Yes, an alternate universe!
Stay with me.

In this alternate universe, the "Happy Kid" post never happened.
That's right.
It neeeeeever happened.

In that alternate universe, there is a post lamenting the fact that I have lost the last three April entries. This means that this alternate universe is devoid of all things connected to dirtyolive and strawberry karma, space obsession or poop.

When I am at work, I see the post lamenting the other posts. Supa and my sister see this universe.
When I am at home, I see “A Happy Kid” and this little dribble you are currently reading – as does Barbara, Jess and Andrea.

Can someone, with more geek skill than I obviously have, explain this to me? I recently changed nameservers. Is this the problem?

Regardless, I know you are all breathing a sigh of relief that this is the side of the universe that still is privileged to read such incredibly "been there, done that" material.

The “been there, done that” is a teasing reference to a woman who may mistakenly think I am angry with her for presuming that I, with the one child, is so sufficiently fascinated with my life that I will post anecdotes on the internet about my son but which anyone who has already had a child has.... “been there, done that” and oh... yawn.
Yaaaaawwwwwn.

I’m kidding, Jess.

There is no way on earth that I would be angry with you for speaking your mind on your blog. I didn’t feel like you were slamming me - or my one child family. You were talking about what it feels like to be a family with four kids in a world where people seem to think one or two children are enough, for whatever reason.

If I were mad, I wouldn’t be talking about it on the net.
I would be marching right up to your blessed doorway and snapping my fingers like an idiot. Ha. Yeah, right. That would be funny though.

Seriously, I'm not mad.
I understand it is all part of the mother debate going on and the big hubbaloo surrounding that infamous book. To me, it's not only exclusionary because the world (including the blogosphere) seems to concentrate on the single child families - although I can see your point.

If you are going to start commenting on who is excluded in the mother who works versus the mother who stays at home, then lets open the picture to both the multi family households and the women who work because they have no other choice. You feel there is little choice to be a SAHM because of the size of your amazing family. I feel there are far more who do not have the choice to stay at home OR have more children due to simple finances.

(And here, my other friend, Charity will scoff at my constant beef with our society’s invisible classism, which seems to range from Thomas the Tank Engine tales to crappy social commentary best seller books.)

So this book, from what I've learned, is a personal account of many wonderful women and their somewhat different ways of raising their children. Apparently, even Naomi Wolfe feels it is a great representation of “real women everywhere”, which actually surprises me.

You see, the working versus SAHM debate doesn’t exist in my everywhere. However, I have a feeling that Naomi Wolfe lives in a vastly different everywhere than I.

In my everywhere, most families can’t afford to have another child - with or without childcare. There is still a face-off in my everywhere, but it is not this way because women are defending their choice, but out of frustration, insecurity and “the grass is greener” envy of ignorance.

In my everywhere (and perhaps, for Jess), the women who have more than one child do not have a choice to work or not to work. The debate is thrown completely out the window. Thrown out that same window is the feasibility of childcare for multiple children – multiple meaning two or more. Infant care, toddler care, after school care…. Yikes.

In my everywhere, some women weren’t even ready to have one child and now they are doing it alone. SAHM? According to many in society, this is the role of a “nurturing mother” (excuse me while I roll my eyes). If this is the ideal, then why are single mothers on social assistance so vilified? Why does our government try to limit this opportunity? There seems to be a narrow image of a SAHM and I object to this.
(Incidentally, I absolutely love the stupid factoid they give about mental and verbal development on that linked site. Yes, lets makes the “other side” feel like crap too. Yawn)

In my everywhere, there are families who would love to be able to adopt a beautiful child without a stable home but are stopped due to their financial status. Today, I felt like crying as I watched a thirteen-year-old girl testify against her adoptive father’s sexual, physical and mental abuse. SAHM? Working Moms? Who cares! There are children out there who just need a loving home.

What about the Dads who want to stay at home? I have one. I’m sure there is a hell of a lot more. Is that even a question? Nowhere in literature or on the internet do I see this debate. Dads? Stay at home? They don’t bond with their children! They do sporty stuff! They are adoringly removed! They pat heads and straighten collars!
They don’t wake up in the middle of the night! They don’t wipe the noses, bums and tears! They don’t worry about food groups and chemicals and if Jimmy knows how to share.
If I make more than my partner, why is it odd that I would be the one at work? What if I (gasp) enjoyed working and knew my partner would prefer to stay at home? From my experiences, I find it hard to believe those who try to tell me that there is a wire inside mothers that isn’t present in fathers that make staying at home more of a desire for women.

In my everywhere, we are all doing the best we can and yet, everyone thinks that everyone else is doing a less thoughtful, less stimulating and less nutritious job of raising their children.

To me (in both universes) the “right choice” isn’t really much of a choice – either way.

Community Garden:

1. sense of community


2. finally a space of land for me to do as I please


3. friendly neighbours that speak extremely fast French on one side and extremely fast Arabic on the other


4. some excellent gardeners to learn from and talk to about our climate


5. free tools and unlimited use

Private Garden Space (a.k.a. a backyard)

1. privacy to garden in your bikini


2. variety of space and design


3. ease to work whenever you please - such as at 6am when you look out the window and realize that a cat had tried to sleep on your seedlings and you need to do some rescue work


4. NO ONE STEALS YOUR PLANTS

Yes, the community garden is great - and I realize it's the only way for me to garden until we decide to live off potatoes, carrots and cheese in order to jump into mortgage hell. However, stealing my strawberry plants? That's cold.

