Archive for September, 2008

Rosebud’s olfactory system.

Tuesday, September 30th, 2008

It is our sacred morning ritual. Rosebud and I go into the bathroom for a snuggle, a potty break (her, not me), and a dressing session.

This morning was no different. Except between the snuggle and the potty, she announced: “Mama! It smells in here!”

Odd. I smelled nothing. No foul winds, no unpleasantness. Then, in that hygiene-paranoid way we all have, I immediately thought ‘oh gawd, is it me? Do I smell bad and just not realize it?’

Not able to leave it alone, I say, “What does it smell like, Rosebud?”

She takes a moment, now on the potty, to scent the wind. Her nose crinkles up, and she pinches the bridge of it, as though performing some kind of scent filtering experiment.

At length, she replies. “It smells like fresh hair, Mama.”

This makes sense to me, since Buddy always showers before he wakes me up. I smile and prepare to move on.

“And nice dinner. Yewr dinner, Mama.”

. . .

Yup. She stumped me on that one, too.

The lighter side of divorce.

Monday, September 29th, 2008

Okay, so how often does a person get to write such a title? How often does a person get to even consider a lighter side to divorce?

Not often.

But as it happens, Buddy and I just spent a rather entertaining (though fruitless) fifteen minutes discussing divorce.

You see, he and I are both in the final stages of completing our respective divorces. Pen strokes away. It depends on the lawyers and the courts now, as to which of us hits the finish line first. This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation, but now, we’ve decided we want to put something on the outcome.

Thing is, we cannot figure out what to put on it. Money is silly, since it’s communal money. Sex is equally silly, since well . . . frankly, we have too much of it to make a bet out of it. I know, that’s way too much information, but there you have it. Can’t bet on a sure thing.

So I told him I’d ask the blogosphere. And now, I put it to you. What’s a good reward/forfeit for achieving the divorce finish line first?

Because I’se getting old.

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

You know, this process of getting older is largely a very undignified one. It’s not the wrinkles that bother me (they honestly don’t), or even the grays (on the top of my head). It’s the odds and ends you never think about.

Like your ankles, protesting high heels. Or your back protesting after a simply cooking episode.

Or your jaw starting to click and crack when you eat, talk, yawn, stretch or yodel.*

The double-whammy to this circumstance is that all these little mini bodily breakdowns occur while I’m in the midst of working full time and trying to raise a family. Which means I don’t have a lot of extra time. And what extra time I have doesn’t tend to go to personal maintenance. Unless I’ve got a body part on fire. In which case, I might be persuaded that it requires attention.

I’m a big fan of the quick and easy remedies, these days. Even if they’re not the perfect solution, I’m prepared to give them a whirl. If they require little to no time and even less expense, I’m all over them like a hobo on a ham sandwich.

Yesterday, I picked up a “do it yer damned self” mouthguard. I don’t grind my teeth, as far as I know. But I do clench them, and my jaw is beginning to hurt on a daily basis.

So this little plastic thing required a fair bit of DIY chemistry, complete with boiling water and a timer to beep at me when the precise number of seconds had elapsed. After I’d done the chemistry part, I got to stick the squishy bits against my teeth and suck (as per the directions) for the next allotment of seconds.

It seemed really damned sketchy, this process. I’m supposed to stick this magically glutinous stuff against my teeth and hope to hell that it doesn’t cause an immediate tumor to form.

Sounds like fun!

But, to be honest, the thing worked quite nicely. It fits against my teeth perfectly and I was able to fall asleep without any problems.

Once Buddy finished laughing himself stupid, of course. And after he finished trying to get me to lisp tongue-twisters (requests that were responded to with a flipped middle finger only, lest my dignity shattered by a lisped “fawk *slurp* u”).

We’ll see if it helps. It’s not hindering, which is a start.

But I gotta tell ya, I’m getting awfully sick of the various ailments and injuries my body offers up these days. What ever happened to the common cold? Isn’t it the physical equivalent of the little black dress, or has it been packed away in favour of these new, designer ailments?

