Christmas Retrospective

I'm sitting here in my fuzzy jammies, watching the last few minutes of Despicable Me 2 as my kids mill around and I ponder eating breakfast at 12:30 in the afternoon.

This year, I was dreading Christmas. I was estranged from my father, and we had no plans to see or contact them, other than dropping gifts on their doorstep (yes, I was planning to take gifts over - we were on the outs, but that doesn't mean I don't love them). We knew we'd have a family Christmas on Boxing Day with Hubby's parents, so there was that, but I was still not enjoying the preparations, delayed decorating, and generally felt like a humbug.

Then my dad called and changed everything.

Turns out that he'd been as affected by it as I had and when we finally got to talking about it, information came to light that showed the estrangement was the result of not getting complete information. Wow, I felt like a dolt. So, there's been some eating of crow, some hugs, some "I love yous" and a Christmas that included *all* of my family.

And that's a very good thing :)

Missing Someone Who's Still There

I miss my brother.

Oh, he's still alive, in fact, I just texted him on Sunday.

I guess it's not so much that I simply miss him, but that I miss the relationship we had. This most recent estrangement with my father brings with it considerable collateral damage; I have no real way to maintain a relationship with my mother, as she doesn't drive or answer the phone, or check her email or go on Facebook. I've also lost the relationship with my brother due to the fact that he seems to only listen to my father's side of things. He asks to hear my side, but discounts it out of hand. And I'm tired of it. So that means I have no relationship with him. I can't trust that he'll actually listen to me.

What bothers me so much about that is that he and I had *such* a good relationship leading up to the end of my first marriage. It seems that my family chose my ex-husband over me; due to poor choices on my part, I can understand them being upset or disappointed, but to be kicked out of the house I grew up in only to have my ex invited back there in front of me is pretty damning evidence that a choice was made. The pettiness with which it was done has forever broken my relationship with my family of birth, and no amount of glue will put it back together again, at least, not in a way resembling what was there before.

Actually, I miss a lot of people that were in my life prior to the end of my first marriage. Divorce really polarizes people; they choose sides, and people get hurt. I have spent the last 6 years having to redefine who I consider family and friends, and guarding my heart from the people who said they loved me unconditionally, but clearly didn't. Things changed radically for me post-breakup, and people I trusted for most of my life are gone; what relationships remain are shells of what they were, and it seems that people didn't know what to do with me once I no longer fit into the pigeon-hole they'd placed me in. One friend actually said to me, "I don't know where to put you anymore." Put me? Don't put me anywhere. Just be my friend. I don't even want people to feel like they have to choose a side. Why? Why can you not just be friends with both people separately?

 Here's the "death toll" of relationships that came in the wake:

- my best friend, who I introduced to BD, and who chose his side;
- two very close friends, that I introduced to BD, who I have barely anything to do with anymore because they were firmly in Camp BD (and continue to socialize with him);
- a close friend (and bridesmaid at wedding #1), who I am trying to remain friends with, but it is forever changed;
- my brother;
- my mother;
- my father.

There were also a number of acquaintances who fell away. And every once in a while, I mourn for those losses.

The reason I'm dredging this up is because I have a very dear friend who is going through a break-up of her own; friends are choosing sides, even after her asking them not to; friends that were hers before her marriage who have chosen her ex. My heart aches for her, and it makes these old wounds open again and I ache for those people who walked away from me. Logically, I know that if a person would walk away from me in a time of need, they were never truly friends to begin with. I know that.

But my heart didn't get the memo.

I'm so tired of crying about 6 year old hurts.

Snow Days

Ahh, winter.

Every year, the kids pray for snow, and most often, are disappointed. So it was with a joyful heart that I woke the kids on Monday morning (and by "joyful heart", I mean I turned their lights on and unceremoniously roused them at 8 AM, saying, "You forgot to set your alarm again; get up!") to snow.

The look on Secunda's face was priceless; at my insistence, she opened the door to look outside, then stood there gawping at me with this big dumb grin on her face :) It's the simple pleasures, really... Primus was less enthused about it, or at least he showed it less. I think that had more to do with him being unmedicated than anything, though. Tertius and Quarta were predictably "primate poop crazy" about it and wanted to put their snow gear on RIGHT NOW, PLEASE. I assured them that there would be time to play in the snow after the big kids got home from school.

I have found that the older I get, the less I am a fan of going outside in the snow. Perhaps it's the burgeoning arthritic pain in my hands, or the achy hips and knees from years of playing soccer and growing too fast; maybe I'm just becoming a grumpy old sod. I am more than content to sit curled in a chair by the window, hot chocolate in hand, watching the wee hobbitses frolic in the white stuff, but the thought of bundling myself up to go out there strikes dread in my heart. As an adult, snow means work to me. Every winter school day, I go outside, start both vehicles and scrape or wipe whatever cold weather impediment off the windows so that Hubby can leave for work on time (he never works extra time into his prep for things like, you know, weather) and so can we.

So, now that I am in my 4th decade on this Earth, I have come to realize that while I love how snow looks, love watching it drift aimlessly down from the heavens, and don't mind driving in it (as long as the roads are sufficiently plowed), I really don't enjoy being out in it, being chilled by it, having it get inside my coat or pants or socks; that the cold that penetrates my bones takes more than a day to disperse again really cements for me that I'm just not an outdoors person in the snow.

But in spite of that, let it snow!

Faith and Trust

For the first time in my life, I am part of a small group at my church.

Growing up Anglican, it always seemed that one's faith was something you kept to yourself and that you worked on developing a personal relationship with God without anyone else involved, except perhaps your minister.

I married an avowed atheist (BD) in an Anglican ceremony, and spent the next 8 years attending church sporadically (increasingly so as my marriage began crumbling), but practically never with my spouse - he only went to things like the Christmas eve service, and often grudgingly.