My space was clearly occupied. I had done work on it. There is no excuse to think that no one was going to use the fruit. The only thing we concluded (me and the two equally insulted and sympathetic sisters on my right) was that perhaps the old owners came to claim them. That, and since I didn't buy them myself, they were never really mine in the first place.

My friend Missey came to the plot with me today, to help me face the scene of the crime once more, and we decided those strawberry plants are bad news. They're diseased, yes... that's it. They are going to release vermin all over your illegitimate, traitorous, underhanded crop... you.... you strawberry stealer, you!

Argh.

I met Alexandria Tucker when I first started working here. I kept hoping that there was some sort of Friday Pub practice, but nothing happened and I never got to know her any better than a nod and a smile in the filing room. I think my first impression of her was pretty accurate though. I have since noticed the large impression she has made on many people. As a result, I wanted to post this:

Support your local trans community by buying a shirt and participating in raising transgender awareness and suicide prevention.

Keenan Pinder will be cycling across Canada this summer in memory of his friend Alexandria Tucker who took her life April 14/05.


The Trans Cycling Odyssey is a tour to raise both transgender awareness and suicide prevention.


Keenan and friends will be stopping in various cities along their routes to give presentation and be on hand for questions.


T-shirts are $20 and go directly into the fund to help Keenan and friends make it across Canada.


Any left over monies will go into a scholarship in Alexandria's name at UVic.


Those students who identify as transgender/transsexual, and have financial need will be eligible for this scholarship.


To find out more about this trip and/or get Keenan's contact info, please check out www.flying trannys.com


T-shirts are being sold on April 3rd from 9-2 in the SUB building (main entrance). Donations are also being accepted at this time.


Come out and show your support.

Early last week, Franklin and I (okay, mostly I) got so excited about worms and dirt that we (okay, that was also primarily me, again) thought it would be cool to make Compost Art.

We saw this sort of thing while perusing other compost photos on flickr and Franklin (really, it was him!) wanted to make the same picture. I wish I could find it again so I could give credit where credit is due. Really, we didn’t think this up on our own. It was a teacher’s curriculum thing-a-ma-gig.

Anyway, I showed this photo set to a couple of co-workers - partly because I was proud of my budding scientist/artist and partly because the other day I was lamenting that there didn't seem to be any courses to take over the summer and too many people for my comfort told me I can now spend more time with my son.

What the...?

Really now, everyone. Do people actually picture me ignoring the little precious while I slave away at the computer or my text? These bags under my eyes are precisely because I spend every waking minute with my son – those that aren't taken up by work or preschool.

I know, I know... it wasn't meant that way and I should just say,
"Yes! Thanks for that wonderful and thoughtful insight into my personal life!”
But alas, one of those apparently concerned for the well-being of my son is my mother and when in the presence of my mother, I whine and complain. This seems to be my official role (sorry Mom, you are just such a good listener – especially when the phone cuts out and I realize that I’ve been talking to a blank void for 5 minutes).

Another part of me is all up in the,
Look!
Mothers who work do things with their children, too!
It's not all left to the preschool/childcare!
Really!
He’s not an accessory!
Look!
Attentive Mother walking!"

It’s ridiculous because there have been certain events that have taken place the last few weeks that have “Mother” written all over it. I’m clearly a Mother and I realize this. So, why do I care if you know this? I certainly don’t have to justify it to my working co-workers, do I?

Why?
Because mothers are brutal and insecure and as I have a hard time relating to the brutal and insecure, I tend to want to either stomp them with my feet or gain their complete adoration. You see, the world isn’t filled with people like this and while I really really really wish it did, I will continue the stomping and gushing.

First: Bikram Yoga may not have been marketed as Zen as the rest of the yoga fad that's been going on but man oh man will those 90 minutes of sweat kick a gaping hole in your butt. I went at 8:00am this morning, made an ass out of my inflexible and dehydrated self. I then proceeded to be about as non-functional as the lingerie that I "wore" on my wedding night. Yet! I'm addicted! I'd go back tomorrow except the squash addict that lives here seems to have a court booked at the same time as my class.

I'm also up at 12:47am because for some reason I have an insane burst of late energy that makes me want to paint the entire living room and re-design this website in one night.

Bikram Yoga: an insomniac's worst nightmare.

Second: The work bench has yet to be located. The subject is not brought up around here. I may be asking for a new plastic work bench for Mother's Day. We'll see how long mother's guilt can last - I'm betting on a lifetime so why not get this episode over and done with so we can just go on to the next one.

Third: I accidentally logged on to some insane site called hi5 and it rudely emailed everyone in my hotmail address book. I am now extremely embarrassed. I don't mind that people I read and know have answered back, I would have sent an invitation to them if I had the chance to actually choose to do so. However, to all the journalists, commenters I have answered (good and bad) as well as the occasional website designer... oops?