Sigh.

*K, I don’t do this normally. But if I did, my career would be over.

Applying the teflon coating to your children.

Tuesday, September 23rd, 2008

I was talking to Buddy last night, and musing about whether or not I was a pushover as a parent. I asked this because I was laying on our bed at 6:15, listening to the angry Rosebud howls emanating from her room, where, after a fun-filled evening of screaming, misbehaving and generally being an all around Grade A toddler, she was placed for an early bedtime.

I asked because I was laying there, feeling mushed and put through the mill, and terribly sad about having put her to bed.

I came to the conclusion, after going in to see her once she’d stopped crying (to provide her with a facewiping and a story), that what we do is gentle, but not soft. Not soft, because it took all my mental energy not to go charging back into her room to let her out, soothing her outrage and tears. Caving in - now that’s soft.

I also realized that we tend to use social consequence as a parenting model. This is not something I studied, and for all I know, doesn’t actually exist as a parenting model. But to me, it makes sense. It’s not the same as “natural consequences”, in that I’m not interested in letting the girls run into the street to discover why it’s a bad idea. Nor am I willing to let them experiment with any of the other things for which there is an obvious (to the adult eye) and likely painful “natural” consequence.

But somehow, letting the social consequences of their actions be known makes sense to me. After all, what are we trying to do with children but explain to them the rules that govern our society? I mean, sometimes we go out of our way to teach children things that are *not* part of the current social norm, and I do embrace that. I believe parents should look at social norms with a critical eye, though with a certain level of pragmatism, too. You cannot “unschool” children to such a degree that they have no link to the community at large. Well, you can, but I don’t want to see these childrens’ therapy bills for later in life, assuming they’re not being paid for by the state or federal penal institutions. 

For the behaviours demonstrated in children that are unacceptable or undesireable in society (tantrums, hitting, biting, whining), you provide the social consequence. Not the harshest social consequence, which would be bad. And scarring. And downright mean. But something more of the neutral.

In other words: shunning.

Shunning has been a tool used by societies around the world for hundreds of years in small communities. Because everyone in the community is so interrelated and interdependant, this act of denial or distancing is felt quite profoundly. 

And so it is within the microcosm of the home. 

It’s a very simple and short methodology and I find that (for the most part) it works. If you’re screaming and yelling, I don’t talk to you (unless you calm down). If you are hitting, you are simply kept out of my proximity (this will clearly stop working when either girl starts topping me height-wise. Hopefully it won’t be necessary by then). 

It’s a hard road, raising children. I’m constantly aware of needing to equip them for the larger world. Sometimes, it feels like a race against time to give them the tools they need before they need them.

Talking with some girlfriends last weeked about it, there were any number of assertions about how to protect your children from the big bad world.

One of my girlfriends suggested that knowledge was what they needed.

My response? “You could be the most ignorant girl in the class, if you’ve got self-esteem, you’re still not going let anyone smack you down.”

I mean, I value knowledge and seek to impart it wherever I can for these girls. But frankly, if I had to put all my eggies in one basket, I’d be self-esteem. I’m banking on it being the thing that keeps them as safe as they can be.

Hope I’m not wrong.

For the first time in my adult life.

Monday, September 22nd, 2008

In my lunch today was a Wagon Wheel.

One taste of it and I could smell  boiled hot dogs and faux orange drink, which all brought me back to the excitement that was hot dog days at school.

Wagon Wheels. Retro comfort food at it’s finest.

What’s up, Intarweb?

Friday, September 19th, 2008

Juniper and I went on a little surfing trip last night. Anyone who knows or knows of the prairies will understand that this must be virutal surfing - and it was.

It’s a little known global fact that Canada is also holding national elections right now. Whilst I might be tempted to leap onto this hobby horse and take it down the home stretch*, I won’t. It’s not worth it. Clearly, we’re outmanned, womaned, pitbull with lipsticked and most importantly, out media’d by our southern neighbours.

We give.

