Hellenic Obsession

It’s getting closer – The Big Move and I can’t wait.  Time is dragging along and it’s starting to get to me.  I want the move to be over, I want to be settled into my new place and taking my kids for a walk in the warm weather to the Commons, to the parks, roll down Citadel Hill, play in the Public Gardens and watch the Buskers on the Waterfront at night.  I want to take Lily to the plays at Dalhousie and the babies to the kids shows.  The symphony!  I can take them to hear music played by classically trained musicians.

Oh the fantasies I have.

At the same time I’m wishing that it was time for the passport picture so I could send that silly paperwork away and check off the first box in the plans for the big Eurotrip.  I’m so overly excited with this vacation that Greece has taken over my life.  Alright, that’s not true but it is something I’ve been thinking a lot about.  Sometimes I think the series of strange Grecian coincidences have sealed my deal for this vacation.  At the same time we started discussing it, I start up a conversation with a lovely Greek man, Lily gets a school project on Greece, we end up watching movies that have characters based in Greece or are Greek themselves, discovered a local Greek festival, found references to the country or it’s language in our crossword puzzles and a whole slew more but I have neither the brain power to remember them all or the patience to write them all down.

The last couple of days I’ve been satisfying my Hellenic lust by starting the Rosetta Stone lessons in Greek.  I am now able to say The boy fell down or The man and woman are dancing.  You know, the kind of sentences that are really going to get me around Greece in October.  I suppose the ability to ask someone to dance isn’t a bad thing or recognizing when someone would be asking. Oh, I think I’m getting an impromptu lesson in European flirting.  I have learned that the inflection of the language is more important than the actual word and that pronunciation variations can change the word completely.  At the same time, I’m told that a big smile and feigned tourist ignorance will save me from insulting someone for an accidental lingual boo-boo.

I have been attempting to read, write and pronounce Greek for a good portion of the afternoon and my tongue is so twisted that I can barely speak.  Although, I have learned to roll my R’s quite well which I’m sure is a talent that will come in handy.  The more I learn, the more I want to be there and the more I know that I’m not letting anyone in my little Greece-obsessed circle get away with not coming.  I can get chloroform and a rag and I will drag you to the airport so that you wake up somewhere on Santorini Island with an olive in your mouth.  Did that sound psycho?  I thought I had the crazy successfully bottled but maybe not, tsk tsk.

On another note, I sat in Opa! on a couple of weeks ago with Maggpie and Miami, drinking a yummy Italian wine and enjoying our spanakopita.  With more wine, lamb kleftico, feta cheesecake, kataifi with vanilla custard, whipped cream and crushed pistachios and almonds we talked and laughed and enjoyed the night.  My belly is now begging me for more and I’ve lost my point dreaming about all things food.  OH … Maggpie and I were able to possibly talk Miami into coming to Greece with us in October.  It would be amazing to have Miami with us.  What could be better than two great friends in Europe??  THREE great friends in Europe!!

Still Trying to Figure This Out …

I’ve come full circle and I’m considering dating again.  I gave up for a while for some emotional growth, taking stock in myself and pretty much trying to get my airport trolley of emotional baggage in check.  I think I might be coming on the outskirts of “No-Fuckin’-Way” to the highway of “Maybe-They’re-Not-All-Bad” in the great world of Dating in the galaxy of Men. 

But it seems to me that dating has a whole list of rules and regulations that I just didn’t get the memo about before I became single again.  There are rules regarding phone calls that no one seems to agree on.  Things  like when you call someone back, how much calling is too much, what time to call, how much time passes in between, whether or not you take turns, and on and on. 

Then there are the regulations on how often to see each other which is aptly followed by at which exact point do you stop seeing other people.  Is it three dates, four, never until you both agree to change your Facebook relationship status?  Do you have to sleep together first to test the bedroom compatibility factor?  Is he your boyfriend once you sleep with him?  No, I didn’t think so because that would leave a lot of messy one night stands and a one night stand is a whole other ball of wax.

Then there is the pesky sex-factor that lingers over you.  We all know a man will hop in bed at the first inclination of nookie but there is the problem of us women holding the responsibility of figuring out the right time, if there ever is a right time.  Alright that was me painting men with a broad spectrum brush but the majority will hop in bed at just the mere hint of it.  There is only one person I know that could completely control himself and it would be hard for me to explain him right now as he would be a completely different post.  No, he wasn’t gay in the least, we’ll just say that he greatly enjoyed having control.  I greatly enjoyed having him around.