By the time my first marriage ended, I wasn't attending church at all. I felt unworthy. I was damaged goods, and felt ashamed to be in the presence of God. After asking for, and receiving, forgiveness for my transgressions, I began to feel like I could open my heart up to taking the risk of going to church again, but I felt completely disconnected with the church I'd grown up in. They didn't seem to believe what I did anymore. I was really floundering.

Then I met Hubby.

This amazing man is the child of two pastors, and had a deep, strong well of faith. When we met, he was living 2-3 hours' drive away from me. He drove down to meet me, and by the time we saw each other in person (a whole 8 days after "meeting" online, and many, MANY hours of phone calls later), we already knew we were in love. He moved to a new community at the end of that month (17 days after we met), near to his grandmother and the church he'd attended in university. One of the first things we did together was attend church together. It felt right. I felt welcome. I was not ashamed. We liked the church, but he was already spending a lot of time in my town, and by the end of November, he had a job here, so getting out to that church was increasingly difficult. So, when he moved here, we began attending church locally, at the same denomination that he had grown up in. Again, a nice church with nice people, but there really wasn't a lot there for a family with small kids. We got involved with Sunday School, and I drove the bus, but something was missing.

When Secunda was in Grade 1, we began getting to know Secunda's best friend and her family. Her dad was pastoring at a church in the neighboring community, so we started attending there. What a difference! This church seemed to be thriving, and had a lot to offer families. Even Primus, who was questioning God and faith a lot at the time, really enjoyed it and asked when we could go back. We attended semi-regularly (it's hard to get out of the habit of sleeping in on Sundays), so weren't volunteering but were beginning to feel like it was a good fit. Then our friend lost his job there. He encouraged us to keep attending if it was the place that was working for us, so I delved deeper into their position statements to find out. When I discovered that they don't feel women should be pastoral leaders, that was it for me. My beloved mother-in-love is a pastor. No way could I support a church that would turn her away. So we were at loose ends again.

Fast forward to December of last year. We were invited to attend a Christmas party with our friends, being hosted by the church they had been attending of late. Had a great time, saw a few people I went to school with there, felt welcomed. So, when our friend was invited to preach in February, we attended to support him. And over the last 9 months, we have found our church home. We've come to be friends with not just Secunda's friend's family, but also two other couples there. We both volunteered for the VBS this summer, and had fun bringing the medieval world to life for the kids. I especially loved painting the props. Primus painted castle walls; we all dug in to make it happen and it was great!

In October, our church did 40 Days In The Word, and we were all encouraged to join a small group to go through the program with. Our friend group was split into two groups, which both shrank, so we decided to join together. In retrospect, I can really see God's hand in this, as it brought the eight of us together in a way that we could really grow together. When the study ended, we chose to keep meeting weekly, and are now doing a spiritual gift survey. We've got a Christmas party coming up in just over a week, and have had a wonderful time brainstorming to find thoughtful gifts for each person, as well as the kids.

Last night, we started the gift survey, and some pretty thought-provoking questions came up. I found myself opening up in a way that I never dreamed I would, sharing my vulnerabilities with these excellent people. And that openness was met with sensitivity, care and support. It feels so good to trust these friends with my innermost thoughts and fears, especially after so many years of holding people at arms length.

This first experience in a small group has been such a positive one. I'm so glad we all chose to continue with it. Life is good, and I have 6 great friends who make it so much better!

Pain, Pain, Go Away...

...DON'T come back another day!

I was rather unceremoniously woken from what I thought was a restful sleep at 5:30 this morning, a good two hours before my usual weekday wake-up time. My jaw felt like I'd been on the losing end of a prize fight; jaw throbbing, ear aching, and every tooth on the left half of my face hurting like they'd all had fillings and the freezing had now come out.

So now I'm sitting here, trying to figure out what's got me so stressed out to pull me from my warm bed and cuddly husband. Or rather, what - other than the extraordinary amount of stress I've been under since late August - is troubling me so much more as to cause it.

What stress? Well, I'd rather not get into the details on here, but suffice it to say, it involves family behaving in a way that family ought not to. There's entirely too much disrespect going on and I've stood my ground and said no more.

I'm working on something that should alleviate some of this, at least for me and mine, and I think that's what's got me up before the sun in such pain. I just need to power through it. So, that's my goal today: just get it done. Then I can put the burden down and let what's going to happen, happen.

Praying for peace and resolution right now.

A Real Pain In The Neck

Since the beginning of October, I've been dealing with increasingly painful sensations in my TMJ and left ear. Now, I *did* have a raging ear infection, which hit peak pain levels around October 14/15, but even after that was cleared up, I was still having significant pain. I went back to the doctor, who told me it was my old TMJ injury flaring up again, and to go see a dentist. I know from experience that this injury is exacerbated by stress, and I am going through what I can safely say is the most stress I've experienced since a very difficult break-up 6 years ago, so this should not come as a surprise to me. But I know that a trip to the dentist will entail an exam and x-rays, which aren't cheap. So I opted for my chiropractor instead. Turns out in addition to the teeth clenching problem, my neck was horrendously out of place, which was also making the jaw worse. So, $55 and about a dozen cracks later, my neck was feeling much better, as was my jaw. They wanted me to come back on Monday, but with them not accepting extended medical plans there (I'd have to submit receipts and wait for reimbursement, rather than everywhere else, who just has us pay our portion), I can't afford them. And so, my American friends, even with universal health care, there are still things that can be improved upon.

Mainly, I need to reduce or remove the stressors. I'm working on that.

Personal Rant on Social Empathy/Responsibility in Children

My local radio station posted a link to a news story today. In it, it was reported that a school in a neighboring district had instituted a blanket “no touching” policy for their Kindergarten classes, which includes such things as holding hands, play fighting and tag. This ban on physical play was as a result of several minor injuries that occurred during recess.