Fourth: Hi Bob. Dinner was great. I think you may have surpassed Franklin's Bob the Builder expectations - and that's tough. Although, he said something to me about how you have gone home to play with Muck and Dizzy so perhaps he's still a little blurry on the whole thing.

Fifth: My right eye lid seems to have an occasional spasm/flicker. Now that I've said that, my Mother will call and tell me to get to an optometrist. Don't worry Ma, it's the blind one so I don't use it anyway. Besides, it keeps the crazy people afraid of me and who needs neighbours? They only ask for things like coffee and butter all the time... oh wait, that's me.

Really, it figures that I make fun of people who concentrate their entire existence on celebrities and other pop culture propaganda from the US and then I get wound up in the costs of blogher and thus become ridiculous in a similar fashion.

Kudos to the somewhat snotty email to me this morning that was well-deserved:

I believe you were invited to Northern Voice last year and did not attend saying that you didn't have the time or the money. Did you think about going this year? What's so terrible about a Canadian blog conference? Do you think you're cooler? It's in Vancouver which would not be a plane ride at all.

You know, my mother reminded me about the conference a while ago but even the nanoseconds it took to rush over to the site to see about tickets wasn't fast enough. It was sold out.

Northern Voice is this weekend and I'm not there.
I would have loved to go.
I'm sorry I am missing it.
I am a gigantic idiot.

I'll bet breebop is there, and darrenbarefoot and ponzi and well, not jenandtonic or drowinginkids or chair...
Granted these afore mentioned blogs are not as close to me as the latter, I would still love to meet them - especially Briana.

I will definitely try to go next year.
It's not all about Vancouverites, right? ... and if it is, I can wear black and carry a cell-phone like the best of them.

(I'm just not sure if I can walk as fast)

I have tried over and over again to edit that last entry. There are a number of things I've tried to change - word order, spelling mistakes, profanity (I'm a good Catholic girl) and nothing is working. The version in MT looks the way I want it to but this doesn't seem to translate to the actual webpage. I've even rebuilt the entire site and nothing seems to work.

So, I have to live with it.
It's killing me.
You have no idea.

Thanks for all the help with the sewing machine and income funds. The acid taste is still there but I think it may have a bit to do with stress. There's a bit of stress in the job these days. It's nothing that can't be managed but as my co-worker so aptly put it, "We're up as far as we can get and we're slowly slipping backward". It's a matter of too much work for too few people - half of which have no idea what they're doing (I'm one of these clueless ones).
All I think about these days is the job. It’s quite funny, really. I have a job that, for most people, would be great. It does not really require overtime and isn't very stressful - there are no dying babies in our vicinity. As a result, many of my co-workers find it perfect. It's moderately well paying and allows one to go home to a family and not be thinking of your day all that much.

Cripes. If I'm thinking this way with such a la-dee-da job, I might as well become a surgeon.
(Dad, I'm kidding. Don't get your hopes up. Your medical magazines made me nauseous and all those years of saying I wanted to be a ophthalmologist was only to get your approval).

Okay, enough of the childhood confession, what about Franklin?

This weekend, we went to Franklin's first organized weekend sport "thingy". D and I have both been very athletic. Well, D is still athletic. I am not. We had always assumed that our children would be coordinated and athletic as well. It's not that I'm dying to become a soccer Mom but aren't kids who are invested in their bodies supposed to stay away from drugs?

Sometimes D and I wonder if Franklin may be more of a "stay at home and read books/play with my trains" sort of kid. It’s not that we're disappointed; it's more that we're a little surprised. Of course, we haven't given him a whole lot of opportunities. Well, no longer! He is now enrolled in a program that is supposed to introduce him to a variety of sports. From this, we figure, he can decide what he wants to do in the future and we'll just follow his lead.

I'll wait until all of you older, more experienced parents stop laughing before I proceed.

Still waiting.

Done?
Okay.

Our first Saturday was entertaining. Franklin has a cough that sounds like a ferryboat crashing through the docks. As a result, we slept in and leisurely made our way to the rec centre where we were to meet his friend and commence with the "You will do a sport instead of play Warcraft all day in our fictitious basement" training.
So we were horribly late.

Also, he was in his rubber boots. I'm such an idiot.
No wonder he doesn't do sports, he has inherited some drastically faulty equipment - his parents.

The most entertaining part of it all? His complete lack of concentration. There were two year olds that were able to follow direction better than our child.

I was thinking back when I was ski racing and what held me back. I was as strong, if not stronger than most of my competitors. Yet, I would screw myself up somehow. A sport psychologist came to talk to each member of our team and he told me I had a fear of success. Now that I can look back on those years, I know what was the problem. It was my lack of concentration. If I had the concentration that yoga, maturity and desperation gave me during labour, I would have been I racing champion. Of course, I think I wanted to have the labour over and done with more than I wanted a gold medal so perhaps it was a combination of success and concentration...

What all this navel gazing is supposed to point out is that Franklin's apple is most definitely short on concentration. I'm about to go search out books and websites that will help me help him - if this problem continues in later years.

Someone tell me it's just a three-year-old thing because I will believe this.
My attention deficit disorder may be completely unrelated, right?

