Wish List For the Weekend

A long weekend is looming and as of this moment in time ... I have committed myself to absolutely nothing. And it feels great.

The weekend is an empty slate and I'm loving this feeling of freedom as I add and erase the possibilities of what this weekend could bring.

My wish list (in no particular order, but perhaps dwelling a little heavily on me-time):

• Have a 'cat day'. A day where I find a sun beam, a book, a good movie and a cup of coffee. A day to doze in and out of consciousness. A day to grab a blanket and pull my head under the covers from time to time.
• Indulge myself in an out-of-home-experience that does not involve picking up milk, groceries, getting gas, changing oil or picking up a shovel. I would love to follow where ever the road takes me and simply do little things that make me happy. Find a coffee companion. See a movie on a whim. Just a day to follow where the wind blows.
• Tend to some minor maintenance and organization and cleaning issues that are staring me down every single day. The two-way tape that is holding down the mats at the front door is lifting. The spare bedroom is accumulating clutter and the bed has become my newest storage area. This house needs to be scrubbed from top to bottom. And I have no idea where to start. Maybe I'll start with a 'cat day' ...
• Meet up with some friends. There never seems to be time. We have been talking about doing something all summer. Then the summer got busy. So we said "September ...". But September passed by in a blur. October came and went. Now we are saying "This weekend". It will happen. And it will be good. Because we have waited so long for this. Waited for a time when we have the time to savor a relaxing and fun meeting of the minds.
• Take my Youngest Son to a movie. Let him drive us there and back. Do whatever the day allows us to do. Act as though we have all the time in the world ...
• Absorb the quiet of the morning and go where ever my fingers take me. I am so very tired of writing like I have a deadline. Which I do. Because whatever doesn't get written before 7:30 a.m., tends not to be written at all. I simply want to see where a relaxed morning will take me. The sad part is ... I think that it is going to take me right into the 'cat day' that I so long to have.

No. I don't see 'work' anywhere on this list. I should work one day. She needs me to work a minimum of one day. I cannot offer more than a day. But I should work one day out of three. One day of work out of an entire long weekend equals two days off. A weekend. I haven't had a weekend off since Thanksgiving ...

I don't want to start a list because once I start, I will feel limited as to what I can actually accomplish. I need to feel like this weekend is open to all possibilities. So I am going to start with 'nothing' and see where it takes me.

Happy Friday! It feels very good to actually anticipate a weekend. I'm off to enjoy this anticipation mode for as long as it lasts ...

A Quiet Presence

I rolled over in the night and my foot brushed lightly upon the cat who was sleeping (unbeknownst to me) at the foot of my bed.

Our Junior Cat weighs in at over twelve pounds and looks like a big, black panther as he makes his way through our home. What amazes me about this big hulk of a cat, is that he can jump up on something and land as lightly as a feather.

He was too frightened and skittish to jump up on my bed for the first many months that he lived with us. His comfort zone was in my Youngest Son's room and he was very at home within the comfort of that room. On the bed, under the bed, on the couch, in the 'cat house' My Son made out of cardboard boxes. My Youngest Son's room is like a 'home free' zone to our Junior Cat. It is his haven.

Lately, Junior Cat has been gracing me with his presence in the wee hours of the morning. I have turned on the TV to lull me back to sleep and spotted the silhouette of our big, black kitty at the foot of my bed. If he knows I'm awake, he comes up to me and likes it if I pet him. He never snuggles. His relationship is very stand-offish and he likes to be the one who make all the moves.

More recently, I have woke up to find Junior Cat right beside my head, waiting for me to wake up. He isn't a purring sort of cat but often his purrs (at least for me) come early in the morning during those first waking moments. It is as if his guard is down and his purr sneaks out. It is a special time, so I lay there and soak it up when I can.

I think that My Youngest is Junior Cat's chosen person. But he likes me too. He really does. So when I find him 'snuggled' in bed with me (I've never seen a cat that can sleep soundly so close to the edge of a piece of furniture), it makes my heart happy.

Last night, in the middle of the night ... I felt his soft coat of fur as my foot grazed over him. He is a quiet presence but it fills me up inside.

It makes me think of the sense of comfort that I feel when no one else is around. Like quiet presence of our little panther cat who can make such gentle landings that you have no idea he is around ... I feel safe and protected in this little world of mine. It is a happy place to be.

I Am So Over You, Make Up!

As the day wore long yesterday, I quietly bemoaned the before-I-can-go-to-bed list of must-do-items still on my plate.