I’m way off on the beginning of a BDSM tangent that I would prefer to stay away from.  It leaves me at this:  sex ruins everything, makes you question everything, the whole relationship, the whole dynamic of what was going on.  At the same time that it’s ruining everything, it’s making things better because it can also solidify you, give you the appreciation you crave and be a way to passionately show someone what you feel for them.  Oh my, that became way too mushy for my taste at the moment.  BUT, you see my conundrum here … sex ruins it, makes it better, complicates it and puts value to it.  The problem is that it’s misused, mishandled, misunderstood, undervalued, devalued and dishevelled.  Well, with any luck you’ll be dishevelled when it’s done. 

So, here I am.  Single and Dating.  I despise those words as much as they excite me.  I wish I could take all these little quips I’m hearing about dating behaviour and throw them all out of the window.  I’m coming to the conclusion that there really aren’t any rules and if someone doesn’t like you, fuck it, they don’t like you – move on.  If someone does like you, they’ll let you know.  It can be hard to swallow the bitterness and it can be humiliating to walk around with your heart on your sleeve but if you stay hidden, no one will find you. 

The rules that I have found are:  honesty, laugh at yourself, laugh with them, don’t be pushy to be with them, don’t back away either, stay single until you know who you are and what it is you really and honestly want in your life, take your time to make sure they’re the right person to compliment your life and not become your life, have fun and don’t give yourself labels like “bar star” or allow yourself to believe that sex equates love.

That’s my after school special for the day, thanks for tuning in.

The Tale of Four

I’m sure I had something snippy to write tonight.  Some sarcastic and dry wit to spew onto the scre en for the world to read.  Naw.  It was one of those days that didn’t end.  Well, I guess it did because the babies are in bed and I’m laying in bed trying to decide what movie to fall asleep to tonight. 

Started out just like any day.  Miss Lily and Little Miss screaming from the top bunk that they need to pee, can’t hold it and can’t get down.  That leaves me in my PJs and blue crocs (slippers) to run into their room as fast as anyone who hasn’t realized their eyes are open can run.  That’s not very fast, more of a slow drawl of dragging feet and moaning.  I got them down and they peed without incident but Little Man Meatball was a different story.  He pooped out of his diaper – again.  It’s the usual morning poop, right out of his diaper so I took him out and changed him only today I dropped the diaper on my foot and had poop stuck in the holes in my croc and smooshed between my toes.  Nasty.

Got cleaned up.  Got breakfast.  Cheerios with strawberries and blackberries, dry with a glass/sippy cup of milk on the side.  Ohhhh … gourmet.  After that, teeth are brushed, toilet is painted blue with toothpaste and the the potty is promptly scrubbed with my toothbrush.  Thank you Meatball.

Lazy morning today.  I laid on my bed watching Tinkerbell for the 100th or so time while It, Dit and Shit jumped all over me, stole grapes out of the fridge and fed them to the dog, took all the sheets off of their bed and threw them all over the house.  We had fun though, laughed and carried on.  Well, we got along until the fart contest.  Meatball won.  Little Miss thought she took the prize.

The housework starts after that.  Sweeping, laundry, dishes and then lunch.  Bagels with Nutella.  Hey, they asked for it.  They jumped up and down in the kitchen chanting Nutella.  Bouncing babies, how could I resist giving them more protein for even more energy.  Once that was done, more dishes, more sweeping and definitely more laundry.  I had the wonderful idea to start scrubbing the kitchen and broke out the Lysol.  The kitchen walls were my first victims followed by the table, the counter, the washer, dryer and finally, the floor.  From there I meandered my way through an intriguing game of Barbies (all naked of course) and the Meatball efficiently running them over with his truck, into the living room.  There I victimized more walls, desk, end tables, coffee table, loveseat, the poor dog and her crate.  I moved everything, rearranged and scrubbed it all followed by careful organization of what I needed to put in boxes.  Imagine, all this in between diaper changes and temper tantrums and explaining that the things flying across the sky aren’t rocket ships but airplanes but it’s fun to pretend they’re rocket ships anyway.

Supper.  Late supper.  Pizzas.  It was a lazy cooking day today.  All gourmet lazy though, I swear.  Supper was followed by baths.  Little Man Meatball was first but he hates the water so much that he won’t sit down so I have to give him a shower with a cup while he screams like I’m killing him.  It’s a less than five minute bath after which he has to be snuggled in a the towel and coddled for about fifteen more minutes.  The poor little guy always hated water, right from day one, I don’t understand it.  Once he’s wrapped in his towel and the screaming stops he looks at  you with his baby blues in a very disgusted manner and you just know the thought in his head is, “how dare you!!'”  I think of Stewie when he looks at me like that.