Three year olds.
You talk to them, and they utterly ignore you. You ask them to do something, and they do the opposite.
I don't care if he is 30 some odd pounds. I'm willing to stretch open my vagina and suck him right back in there.

I seem to have an acid taste in my mouth these days. Does anyone know what that is? It's getting annoying.

I am haviong trouble bringing up the lower thread on my sewing machine. As a result, 50% of the time my sewing becomes a big tangled mess. It's always a gamble as to whether I can sew that evening or I will threaten to throw the machine through my dining room window.
Does anyone know what's going on?

I need a decent, simple explaination for "income fund", specifically in terms of the pipeline assets of Enbridge Inc.
Can anyone explain this?

I'll even trade your own questions for the answers.
Ask me something and I'll give it a go.
I'm just tired and I've been researching too long.

I don't have a fever so the acid isn't a sickness - I don't think...
My sewing maching is a Euro-Pro 7500 and I am beginning to think it's out to get me.
Enbridge Inc.
yeah.

Help a blogging sister out, won't you?

Edit: Ooooh! Apparently it's delurking week as well. I always miss this day (now changed to a week) when anyone who stops by is asked to make a comment. It's doesn't have to be profound and you don't have to "sparkle" with fart-a-licious wisdom.
It's just nice to meet you.


So comment.

Well that, or solve my acidic sewing machine blues with a clear explaination of income funds - which, of course, would require some sort of comment anyway so....
Hey Fuck. I just realized this is an American thing.
Ehhh, do whatever.

... and you were speechless .... and I was giddy
.... and you drank too much ... and I was tipped too much.

I love you , D.

I'm so sorry Jen. Thanks for giving me something to do for you though. You are always so thoughtful.

Here's hoping that you're holding them until it's time to fold them...

Who knows if these things are even remotely interesting to any of you but I do them when they are asked of me because I figure it is a direct question from someone who would like to know.
Sometimes I feel like I'm hanging out here, telling you crazy crap about my life whether you are interested or not. I know you wouldn't be reading this unless you were interested... that or you find me really, truly repulsive and therefore like to pick apart my words in order to bash me with your sympathetic friends...

Nevertheless, the fact remains - this soapbox... what to do in order to even it all out?

There are a lot of people who visit and who do not comment. I do not mind the lurkers, I can totally understand how commenting can be both intimidating and redundant. Yet, I feel like this blog can be a little one sided. You see, I don't get to see you nodding, shaking your head or furrowing your brow in that cute way you do...

Could it be?
Could it be that this is just not possible?
Could it be that this is where, OH.MY.GOD, real people enter our lives?

Yeah, never mind (shudder), that's just crazy-talk.

So... as Kinuk has graciously tagged me, I will answer this meme in all it's buttonholed glory.

id·i·o·syn·cra·sy - a structural or behavioural characteristic peculiar to an individual or group.

Write down five of your own personal idiosyncrasies. Then, if you wish, tag five people

1) I can't stand it when I walk into a room and everything is pushed to the walls. Toasters, couches, plants, toys... everything. A room is a room for a reason, you can use ALL OF IT. The room doesn't appear bigger just because it looks as if you are about to start a square dance.

2) I file my toe nails and they are always clean. I can't stand dirty toenails. I would file D's toe nails as well but I think he already wonders if I've gone over the deep end. Franklin's toe nails are pristine.
Nonononono, thank-you little buddy.

3) My desk can be a absolute disaster as I work, but the kitchen must be sterile before I can cook. This can result in a late dinner. This can also result in someone else cooking said dinner.

4) I can never do three things at once. It must be four or five. If I'm feeling particularly restless, it can take six or seven things until I feel like I am concentrating and being productive.

No, I don't think my mother took drugs while I was a fetus.
Shame on you.

5) Right before it is time to go anywhere, I will clean. I clean because I think to myself, why just begin to go somewhere? Why not begin to go somewhere and clean at the same time? Why not do something that I won't have to do later? Besides D, aren't you trying to find your keys/hat/sunglasses/child/dime bag? While you are doing whatever you are doing (which I will admit is usually waiting for me) I will clean.

So, that's the tip of the iceberg. Initially, I thought the task might be a little difficult. So it turns out this was not so much "difficult" as stupendously easy.

Okay, how about you guys do this now: Joan, Jen, Charity, Jorjette and Marybeth.

Gotcha.

Jane and Troy, Danielle, and that guy who wore the fedora all time when we were in Greece but who now lives in London and doesn't want his name on the internet,

I'm glad you're okay.
I'm thinking about you.

Thanks for your emails.

- Ada

I've just received a wonderfully written email about a sister's experience with her brother and the Scientology of treating depression. Her brother is not longer living.
She wanted me to put this on my weblog so that other people, who think that perhaps Tommy is somewhat correct, take a break to think.

She's right. Even if you think your medication isn't working and you were better off before, consult your doctor. If you don't like your doctor, consult another one. Tom may have read "all about it", but he still isn't qualified to tell you how to handle your mental stability.

- and if you think Tom needs to be reined in a bit, you might want to try writing to his agent:

Tom Cruise c/o Rick Nicita
Creative Artists Agency
9830 Wilshire Blvd., Beverly Hills, CA,
90212-1825, USA

When people ask me how the hell do I work a full time job, raise a toddler, participate in a marriage, and go to school at the same time I usually shrug and mention something about the bags under my eyes and my dehydrated, coffee saturated skin.

