October 23, 2009 · Filed under Uncategorized

If I knew how to make this a subtitle for this page, I would.

“What goes on inside is just too fast and huge and all interconnected for words to do more than barely sketch the outlines of at most one tiny little part of it at any given instant.”

 From “Good Old Neon,” a story from 2001 quoted in ‘The Unfinished David Foster Wallace’s struggle to surpass “Infinite Jest.”’by D. T. Max March 9, 2009  New Yorker Magazine March 9, 2009

 Infinite Jest has altered my beliefs about what good writing is. It gives me permission to expand my abilities

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Perfect bliss

September 28, 2009 · Filed under Girls

Is there really anything I can write that expresses how great it feels to have little arms around my neck after two weeks away?

The big one woke up as the cab dropped me off from the airport. She wanted to know how I had got home. I picked her up and carried her into the other room (so as not to disturb her little sister). Her dad quickly darted in and moved the basket of clean laundry off the big soft rocking chair, and set the light down low for us. J kept her arms tightly linked behind my head, even after we sat down, until she was fully awake, and sure, from searching inspection of my face, that I was really there.

 Then she grilled me about all the modes of transportation I had experienced – from leaving Grandma’s house to arriving home. After that lengthy discussion, and some just plain cuddling, I convinced her that she’d be more comfortable stretched out with her blanket and bear. It wasn’t too hard a sell, since her eyes were already closing; so I took her back to bed.

 That woke up her little sister. All she said was three words: “Mama?”; then, softer: “Mama….”; and finally, with delight, but still quietly: “Mama!” – with a great sigh of relief. As I carried her to the rocking chair, her sleepy arms drooped in an attempt to encircle my neck and her heavy head bobbed on my shoulder. Sitting in the chair, she blissfully snuggled her head in, under my chin, tucked her arms in between us and exhaled loudly, clearly deeply satisfied with her position in the world.

 We rocked for a while. I just inhaled the delicious sleepy scent of my little girl- such a short time ago my baby- aware of what a blessing our every synchronized breath was. I could feel her weight, heavier in my arms and see the fringe of her hair, closer to her eyes, just in the short time I was away. She had changed, so had her sister, and so had I, but we were, forever and ever, a mama and her daughters. They were happy and healthy, strong and beautiful. They loved me still, even if I had been away too long.

 In the stillness of that dark night I was clearly the luckiest woman alive.

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More or less awesome

August 27, 2009 · Filed under Husband

My husband, nuts as he does drive me, is worthy of note for his many fine characteristics.
He has an enviable talent for concentrated thought. He can strategize several levels ahead of where he is at the moment, holding the outcomes for numerous eventualities in his head at once – a skill learned in true brainiac style: playing chess. He is no lily-livered nerd, though. He is meticulous and capable with tools and materials, engines, motors and machines. He will stand his ground against all comers – and in fact actively pursue an arguement, and win, where right is on the line – especially if he feels the need to protect or defend one of his own.

He is painfully loyal, honest as the day is long and has an ethical streak that causes him no end of grief.

In short, a fine man.

The but, you ask? 
Try living with this paragon. He brooks no quarter, demands that if you need something you stand up for it, and believes there is no job worth doing half-assed.   He has problems valuing the experiential, the esthetic or otherwise non-qualitative. 

Above all, he thinks outside the box, demands more of himself than anyone else, and adores his kids. I’m grateful to have him in my life, and can’t imagine a better father for our children.

I just couldn’t let the previous post stand, unremarked. This living with other humans is difficult, but quality always is.

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Count to ten… deep breath…

August 21, 2009 · Filed under Husband, Pillow talk

My best friend, who writes Mothermind has listed a delightful mama mantra, that asserts, amongst other things, that “I love my husband… So try not to kill him. Or divorce him ” . There’s a statement that bears repeating – a comendable thought, and practice.

But for me, motivation to not irreparably fray the bonds of matrimony lies somewhere closer to :
“Having him as an ex-husband would be much, much worse than this.”

Not the most romantic phrase, perhaps, but there is none truer.

This isn’t, actually, a complaint.  A mere statement of fact.
And one that keeps me from throwing the towel in, when all else seems hopeless.

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Inspiration

August 21, 2009 · Filed under Blogosphere

The blogosphere has been much on my mind.
On July 23 we went to Blog Out Loud, which was a phenomenal. There was such a wide diversity of voices, all with distinct, valuable things to say. Most inspiring. A part of me was wondering what on earth I have to contribute to the greater discussion, but the readings convinced me: my very individuality is worthy of recording and sharing.

