Are you Kidding Me?

This Christmas my husbands extended family rented a time share in Fairmont. We arrived 2 days after his immediate family. A van full of 1 playpen, 2 suitcases, 2 snowboards and 1 pair of skis, many toys, 12 books, 2 favorite teddy bears, 2 pots, 10 pounds of potatotes, 3 blankets, 1 bag of tolietries, 1 cooler, 1 box of dry food, 4 pairs of snow pants and so much more. Upon arrival we decide to bring our girls in and survey the situation.

To enter the timeshare you walk through a door into a small hallway that is shaped like a Y. It contains a closet on the right with a washer and dryer. If you go to the left you enter the larger of two suites. It has a large kitchen, eating area and living room. It has one bedroom which is the master bedroom and it has a king sized bed and ensuite. There is also a second bathroom off the kitchen. My MIL and Grand-MIL are sleeping in this suite.

If you go to the suite on the right, you will find the smaller suite. We were told this would be ours. It has a kitchette, small living room, one bedroom and one bathroom. My BIL (B stands for Brother) has claimed the king sized bed in the only bedroom in this suite. Our family is meant to sleep on the double hid-a-bed in the living room. We decide to make the best of it and pull the bed out. It needs to be made but we expected that. The mattress is in terrible condition. If you sit at the head of the bed the bed flips up and your feet are in the air and your bum has fallen into no mans land.

Are you kidding me? My single brother in law is sleeping in a kingsize bed while my husband and I sleep on a double hide a bed in a common area with our girls and all our stuff. His response... "Why should I always sleep on the hid a bed?" Why? I'll tell you why.

Because he is single and can sleep on the cushy leather couch as a single and we can not. We must sleep on the hid a bed.
Because there is one of him and two of us. We need more room. We should have the bigger bed.
Because our girls are sleeping in a main room and he is out partying. He must walk through our sleeping space to get to his.
Because we are married and need more privacy (wink, nudge, nudge).
Because I have a miserable cold and am having trouble sleeping as it is.

And so goes the first night. I am going to go crawl into my hid-a-bed with my husband and hug my box of kleenex.

My Husband

I love being married. I love being married to my husband. My husband is one of the hardest working men I know and I must admit I feel taken care of by him. Being married to him does have it's perks. I can honestly say I have never changed a flat tire and while I may understand the theory behind it I doubt I will ever do it with my husband around.

Shortly after we were married his family decided to sell off the farm equipment and have an auction. We spent many weekends at the farm preparing for the big sale and it was during this time that I witnessed my husband in his true element. My heart swelled with pride as I watched him back the tractor up to endless pieces of equipment without the slightest hesitation. While most people would have to backup, pull forward, turn this way or that countless times in order to line up the hitch to the equipment my husband did not. He got in the tractor and backed up perfectly aligned time after time. He was quick and efficient and had obviously done this a number of times.

I have also seen him come from rotatilling the garden covered from head to toe with back dirt and all I could see was the whites of his eyes and his teeth revealed from his big goofy grin. The man loves his tractors and is never quite as happy as when he is on them.

People have asked me a number of times why were are moving to the farm. Why would we leave Calgary when we have good jobs, friends, a great home church? Why would we leave a finacially comfortable position to a life time of debt? Why would we move so that we can commute for 2 hours a day to jobs in Calgary and what is a born and raised city girl going to do on a farm?

Few people get the opportunity to witness their spouse doing what they love and in their element. When my husband gets on a tractor it is a sight to witness. When he chases cows, he is posed and confident. So when we move to the farm I am going to watch my husband live out his dream. He is going to drive tractors and chase cows, he is going to be covered from head to toe in dirt and he is going to mow grass (probably at 7 in the morning). And he is going to smile! Don't get me wrong my husband is happy but moving to the farm is a dream. It's a lifestyle and it's one that was almost lost. What we lose is distance we are gaining in life.

A lesson to be learned

Christmas is quickly approaching and everyone is hunting for those perfect gifts for their loved ones. Gifting is a really art. Some people are so good at it and some are not. One year my Grandma gave my cousin an opened pair of nylons and her sister a shower cap. We have all got those "gifts". Maybe not those exact ones but we have all received the unwanted. In fact we've probably all given an unwanted too.