What I have finally realized, as I sit here and become increasing annoyed, is that those little moments when you finally get a silent period in the day, when you don't have a child to play with, a husband to talk to, a distracting golf game on the television (not my form of entertainment, this is D's), or a job to be competent for.. these ARE VERY VERY PRECIOUS MOMENTS.

This is why, when you finally have those moments - the child is sleeping, the husband is playing squash, the job is on a sick day/vacation/weekend, you guard them with more ferocity than a fanatical celebrity and his own personal, religious, judgmental agenda (take a look at this link, it is brillant).
This is why, when even the ear plugs cannot drown out the constant basketball dribble of the 12 year old girl behind my home, I must use all my will power to resist the urge to TAKE A PICKAXE TO THE HORRID THING (the ball, not the girl).

She's lucky I sold that pickaxe.

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP ALREADY!

I'm scared to see The Child, but I really really really want to.

How about you see it for me and then come back and tell me about it in great detail!

Sound good?
Good.

Off you go.

May 28, 1997

We saw Baba agian today and he called us "lovelies". He sounded like everyone else and so we didn't answer him and he was, again, offended. I don't think he can see our point of view. Yesterday, he was selling pictures on the street and asked a girl we were travelling with, Janelle, for a cigarette. He hadn't had the chance to say anything and she immediately said no - as in she didn't want to buy anything off of him. He was insulted and stopped us to talk to us about the "surfaceness" of our assumptions. Of course, he was right, but Janelle tried to explain to him that when you are a tourist, you are treated like a business and therefore, become accostumed to the constant harrassment of the "come here lovelies", "come and buy my "$%*&#!?!".

Florence is great but full of tourists (just like us). I believe the summer season has begun. It was nice to be in Paris before the full crowd hit the streets. Today we stood in line for 2 hours to see the Uffizi Gallery with Botticelli. The Birth of Venus and The Allegory of Spring were what I had heard about before and obviously they were so very beautiful. Of course, everything else is just as spell binding.

The only problem was the crowds. It's unfortunate that I get caught up with things like that but I think I've got a definite idea of my personal space and here, I've had to really give it up.....

I'm just starting to realize what a hermit I've been. I've promised so many things to so many people. The cancelled hair appointments and book club meetings (sorry Brad) are only the tip of the ice berg.

I know all of you read this weblog once and awhile to see what I'm obsessing over for one particular week or another so I thought I would let you all know how much I miss you.

Renee: Crap, man. I've got a fringe and I'm worried about meeting you and you telling me I look like another Flintstone character. Regardless, what the hell are you up to? I'm starting to resent the fact that you no longer have a blog.

Jen: Your baby must be, what? 5 months old now? 6 even? When did I visit? When he was 6 days old? You may have a blog but your presence pales in comparison - which should be said for everyone about their weblog and their real presence, don't you think?

Sue: The woman with the itsy-bitsy tummy growing an itsy-bitsy little baby. I've emailed you but I have the gargantuan guilty feeling you have already moved to Florida Kelowna - or are you "hermitting" too?

Naomi: Happy Fricking Birthday, sister. I hope Hoops and Yo-Yo inspired you the other day. Gone are the times when I was "with it" enough to send you flowers for your celebration.

Thuraya: Are you going to show me those London photos? I haven't spoken with you since you returned, you world traveller, you.

Bish: Hi, guy. Nice belt buckle.

There's people I've missed, I know it. I'm not trying to get comprehensive here.

I'm just trying to say that I may owe about a gazillion emails but it's not that I don't care. I'm just buried in work and life. I've finally figured out the whole "priority thing" (official title) and I've had to put aside things I just don't have time for. I only now understand that I simply cannot exist on 3 hours of sleep every night. As a result, a social life which does not revolve around Franklin and D is kaput for the time being.

Kaput, I say.

Until April the 11th.
Then I'm hoping you are all still speaking to me.

I'm neck deep in all things husband and child. I'm just going to post a picture from last weekend, on top of Mount Tolmie. I present to you, "Franklin the Mountain Goat".

(This is my first post using Flickr.)

I also wanted to post a link to this article, An Open Letter to US Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice from the Winnipeg Free Press.

Your article has impressed me, Lloyd. You are now on my Christmas list. I only have two more Loobylu cards left and I'm going to save one for you.

Somebody had better explain to me why this is a good idea.

I realize that I'm not the most trendy person around but what the hell is up with dressing children in camouflage? You can wear all the netting and pink sparkly camouflage you want, fashion is lost on me, but babies?

... and then calling it "Camo Wear" so we don't really think about it. I'm baffled.

I had a great time last night Hayley. It was so much fun.
Thanks for buying my ticket. I found my wallet under my desk this morning.
Convenient, I know.

I wish we didn't have to worry about getting home, that we didn't have children who wake up at 6:30 in the morning and need convincing that the Bob the Builder t-shirt is not clean and the firetruck shirt will be SO much more fun to wear today.