(Mommy & the Meatball)

Next is the girls who were both naked before I even ran the water for Meatball.  Once he was dressed for bed in his robot jammies and Grampie Joe slippers (my Dad had a pair almost identical) and running around with his Lightening McQueen car, it was time for the girls.  Miss Lily jumped right in, enjoying the water while Little Miss needed some help (she’s very petite).  I asked her if she was going to wash her bum and she replies, “yes, and I gonna wash my penis too”.  I looked at her, puzzled and then smiled and told her that she didn’t have one, that she had a vagina.  The Little Man always points to his southern regions whenever the diaper is off and I always kindly tell him what it is which elicits a smile and a giggle every shot and so, I think this is where Little Miss’ confusion had come from.  So, she looks up at me and with her messy blonde curls, big blue eyes and the matter-of-fact tone she inherited from her father says, “Oh, well den I wash my nina”.  And with that, she gets in the tub.

Once everyone is out, dry and dressed for bed we have some fruit for bed lunch, one more glass of milk and they’re off.  The girls want to sleep “up top” because they like pretending they’re in a ship of some sort.  All the money I spent on bunk beds and they still want to sleep together.  Miss Lily reads us all a bedtime story from “up top” and then I get Little Man Meatball snuggled in his crib.  Kisses and “I love you’s” all around coupled with wishes for a goodnight.

That’s my day today.  That’s the Tale of Four.  My little family.

(Little Miss, Mill Lily & Little Man Meatball)

Halifax, Europe & Welcome Change

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, a lot of wondering and daydreaming and half-assed planning.  I’ve decided to move away to another city which is an approximate five-hour drive away from where I am now.  Big move.  If I remember correctly, I half-assed blogged about it not that long ago.  Well, now it’s coming on crunch time, packing time and the real planning is starting to commence.  I’ve started eating paper and dye so I can shit money so I able to do this.  It’ll come together though, I know it will because I’m fighting for it.  I don’t really fight for too much but this is one thing that has become exponentially important to me.

Tomorrow the plan is to attack the closets and go through the unopened boxes from the last move.  To take out all the junk and things that we can live without and get rid of it, repack it and tape it back up.  I plan on my living room looking like Box Valhalla by Wednesday.  Even if we can’t get our asses out of here until June, I want to be ready.

Oh the planning!!  Not only am I planning this giant move, (can anyone drive a U-Haul??)  Maggpie and I were talking the other night and have decided to plan a vacation.  We’re not doing the usual sunbather vacation and heading south to Cabo or Mexico, Cuba or Jamaica; we’re going to Europe.  It’s a toss up between Italy and Greece but I think we may be able to figure out a way to do both. 

I feel like a little kid when I think of it.  I become almost breathless at the idea of seeing the Parthenon, the Acropolis, the Sistine Chapel and all things Italian and Greek – including the men.  Oh my.  I dare say that I really am going for the culture, the history and the ability to stand on the cornerstone of modern civilization.  Of course, a friend of mine very politely told me that “no single woman comes to Europe without romance on her mind”.  He may very well be speaking the truth, we’ll see.

So, you see my excitement?  Not only am I planning a completely life altering move for my family and getting the babies and I away from drama, bullshit, gossip, lies, rumours, Jell-O trees and insanity to go and live in anonymity within a quiet neighbourhood but also starting the planning of a once-in-a-lifetime vacation to Europe.  I’m bouncing and giggling for all of it!!

I am losing all concentration on this entry, I can’t even write anymore tonight ….

del.icio.us Tags: Europe,Greece,Italy,friends,packing,moving,Halifax

Open Letter to ALS

Dear Lou Gehrig's Disease:

I know you are never going to write back to me.  I know you are never going to answer or give me an explanation, an excuse or a reason.  I know that you are never going to offer condolences or an apology but I have to talk with you anyway.  I have to tell you exactly how I feel about you and what you have done to myself and my family.

You see, ALS, a year ago today you took the life of my father.  You robbed his slew of daughters, his Daddy’s Girls of  the man who fixed their cuts and bruises and broken hearts along with their frozen pipes and income tax.  There is a group of children that doesn’t have their Grampie anymore.  They can’t bounce on his knee, watch golf and hockey and paint him pictures and teach him games.  He can’t show them how to tie flies for fishing or the proper way to cast a fly rod or answer any of their questions about anything at all.  He was our father, he knew everything and if he didn’t, he’d certainly find out.  There are a few who will never remember the way he would hum to himself while he did his puzzles or the faces he made when was working on something.  They’ll lose on the benefit of knowing a true gentleman which he was in every sense of the word.