Each year we invite our friends over and have a white elephant gift exchange. The rule is you have to bring a gift to the party but it has to be something you already own but don't want. The first year we through the party I really didn't want to make everyone buy another $20 gift; stuff bought with no one special in mind; just more stuff. You would not believe the things people have brought over the years. There are always candles, some Christmas ornaments, Cd's or DVDs, souvenirs gifts... and there are some fun things...the old Walkman, a 10 gallon cowboy hat, and a really ugly soup bowl. We are a society of stuff. The thing is that the gifts that show up at our party are usually things that are being regifted.

Somewhere along the line we have become entitled. We all expect to get a gift from each of our family members and we expect it to be good. But what happens when we are disappointed? I've pouted but my guess is so has everyone else. We pout, cry, say rude things, tell our friends, stomp down the street, etc. We have all done it. My girlfriend tells me that she has a family member who has been heard saying "Well, we will have to return this, won't we!" immediately after opening a gift. We are entitled.

Last year we had an exchange student from Germany. Her family had made a big sacrifice to send her to Canada for 6 months and had decided not to send her any Christmas presents. They felt that the cost of sending the parcels and the time it would take to get them here was not feasible. Knowing this was the situation a lot of our friends and family decided to include her in their lists. On Christmas day our exchange student was fully expecting to sit and watch us indulge ourselves in our gift opening. She was completely taken aback when she realized there were gifts for her too. She was Grateful. Grateful someone had thought of her! The pleasure and joy radiated from her. Her smile was so big. She genuinely smiled even though she knew that some of her presents would stay in Canada because she couldn't take them on the plane. It wasn't what she got that made her happy it was that someone had thought of her.

As Christmas approaches this year and I try desperately to think of things my loved ones will enjoy and appreciate; I think of our exchange student. I want to get my loved ones good gifts. Things that show them I thought of them and I appreciate them. I am sure my loved ones are trying to do the same. So this year I am going to try to be like our exchange student. I am going to be grateful that someone thought of me. This year if I get something I don't want, it really isn't going to matter because it's just nice to be remembered. Thanks Lena for a lesson well taught!

In Memory of Steve

A friend recently asked me why I haven't blogged about Steve. I don't know how to write about it. It was hard to write about a family I only know through someone else. It was hard to write about some youth I have worked with over the years but I don't know how to write about the death of a friend.



Steve has been my friend since High School, through Bible College and into adulthood. He became a missionary in Africa, who's greatest desire was to teach people how to read so they could read the word of God. The truth is Steve and I were not as close in recent years partly because we were on different continents and partly because we were at different stages in our lives. The last time I communicated with Steve was just before he was killed. We were chatting on facebook about a youth group we had both worked with, people we had lost touch with and facebook. One thing that struck me then was that Steve didn't give up on people no matter how broken they were or how they hurt or disappointed him. He was looking for an old friend on facebook that everyone else had given up on. He was a people lover and a God lover. He was making a difference in a number of people's lives.



There are so many levels of grief that come with Steve's passing. Most of my high school and college memories include Steve. A group of us met after his memorial to reminisce the old days. I realized as I drove into the parking lot I was looking for the cars we all drove in High School. It was like I had taken a step back in time. I grieve with memories of a time that has long since past and a boy I knew very well from that time.



Then there is the grief of who Steve was as an adult. This Steve I didn't know as well but I am still saddened by his loss. A man who loved God, people and Africa. His memorial was so sad and uplifting at the same time as people from around the world shared how he had impacted their lives. How he had taught people to read, played with the children, smiled on them, offered a helping hand... and I am so sad for their loss.



Mostly I am sad for his wife and family whom I have known for a very long time in very different capacities.



Finally I am just sad that someone I know died. Someone so young with so much more to give.



I am going to finish with two things. The first is a memory from my high school grad and the second is the email that Steve's brother sent out with the news of his death.



Steve came to my Grade 12 grad. It was pouring rain that night and Steve went to get the car. A group of us sat waiting for him to return. After a great amount of time Steve returned on foot. He said he had a flat tire and needed the guys to come help him change it. Later we heard the guys had stripped down to their boxers to change the tire as they were scared to get oil on their good clothes. What most people don't know is how Steve got the flat tire in the first place. Steve had this old Bowmount car that he was so proud of. The car was a bit quirky and one of its quirks was that when you put the car in reverse the speedometer still registered a speed. In a newer car the speedometer sits at zero when you are in reverse. So Steve decided to see how fast his car could go in reverse... through the parkade. He was racing around backwards and hit a curb; ultimately causing the flat tire. It was pretty funny.