I wish we could have talked more about teenage oral sex inequality, American versus Canadian television, the long dark pit of maternity leave, the idiots who think maternity leave is easy and fun and resent those who of us who use it, the Times Colonist, the New York Times, weblogs, community, the role of grandparents, how much we need the grandparents, and how I need to straighten every picture frame as I walk by...

sigh

Of course, coming straight home to kiss my sweet baby and my gorgeous husband was pretty amazing too.

The other day I was mentioned in Victoria's main newspaper, The Times Colonist for a story about weblogging. It has been a little strange letting other people in my life know about this page. Right now, weblogging is it's own little sub-culture and I know it must seem strange to many of you that I write online about my family and myself - but I do, I enjoy it, and have met wonderful people through it all. Thanks for all the emails from people who have read the article. There is also a place to comment on my site below every entry if you decide to keep reading, but I am sure 99% of you are just here out of curiosity and will move on in time.

The most important thing about this weblog is that it is only a story about an ordinary person doing ordinary things. If you do not know me or are not interested in the things I do in life (such as being a new parent), you will quickly become bored. I most certainly do not write this for mass entertainment - as I'm sure you have noticed.
I have to admit, the traffic has been a little disconcerting and although you have all been quite flattering, I will be a bit perplexed if many of you outside my interest scope keep reading. I might have to start thinking of myself as an actual writer - and I am pretty aware that I do not hold any talent in that department.

So, I will not be blogging for the next little while as we go on a bit of a family trip - off to show how wonderful Franklin is to everyone in Alberta.

Again, thanks for coming by.

So many uninteresting thoughts, so little time before I throw myself into bed and cough my way to morning...

Franklin and I are sick again. I either blame daycare or work - both are filled with sick people who are far too willing to share their germs. Yesterday, Franklin and I went home early due to our health, Our throats are so sore and swollen it is hard to swallow and although I can't speak for Franklin, I would prefer to just let the saliva drip from my mouth instead of going through the pain of actually swallowing. Franklin has been having trouble getting food down and there were two incidences where the small morsel of food he tried to swallow got stuck and I had to calmly reach down his throat to remove what he was choking on. I swear, being a mother has really taught me to act calmly in tense situations. Both times he was having trouble I was screaming inside yet, both times I watched my outside actions patiently come to his aid. Although I hope to never go through that again, it was amazing to see myself handle it that way.

On a less dramatic note, I have recently gone through a steep learning curve in terms of hacking and other such juvenile nonsense. Turns out, my computer was incredibly vulnerable and surprisingly quite interesting to a few people. I really have to say, what the hell do people need to enter my computer for? At least I know a bunch of new terms for trivial pursuit - dumpster diving, honey pots, cryptographic, shoulder surfing, war-dialing... and the beat goes on... it's all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

I have two newly knocked up friends who should expect a subscription to hip Mama on their doorsteps. I couldn't decide between Mamalicious or hip Mama. I chose the latter due to the fact that it's been out longer. I think I might get a subscription myself.

Speaking of subscriptions, I am more and more impressed with The Walrus. This month's issue has an article by Michael Adams titled "Continental Drift". The piece is about the evolving differences and similarities between Canadians and Americans. I think I'm going to break down and subscribe to this too. I'm not sure if the bookstore appreciates me borrowing one off the stands every month.

Finally, I really must trudge off to bed. I have assignments due, a lunch to make and some dishes to wash. Two thirds of these will be done by tonight. At least Franklin's fish, who he appropriately named "Quack", is doing better. We have a new filter and I no longer have to change the water every night. I never gave it much thought when we decided to give Franklin a fish tank for his first birthday but I suddenly remember that I am insanely afraid of dead goldfish. I'm not sure where it stems from and perhaps I'm better off not knowing but if that fish ever decides to float upside down in a dead-like manner I might have to move.

I'm sick today. Franklin has been sick for a couple of days now. We are sick together, at home and going nuts.

I should be sleeping. I have never really got the hang of sleeping in the middle of the day. Franklin's sleeping, the cat's sleeping. I'm blogging and then heading to my book to investigate the intricacies of regulating agencies for the federal government.

No, that will not put me to sleep.

I just finished reading ilonina is random. The whole post brings back so many memories. Although I don't think I will ever buy myself a bright pink silver-sequined cowboy hat (but congratulations if you would), I certainly have gone through the myriad of self definitions (and, of course, deceptions).
I remember in my early twenties, boring a friend to death, sitting in Margaret Park, Budapest. On and on I pondered about how the way people choose to see themselves will in turn help to define their choices in life... and what if those choices are not what other people see you as and expect, and what if those choices are what people see you as but don't agree with your subsequent choices, and what if these people start to not matter to you and your choices at all, and what happens when you have many different choices in front of you and you want to invite all of them into your life - how do you go about doing it, and what do all these choices really mean, and how real are any of these choices, what are influencing the choices? my past? my environment? my conception of the future? and what is the signifcance of not choosing, or choosing, or choosing and then changing your mind - and can I really ever change my mind? All of these questions were then examined at length using too many examples of academic theory and my limited but sordid ex partner experiences. Jeez, I have to stop, I could go on forever and no one needs that, it's painful to realize I put her through it once.