From reading the article (http://www.starfm.com/2013/11/05/aldergrove-school-bans-physical-play-for-kindergarteners/), this ban is clearly intended as a temporary measure in order to teach appropriate play skills to the Kindergarten students. For those laying the blame at the feet of the teachers/school, that is misdirected and narrow. Most of these incidents occur during recess and lunch, when teachers are on their contractually mandated breaks. Therefore, they are not the responsible adults present at those times. Supervision during those times usually falls to a single teacher (most often on a rotation system, so that each teacher takes a shift), EAs and noon hour supervisors hired specifically for coverage during break times. They are woefully under-staffed, often with a ratio of 1:100 or so. What this means is that there is no way for them to see and address everything. It is also incumbent upon the students to bring these incidents to the attention of the supervising adults (which doesn't often happen at my kids' school). As a result, they go home, tell their parents, and the parents then go and lambaste the school for not dealing with it. They can't deal with what they don't know about.

The solution has many parts. First, children need to learn appropriate play skills through practical application. Quite simply, let them learn through play. Let them have their small disputes and scuffles and learn to get along with others, and to behave themselves. Second, they need to learn social and personal responsibility at home. We, as parents, have to stop coddling our children and allowing them to think that they're special little snowflakes. This pervasive, over-blown sense of entitlement does nothing to create an environment of cooperation and empathy; instead, we are breeding a generation of little sociopaths that have an “if it feels good for me, do it” attitude that will only serve to further damage interpersonal relationships throughout their life. By failing to teach our children empathy and consideration for others, we are making our – and the teachers' - jobs that much harder. Third, the government needs to step up to the plate and put their money where their platform is. They say they care about our children and their education, but at every opportunity, they cut funding, demanding that schools to do more with less. Funding needs to increase for supervision – at least as a short term goal – until the first two solutions I've outlined are fully realised.

The “bubble-wrapping” of our children needs to stop. When did allowing your children to learn life's lessons the hard way become unacceptable? As a parent, I do wish to shield my children from the bad in the world; I don't know a parent who doesn't. But I'm also a realist; protecting them from everything does nothing to prepare them for life as a contributing member of society. Failing to adequately prepare them for adulthood creates a culture of adults who don't accept responsibility for their actions, who expect someone to come behind them and clean up their messes, and cultivates sociopathy on a large scale.

We are the parents. When we made the choice to have children, we accepted the responsibility for raising them to be upstanding, caring, responsible adults. Certainly, while children are school age, some of that instruction falls to their teachers, but the foundation should already have been laid by us. Foisting that job entirely on teachers does teachers and your children a huge disservice.

Do my kids sometimes get hurt while playing Star Wars or Doctor Who or any other game they devise? Yes. Do I find out what happened, and make them apologize to one another, even if it's an accident? You bet. Some may say that I'm a strict mother; my children are expected to say please, thank you, you're welcome and excuse me, and to treat others with kindness and respect – and they're called on it when they don't. The adage in our house is, “It's always right to use your manners”. And as a result, I am routinely told how well-mannered my children are, even by people that don't consider themselves “child-friendly”. Do I get it wrong sometimes? Yes. But I apologize to my children when I do, because I feel it's important for them to see that adults are also fallible, and should be held to the same standard we apply to them.

The Vacation That Wasn't

Do you ever feel like you should be the star of the next National Lampoon Vacation movie? I never did - until this past week.

Hubby and I had planned to take the hobbitses to Seattle for four days of fun and touristy things, and we were all prepped; sandwiches were made for a picnic lunch, the van was packed the night before, and I had gone over the master list of what to take at least three times. The day before our trip, we had the oil changed on the van, ran it through AirCare and renewed the insurance. While at the insurance place, we took the added steps of getting travel insurance and paying for roadside assistance. Little did we know how that last item would come in handy.

Morning broke on Tuesday, and we got everyone up, dressed, fed and into the van. The "10 minute wait" at the border was actually 75 minutes, so we were a bit behind schedule, but we could still salvage the day. We stopped in Bellingham for groceries and super-cheap gas (our rewards card allowed us to save a further 30¢ per gallon on an already good price - it worked out to something like 87¢ per litre). We hopped back on the I-5 and continued on our merry way. The sun was shining and everyone was happy to be heading down on vacation. We were talking about our first stop of the day, the Museum of Flight, which Primus and Secunda had been to before with their grandparents. There was a lull in the conversation around the time we passed Burlington, WA, home of outlet shopping and auto malls.

I'd just put on one of my "feel good" CDs, and was enjoying my favourite song on it when I began to hear a very worrisome noise coming from under the hood. I quietly alerted Hubby, and as we grew more worried, we asked the hobbitses to keep quiet and turned off the stereo. We were now in that "no-man's land" that only seems to occur on US highways; the long stretch of nothing between towns. The noise started getting worse, so I silently began praying that we could limp the van to some form of civilization before our vehicle died - because it was making those awful dying sounds that make cash registers go KA-CHING. That's when I saw the tall 76 sign. I pulled off in La Conner and we two non-mechanical types tried to figure out what the heck was wrong with our van. All we knew was that running the engine was a Very Bad Idea. Thinking it may be the transmission, we bought some horrendously overpriced fluid and put it in the van, but the sound was still there. So the two of us sat at a picnic table while the hobbitses quietly read or talked in the van, and we tried to figure out what we were going to do.

Another customer came by and, bless his heart, he asked what the trouble was. We told him, and he asked us to fire the van up. He almost immediately told us to cut it, and said, "Now, I'm not a mechanic. But my uncle is and I worked in his shop quite a bit when I was in my teens. That's your engine." I felt just sick to my stomach. That's a very expensive thing to fix. Then this darling man gave us information on where the nearest dealership for our vehicle's make was, and we called Hubby's dad to figure out our next step.

Oh, the roaming charges we paid! But we sorted out that this vacation was not likely to happen today. The van would need repair. Calls were made to the dealership and a tow truck, and after another 20 minute wait or so, we were installing car seats in a courtesy shuttle and heading back to Burlington.