Here is the letter announcing Steve's death.

Hi Everyone, As you may or may not know my brother Steve has been chasing one of his grand dreams of cycling across Africa - He went to Africa at the end of June to teach at a conference on Literacy of West Africa.- After that he's been riding since the beginning of August and has crossed much of West Africa.- On September 21 he last communicated with us via email and his blog http://justaboutcrazy.blogspot.com/ from Zinder, Niger- His plan was to cycle across the northern tip of Nigeria into Moroua, Cameroon and meet up with a friend from his time there. He also mention he'd probably would not have access to communication until he arrived- He was planning to arrive on September 30. BUT he never showed up.- After worrying for a few days we started to get worried. - Sunday Steve's contact in Cameroon phoned us worried about where Steve was- On Monday Mom and Dad register him with the Canadian Government as ' Missing persons Abroad' and contacted the Embassy in Nigeria.- We always expected he'd show up eventually with one of his normal crazy, bizarre stories. That was not to be this time:Today (Tuesday) we got word back from the Embassy and the Government that they had found Steve's body in a police station in Northern Nigeria: - Steve was killed in a car accident and died back on September 26. - The embassy is sending a team of people up there and we'll get more details then. Steve died in the midst of fulfilling his dream in a place where God gave Steve's heart a great love and longing for. Steve has gone home to be with his Lord and Saviour Jesus, and I will miss him till the day I get to see him again. Please prayer for our family and his friends in our time of loss. Dave Rehn

I'm SO disappointed with my Realtor

Let me start by stating the following:

1. I am aware that the real estate market is not what it used to be.
2. As my husband continues to point out... I really don't know what a realtor does behind the scenes.

I am having a problem with my realtor. In fact I am having a problem with all Realtors. Near the beginning of Sept. my husband and I met with a realtor about listing our house. This realtor arrived at our house with a thick duo tang filled with printouts of every bungalow for sale in our area and every bungalow that has sold in our area in the last month. The realtor went through the duo tang with us and when she reached the last page it had a summary:

Highest sale price: $ X
Middle sale price: $ X
Lowest sale price: $ X

Average sale price: $ X

You should sell for $ X.

It sounds reasonable, except all the numbers were the same because only one bungalow had sold in our area.

Here's the problem. I'm a math teacher and average is not the only way to assess data and is in this case not the best way to interpret the data. Median would be important. This is the middle point between highest and lowest. But at the end of the day I would like to know the mode. What is the price that occurs most often.

I had a bigger problem with this. ONLY ONE HOUSE HAD SOLD SO HOW CAN YOU MAKE ANY CONCLUSIONS ON THAT? AND HOW CAN YOU RECOMMEND I SELL FOR THE SAME PRICE AS THAT ONE LOWLY HOUSE?

In the next breath this realtor told us we would need to lower our price after the first week and probably lower again after another week or two. She also told us that she no longer did realtor showings (when they bring all their colleagues over for a showing) since the big boom they stopped doing that and she had never sold in our area.

I wanted a second opinion. The house next door had recently sold so I called the realtor. She was going on holiday's and wanted us to meet with her after she got back. Ok. That was our first mistake. We agreed to wait. She met with us. She lived up the street and had sold many houses in our area. She suggested a price that was closer to what we were thinking and she did realtor showings. And we signed up with her. However, she doesn't do open houses because in her experience people don't buy from open houses. Also since the market is a bit slower she wanted us to sign up longer than 60 days. Ok. That was our second mistake. We signed up for a looooong time.

We were only on the market for a week before she asked us to lower our price. She sent us an email with all the bungalows for sale in Northwest Calgary and we agreed we were listed at the high end and didn't have the granite counter tops to support it.

In the mean time our friends and family that were looking at our house on line we saying things like... there are a lot of spelling mistakes in the write up... the pictures are really dark.... what a bad picture... I can't see your house in this picture because half your neighbor's house is also in the picture.

We told her about the spelling mistakes. She said she would fix them. We told her were getting negative feedback about the pictures. She said that she asked around the office and everyone felt they were fine oh and by the way she thinks we may need to lower the price.