However, I didn’t want this opportunity to pass by our little household the way it’s passed the rest of the world by. I wanted to start teaching the election process to Juniper and Rosebud (mostly Juniper this time around). See, I spent a few maddening years working around politicians, and whatever else I might say (vent, agonize, angst, rant) about that time, I can tell you this with a certainty - the importance of actually voting, “exercising my franchise” and educating myself on the relevant issues - that was the best takeaway I could’ve had.

I’m now fairly passionate about voting and the process, and want to educate my girls on the subject, so they are never intimidated by it.

So I trundled along on the net for a while last night, trying to come up with good information. Surprisingly (to me, at least), I couldn’t find much by way of information intended for children abou democracy. Sure there were lots of heartfelt exhortations to *teach* your children, one or two lists of the things you should think about *before* you talk to childre about it, but not one site or article for kids on the subject.

Our second surfing trip turned up the same results.

The search that time was for feminism.

Can anyone tell me why this doesn’t exist? I mean, I honestly expected to find a significant number of things on the subject. Mostly American, I expected, but certainly at least useful items.

Nothing. I’m certain there must be books and formal teaching modules for it, but no layperson’s website, or interested child group. or even governmental site owned such information.

Strange.

Maybe it’s just my poor google-fu skills. Maybe I didn’t use the right magic combination of words. But I was damned disappointed.

I gave Juniper an explanation that I hope made sense for her. I’m not a natural teacher, so the ability to pick out the right words and the right paths of thought are something of a cipher to me.

Still, both girls will be coming with me to the poll station, I hope. So at least they’ll see the action in progress.

*That made me sound a bit pervy, didn’t it?

A blog post about blog posting.

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

Because I haven’t been doing much of it lately. I’ve got ideas swirling around in my head, and half-started posts as far as the eye can see. But I seem to be lacking the time to fully execute these notions.

I guess I should be used to the cycle of blogging by now. It runs smooth and steady for months on end, and then suddenly, it’s like your mind decides to switch off, or move to another target (oooh, shiny!) or generally refuse to cooperate with the process.

Arsehole.

And then the inspiration rights itself, the brain comes back online and all is well, like there was never a break.

So until the damned cranium reorders itself into something better behaved and blog ready, here I’ll be. Reading, thinking, doing some bits of writing when the muse strikes. But largely just kinda wandering around the living room of the blogosphere, inspecting the furniture.

Random Monday

Monday, September 15th, 2008

I am really grooving to the new Kings of Leon CD. That man-child’s voice is like sex on a platter. And somehow, it all makes me long for something. I have no idea what, but it’s a weird ache of melancholy or homesickness.

 I think music, when executed very well,  is meant to do that.

 In other random news, I have a mount!*

(*WoW business. I needed to post it, but it’s really of no interest to anyone but me.)

Random household tip, brought to you by allergies.

Friday, September 12th, 2008

Did you know that Visine works very well as a protector against the inevitable tears that ensue  chopping onions?

And to think, I’ve actually tried holding a match in my mouth to prevent it.

Who knew?

In lieu of content. . .

Tuesday, September 9th, 2008

Because I’ve been running at top speed cursing myself for even daring to make a hair appointment rushing to the appointment getting a lovely haircut realizing I didn’t bring my wallet with me doing the walk of shame home making dinner seeing dentists being crushed under a sixteeen ton-load of work inhaling spicy noodle soup as I flip through Christmas cards making gym bags from scratch contending with the moods of a three year old and generally keeping just the tip of my nose above the water of life (thank you Dune), I have only this to say - an excerpt from a conversation with Buddy’s mom about raising children:

In the end, you hope that equipping them with good skills and giving them positive memories will prevent them from becoming axe-weilding psychopaths, but I don’t think you can really assume that, no matter how you raise them.
 
I’ve heard that theory about benign neglect, and to some degree, I think it makes sense. Give them the room for it, and they’ll grow. Give them a loving place to start from, and they’ll leave it with confidence.
 
Also ties in nicely to my assertion that our house is not run by democracy but through benevolent dictatorship.

(is that last bit meglomanical or common sense? You decide . . . )