ALS you have to understand that even though he wasn’t a well educated man, he was a highly intelligent man.  A well read individual who devoured knowledge.  His ability to understand and learn made him, in our eyes, smarter than any doctor, lawyer or engineer.  This was because to us, his family, he knew the important things like tents and cabins and bedtime stories and not just inner workings of engines and understanding the cosmos and astronomy which were things he loved. 

I have to tell you that in the brief time we knew of your arrival, you took away his freedom to fish, to read, to do his endless puzzles – the crypto quotes, the crosswords – which were always beside him with a sharpened pencil and a glass of pop.  You took his ability to hug and hold his grandchildren even though he found other ways to show his affections.  In the short time you spent touching our lives through him you made us question our own faith and strength and stability.  You introduced a new fear to us in that even the strongest people in our lives, our rocks, the steadfast and steady comforting hands of our father could be quelled and quieted and made weak.

In the time that you lived with us we fought against you.  This fight brought us closer in that we made our decisions to fight together as a family and became that much stronger.  But you, ALS are a worthy opponent.  The weaker you made our father and the more you took from him, the harder we worked.  My sisters fought daily through exhaustion, schedules, medications, nurses and their own families t o fight the losing battle.  Our father fought daily to hold his spirits and keep his strength, both physical and mental.  Every day was a new progression as you worked your forces through him quickly.

I’m wondering how you could do this.  Don’t get me wrong here, I am certainly not speaking from a naive point of view as I have read the medical journals, reports, documents, pamphlets, websites, listened to the specialists  and so on and so forth.  I have listened intently to my favourite nurse (my sister) tell all of us in detail the ins and outs and medical ups and downs of you.  I know your symptoms and complications and your horrible truth.  I want to know why you picked my family, my father.  I would like to know why you would pick anyone’s family for that matter.  The answers are getting closer but my heart aches for the families like mine for whom the answers have come too late.

You taught me a lot.  You taught me the importance of valuing every day.  You helped me to learn not to take anything for granted.  You taught me that the people we think are going to live with us forever just can’t.  You taught me the value of family, the importance of siblings and the true meaning of what it is to be a daughter.  It is so much more than can ever be expressed in words and I’m sure that at this moment, from wherever he is, my father is shaking his head in his quiet, knowing way.

I think of you now and even though I’m still angry with you for destroying a strong man, I can’t help but think that I’m glad that he was such a worthy opponent to you as you were to him.  He gave you a fight and defeated you.  I know that it sounds odd for me to say that he defeated you because you were the one who took his life but it’s the truth.

ALS, in the last few days, hours of my father’s life you confined him to his bed and you had taken his voice.  My gentle sisters, our nurse and our sensitive, loving sister who is so much like our mother gave up their time, their lives and cared for him in our other sister’s home while I cared for a very young family and did what I could from where I was.  The one sister who has taken on his quiet and introspective resilience heard him before his final moments tell her that he loved her.  It was in that moment, when he spoke those words he defeated you, he beat you.  You took his life, you couldn’t take his love and that little bit of love proved more powerful than anything you as a disease could muster.

So you see ALS, we are a stronger force because of this and we will still keep fighting you so that other people can tell the ones they love that they love them day after day after day….

Yours truly,

~A Survivor

 

~~ Written in loving memory of my father, Joseph Young who passed away one year ago today:  March 5, 2008.  If you would like more information on ALS/Lou Gehrig’s Disease please visit http://www.als.ca/ – The ALS Society of Canada and walk for a cure.

Half Blog/Story Hybrid

It’s been a long and hectic few days.  A semi-decision (I say that because I’m still not 100%) to move to another city has been draining me.  Travelling the five hours up on Tuesday evening for job interviews on Wednesday only to travel another five hours home Wednesday night is draining me to no end.  The battle with the flu on Sunday and Monday is still taking it’s toll on me.  I’m achy and exhausted and exhilarated all at once.

Coming home to find my three babies asleep in their beds was the best welcome home I could ask for.  I was only gone for a night and missed them more than I thought I could.  Miss Lily was stretched out while Little Miss was curled up beside her and my Little Man Meatball was in his crib on his belly, knees tucked and bum sticking up, snoring and content.  We get cranky, we want the bedroom tidy, the clothes in the laundry basket and beg to not leave half-eaten apples under the bed but when it’s all said and done, at the end of the day, watching them sleep and smile and dream is the ultimate gift anyone could ask for.