After five weeks we get an email from our realtor. She thinks we should lower our price. We told her we couldn't do that and could she change the pictures since we were still getting negative feedback. We also asked if we needed to have our house staged and were told no. We double checked to make sure our house was still priced similar to the other bungalows and it was. She said she would come and take some new pictures. That was last week. As of today, one picture has been changed but not the one we were most upset about. The spelling mistakes have not been fixed. I realize that spelling mistakes wouldn't chase a buyer away. However the write is written very sloppy, has spelling mistakes and bad pictures. I must ask DOES SHE REALLY WANT TO SELL OUR HOUSE? She has us for a loooong time. .

So here is my opinion of Realtors in Calgary based on my experience with these two. They lived the easy life during the boom and now they don't know how work to sell a house. When the boom was on... they would put the house on MLS and set a time and day to receive offers. They would show up on that day and there would be a line up of buyers who were willing to pay more than the asking price. The realtor would look at all the offers and take the best one. At the end of the day they had made huge amounts of money. During that time they forgot how to work. Now that the market has slowed down they don't know what to do. They put the house on MLS and wait for the buyers to come. They don't network with realtor showings, they don't do open houses, they don't send out flyer's... they don't know how to find buyers. So they pressure the seller to lower the asking price and an update gets sent out to all the other Realtors to remind them that there is a house for sale but now at a lower price. If that doesn't work then they ask the seller to lower the price again so they can send out a new update. When we lower our price by $30 000 she loses loose change in commission but we loose years of mortgage payments.

The Phone...

I got caught in a weak moment and said I would provide some financial support to a phone solicitor. They sent me the form but I must admit I was tardy in returning it with a cheque. They phoned me again and this time they were willing to take my credit card number. I have to admit I was a little annoyed at this point but I wanted to honour my word and gave them my credit card number.

"Now don't laugh or hang up on me but we failed to reach our goal so we are asking our generous donors to contribute more. Would you be able to..."

Are you kidding me? These people harass and harass and harass. I just gave them money and instead of saying thank-you they asked for more!!!

Then there is the survey approach. "We would just like to complete a quick survey... and would you like us to send your our material to your email address or home address?" I finally asked if I was allowed to say No since I had already said No 5 times and they continued with their spiel. They aren't even listening. Try telling them to take you off their phone list; you'll probably have to say it 3 times before they hear you and they have a canned response for that too. Try hanging up on them and not feel guilty. I can't.

This same survey group have called us 3 times in the last 24 hours. It might have been better if I had just hung up this time. Instead I said "You have called me 3 times in the last 24 hours. I have already done your survey and I'm not interested." I hope you read that with an angry voice. Since I didn't agree to take their material they just keep calling. Sweet revenge on my poor annoyed soul.

Then there are the pre-recorded pitches. "This is your second and final chance to change your credit card. You are paying high interest rates... press one to speak to a representative." I have hung up. My answering machine has been filled with the spiel. I have listened to the recording to the end in hopes of finding the "out" option; like pressing number two. The irony is that my second and final chance has called 5 times in the last 6 months.

I thought that this would change when we moved since we are (the phone just rang guess who? I could scream!!!) getting a new number. Not so lucky. While my husband was wiring the new house the phone rang. The first phone call on our new phone was a credit card company. I do believe we have had more than one credit card company call.

I have had enough. I have just registered us for the CRTC's Do Not Call List. It was so easy, I just hope it works. There are limitations to who can't call but still... can we have some relief?

The great loss of something so wonderful...

I've been working with teenagers for 15 years. About a month ago I found out that one of the teens I worked with had died from a drug overdose. He died in 2006 but I hadn't heard until now. I was struck with an intense sadness. Two weeks later a former student of mine committed suicide. He was 21 and had struggled with a crack addiction for most of his young adult life. It makes me so sad. I'm so sad at the lost potential of who these young men were and what they were becoming. When I walk into a classroom at the being of a school year I am excited to meet each of my students. In a year we spend a lot of time together and we learn a lot about each other and I love them. I love the rawness of who they are; the emotions, the creativity, the humor and the glimpse of who they are going be as adults. When I think of these two boys I remember them and the potiential I saw in them. What a loss. It's so sad that they will never reach the full potential of who they were. The drugs dragged them down and ruined them.

I'm saddened even more when I realize the struggle they both had. I believe Ky committed suicide because he wanted to break free of the drugs and he couldn't. His addiction ultimately beat him down. I can't even imagine the struggle. Both of these boys were always trying to get it right with themselves, with God and those around them.