The dealership there was incredible; they offered us the use of their customer lounge until closing, which was the earliest that Hubby's dad could get down to retrieve us. They took a quick look at the van and were able to determine that we had thrown a rod in the engine - a death knell for any engine. So, I called the hotel with just enough time to cancel our reservation without incurring costs, and we prepared ourselves for having to spend our vacation fund on getting a new-to-us vehicle.

$3850.00. That was the best deal they could find on a rebuilt engine. Put that up to $5000.00 if we wanted new. Another quick call to Hubby's dad and we knew that this van was very likely going to be staying in Burlington. The staff were so kind; not only did they let us take over their lounge, but they made sure we were comfortable, allowed us to have their free coffee, made sure we knew where the washrooms were, and checked in on us every hour or so. We let them know that we'd have a final answer for them the next day.

We had our packed lunches, we had snacks and activities for the kids, so the time passed pretty easily for them.  At about 15 minutes shy of closing time, we had the kids help us tidy up the area we were occupying, and, as per SCA guidelines, we left it cleaner than we had found it. Everyone used the bathroom one last time, and we headed out into the muggy air to wait for Hubby's dad. We didn't have long to wait; he arrived about 5 minutes later. We unloaded *everything* from the van and drove back to Mom and Dad's place.

Dad and I drove back down to Burlington the next morning, and after letting them know that the van wasn't worth the investment, I signed over the van to a tow truck driver who contracts with the dealership. With that done, we then spent the next few days having a "staycation", enjoying Mom and Dad's hospitality, and doing things like going to the beach, making use of our Science World membership, and treating Mom and Dad to dinner at Montana's. Oh, and did I mention that they bought themselves a new van and sold their "old" one to us? Yeah, so we got a newer, more reliable vehicle for our family out of this whole mess.

So it turned out to be not too awful after all :)

Chirping Crickets

It's amazing to me how many things fall by the wayside when one is planning a vacation.

Now, I've been doing laundry like a maniac, the kitchen has not been this clean in quite some time (thanks largely to my mother-in-love for helping to maintain that yesterday), and the bags are almost completely packed in anticipation of our departure tomorrow morning. But in the whirlwind of planning, booking hotels, sorting out itineraries and packing, this blog kind of got lost in the shuffle. And what is the purpose of this blog, if not to chronicle some of these happenings?

So, dear readers, I will endeavor to give you a travel diary whilst we are on vacation. Thanks to the magic of technology (and free wi-fi), I should be able to post something on each of the four days of our vacation. Stay tuned for the riveting adventures of Busy Little Bee!!!!

Scary Movie

We were spending a lazy Saturday at home and discovered that we were more flush than we thought. Hubby had the idea to go catch Monsters University, so we approached Tertius and Quarta with the notion. You'd have thought we suggested an exciting trip to visit the Spanish Inquisition, complete with torture sessions! Tertius was convinced that it was going to be scary and loud, so we sat them down to watch the trailers, but he remained unconvinced. Of course, this set off Quarta and she jumped on the bandwagon, insisting that it was too scary. I was at the point of just forgetting the whole adventure, but Hubby insisted, and I'm so glad he did; after a tense few minutes where Quarta just HAD to sit on my lap (thank goodness the theatre is air-conditioned) and Tertius clung to Hubby like a baby orangutan, they both relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the movie. By the end credits, Tertius was dancing to the music and hopping up and down with delight.

Have any of you experienced this phenomenon where something that should really appeal to your young child fills them with fear instead?

Anniversary Musings

Six years ago at this time, I was collapsed in my bed after a ridiculously long day of working the graveyard shift on security, followed by a full day's security instruction (BST training), then SCA archery practice. Six years ago, I had had to field a call from the man I was no longer dating and hung up on him when he tried to read me the riot act for not getting enough sleep. Honestly, I knew I hadn't gotten enough sleep, I didn't need Captain Obvious to point it out to me; he'd broken up with me (when I caught him out for cheating on me) 2 months prior, so he really had no right to say anything, and he should have known that saying it to a sleep-deprived woman holding a longbow was a dangerous thing to do. Six years ago, I was pondering swearing off men for a while. And six years ago, wheels were being set into motion that I hadn't the slightest clue about, that would lead me to the life I always wanted to have.

I was damaged goods; a mother of two small children, separated from her husband for five months and feeling like I would need to resign myself to a life of raising my children without a thought to a life for myself, of romance, passion or utter contentment. I was profoundly sad at the failure of my marriage, the spectacular crash-and-burn of my first attempt at dating post-marriage, and I was trying to carve out a living for me and my kids that would allow us to maybe move out of my parents' home one day. I had gone on a very nice and promising first date with a gentleman, but he was only in town for the summer, so I wasn't really holding my breath. The fact that he didn't call for days afterwards didn't give me any cause to feel optimistic, either.

But I had done something different that night. Instead of just fuming to myself about the idiot, I went to my friend Lizz and vented. And that one small thing set off a chain reaction of events that led me to where I am today.

Because six years ago at this time, the love of my life was talking to Lizz online. He casually mentioned his own difficulties meeting someone, and it triggered a thought in Lizz's mind, which led her to say, "You should meet a friend of mine."

And six years ago at this time, he was writing the first of innumerable emails that would mark the beginning of our life together, a life full of love, passion and utter contentment. A life full of children, of chaos, of dishes and laundry and messy rooms; a life that I had always dreamed of. That we named our youngest child in her honour is but a tiny token of the love and esteem we feel for Lizz for her hand in this, for being the vessel through which God's plan was revealed to both of us.

Six years ago at this time is when I feel like my life really started. The rest was all a warm-up.

Five years ago at this moment, I was sewing Swarovski crystals onto the bodice of my wedding gown, too excited to sleep. I was gathering up the accessories that I would wear the next day when Hubby's father joined us as husband and wife. I was writing in a card serving a dual purpose - both anniversary and wedding day card - and hoping that I didn't trip over my own feet walking down the aisle.