I'm sure my friend was just listening to the Reggae band and had fully blocked me out at this point. In fact, I think she may have blocked me out about a month before that point. She is such a good friend. I think she knew I just had to think out loud.

Actually, I miss you J. I really miss you a lot. Maybe it's the cold, the empty stomach, or I just need a nap, but I'm tearing up. I really miss you.

I want to thank everyone for their comments and emails lately.
It is nice to know that there are other, sane mothers who feel, or have felt, the same way as I do right now.

Telling L that other night was a bit of a release for me - which was further let go when I posted the other day. Although I usually don't use this blog as personal therapy (I don't think - but hell, who knows. I've never been the most self-aware person in the world), seeing my feelings on screen let me understand where a lot of the feelings come from. I certainly don't need to get into it here but I assure you, I'm fine.

... thanks.
I've got friends in places I didn't know I had - and I don't mean that in a creepy way at all.

I don't want to talk about the war forever but I just have one thing to say. I know everyone is entitled to their own opinion, however, to those of you who disagreed with my last post (and decided to email me instead of start a discussion on my comment board) I would like you to remember:

It's my weblog...

... and so I have included a special something on the left side of my page to remind us that war is deadly and not over just because you turn your television off - which I know most of you are painfully aware of.

"Of course the people don't want war. But after all, it's the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along whether it's a democracy, a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism, and exposing the country to greater danger."
      -- Herman Goering at the Nuremberg trials

Also, I would like to pass on this very interesting blog (found through others links).
He is an Iraqi citizen in Baghdad - his daily blogs....the sights and sounds from his home, literally going out on the streets for their daily bread, etc.

The other night (March 16th) I was a registered volunteer for the Global Vigil for Peace here in Victoria. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to make it and therefore have no pictures for MoveOn.org. However, if you go to the website you can see other pictures from all over the world.

Now, there is something I can do from home. I hope that some of you out there will want to do it with me. MoveOn.org is asking people to put a light in their window to show their support for peace:

"It now appears that a war may be very close. This is a very sad day.
We must remember in this dark moment that we have
come a long way. By working for peace around the globe,
millions of people have successfully challenged the justness
of this war on a world stage. It will change everything.
And in the end, we will win.

One simple way to show your continued commitment to this
vision is to put a light in your window. It could be a
Christmas string or candle, a light bulb, or a lantern. It's
an easy way to keep the light of reason and hope burning, to
let others know that they are not alone, and to show the way
home to the young men and women who are on their way to Iraq."

I just a got a phone call from the HSA Labour Union to remind me that although things are still very uncertain, I must check with my shop steward for any upcoming events that will be affecting my job.
The Liberal government was supposed to unleash it's new approach to Health Care in the province today. There was a lot said but there were no details - making things very shaky and uncertain for a lot of people.

It was a recording that I presume was sent out to everyone in the province because no one in our household works in any way close to the health industry - not even on a contractual basis.

The whole experience was very interesting. The voice sounded like it was of a woman in her early forties. It was a very concerned and strong voice yet very sympathetic and motherly at the same time. It made me feel like we were going to war but that she was going to be standing behind me to make sure everything went as smoothly as possible.

Our union voted on a Community Action Plan last week. There were two meetings. The one in the afternoon had about 200 people in attendance. It was a unanimous vote in favour of a walk-out in solidarity with any other unions being threatened by the government's actions.

In this case, the phone call was pretty important no matter who answered.

Remember that older sibling who didn't understand my explanation of spaz-reducing exercise?

Well, it's his birthday today.

This will be quite the year for him. He is getting married in August to an amazing person, Heidi. He has also just started a new job so that's pretty exciting too. Hey and who knows! Maybe the little person in me will have a cousin about the same age!
(This of course is all conjecture as they have not told me any plans in that arena of life.)

So anyhoo,
Happy Birthday Sami. I hope this year is as happy and fruitful as your last.

love, your little sister, Ada

Please excuse my absence from my blog, I'm on holidays with D and between sleeping in, going for long walks and eating, I can't seem to find the time to get to this thing...

see you on Monday or Tuesday next week.

So what do you do when you have this friend that you don't really have anything in common with. In fact, you really don't even particularly like this friend. To be truthful, calling this person a friend is misleading at best.

So what do you do with said "friend" if this person will not take the hint.
Does one post it on one's weblog in hopes of this person reading this blog?

Quite a cowardly way to do it isn't it?
Besides, how would this person know who I was even referring to?

Yeah, well, it feels better to take it out on the blog. If I were to try to tell someone in confidence, they would eventually try to get out this person's identity and then I would be how they say:
talking behind their back

and I've always hated that...

D, our roommate, and I went to the rally at the BC Legislature on Saturday. It was great. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, there is a website and a Campaign BC that has taken up the glaringly absent position of opposition in our province.

I think an opposition would be a good asset to this government. Then perhaps they wouldn't hastily retract senior citizen bus passes only to admit that they have gone too far and give them back again. A sign of a government on a rampage with the only reigns being held by the angry public is a strange and scary concept considering the quality of the media and the ability of both sides to manipulate this media.

I was going to apologize for some of the angry words I said the other day about the government but I won't. I don't believe Campbell's statistics and I have good reasons to do so.

I may not be as eloquent as I would like to be but I've never really aspired to be a writer anyway,

just a freak show performer....

