Lost & Found

I never lose things, at least not important stuff like wallets or expensive jewelry and maybe I am tempting fate by saying this but recently I did lose a necklace that I love. It was made by a talented friend of mine and when one of the pearl beads fell off she offered to fix it. She gave it back to me and I stuck it in my ski jacket pocket and promptly forgot about it until I wanted to wear it and couldn't find it. I looked in my coat pockets, in all the nooks and crannies in the car (don't even want to mention what else I found there) but to no avail. It was gone. Finally I was about to confess to my Other Half who had bought it for me as a Christmas present when a neighbour asked me if I had one of Katie's necklaces. I said yes and she said that she had found one on her front porch. At first she thought it was hers as a group of us had been to a jewelry party and had bought the same design but hers was still sitting on her dresser. Luckily she thought of asking everyone who had been at the party. I must have dropped it out of my pocket one day when I was taking her dog and mine out for a play. Of all the places it could have fallen out thank goodness it was there.

Of course my tale of lost and found is nothing compared to my sister's one of dropping her school ring on a portage in the middle of Algonquin Park and having it returned to her a month later back at her camp.

Have you ever lost something really important and then unbelievably found it later?

My Eight Year Old is Dating

All week Number Two son has been saying things like, "Mum, I need to tell you something." To which I reply, "Yes?" And then he says something like, "Oh nevermind." So I just go on about my day. Finally last night we were in my bed, when he finally gave up on reading and insisted on leaving his Junior James Bond Book on my bedside table which was already covered in my books, mugs of tea, the phone from downstairs and the toenail clippings left behind by Number One's self pedicure. He said that I was to read the note in the book after he had gone to bed but then would I come in and see him once I had read it. So off he went to bed, I continued reading my book ( Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortensen, an amazing story) and every so often he would call, "Have you read the note yet?" Finally I opened a tiny piece of scrap paper and on it he had written in tiny letters, "M. M. is dating me." I couldn't help but smile but I composed myself and climbed into bed beside my little Romeo and ask what the note meant. He said it meant what it said, I asked if it meant they were friends and he replied that yes they were friends and that he didn't want to talk about it.

Guess I'll have to watch out for the little hussy this weekend on the ski hill. She had better not break my baby's heart.

Wordless Wednesday

How do icicles do this?

Day 12 - Another Snow Day

Where is the justice in the fact that in the 12 days that my Other Half has been away we have had four - count 'em - 4 Snow Days?! I would say that three of the four have been pretty lame excuses for cancelling the buses. Why in my day the buses would only be cancelled if the snow was up to the second floor windows, if the ice had brought down the power lines or if my mother decided she could stand to have the three of us at home (then she would tell us the buses were cancelled. Of course, now my kids just go on line to check).

I have to admit that a part of me is happy that I didn't have to make lunches this morning, that it is 9:15am and I am still in my pj's. But it is only 9:15am and the day is stretching out in front of me like a the last mile of a marathon. In fact, I feel like I have run a marathon. 12 days as a single mother, two weekends trundling back and forth to the ski hill and the hockey arena with skis, skates, lunches, the dog and a rowing shell (it was a donation for a fundraiser) and more than a couple of bottles of wine. We made it, everyone is healthy, everyone is still alive and the house is still standing.

So far the boys have ignored their breakfast, cut up my Vanity Fair magazines to make "bobbleheads." This entails cutting out big heads and gluing them onto to paper with small bodies. That craft project lasted exactly 4 minutes before they were off to the basement to make an Obama Mii to play with on the Wii. (As I mentioned in my last post, everyone here in the north was very much taken by President Obama's visit to Ottawa, including my three Obamamaniacs.)

Of course, there are six more hours to go until Dad pulls into the drive and my time in Single Mom Purgatory is over. The plan for the next six hours? Let them play Wii until the fights break out. Send them outside to start shovelling the driveway, "If you don't Daddy might not be able to make it home." Send them across the road to skate on our neighbour's rink. Make a lemon meringue pie for the Welcome Home dinner and force, I mean, encourage the boys to make a Welcome Home banner.

Wish me luck!

Mr Obama Goes to Ottawa

So that's what a leader looks like. Unfortunately he's not our leader, the stiff looking man next to him is. I used to believe the old saying that a country gets the leader they deserve. But if that is true then I rise on a point of order. While the last American administration (which the voters elected twice) ran the country into the ground, letting the banks and big business run amuck, financing a unwinnable war and promoting xenophobia, Canada was quietly paying down our national debt, taking in more refugees than ever before and going about it's business as a responsible member of the new world order. But now America has a charismatic new President who inspires billions of people the world over to have hope, to believe in change while we Canadians are stuck with the same old tired bunch, plodding along, recycling the same old tired policies. I'm sorry but what did we do to deserve this?