It hardly seems that 6 years have passed since we met, that 5 years have passed since we married. But when we take the time to look at how our children have grown (and multiplied!), we can mark the years a little easier. This - this life - is what I dreamed of as a young girl. Married to a wonderful, intelligent, caring man and raising four children, two boys, two girls. It is everything I ever wanted, and more.

Happy anniversary, my love.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

So, I woke up at 6:40 this morning, leg and foot cramping in unison. This has become a daily thing for me. I've increased my water intake, upped my potassium, calcium and magnesium through diet and supplements, and I'm still startled awake by it.  I think it might be time to talk to the doctor about it again, but I'm open to hearing your non-medicinal (drugs, mainly) remedies. What I'm looking for is a way to avoid the leg cramps entirely, not just get rid of them once they've jarred me awake.

Anyway, since I was awake, and that usually means up for the day, I went downstairs to get underwear out of the dryer for Hubby, then saw two of his favourite "church shirts" needed ironing, so I got that done, too. Hauled his nice shorts out of the dryer, folded a couple of things for myself and brought it all upstairs. I switched the nightgown for clothes and farted around on Facebook until the muse spoke to me. So here I am, putting out my stream-of-consciousness for the day.

While trying to come up with a title for today's entry, I hit upon this song title from what I seem to recall as the 70s - by the Commodores (back when Lionel Ritchie was steering that boat). It occurred to me that while I had enjoyed the song in the past, I really didn't know all of the words, so a quick online search provided what I was looking for, and upon reading them, I realised that this gentle, catchy tune was actually a break-up song. Now, I don't know about you, but the break-ups in my life have never been as laissez-faire as this song makes it out to be; more to the point, they were either tear-filled, angst-ridden, or done with a sense of resignation or defeat. I never had a, "Well, I've done what I can, and it's not what I wanted, so I'm out of here" kind of break-up. Some may argue that this is precisely how my first marriage ended, and on its surface, it may have looked that way. But in reality, I spent several years privately agonising and trying to make things better, and when that didn't work, I made stupid mistakes that made things worse. I was a coward, and it took me two years from the point that I knew my marriage was over until something finally happened to bring it to its conclusion. Even then, I didn't have the courage to do it - the credit for that goes to BD.

In retrospect, it was the right decision for both of us, as we are clearly happier with other people, and we can co-parent as best as most people, and better than some. We're not perfect - but we're still figuring that out as we go along and things happen to create new normals for us all. While the marriage wasn't the right thing for the two of us in the end, we did two things very right, indeed. Primus and Secunda are two of the best things I've ever done in my life, and I would go through it all again if it meant that they were in my world.

 Enough rambling for now. It's time to wake up the house and get ready for church - have a wonderful Sunday, everyone.

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'Easy Like Sunday Morning' by The Commodores (just in case you don't know the words like me)

Know it sounds funny but I just can't stand the pain
Girl, I'm leaving you tomorrow
Seems to me girl, you know I've done all I can
You see I begged, stole and I borrowed, yeah

Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

Why in the world would anybody put chains on me?
I've paid my dues to make it
Everybody wants me to be, what they want me to be
I'm not happy when I try to fake it, no

Ooh, that's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

I wanna be high, so high
I wanna be free to know
The things I do are right
I wanna be free, just me, babe

That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning
That's why I'm easy
I'm easy like Sunday morning

Because I'm easy
Easy like Sunday morning
Because I'm easy
Easy like Sunday morning

Calling Their Bluff

The room that Tertius and Quarta share is a mess. As in the "if I have to impale myself ONE more time on your Lego, I'm going to go stark raving mad" kind of messy. It is a daily struggle for me to just keep them from dragging their toys out into the living room - my space! - and to get them to pick up enough that I'm not taking my life into my hands when I go in there. Today is no exception to the rule. When they get dressed, they pull out clothes, decide what to wear, and leave the rejected items all wherever they threw them. When they are finished playing with a toy, they move on to the next one, leaving the abandoned toy where it lay. I think I've painted a pretty accurate picture, but I think I may need to give you some photographic evidence.

Not too pretty. Even the path I had carved out for my safety last night is strewn with caltrops Lego for my "enjoyment".

So, when he and his sister dragged his Thomas toys out into the living room, I decided it was room-cleaning time. I told them that if their room was too messy to play in, it was time to clean it up, marched them into their room, and gave them each a task. I returned to the kitchen table to resume my "to do" list. Not two minutes later, Secunda comes up to me and says that Tertius claims that he's too tired to clean.

So I called his bluff.

I went into the room and asked him if he was too tired to clean. He said he was, so I told him to climb up into his bunk and have a nap. I'd set the alarm for an hour, at which point I'd wake him to clean. He grudgingly went up, complaining with each step on the ladder, but he knew I'd caught him. Thrice they tried to sneak out of their room, and thrice they were sent back into it and offered the option to clean or sleep. 20 minutes in, Tertius finally succumbed to his pillow and blanket, but Quarta is proving more resistant, but at least she is quietly laying on her tummy in her bunk.

I will win this battle.

iWastetime

So, I got an iPhone 4.

It was a good deal, free (phone's cost put on a tab, which gets paid off with monthly payments), and no contract, which was my big rule. It's also cheaper than the pay-as-you-go jobbie I was using. I wanted to be able to call, text, take pictures and maybe put a couple of apps on it to occupy the kids in line-ups.

And then I downloaded Gardens of Time.

I made the mistake of downloading a hidden object game for myself. Now the kids beg me to play on my phone, and I hide in the bathroom playing it, checking on its status several times a day. Maye I should just remove the app so I don't have all of my time sucked up. I don't want to become one of those people that stares at their phone over plugging into their family.

Lazy Days of Summer?

I'm married to an educator, so come summer vacation, we're *all* at home. I love having that time together. I see it as a great opportunity for family bonding. I also see summer as the time that we can actually get some stuff done around the house, such as going through our stuff, and taking some of it to the thrift store or dump, finally installing the A/C units, putting up the screen over the front porch door, etc.