 Also at that evening, I had a wonderful conversation with a blogger who was forced by court order to take her blog down – by the father of her child. We got on great. She proposed a blog title: Blog Like You’ve Never Been Subpoenaed.* That single sentence relieved my other great concern – privacy.

I mean, I know just how easy it would be to identify me, for this to be found, and read, by my bosses, collaborators, neighbours, nurses, postman… Anyone could know much more about me than I knew they knew. Can I live with that and still publish?

Following Blog Out Loud I began to wonder if I could live with the idea that because of the possibility of being known, I wasn’t publishing.

I have long applied the notion that the things you regret most are those that you do not do. The foregone option, the indecision, the road not taken, have all been the most lamented.  

 I don’t want to miss this chance to record my life right now, share it with others, and participate in one of the great evolutions of communication. And besides, I want to have some credibility when I get to BlogHer in NEW YORK CITY. (Less than a year away!)

So I determined I would, in earnest, blog.

May the saints protect me.

 That was more than a month ago. I managed to busy myself with other projects. Writing erotica has its benefits: when you tell people you are writing porn, they never ask to read it. Seriously though, I promised myself I’d get something done at work before I was “allowed” to focus on this project, and I did, so I am.

 Now that I have moment, what was it that I going to say?

My good friend is doing fabulous stuff with Mothermind. Her awesomeness is almost as apparent in her writing as in having the pleasure of knowing her for years. I commend her site to you. Be warned, you may see some stolen themes herein in the near future. I consistently impressed at her candor and creativity.

* (Copy this at your won peril – I’m not at liberty to identify her, but I bet she’d want author’s credit on this one – or first rights to use it. And clearly, she is now familiar with the legal system.)

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Plan A B C D E …. R

August 21, 2009 · Filed under Husband, house, moosilaneous

Well, Internets, since my last installment, things went somewhere hot in a handbasket, house-plan wise, but after a very long last night, we have a plan again.
We’re moving.
Purchases pending, but it’s looking like there are options.
That probably sounds too optimistic. Coming to grips with the fact that all our original plans are not doable was a bit of a watershed. I’m trying to hold on to the belief  that we should be proud of accomplishing a compromise.
That is not to say there haven’t been a lot of disappointments and angry, hurt feelings along the way.

And not to say that all things are rosey, but maybe,  just maybe, this is a good thing.

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Wherein I try not to apologize for not posting

July 15, 2009 · Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged , ,

My friend has finally succumbed to the pressure and has started a blog. That is, the pressure of me sending awesome bits I comb from the internet when I clearly should be doing something else, not that my actual blogging provides an example to emulate.
Some updates to get this thing a little more current:

Things chez treehouse are ridiculously good. We’re on to a completely different set of projects. After a spring wherein we looked at other places to live, we settled on plan A – taking down part of our house to build a new one on the lot. The first step of this plan was to move the basement stairs to an outside access which, through the crass incompetence of certain contractors, led to the utter destruction of our backyard. The words STINKING MUDHOLE are used, in caps, in my conversation far too often.

Little A, who will be 2 this month, says it much more cutely: “BEEEEG Messs!”

But other than that, things are actually good. BH is stressed by aforesaid contractor, and that contractor’s replacement, but seems to thrive in that state.

J is remarkably calm these days, she is, if anything, too intent on being helpful and doing things for her little sister. The storms of misery still come but they are merely showers – over pretty fast.

A is as cute as a button, and forming formidable three- and four- word sentences, like: “Mama help bib. No [J] help bib.” Her storms of fury are gone for now, replaced with the most plaintive sadness ever heard if she really wants her way.

And me, well, I have a new job, since April, with more responsibility, and great colleagues and bosses. I traveled home to see my mom when she had a health crisis last month; that week, having only one human to look after, with no need for help toileting, was practically a vacation.

And now, it is July. I am trying to get fit and lose the weight I put on last fall. At work, I’m finding it hard to concentrate again, but otherwise, I simply can’t complain.

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Paycheque envy

February 11, 2009 · Filed under moosilaneous · Tagged

The other day I was walking the dog in the evening, a job I enjoy when I can do it, despite the cold and treacherous surfaces that our climate provides each winter. It was particularly enjoyable that night as it was unusually mild, the wind had died, and the streets were clear. I ran into a neighbour, just back from a trip south. We shared the usual banter, then he said, “when we retire, we’ll be heading to the warmth for the whole winter”. He made that “we” include me –  obviously it was something my husband and  I would be looking forward to, too.
I would, but I can’t. I started this earning adventure late. Money will always be tight. I doubt I will manage any significant vacations away over my children’s school years, never mind a retirement that includes somewhere warm. I found that hard to stomach.

