t describe it. He was happy. He was trying to hide it but he was happy. And I was somehow comforted by that.

I was at the three month mark when I suffered a subchorionic hemorrhage. Don was at work when it happened. There was so much blood, and a great deal of it appeared to be tissue, I was convinced that the baby was gone. All I could see in my mind was Don’s face, when I told him I was pregnant, and I could not get the image out of my head.

A friend came to rush me to the hospital, I called Don at work, and said there had been an accident and asked him to meet me at the hospital. I didn’t know what was going on, but I did not want to have to explain it all over the phone.

I was in an observation room when Don arrived, waiting to be examined. He open the curtain, worried, wondering what he would find, and I blurted out: ”I think I lost the baby. I am so sorry, I lost the baby”. His face broke. There is no other way to describe it. I killed something in him with those words. I could see it.

It was hours more before I was examined, and hours again before I got an ultrasound to see what was going on. When the Doctor confirmed I was still pregnant I could hardly believe him. They told me my odds of carrying to term were 50/50, put me on bed rest and sent me home.

Somehow we made it through, and we are both overjoyed we did. Our son makes us both better people, he has given us more than we can ever hope to give him. He made my husband a father, and what an exceptional father he is. Don and Wil have an incredible bond. It started the moment my husband found out I was expecting: a bond that was sealed between them the moment Don held Wil in his arms.

Happy Father’s Day Don. We never do things the easy way do we?

Limbo

Give me heaven, or give me hell.

But don't stick me somewhere in between waiting.

I hate waiting.

The interview steeple chase

It has been a busy week for my job searching husband.

After about two solid weeks of searching, cold calling, submitting, begging and pleading, the phone calls have finally started to come in.

On Monday he got an interview with a company for a a DBA position in Toronto. He got all dressed up, prepared himself for the uncomfortable onslaught of questioning and judgment that is the interview process, and headed on down to the big smoke.

He made it through that process with flying colors.

On Wednesday he moved on the the next step in the hiring process, and met with a panel of people he would be working with to see if he would fit in. Of course there was be the usual plethora of technical questions.

He nailed that.

They told him they were very impressed with his interview, and thought he would be a good fit personally in their organization. But, he has few more hurdles to jump yet.

The next step is to write a technical exam. If he does well with that, he needs to meet with the Vice President of the company.

I am not sure what the heck they would have him do after that meeting; a little tête-à-tête with Billy Gates perhaps? Organ donation? What?

The problem is that the technical test is supposed to be administered sometime today, and will be timed, but they haven't told him when it is coming, and he has another interview today for a local job. He has to go to that.

The local job is not exactly what he wants, the pay will be a lot less, and is more of a Web Manager role than strictly DBA, but it is local. He is almost afraid that they will offer it to him today, before he has a chance to complete the interview steeple chase for the Toronto job has been completed. What happens if they offer him the Web job on the spot? Or later today? What does he say without pissing off potential employers?

Any thoughts?

Starting over

I know I haven’t been posting much.

We have had a lot going on, and much of it has come to a head in recent months. Those of you who follow the blog (even now it amazes me that I have any readers left) know that last year Don made the difficult decision to leave a company he was happy with, to work at a place that was closer to home, and seemed to have more opportunity for him to grow professionally. He made the decision to leave, and in a lot of ways it was good for us.

He was home more. Not having to take the Go Train into Toronto every morning and night was amazingly good for us as a family, and when you have a young child nothing is more important the time you have to spend with them. We were able to move to a less congested town and buy a nicer home. And Don was able to get his hands into the guts of SQL Server in a way he had not been able to before.

But most importantly he was here. He was in town. He could take his son to the park while I made dinner. He came with me to send him off to daycare, and was with me to pick him up. There were no cold winter evenings bundled in the van with a baby, waiting for the GO train to decide to arrive. It was such a blessing to have that time as a family, to have that kind of access to Don.

However the new job had a very small work force, and specialized software they created. Time lines were tight, stress level was high, and the recession has hit them hard. They laid of one worker in January and cut Don’s hours in April. After they lost two contracts in May, they told Don they would now have only contract work for him. The company now has four full time employees, and like Don, faces an uncertain future.

So he has been looking for work, and it has been slow going. Not many people are hiring these days, and every time I turn on the news or open the paper I learn about even more layoffs, bankruptcies and closures.

A friend of mine works for RBC, and has told me that a few times now people have come into the bank with their house keys and left, not realizing that some banks are willing to work with their clients. It is hard times all around I guess. It is hard not to feel helpless. Hopeless.

Don has had a few leads, but nothing firm yet. We have pretty much resigned ourselves to the fact that if he does find something soon, he will be once again doing that horribly unreliable, uncomfortable and uncompromising GO train travel again and missing out on a lot of family time. I will go back to feeling a little like a single parent again.

But at least we had this year together; it was all worth it for that.