Recently one of my neighbors caught her husband having an affair. Again I am struck by the brokeness of people and it makes me sad. I am sad for her and her family but I mostly sad for her husband. I am sad because he also struggles, like the boys, making a bad decision that ultimately has long term consquences. He is still living and breathing but I would bet anything he is as broken hearted as the two boys.

All these things remind me of the love God has for us and the patience. I sit here crying for these people and their brokeness; saddened by the lost potiential of who these people could be and I wonder how great is the love God has for us that He know how broken we all are. He knows our struggles and He patiently waits for us to come around. How sad He must be when we don't reach our full potential.

My husband loves a good joke... or what he perceives is a good joke. Every night he climbs into bed before me and plants himself in the middle of the bed. Every night I climb in and say "Can you move over a little bit?" Every night he responds by extending his arm until its hanging over the edge of the bed and says "What? I'm hanging off the edge" Every Night.

One night I respond with "This isn't funny anymore. We have been married for over 8 years and just for fun lets say there are 300 days in the year. That means I have heard this joke about 2400 times. It's not funny anymore."

Him - "I'm aiming for 10000" HA HA HA

This is my husband. The man who puts the kids toys under my pillow at night before I come to bed. I've even found a few between the sheet and bed. So I should have known...

Yesterday he calls me from work and asks what is a mill. Mill... a unit of measurement? A place that grounds wheat into flour? No... MIL. Somebody read my blog. Somebody who has been asked numerous times if he read my blog finally did. "Are you mad?" NO. "What did you think?" NOTHING.

Should have known...

I had a roast in the crockpot when he got home. "Would you like me to check the roast? Don't want to dry it out. It will keep cooking if we turn it off. Look at the thermometer it's close lets take it out..." On and On and On...nope not mad... full of one liners and ready to milk it dry...

just like all the other jokes...

How done is done

When you get married you both bring different customs and practices to the marriage and sometimes they clash. This became blatantly clear when I watched my MIL clean the kitchen floor with the dish rag and put it back in the sink. My Mother would skin my hide if I did that. Most of those things are resolved in the first couple years of marriage but there are always a few differences that linger. If they linger long enough they become issues.



We have an issue with cooking meat in our house which was clearly illustrated a couple of Christmas' ago. Both my parents and my husbands Mom were here to celebrate. My Mom and I had spent the day carefully preparing the turkey. Everything was taken into consideration; how long to thaw it out, how heavy was it, how long would it need to cook and when did we want to eat etc. The potatoes are finished. The gravy made. The vegetables are done and the salad is on the table. The turkey is checked... by my MIL and husband. They took the turkey out earlier then my Mom and I had planned. The meat thermometer had not reached the poultry finished line; it was close but not there. My Mom did not believe the turkey was done and the cooking time and meat thermometer supported her position. She left the room visible upset. However, that turkey came out and was eaten. We survived but it shows the different backgrounds we come from. My family... wait until the thermometer gets there... don't take any chances... it's better dry than under cooked. His family... you don't want to over cook... it will keep cooking even after you take it off the heat... close it good enough... if the rest of the meal is ready the meat is done.

Another thanksgiving we are at my husbands Aunts. The whole family is there and they ask my husband to carve the Turkey. As he cuts into it he realizes the turkey isn't done. Like really isn't done. It's bright pink on the inside. Still slimy. Most people would have put it back in the oven. Not his family. They (my husband) cut off the parts that look done and served it up. Even if I hadn't been pregnant and experiencing some morning sickness I wouldn't have eaten that turkey. Hello- its still raw! I made darn sure Grandma didn't put any of it on my daughter's plate too. She looked at me strange but that's pretty usual.

This particular difference has become an issue. I don't know how many times I have cut into a piece of BBQ to see... not cooked enough... pink chicken or especially pork... still fleshy and put it into the microwave. He even likes his french fries a little on the undercooked side and he gets so offended when I say anything or microwave things. He once told me that he wouldn't cook anymore, after I suggested he ask for a second opinion before he declares something done. That's great! So my options are eat raw meat or do all the cooking.

If I had only known I needed to get food poisoning once to stop the arguments. Things have been a little different since early this summer. We were camping with his mom (who always takes his side on this. "I like mine a little on the rare side" and always seems to be around when it happens. ) and my husband starts cooking up the bacon. Within hours we are all pooping. Thank goodness the girls never ate any. They also didn't eat any potato chips the night before but food poisoning from potato chips sounds a little weak when there is bacon involved. We come home and poop. Three days of pooping with a combined weight loss of 15ish pounds and we know it's food poisoning. The chills and stomach craps. No more said. The doctor confirms it and gives us meds.