The Provincial Budget really had me angry yesterday. I walked home having an argument in my head the entire way. (that's 1 hour and 45 minutes of arguing...) I got so excited at some points I started talking to myself.

I'm sure the cars, cyclists and frightened people thought I was an hospital day patient of the Eric Martin Pavilion.

Correct me if I'm wrong, and I'm sure you will...
but, isn't the Liberal Party a proponent of small government? Little government taxes? A decrease in government involvement?
My objections to wide spread theories in general aside, isn't that their flipp'in platform?

The "tax cuts" Dix and I got from their "90-days-in-office-promise" was a whopping $200.00 a year! I got quite amused when I saw what this percentage outcome for the richest margin of society brought them. Whatever, I said, nothing's new in that respect. I, of course, chose this salary, I must not work hard enough or find think that it's a political statement to save for six months to buy new tires...

But to now make up for this through an increase in Provincial Sales Tax? Who will be feeling that bite? The lucky suckers that saved the $200.00 a year!
And then!!! To blame an increase of 50% in health care costs on a completed arbitration settlement with the doctors of the province but feel completely OK with tearing up teachers collective (settled) agreements!

Some consistency in decision making would be nice.
I'm slightly disappointed in this government, I have to say, I was hoping for something a little more.

I realize that I did not let anyone know except those in my immediate surroundings that I did get into the public admin program!

I just want to say I am extremely happy I decided to take the course I am taking right now. It is Collective Bargaining in the Public Sector and it's fascinating.
Of course, part of this reason is the vengeful government who we have all elected (don't say you didn't vote for them, everyone did, this wasn't a Gore/Bush bumble, there was no mistake in who we opened the doors to.
...and I know that for most people, it was because we didn't want the NDP any longer and we were scared of the Alliance Party, but I think we were scared stupid.

We have been studying Bills 27, 28 and 29, which concern the teachers and health workers. It's crazy! It's one thing to disagree with the philosophy of a union, it's another thing be in government and ignore the Charter of Rights and Freedom in order show your disagreement.

"We are soooo sorry Mr. Campbell, for being sooo left all these years... please don't hurt us anymore, we'll be good, we promise!"

Is that what he wants to hear?
Is that what all you want to hear?
I've said it then, now take the screws off and be a government with a brain.

I'm left wondering after many conversations if I've said the right thing or reacted the right way...

I have been getting more and more frustrated with certain people in my life. I have tried to come to mutual understanding or compromise but the effort is far too one-sided. I am left to discuss my frustrations with a select group of friends who may or may not understand but can only relate their experience and empathy in hope that I can gain something from this.

Regardless, I feel that I am not changing my situation by talking about it. Instead, I am left wondering if I've said the right thing or reacted in the right way...

It feels so nice to make another person feel good about themselves:
iswonderful.net

It's intriguing to see the insecurities in people.
(This is not a patrionizing observation from a higher point of view, only a comforting observation from another insecure seed in an overgrown garden)
yet, just as an aside - I am deathly afriad of people reading my thoughts, what I put down here, and yet.... here it is. Could this be torture? or perhaps an effort to overcome insecurities? perhaps an affirmation of my own genius of which I too inconsistantly believe in? Whatever the case...
insecurities...
they're interesting.
The other day, I spent the afternoon with a woman who many would say has many insecurities - or is she just more prone to display them than the rest of us? It doesn't really matter what the insecurities were, just that they were there, obvious and commented upon over and over again.
makes me wonder...
are there intellectually superior people? are there phyically superior people? emotionally? mentally? (no not really the same), aesthetically?
could there be - aside from glaring obvious differences such as metres of height or crippling disabilities - any real differences? Doesn't it boggle the mind how much we can acomplish yet are struck back because of these insecurities?
It's not the stupidity of humans that make us weak to "consumerism" or temptations of selfishness. It is only our insecurities and our need to latch on to anything we can cling to in order to make us feel better/loved/like we belong.
And yes, this includes my weblog, out there for all 170 hits (probably 150 of them my own) and seeking approval.
Perhaps it isn't all about approval or acceptance but I can not say there isn't a large part of insecurities that are at play. I most definately feel pride as I know that someone out there, whom I do not know, is interested in my words. It makes up for all the times I have heard myself yabbering on to someone during a conversation while inside my head I am yelling to just shut the fcuk up!!! I feel that perhaps someone out there wants to hear what I have to say, not because they love me and know me well, but because I am actually an interesting person. period.

hahahaha, hehehe, he, ha, cough cough, ahem

i've got so many papers to write i really shouldn't be indulging in this but hey, another hour won't hurt right?

actually it probably will...

i had coffee with an old friend today, it was great.
of course, after we got over the ackwardness of me trying to squeeze in the fact that since i had seen him, i had gotten married..

you know, part of me doesn't want to mention it, that it shouldn't matter, yet the other part knows, that things are a little too enthusiastic to be just the ol' "good to see you" thing.

he went into this long ramble about how his goal in life is to now get married and have kids. It made me wonder, as we were sitting there, would he rather be down on government street, busking for a wife, than sitting here wasting his time talking to me?

i've so little male friends since i've gotten married...