So…  Picture it:  Halifax, 2009.  A single girl walking around downtown alone, finding her way to a temp agency hoping for administration positions.  Tests, interviews and then a chat ensues.  A chat that makes her realize once again just how much rests on her shoulders.  Alone.  Three children.  Limited family contact even when living at home.  Friends she doesn’t want to burden, they have lives of their own.  The interviewer makes it a point to tell her that she’s glad she’s not her because the burden is so great for someone still very young.  What a thing to say to someone.  On that token, a pity job.  Government.  Just call when she gets there and it’s hers.

Walking out of that building with new shoes clacking on the tile floors, feeling a little empowered in new dress clothes, passing business men who didn’t look at her as a tattooed little girl but as if she was someone they would be working with, one of their esteemed colleagues,  lifted her spirits.  But she knew the difference.  She knew that if they saw her outside of this building wearing her sweaters, jeans, showing off her ink, her braids, her sarcastic and sometimes dark sense of  humour with her three babies in tow from her tiny apartment, they would change their mind and turn away.  She felt empowered but she didn’t feel real, the better term to describe her at this moment was out of body and splendidly surreal. 

Oddly enough.  This wasn’t bothering her, it wasn’t depressing her and it was very, very far from getting her down.  She felt pride in her abilities to do a good job at any job she’d obtain.  She felt good that she was a capable, loving mother regardless if she was single or not.  She was content in her abilities to make the best decisions for her family at the time.  Sure, they could be bad ones but at least she did what she felt was right and stayed true to that… for the most part.  We all waiver and do things that make us put our face in our hands and shake our heads and she was not without her share of those weak moments.

Here she was feeling like she was in front of the whole world.  A new girl in a big city looking for her place, her niche, that little carved out space she could call her own for herself and her little family.  Three babies all waiting on the one person in the world they could count on to be there for them and she was standing all alone with the burdens that the interviewer had so kindly pointed out.  These burdens gave her strength, they gave her hope, they made her smile and laugh and cry.  These burdens were her reasons for pushing forward and fighting.

She smiled a coy little smile and walked tall out of that office building.  Putting her best face forward and hailing a cab like she had been a city girl her whole life.  She arrived at her friend’s apartment where she was staying and took a deep breath as she changed into her usual hoodie and jeans.  The make-up that made her feel pretty yet fake was washed away and she stood in the mirror feeling refreshed and at home in her own skin.  She grabbed her bags and ran for the cab to take her to catch her shuttle bus home.

Could it be called home anymore? Or was it more of a transitional dwelling?  A little bit of both maybe.  A home until a home could be found.  A safety net until the safety was established and whole.

The shuttle waited for her as she ran from her taxi saying her goodbyes to the friendly driver who spoke to her so kindly.  She tipped him well and jumped into the front seat of the waiting van, quietly buckling her belt and feeling oddly at ease.  Somewhere Over the Rainbow was playing on the way up, a song that had become the beacon of her childhood happiness and reminder of her mother.  This time she quietly sat as she heard the voices of Foster & Allen waft from the windows of a nearby apartment building.  This was a group who was a favourite of her father’s and songs she had listened to on many many drives to this city in the back seat of his big blue station wagon.  She closed her eyes and pictured his strong hands on the steering wheel while he hummed along to his favourites just as she had imagined her mother the night before, playing the piano in the basement of their house and singing to her while she sat and watched. 

She missed them.  Wanted nothing more in this moment than to run to them, to run home and ask for help with her decisions.  At the same time she felt that being sandwiched in nostalgia for her childhood had helped her come closer to her decision.  Would she take these songs as a sign of their love and approval?  Of course.  Even though she had lost their parental guidance, she had not lost the ability to see through coincidence.

The feeling of calm in her did not dissipate during her five hour journey to home.  Having the feeling of everything going to be alright grew stronger.  Somehow, the next steps were going to be the right steps and the fears and worries for her families’ future dissolved into sense of ease and peacefulness.  The day turned to night on the drive and she closed her eyes until she could walk through her door and see her babies again …

Rambling as Usual….

It’s been awhile.  Why do I go through spurts of mad writing and do it constantly.  Writing down everything that comes to mind and making observations on every little thing I see or experience.  I guess sometimes I get caught up, just as we all do, in the hum drum and mundane things of everyday life.  Dishes.  Laundry.  Homework.  Appointments.  Cups of tea.  All those things which are unimportant and yet exceptionally critical at the same time.

Seems I have lost the desire to write about any one thing and my brain has been flooded with a multitude of little things.  These are the things like the pangs of nostalgia from the music I’ve been listening to or the wonderment of what the future is going to bring while applying for jobs and looking at new apartments.  The fear of changes and the excitement of starting over.  I’ve started over too many times and this time it’s going to be my last …

I’m going to think …