Now, I accept that for the first full week, I'm not going to get any meaningful work out of Hubby, nor should I expect to. He works hard all through the school year and he's earned his R&R time. I'm totally cool with that.

But I'm itching to get stuff DONE around here! We moved in three months ago, but we're still dealing with boxes and bins, the back storage isn't set up, nor is Hubby's work bench in the garage, nor is Primus' loft bed. There are a lot of things I can (and do) do myself. But there are a couple of larger projects that really need to get done that require Hubby's participation.

I've decided that the best way to get things done is to make a list. A big one. And for those who know me, you know how much I enjoy making lists :) So, I'm going to build a "Master List" of everything that needs doing around here, then I'll break that up into a "What We Can Reasonably Get Done" list, along with the "How Little I Can Tolerate Getting Done" list. I have a feelign that we'll see progress somewhere between the last two lists.

Hey, I'm a realist.

Last Minute Panic

I had to get an order in for my home business tonight, and as has happened in recent months, it was going in at the last minute (literally tonight!) and I was stressing. Several orders were late, several hadn't yet made payment arrangements and some payment methods were declined. It made for a lot of stress for me, and the covering of the expense with my own funds. But tonight the lightbulb went on; this is all in my hands. *I* am the author of my stress, because I am not being diligent enough in guiding those customers that need the extra attention. It's a simple thing, really, so I'm starting my new, pro-active approach tonight. I've already put out the specials for the month, reminded everyone of how and when to order and pay, and a second notice will be going out in 5 days' time. This month's order is going in *on time*.

Ode To A Wobbly Pop

O, golden nectar, blessed elixir of drunk-texting
Resting serenely in a pale blue goblet
Dew-drops of condensation balancing on the shapely curves of my glass;
Would that I had Jedi mind powers and could will you to rise to my eager, waiting mouth
To pour your glittering goodness down my throat.

The joy you bring to me, your cooling balm soothes the burning within me
And though I will want another, and then another in quick succession,
The uneven gait of your tell-tale alcohol content gives me pause;
For I do not wish to look a drunkard in front of the new neighbors.

And so I content myself with a solitary glass, savouring each drop
Like the happy little mouth party they are,
Watching the level sinking in my glass is bittersweet
For I long to keep you with me,
My glass of liquid sunshine.

Fighting With The Legends of Yore - And Sleep

I probably haven't mentioned this yet, but I'm a geek. A bona fide, certifiable, Star Wars-watching, Doctor Who-obsessing, Harry Potter-loving, D&D playing, mediaeval-re-creating geek.

Tonight was our usual biweekly Dungeons & Dragons session. Now, we don't dress up like dwarves and elves and wield foam swords - that's LARP (Live Action Role Play). No, this is much more pedestrian, with a group of us sitting around the table (or chilling in the living room when it's not a sauna), rolling dice and speaking as if we were our characters. It's a fun way to allow us to take on a different persona for a few hours a couple of times a month, hang out with our friends and tune out of technology.

My character in this current campaign is a human rogue, or thief. This means I'm awesome at detecting traps (Admiral Ackbar, anyone?), disarming them, and moving very, very quietly to sneak up on my opponents and attack them from behind.

Tonight's session saw us clearing out a Drow (dark elf) stronghold, freeing the Dwarven captives and getting LOOT! Cool stuff for everyone, and lots of money to buy what we didn't find.

I've noticed though, that I've been having trouble staying awake for the whole session. For a few months now. The last time this happened, I was pregnant - no, I'm NOT pregnant - so I'm wondering what the cause of this game-night fatigue is. I really enjoy game, so I don't think it's boredom. I was just sent for a whole whack of blood tests, so maybe it will show anemia or something - some explanation for how tired I am. Maybe it's blood sugar. I have high blood sugar, and my customary double Mars bar may need to go the way of the dodo. I don't eat a lot of sweets at any other time, but I do allow myself a "cheat" day on game nights. Maybe more veggies and cheese snacks are in order, and fewer chips and chocolate bars. It's certainly not going to hurt me to eat better.

I Scream

"Fudgy Wudgy was a bear..." No, that's not right.

Our plan today was that once Hubby was home from his last day at school, we'd all pile into the van and go across the border to our favourite dairy for great huge gobs of ice cream (plus load up on milk, cheese, butter and the like, saving us about $30 over prices at home).

Things went a wee bit cock-eyed, though, when my ex-husband (BioDad, or BD) called this morning to see if he could pick up Primus and Secunda to go visit his mother. He told me that she had called his father to tell him that she was going to die today, and she wanted to say goodbye to the children. I should explain... she has Huntington's Chorea (also known as Huntington's Disease) and was diagnosed about 13 years ago. She lives in the hospital, on an extended care ward. She is also being treated for depression and psychosis, so while the announcement was startling, it is being taken with the bushel of salt it merits. Anyway, back to our story: it's Secunda's weekend to go see BD, and they're out of school, so I figured an hour-long visit in the morning would be no bad thing. That way, Primus would get to spend some time with them (BD doesn't usually ask to see them more than the schedule sets out), and we'd still be able to stick to our plan. I went out with the two littlest hobbitses to pick a few things up, intending to get back here for when the big guys returned. While in transit, I got a text asking if they could stay with BD for lunch as his father wanted to take them out. It was still early enough to stick to the plan, so I said yes. What ended up happening is that they went out for ice cream, then to do some of BD's shopping at Wally World, and *then* to lunch. This put a significant crimp in our plans, and when Hubby got home from work early, he really wanted to get going and celebrate the end of school. This was not happy-making in our house.

So, after a couple of texts and one phone call, we managed to find a middle ground; they'd have lunch, we'd pick them up from the restaurant and head out from there.

And then Secunda had to turn into a recalcitrant three year old.