A couple days later we are good until... the BBQ starts again at you guessed it... at the MIL's. He hands me a piece of pork saying "This one is cooked the most."

I cut in and there it is... undercooked pork chops... still fleshy... still bleeding... alot. I say "This isn't done."

MIL says "I'll trade maybe there is another one that is done more. I like mine on the rare side."

Husband "I'll put it back on the BBQ"

What? Trade? Back on the BBQ? Never in all my years of marriage has either of these options been available. Gone is the defensiveness in it's place I have accommodation. Finally!
When I go to a restaurant I am asked "How would you like it done?" Somehow my preferences at home were never really acknowledged; until food poisoning. My answer has never changed and never will change. "I would like it cooked, please... No not kicking... Cooked." and I may just start getting it that way.

RUDE

A few months ago my daughter and I were leaving the public library and she noticed a teenager with a very large affro sitting by the door.

"Mommy, he has big hair!!!"

A couple of months ago we were in Ikea and she noticed a wheelchair and asked what it was. The elderly couple stopped shopping to show her how it worked and explain what it was for. They were very gracious with their time and explanation.

My oldest daughter is old enough to notice differences and sometimes comments. These comments are innocent observations that sometimes carry some awkwardness.

Recently I made a comment that was tackless and she repeated it. I was told that I was teaching my daughter to be rude. I took great offense to the accusation so lets talk about rude.

Yes, I was rude in front of my daughter. I told a family member they needed a shower. I was tackless by saying it in front of other family members including my daughter. I regret saying it in front of everyone and I would hesitate to repeat the scenario. However, this person needed a shower and was getting on a plane shortly.

What is rude?

Is it more rude to tell someone they need a shower or knowing refuse to shower leaving the lingering BO smell behind you for everyone to enjoy?

Is it more rude to lay down in the guest room for a nap during the day or fail to stay awake in the living room and end up sleeping on the couch snoring all day?

Is it more rude to sleep in the living room snoring loudly for hours on end or watch TV beside someone who is trying to sleep?

I honestly don't know if this person planned to shower that morning or not. Eventually they did and I don't know if I influenced that choice or not. I do know I should have kept my mouth shut or at least exercised more tack.

I'm sure this individuals perception of the weekend is different that mine. From my point of view it was rude to consider flying on a plane with lingering BO. It was rude to sleep on the couch and chair for hours on end in a common room snoring so loudly that people could not hear the conversation or TV. It was rude to tell me how to parent my child. From their point of view, it was rude of me to comment on their hygiene, especially in front of others. It was rude of me to allow my children to listen to music while they were trying to sleep and it was rude of me to turn the TV up so I could hear it over the snoring.

So what is rude? Is there a degree of rudeness and who gets to decide?

7 degrees of seperation

There are events in our lives that make time stop; sometimes its just for a second. These events aren't always tragic but many of us can remember where we were when we heard about JFK's assassination, the Berlin Wall coming down, Columbine, 911. I don't remember JFK's assassination but I do remember watching the news about the wall and I remember coming home from work and being horrified as I watched live news coverage of kids fleeing from their school. I remember driving to school to coach volleyball and hearing about a plane flying into the north tower. I remember thinking that is must have been a little plane that lost control then hearing the rest of the story after volleyball practice in the staff room. I remember watching the replays on TV. I remember these events; I remember where I was, what I was doing and I remember the feelings I felt. These events were significant. I am saddened for the families even though I didn't know them.

Recently in Calgary there was a horrible murder-suicide. 5 people were killed; 2 of them were children. There was one survivor; a little girl who is the same age and shares the same name as my youngest daughter. When the investigation was done, it was concluded that the father was responsible. Why? Why would someone do that to their own family? I remember where I was when I heard. I remember what I felt and thought. I remember grieving for the grandparents and the little girl. I remember thinking about the last moments this family experienced.

I also remember calling my friend and learning that this family, the one in the paper, was closely associated with my friends. I didn't know the Lall family but I do know people that did. Suddenly the horrific events happened are only 2 degrees of seperation from me. They had friends and family who loved them. My friends have pictures of them in their childhood albums sitting around the table. They have pictures of their families together, 3 generations, sitting on the front lawn enjoying an evening together.

