What's Next?

"Whereas Canada is founded upon principles..."

I have made many critical parenting mistakes over the years.  I'm not proud; no one told me the rules.  Most of these errors in judgement can be traced back to my idealistic thoughts on how one should raise a human being which, to be honest, were developed prior to me actually reproducing.

That's right, I was the perfect parent until I actually had a child.

One of these stupid ideas was that a child should be able to, with respect, express his or her opinions in any circumstance.  Yes, children should be able to share their opinions:  translation; talk back.  I'm an idiot.

I thought that by encouraging this free flow of perspective, I would be raising the next Nelson Mandela or Rachel Carson; encouraging the flourishing of their self-worth so that they would always be able to stand up for themselves and their beliefs.

Or, more realistically, I would fail to curb the inane, self-righteous rantings of an egomaniacal teenaged girl.

Taryn-the-16-year-old-girl is currently grounded; for life.

A brief overview of the circumstances will most certainly justify my position.

At times, I  have to leave town for work, to teach, learn, participate, have a date, whatever.  I have been a shift worker forever and single-parenting for years.  With some fairly strict guidelines rules, my children are quite adept at staying on their own for a few days at a time.

Rule #1:  No one will be in the house except those who live here and any required emergency service personnel, at all, ever.

Misinterpretation of rule #1 resulted in six of Taryn's close, personal friends and their friends in my house post-hot tub party around one in the morning, slightly inebriated.  Things went missing, Taryn told me that someone had broken into the house while she was innocently sleeping, I called the police, the truth trickled out over the subsequent two weeks.  That's the Reader's Digest version and much less painful than what I went through, trust me.

Children who were raised appropriately would be scuttling around under the radar; housecleaning, doing homework,  getting along with siblings, sucking up.  Not my girl!

Taryn has vehemently cited human rights and freedoms, fair retribution according to a jury of her peers and statistics addressing incidents most likely to destroy  mother-daughter relationships.

My life is so unfair.

Made Me Cry..... Twice

Almost Autumn

A most excellent excuse to go walking instead of running.

WooHoo!

Take a picture.... or..... call 9-1-1.

If I were a responsible parent, what would I do?

BTW.... Liam says "WooHoo" is lame.  Evil, critical Son of Satan who, incidentally, did not have any better ideas.

Want Quality? Buy Canadian!

Did you know that the strength and density of Canadian made copper pipe is world renowned?  It is so strong, in fact, that it takes specialized cutters to get through it.  Specialized cutters that most Emergency Rooms don't carry.

So, when a 4-year-old boy decides to slip a couple of pieces of scrap pipe onto his fingers while helping his Dad (the plumber) and, Mom has already tried to pull them off with everything in the house from butter to personal lubricant; the local hospital is not likely to be a quick fix.  To remove the copper pipe from what, by then, have become two small sausages, it actually takes three medical professionals, sedation, one maintenance guy, ice water, a ring cutter, tape, thread, three different sizes of metal shears, a cast cutter, more water to cool off the cast blade, a spreader and, eventually a couple of stitches, bandages and about two hours.

I don't often discuss work stuff because of that whole "patient confidentiality" thing but  every parent can empathize with this one.  And, most of us can look back on our day and say, well, at least I didn't do that.

Postal Employees and My Safety

Living in a small town, I have no mailbox attached to the side of my house or at the end of my street or any of those other convenient places.  We take a key into a small Canada Post building on the main street, nestled amongst the other businesses:  a skateboard/kool dude shop (totally going out of business), a windshield replacement shop (thriving and most certainly giving kick-backs to the asshole who hand picks super-sharp pieces of gravel for our winter roads), the pharmacy/home decor/scrapbooking shop, the animal feed/more home decor shop and the video rental/cafe.  From Toronto to this, what the hell was I thinking?

The only home delivery items I receive from Canada Post are boxes that the senders have specified and paid for "all the way up the mountain and directly into her hands" delivery.  The delivery person is a little older than God, weighs about 84 pounds and drives some sort of very small hatchback; perhaps a Gremlin or a Pinto.

The point, yes, getting there.

One of my good friends from my Glory Days (grades 5-7) got me sucked in signed up with Mel****ca (notice that there is no link because I think it's a pyramid scheme and they won't let me quit).  If I don't place my minimum order each month, they send me stuff that they think I should have.  They think they know me.  If they knew me, I would not have accumulated nine months worth of vitamins, minerals and hand lotion.

The Tangent:

So, my first time trying to quit, she told me that she would change my monthly default order to whatever I wanted and send me a monthly reminder email in case I wanted to change my order.  Now that the company had effectively addressed my reason for quitting, I couldn't quit.  I ever so meekly said thank you, have a nice day and hung up the phone.