Why is it that whenever we really, *really* need to go somewhere, she thinks that's the perfect time to re-enact Monty Python's "How Not To Be Seen" skit? Anyway, I spoke to her twice, and she didn't come out of hiding until BD's new wife said, "Your mother is *speaking* to you." I've got to give her credit; I appreciate her having my back like that. But it's unfortunate that she had to do it. I'm really hoping that this is just a blip on the radar and not a portent of what is to come with her adolescence.

The rest of the day went fine, we saw her off to BD's house safely and Hubby and Primus are now out for some guy time. I'll be dropping the wee hobbitses at my parents' house for a sleep-over so we can help our friend move tomorrow, and I'm looking forward to a quiet evening with Hubby - a rare occurence in this house! But I still have this lingering uneasiness about how easily Secunda can disregard me. I think this bears some heart-to-heart time in the near future, because I want to ensure that while I am nurturing her independence, I'm also teaching her to continue to show respect for people.

*sigh* This wasn't in the manual.

School's Out For Summer...

Today was the last day of school, and I have to admit to feeling a little...underwhelmed.

Maybe it's getting older, or the dreary weather that looks decidedly un-summery. Perhaps it's simply low blood sugar or not enough sleep, but the culmination of the school year felt kind of anti-climactic for me. A very definite part of it was reading the wrong time for Primus' awards assembly on the PAC Facebook page and, thinking I was getting there early, walking in to an assembly that was already underway. Thankfully, I didn't miss Primus' big moment - earning 'A' Honours - but the surprise I had arranged for him, that of having Hubby in attendance, fell flat when Hubby walked in to the gym just two minutes after he had been congratulated by the administration and had returned to his seat. Hubby looked livid, and I was just heartsick that he missed this public acknowledgement of his son's achievement. I felt bad for both of them.

After the assembly, I took Tertius and Quarta to the produce market for what I like to call "Bickering Over the Basket". This is a fun little game, wherein one will race the other to get to the nifty shopping baskets that have the long handle and wheels, designed so that your preschoolers can run around the displays all demolition-derby style,sending random grapes flying out of it, terrifying little old ladies and causing employees to grasp wildly for hurtling turnips as they careen past at breakneck speed. Of course, this is all done with the other sibling giving chase with screams of, "It's MY turn to pull the basket!" or "Give that back - you're a bad girl!" and one defeated, harried mother quietly mumbling, "Would the two of you please be respectful to each other?"

Yeah, that's us.

Once we were done there, it was home for an early lunch, then World War III when I told them to pause their movie after only 40 minutes (what am I, the Anti-Christ? Sheesh.) to go and pick up their older siblings from the penitentiary Place of Higher Learning for the last time until September. There was much staunch refusal and gnashing of teeth, but I was firm in my resolve and was eventually victorious. The 20 minutes they had in the playground was clearly not enough, because they were refusing to leave there, too.

In retrospect, I think I've figured out why today's school wrap-up seemed like a let-down; when you function on a day-to-day basis at such a high level of tension , anything not stressful seems...alien. Makes me wonder how the rest of the summer is going to feel.

Anyone want to take bets on how many days in before I'm counting down to September?

Approach-Avoidance Conflict

I haz it.

Most often in relation to crafts. When I start a project, I'll go gangbusters on it for a time, get past the halfway mark, or indeed, have the finish line in my sights, then my productivity on it grinds to a screeching halt. It then languishes in the bottom of my craft pile for days, months, sometimes even years, and I've been working on figuring out why (mostly so I can learn how to not do it anymore).

Take my current project. I'm embroidering a panel for a friend's cloak, a gift for his elevation to the Order of the Laurel in the SCA (Laurels are people who have been recognised for outstanding achievement in the arts & sciences; SCA stands for Society for Creative Anachronism, the mediaeval group I play in). His elevation is in three weeks, and I have to have the panel back in Seattle by July 6th. It has sat, mostly complete for well over a week while I spent that time trying to figure out if I possessed the artistic skill to freehand draw three triskeles on the design to embellish it further. When I finally sat down to do it, it too me all of 10 minutes to draw and baste the lines onto the fabric. I don't know why I doubted myself.

I think I understand the main reason I procrastinate on completing projects. I am a process junkie; for me, the joy is in the doing, not the finishing. With every thing I make, I pour myself into it, the very best of myself, to give the recipient a tangible reminder of my esteem for them. In the case of largesse items I make, it is the esteem with which I hold my branch, principality or kingdom that can be seen in every stitch, every brush stroke, every scratch of ink and every length of trim. And I learn to love what I work on. They become a part of me, and sometimes, that's hard to let go of; but I think I've figured out a way to beat the end-of-project blahs.

I've started choosing projects that have concrete deadlines, such as my current project. Yes, that needs to get done this week. And then I can return to my blackwork needle books, which have no deadline and will get done when they are darn good and ready. I think that if I can learn to strike a healthy balance between deadline items and non-deadline items, I can get more accomplished *and* feel better about laying down one item to spend an hour or two on another, so long as everything gets done.

Here's to balance.

Of Midnight Cupcakes and Postcards

The rest of the house is gone to bed, and I am waiting for a batch of red velvet cupcakes to bake. Then I get to wake up early to ice them so that Secunda can take them to her class party. This was sprung on me this afternoon in that way that only 8 year old girls can do, with the cow eyes and the hopeful look and the insouciance that only the young possess. Of course I'd make a treat for class with no notice and no chance to run to the store; and of course I'll do it by myself while you carry the tray into your classroom in the morning with an overblown sense of ownership of the labour taken to create these delectable little bites.

Of course. How could I possibly look into the eyes of my child and say no?

So, here I sit, waiting for the timer to go, releasing me from my doughy sentence, filling that gap with formatting "let's stay in touch" postcards for the little hobbitses to hand out to their friends in that mad, final frenzy of hugs, and awkward adolescent high fives and fist bumps.

Does that make me SuperMum?