I watched Mr. Obama's visit to Parliament Hill yesterday and was surprised by the level of excitement it brought to stuffy old Ottawa. But even Mr. Obama's shining star couldn't rub off on Stephen Harper, our pedestrian, mediaphobic and completely uninspiring Prime Minister. For the last eight years, we Canadians took solace from the fact that we could look down on our neighbours to the south and sadly shake out heads and tsk, tsk as George W. forged a path of destruction through every facet of American society. But now we are the ones stuck with a right wing (by Canadian standards anyways) leader who will barely lower himself to talk let alone, listen to Canadians and when he does he repeats himself. Word for uninspiring word, first in French and then in English. What's the point of similtaneous translation or even that some of us that can understand both of official languages, if you just say the same thing twice. It doesn't make it any more meaningful.

The chances of an Obama-like leader rising up through the mire of Canadian politics is so remote that even the most optimistic of glass half full-types aren't holding their breath. In the meantime we can only hope that Mr. Obama succeeds in his rather daunting task of reinvigorating the American economy because that will help us all. Canada is the US's largest trading partner (which apparently was news to the Fox broadcaster covering the visit yesterday) and while I know that this six hour visit was purely symbolic at least it happened, unlike when George W. visited Mexico on his first foreign trip, snubbing Canadians and setting the tone for his administration's interest, or lack thereof, in anything north of the border. I just hope that Canadians will demand more of our leaders and force them to lead not just ride on Mr. Obama's coat tails. I certainly don't want to have to tell my children that they should sew an American flag on their backpacks when they take their first trip to Europe. But I am glad that my American friends can once again proudly show their flag when they travel, thanks to their new President.

Day 6 and the Piles are Growing

I am a Piler. I make Piles. Piles of clothes on the chair in my room, piles of school forms and mail on the counter, piles of books on my bedside table, piles of papers to be sorted on my desk. Normally when my other half is around I sort and purge regularly so that none of the piles end up taller than our six year old. But with the Other Half away for 12 days the piles are are growing precarious.

The pile on the kitchen counter has resulted in one phone call from a teacher asking whether Number 2 son will be going on the cross country ski trip day after tomorrow. Of course he is, I was getting to that form. Then my dear husband and business partner called with a question about a customer's order. I know that piece of paper is somewhere - in the pile. The problem is that now there is more than one pile on my desk and when the piles start to reproduce I know I am in trouble.

The pile in my bedroom and the laundry pile in Number 1 son's room can be rectified easily by doing the laundry but then I am really only trading dirty clothes piles for clean clothes piles and we all still have nothing to wear. The pile on my desk is the biggest problem, if I don't get through it before Monday then my Other Half will know that I have spent far too much time blogging while he was away and not enough time working. That is the downside of being married to your co-worker as I am finding out - there are no secrets, unless I can hide them in one of the piles.

Days 3, 4 & 4 - Happy Family Day

I just finished writing a long email to my sister-in-law who was on Day 9 of kids home sick and I am on Day 5 of 12 with my other half away. My email subject was "Cid's Perfectly Horrible Very Bad Day" My 3 boys had been tag-teaming me on who could be the most obnoxious, unhelpful and downright mean all weekend. They all got the prize. I barely survived the long weekend with Monday being the second year of "Family Day" in Ontario. How ironic that while I was supposed to be celebrating with my love on Valentine's Day and then with my children and their father (who is, in fact, the same guy as my love) on Family Day, I was barely keeping my head above the depths of the Single Motherhood ocean. The entire weekend revolved around the boys. But then what weekend doesn't? They had to be at the hill for ski lessons, they had to be fed constantly, they had to have their skis sharpened and waxed for their races (not in any way shape or form part of my job description) and they had to have their friends over and their friends' parents which was a nice diversion but by 9pm on Sunday night I was so damn tired all I could say to my guests was, "there is another bottle in the fridge, I have to go to bed now."

But as my mother always said, there is nothing that can't be made better than by a good sleep. Actually my mother never said anything remotely that corny but it is true. I woke up Monday morning to the sun shining in (finally the days are getting noticeably longer) and my guests making the kids breakfast.

At least the weather smartened up and the sun shone all day and we were all able to sit out on the deck and eat fondue and drink beer while the kids skied their faces off.

I guess what I have been trying to say in a very round-about way is that we have to remember we are not alone in our little worlds of motherhood. Somewhere out there someone else is cleaning up barf for the umteenth time, screaming for them to stop fighting and pouring another glass of wine and ignoring the crash from the playroom. Once again I say, thank you to all you other bloggers out there sharing your tales of woe and wonder and leaving me encouraging comments. Only 6 more days to go.