When you hear something like this on the news you are disturbed, shaken, saddened. You are also removed. When you know someone who knew the family, you are disturbed, shaken and saddened on a whole new level. But when you knew the Lalls you grieve. You remember a lifetime of who they were and how they were a part of your life.

My heart goes out to my friends... who have lost their friends.

Just where do we get off?

Just where do we get off? I've recently been reflecting that our generation treat our friends better than our parents. Maybe it's our society but call it what you want, we do treat our friends better than our parents. Think about it for a minute...

When your friends invite you over for dinner the first thing you ask is "What can I bring?" When your parent invite you over for dinner the only thing you ask is "What time should I come?"

I know someone who moved out of their parents house almost a year ago and still hasn't removed their stuff from their old bedroom. The stuff is still spread all over the room; the carpet still needs to be vacummed. The room is unusable. Our old room mates would never let us get away with this.

I know someone else who used to do their grocery shopping at their mom's house. What would your friends say if you came over and emptied out the cupboard? To make matters worse this same person took food from their parents freezer and left it as a thank you at someone else house.

Could you imagine what our friends would say if the next time we go out to a resturant we looked expectantly at them when the bill came... just like we do our parents...?

It makes me think how much we take our parents for granted.

It doesn't get any better when you have kids. It's generally assumed that the grandparents would love to babysit... and if your an hour late that's ok... it's good grandparent time... and it's free and the girl next door costs $6/hr.

I can't speak for the rest of society but I'm going to try better. My parents are important to me so maybe it's time to start treating them more like my friends.

Which comes first the egg or the chicken

The other day my husband put on this old (15years?) t-shirt to go out in. He hadn't shaved in at least a week and had just informed me that he isn't going to cut his hair until after he sees Iron Maiden in June. The last hair cut was Jan 4; the day of my brother's wedding.

Why bother trying if this is how he is going to be? And I told him just that.

So lets take stock. My last hair cut was in Dec. I have four identical t-shirts which I have worn two days in a row...

When did we stop trying? For me it came with the kids; the changed body of pregnacy, wearing clothes that are easiest to nurse in, the lack of personal time and the change it income.

Take shopping for instance. Just picture trying on clothes (because who knows what size you are anymore) with Anna trying to climb out of the stroller (I caught her standing on the high chair tray this week) and Tesla opening and closing the dressing room door just as I have disrobed.

To be fair, I haven't totally given up. I did call the stylist earlier today and I do have some new clothes that I wear when the laundry has been done. I also took a stand for Karl. I told him that any of his shirts that have more than eight holes in them will be thrown away. I think he's in our room hiding them.

Old friends

What is it about the people that you use to work with?

I've changed schools four times in the last 5 years and every single one of them have been great experiences. I loved the people I worked with and considered them friends. After leaving each one of them I find myself grieving the lost friends. I still think about the people from my first school. We worked together in a learning community and spent a lot of time together. We cared about the same students and each other. We attended each others weddings and celebrated the babies. We got together outside of work and we knew the joys and disappointments each was experiencing. Yet when we all went our seperate ways; we lost touch. My friends are not longer my friends. I run into them once and a while but I really can't say we are friends. It's just different and I sometimes get the feeling they don't want to run into me.

It doesn't seem to make a difference where I work because it's always the same. I can think of two people from more recent years that I am starting to grieve over the loss of their friendship. It's not like I don't try. I phone, I write but after a while I stop. When it starts to feel like I'm the only one phoning or writing then it's time to stop. I think I care too much and when I start to feel dropped; I stop. It's not that I don't care about these people because I do. When your friends with people you know things about their lives, like struggling marriages and financial problems and you wonder if there has been any resolution. I hope for resolution. I still care for these people but from a distance. I think that's what makes it sorrowful because when the phone calls stop you still care but have no clue how things are really going.

So to all my old friends that I have lost touch with... I hope things are going well!

Just punch me in the face...

Recently one of my facebook friends posted his status as "somebody punch me in the face if I ever decide to live with a woman again" It got me thinking; so I asked my husband if he thought living with a woman was hard. He didn't say much. That was last night.

Tonight we were making the guest bed together and I found myself instructing him about which way the top sheet should face and how the pillow case should fit the pillow and how the blankets should be folded down and how the pillows should sit on the bed and.... I started thinking maybe this is why men think women are hard to live with.