No.

But it sure makes me feel like I'm doing right by my kids, contributing to their sense of celebration, and fostering their need to build social connections outside of school. Goodness knows, it will be hard enough to drag them out to the splash park this summer; I can use the help.

Today's Happy Little Latin Lesson

And now, for my edification, a brief lesson in gender suffixes on Latin words.

My children shall be known here as Hobbitses Primus, Secunda, Tertius and Quarta. I love that Hubby speaks Latin, so I don't look a fool here :)

One Day More

To quote those beautiful lyrics from Les Miserables,

"One more dawn
One more day
One day more!"

Today sees me gathering snacks and other attention-holding things for the two littlest hobbitses, so that I can peacefully attend Hobbit Secundus' year-end assembly this afternoon. I know that they're singing "On Top of Spaghetti", plus a filk* of "Old MacDonald". I've also heard it referred to as an awards assembly, so who knows what's in store!

Tomorrow morning, our last of this school year, I'll be repeating the process in order to attend the intermediate awards assembly for Hobbit Primus. Now for this one, his teacher called to ensure I'd be there, so I know he's getting recognised for something. I expect it will be academic honours of some kind, as he had A Honours last year. But he's also been very active in student leadership, so I guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow to find out!

And then, for one blessed, beautiful day, I can sleep in as long as I like. Wait - you thought I was serious? You're so cute! No, I won't be able to sleep in just yet, because my beloved still has to go to school on Friday morning, so the alarm will jar me from my rest on my first day of summer vacation. Then we're helping a friend move on Saturday morning. And then there's church on Sunday. I know, first world problems...


* A filk is taking an existing song and setting new lyrics to it, much like 'Weird Al'. According to my husband the bard, this was done in the mediaeval period as well. Hubby and I also write filks.

Storm Before The Calm

As I mentioned, I'm a mother of four; our two oldest are in elementary school. I have been noticing a shift in everyone's mood in this last week, and I really hope that it's just temporary insanity and not a sign of how the whole summer will play out. I have to say, I'm really looking forward to not having to set my alarm every morning, but not if it's going to be like this.

Normally, I walk into the bedroom shared by my two youngest to find my 4-year old playing quietly, and I can wake my 2 year old up gently, resulting in smiles and hugs as she slowly draws herself out of her slumber. This morning, they were both awake before me and arguing already. Not the idyllic beginning to my day I had hoped for!

My 11 year old has environmental allergies that affect his mood. He takes daily medication to help with this, and those take about an hour to reach full efficacy. In the interim, he's moody, broody and sullen. Today, he seemed even moreso. Now, I don't know if this is standard 11 year old behaviour, or if it's allergy-driven, but it's not okay in my house. His attitude got him grounded from his iPod today, and it was barely 8:15.

My 8 year old is smart, funny, caring and easily distracted. But she seems even more scattered than usual, which seems to particularly annoy my husband in the morning. Today, she couldn't find the enormous jar of peanut butter, which has lived in the same cupboard for the entire time we've lived here (okay, we've only lived here for three months, but this kid makes a LOT of PB&J sandwiches...)

All of this culminated in a disagreement between my beloved and I, which has started both of our days off on the wrong foot.

When it seems that everyone has gotten up on the wrong side of the bed, how do you press the reset button?

For me, it all starts with two balloons. Nothing lifts your mood like blowing up balloons for your two preschoolers, then sitting back and watching them bat them around the living room, laughing and squealing with delight.

Reset, indeed :)

Welcome To My World!

Greetings, friends!

After some careful thought, some soul-searching and by finally giving into my desire to share something of myself, I have once again taken a leap off the precipice into the world of blogging.

This is going to be, in turns, somewhat 'stream of consciousness', photo journal, confessional, project tracker, bullhorn, soapbox and proud mother billboard. I make no apologies for how jumbled this is all going to look; it will probably closely resemble the way my brain is organised! Also, beware - I use Canadian/British spelling - if it looks odd to you, that's because it's spelled correctly ;)

And so, to begin, a little about the Busy Little Bee. I've chosen this name for a few reasons. My name means 'honeybee', I have chosen the bee as my personal emblem because of its mediaeval symbolism (that being well-governed industry and female potency - describing me aptly), and so many people in my life remark on a regular basis that they don't know how I get so much done in a day. Well, busy people are productive people! I am a woman, wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, follower of Christ, defender of the underdog, believer in marriage equality, a parent who believes in experiential learning and natural consequences, that nobody died from getting a smack on their bum as a child, that who we choose to love is nobody's business but our own, that we are the best governors of our own bodies, that we learn best from our mistakes - and that we should not fear to make them.

I am opinionated, but try to be respectful in expressing it. I have lived long enough in the pursuit of other people's acceptance that I no longer desire that; rather, I seek to become a better me, someone that I would want to be friends with, and if other people like me, then that's gravy. I am happily married to my soul mate. Yes, I believe there is one person out there uniquely suited for each of us, and I was lucky enough to find mine. I have four incredible, beautiful children who delight me, vex me, frustrate me beyond words, and will be fodder for many, MANY blog entries in the future. I have the great privilege to be able to stay at home to raise these wonderful little humans (most likely referred to hereafter as 'the hobbitses'), although I am also looking forward to the day when diapers are a memory and the littlest hobbit is in school :)

I am also a businesswoman. I run a home-based business whose company philosophy is in keeping with my own beliefs. I may blog about that here, or not. I maintain a business blog for that purpose as well.

I've wanted to write for some time, but have been at loose ends as to *what*. I do not have a novel in me; there will be no frantic NaNoWriMo scribblings from me. But I also feel that my voice, my story, and my experiences have merit and may be interesting to someone out there, and so, I take to this digital medium (I can hear my brother crying a little as he writes his novel out long-hand) and for lack of a better term, hang out my shingle.

Thank you for reading this far, please pull up a chair, subscribe to my blog, give me feedback and enjoy the ride!