I’m proud of how I’m managing now, of what I’ve accomplished, but damn, it would be nice to think there would be some real luxuries eventually. I never want to weigh the joy of my children  against what I could have done, but I find myself regretting my earlier choices, the lack of focus that kept me from being gainfully employed till I was forty.

Then today, I came across a piece in an online magazine that really summed it up.

Just when you think you are coming to peace with how your life fits -—the way it drapes across your shoulders or falls over your hips, the way it catches the light when you twirl before the mirror -— is when you’re reminded of how much it cost. It is often when you begin to perceive its beauty, the way your choices and losses have purchased a surprising amount of contentment and even joy that you realize you still owe on the bill.

http://www.literarymama.com/litreflections/essays/

I loved this passage. The rest of the article is on point, too, about the yearning for earnings. The author explains how, despite being grateful for the economic support she found it hard that her husband out-earned her and always would.I feel for her, although my position is quite different. I make more than my husband. I always will. Not much more, but he has years and years of steady work behind him. That seems to makes his career easier for him, so that his work is something he does without the angst mine causes me. Besides the angst of enduring an extensive learning curve at this stage of my life, I have to get used to the harsh realities:  I will never do anything particularly stellar in my job; I’ll never be an expert in my field, notable for my leadership or likely even promoted. I thought I had adjusted to that set of realizations. But sometimes, I wish I could have the economic bonuses that could come from that kind of career. Because my career started late, and my kids came so late, too, I won’t ever do those things. We won’t ever have the financial bonuses that would come with them. And every once in a while that makes me a little sad. Even when I am otherwise excessively grateful for the bountiful blessings in my life.

 

 

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The saga continues

December 1, 2008 · Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged

After completely tearing down to the studs, and rebuilding most of the walls and ceiling to make it a) supportive and b) reasonably flat, our living room and halls have two coats of primer and two coats of ceiling paint throughout. BH and I accomplished this feat earlier this week. There had been an awful scene over the paint – I had chosen the brand and colour, based on recommendations from friends and professionals, not realizing the brand had gone to low emission paint – that is, not stinky. BH had heard what a problem low emission paint was to apply – it dries so fast that cutting in to edges and other places where paint meets paint posed real problems. He had warned me not to buy low emission paint. But I didn’t read the label. There was a sign in the store advertising low emission, but I thought that was just another type of paint available, not all of the line I was buying! BH was furious. I just couldn’t get him past it, but he was somewhat mollified when the primer turned out OK.

And then, when we finally got the ceiling paint on, it was awful. BH phoned the store for advice, and even with applying it all in one direction, it left awful streaks across the ceiling. We’ve bought another brand, and are hoping it will cover, but what to do about wall? Risk it or apply something else, resigning ourselves to the loss of bucks for the first paint?
We didn’t have the heart to apply the new stuff. Then a couple of weeks went by, before we had the energy again.

Now the ceiling is truly done, two coats of the new stuff worked fine. But now we have seen areas in the walls needing repair, so those have got to be done before we can finally try to get some colour up. Maybe soon? Well, at least we got a respite this weekend.

This project started in July. We packed up fast because it was going to be done in three weeks. OK, maybe 6, but that was just me being cynical. Here it is December tomorrow. We had to buy the kids new mittens – last years collection are somewhere in behind these other boxes… Sigh.

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Nothing to complain about here

December 1, 2008 · Filed under Uncategorized

The girls are changing really fast right now. A few months ago, I wouldn’t have dreamt of taking J anywhere in public that involved sitting. She was, in my friend Sunshine’s best turn of phrase, a handful. Now, she can manage for a while, and Sunshine’s son is taking his turn running his mom ragged. J is now reasonably co-operative, and only struck by the urge to hit and laugh demoniacally once in a while. She is delighting me with comparing and contrasting, making things up and checking out what is real. Her idea of a joke: I want to eat. What do you want to eat, J? UMMM, Medecine. Really….no, no you don’t, you’re fooling. HAHAHA!

Meanwhile, A is more willful than before, and she actually objects to the world not going her way- from which direction she wants to walk, to being put down at bedtime. She bellows astoundingly loudly. But then, it’s over, and her former adorable spirit shines through. She is NOT a handful, just a rather, um, determined child at times. The rest of the time – well, she actually listens, co-operates, and gives many, many kisses. She still pulls up the blanket and goes to sleep pretty much instantaneously most times, grateful to be in her bed. Cutey!

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