Women are raised by their mother's to do things the "right" way. Oh so many things are ingrained in our heads about how to clean and where to put things away ect, ect. Men are also trained by their mothers but not in the same way. Men are trained that if its sort of close then they were helpful. I think this is why when men and women first start living together there are issues. I have particular issues with the linen closet, pantry and dishwasher. I hate openning the linen closet and finding wash clothes in the middle of a towel pile or towels that are different sizes stacked together. (For the record there is more than one shelf in the pantry, linen closet and fridge.) I was taught that if your going to do it do it right. From his prespective he at least put it in the right cupboard. To complicate matters every family does it a little different. So when we start playing house and the women is doing it "right" and the man is being helpful and then you mix different household standards together you get friction. For example when your husband uses the dishcloth to wipe the floor and then puts it back in the sink to wash dishes with that may not be up to your standard even if it was ok in his mom's house. This is why women end up doing it themselves or over again. After a few years together we stop trying to teach the men how to do and instead we thank them for their help then when they aren't looking we fix it. Eventually they just stop helping to the relief of the woman. Brillant!

Now back to my friend who wants to be punched in the face. He obviously didn't get past the women trying to teach him phase. Which from his prespective she's just nagging all the time. My husband on the other hand has made it the eight year and is now close to off the hook.

I asked him tonight "You know when I asked you the other night if it was hard living with a woman... Does that question fit into the same category as Am I fat?" He just laughed and said "No comment."

I'm a better MOM.

I keep hearing women say they are better Mom's because they work.

When Tesla was 13 months old I started subbing for two days a week. Sometimes it was half days but it always added up to two days a week. Karl was finishing his last year of school and we had troubles making ends meet while living on 2 EI cheques for three months. We knew I had to return to work to pay off those bills. It killed me to leave Tesla, but after a few times it got easier. I would get to the school and start teaching. I love teaching! And the truth is after a while I didn't worry about Tesla or even think about her until it was time to pick her up.

After 6 months, I got a phone call for a full time position until the end of the school year. I had been standing in church the previous Sunday telling God about our finances and two days later got this phone call. 3 months of full time in a high school. I needed high school experience. I can't teach night school unless I have high school experience... that's why I was subbing. I took the job. I love teaching! I love teaching high school!

But always in the back of my mind I could never quite get away from feeling torn. I loved my job. I am good at my job but I have a responsibility to the one I brought into this world. Was I skipping out of my responsibility by leaving her in someone else's care? What a slippery slope... Tesla was fine for those days subbing and she would be fine for those 3 months. This was the first time I heard another women say she was a better mom because she worked.

The following year I worked part time in a different high school. Again I loved my job. I was pregnant with Anna and Tesla was in a good day home. Things were good. Except for the 3 hour battles to get Tesla into bed and the days when she was sick and we would toss a coin to see who would stay home with her and a few other things. I came home from work on March 15, a month before Anna was born and I took a long look at Tesla and I knew I had lost something. She had changed in the last year and I had missed it.

Recently I was watching Friday Night Lights and one of the characters was struggling to take her baby to daycare. I felt sick with anxiety just watching.

There are days when I know work would be easier. I don't enjoy playing Dora all day everyday. I'm not a great housewife... our house is a mess. But our kids are happier. What is best for me is not what is best for them. The night time battles have ended.

Tesla goes to preschool 4.5 hours a week. This gives me a chance to do some things for me and Tesla loves it. When women say they are better Mom's because they work I have to know more information before I can agree or disagree. The big question is how much do you work? If you are dropping your child off at 7 Am and picking them up at 5 and have them in bed by 7 Pm everyday, then I can not agree with you. You are not a better mom. I can say that because I have done it. You are a Mom who enjoys work. If you are a Mom who works a couple of days a week then maybe... if it gives you the break you need to play a better Dora I might be willing to listen to you.

Blogging

My Mom called me the other day. She told me I need to look at my cousin's blog to get some better ideas on what to write about. Mean while my friend Cal keeps telling me that my stories are so funny... that I should write them down and get them published. I'm not sure if he is really serious but as I told him "No one reads my blog so why would they read my book?" Which brings me back to my Mom's advice...

The truth is that if I wrote down all my opinions (because that's really what Cal thinks is so amusing) I won't have any friends or family left that would speak to me. Cal is married to my nearest and dearest friend so he gets everything... the unfiltered, unedited, completely unthoughtout verbal diarea from my mouth... actually from his wife's mouth which originated from mine. Maybe she puts a good spin on my stories... Maybe his wife should write down everything I say... Maybe she could make the millions...