I waited a couple of weeks and called back, hoping to get someone else on the phone (nope) and tried to quit again.  Considering how many times I have phoned some company and begged unsuccessfully to speak to the same person that I had explained my problem to, fifteen minutes earlier, this should have been a no-brainer.  That is not the way of my world.  I was talking to the same chipper little harpie who was so excited to be able to help me again.  I told her that I felt that I had wasted soooo much money because I have all of these unused items taking up valuable space in my modest home.  She told me with the most pleasant smile in her voice that there was no problem.  She was happy to authorize a complete exchange of my unused items for any of their wonderful products that would be of more use to me.

I boxed up 18 bottles of vitamins and minerals at about 3 ounces each and exchanged each one for two bottles of liquid laundry detergent at around 10 pounds each.  Monetarily equivalent:  weight, not so much.

And this is how we come full circle back to our our very small postal lady, her under-sized car and my home on the side of a cliff.  Six boxes delivered over two days each weighing roughly 40 pounds.  After the first two deliveries, I told her, "Just honk, I'll come out and get them."  But, no, martyrdom is her way.  After the second two deliveries, she forced a smile and said, "So, how many more do you have coming?"  I squirmed and shrugged.

The final two deliveries, she didn't even knock.  I found them on the porch with holes kicked in the sides.

Christmas is going to suck this year.

When Did This Happen?

I am now officially the parent of two teenagers and I'm only 23.... I think.

Liam turned thirteen today.  This was a special day.  Unlike most typical school days where I aspire to yell timekeeper updates from bed, I got up this morning and made him a breakfast wrap.  I yelled and sang Happy Birthday throughout the house.  I gave him a big hug and a kiss (watched him cringe) and asked him what time he would like me to deliver a classroom full of Birthday Cupcakes!

"MOMMMMM!!"

I might as well have asked him to give up a kidney for how well that suggestion went over.

Each year that their birthdays have fallen on a school day, I have delivered cupcakes to their classrooms; because I'm the coolest Mom EVER!  I asked Taryn what year she stopped letting me do this; she said grade 8.

"So, grade 8 was the last year I delivered or, grade 8 was the first year you wouldn't let me do it?  Liam's in grade 8 now and I want to know if I can push this one more time."

Taryn, "Mom, let it go."

Me, "OK, I was just asking.  Because, if I got to take them to you in grade 8...."

"Mom, let it go."

Yet another integral part of parenthood has been ripped from my talons.  Last year, he wouldn't allow me to hold his hand to cross the street safely and now this.

I'm going to drown my sorrows in a glass of red wine.  May as well just pour him one, too.

Where the Road to Financial Freedom Begins

I have made the most amazing discovery!

Wait, my eyes are welling up.

The Public Library.

Right here.  In the Village of Fruitvale.  And; I've heard that they're everywhere; not just in my little haven of the world.

Liam-the-12-year-old-boy (until tomorrow when he turns into an evil teenager), has been assigned fifteen minutes of reading each and every night.  Last year it was ten minutes.  Not a big jump, per se, except that this year's teacher has recommended that he branch out to books beyond his regular reading set.  That's right, no more Archie Comics.

His English teacher last year was a great teacher and an even greater lover of sports.  Liam is really good at sports.  Liam was allowed to read Archie Comics.  His great throwing arm will buy him no favours this year.

He told me that for his first venture into the world of picture-free literature, he would like to read the Lemony Snicket books; a series of thirteen fantasy adventures.  I told him that I thought that was a fabulous choice and that I would order them from Chapters immediately.

Liam; "But, Mom, I can get them from the Library, for free."

Me; "The Library?  Free?  Tell me more about this Library of which you speak."

Liam, eye roll; "I asked you a year ago to come with me and sign for my card.  It's a block away."

Me; "Really?"

Liam; "Yeah, you drive by it every day.  It's right between our house and, like, the rest of the world."

I could live without the condescending attitude, little shit.  Never forget that I know where you sleep.

To the Library we went.

While we waited for our Library cards to be processed, we both looked around.  The book I am currently reading, Death of a Dissident, there, for free.  Magazines that I normally purchase for between $5 and a thousand dollars each (you know the ones, they take 42 minutes to read cover to cover), there, current, free.

This momentous discovery is sure to be the road to my financial freedom.  Oh, the money I will save.

The Funniest Thing EVER - Just Ask a Boy

New Camera is Still a Novelty

This is a test of the teenage vegetable detection system.

1. Spinach 
2. Zucchini 
3. Chicken 
4. Peanut Sauce 
5. Hot Peppers 
6. Carrots 
7. Green/Red/Yellow Peppers 
8. Tomatoes

If you put it all between a crust and cheese, is it still a pizza?

Yes, it is.