"Wash my face" topped the list. My mom laughed at me during some late-night conversation (it must have been getting close to 8:00 p.m.) when I sighed with a dramatic flair of exhaustion, "And I still have to wash my face!"

Long ago, in a faraway land I read a story about a man and a wife. The wife said to her husband, "I am going to bed." She then proceeded to make lunches, pick up the scattered items that littered the way to her destination, said good-night to the kids, talked with them, remembered to write something down on her list, watered the plants, grabbed what she needed to remember to take out the door with her in the morning. Then ... she washed her face, applied her night cream, brushed her teeth, cleaned the bathroom behind her and as she finally made her way to her room, she pulled out what she was going to wear the next day and got ready for bed, checked the alarm (and I'm sure that I missed out at least a dozen other things she may have done). And ... she went to bed. A short while later, her husband stood up and exclaimed to no one in particular, "I am going to bed". And he did.

Ever since I read that all-knowing piece of literature, I have strived to just be a man and simply "go to bed" at the end of my day.

This is harder than it appears. Because every single thing 'that wife' did must still be done at some point in the day. So I strive (all day) to make my going-to-bed-hours as simple as possible. I simply cannot wait for the social part of my day to end so that I can wash off my make up, brush my teeth and do whatever pre-bedtime maintenance is required. I call it 'getting my head ready for bed'.

Last night, my last daycare charge was not picked up until 7:00 p.m. ('thanks' for the [lack of] phone call, Mom). I needed milk. I told My Youngest we could go out for a drive (in an abandoned parking lot - we have just received our first official snow of the season). We were standing in line to pay for our 'milk'. My comment to the cashier (upon seeing the grand total of my cart) was "Gee! Milk has gotten expensive! I came here to buy milk and it cost $114.29!!". Obviously I should buy my milk somewhere cheaper. But those stores don't come with a large portion of their parking lot vacant, so a learner driver can practise driving in the snow.

Eventually we got home. It took two of us three trips (it would have been two, except we 'had' to stop and buy supper. Who can cook a meal at that ungodly hour??) to unload the 'milk' from the car.

It was after 8:00 and I started thinking "... and I still have to get my head ready for bed.....". Then I recalled the events of my morning. I had a shower. I fussed with my hair. I got dressed. I cleaned cat litter. I did a myriad of pre-daycare-opening preparation activities. But I had no recollection of putting on make up that very morning. I (eventually) looked in the mirror. Sure enough. I had forgotten to put on any eye and cheek enhancing colors that particular morning. And people still saw me. In fact when I told this exciting fact (it meant that I didn't have to wash that make up off at the end of the night) to my Youngest Son, he told me "You don't look any different without make up". He continued "Some people put on more make up than they should. Others put it on and you can't even tell. Either way, it is a waste of money." And time, I silently added.

I could use that extra five minutes in the morning and five minutes at night to do other much more important things. Like sleep. Or write. Or find enough bobby pins to tame down my unruly hair (my three-month old hair cut has finally grown out to the stage where it looks like I have just gotten a brand new hair cut so I am not getting it cut again!).

I take care of children who see me in ways that take much more primping than make up. They see me through eyes of innocence. If I am patient, kind and nurturing I am beautiful in their eyes. And isn't that all that really matters in the end? If you treat the world with kindness, the world tends to do its best to reciprocate the favor. And at the end of it all, you say "What a beautiful day!"

Skip the make up and apply a dose of kindness to your day. Then sit back and see what happens.

Pieces of Random

This extra half hour in the morning is intoxicating. Yesterday I could only manage to get up fifteen minutes earlier than my regular time. Today I was raring to go at 5 a.m.

The next time that I looked at the clock, it was 5:35. I had fed and watered the cats and cleaned cat litter. I had pulled out Tuesday Lunch Money for My Youngest (before he had to ask for it). I thought that I had done so much more. But the point is ... normally I am not even out of bed by that time. And I had already knocked a few items off the list of I-wonder-when-I-will-fit-this-in, into my day.

My mind was racing. What will I write about this morning (with this glorious extra half hour)? My new Daycare World? The fact that I should have money left over at the end of the bills for the first time since I restarted my daycare career ... worked for the school board ... worked as a bookkeeper ...? No! None of the above. This is the first time that I have been in the black since I went to school (no ... I was living off of a student loan back then). Okay, I've got it I haven't had money left over at the end of the bills since I last ran my daycare! I'm back, people. I am so back!

I talked with a friend in the aftermath of the two minutes synchronized napping period that happened here yesterday afternoon. I do not exaggerate. These are two of the text messages that I sent to the friend who called me - "2:10 and everyone is sleeping!!" (my last straggler had just closed her eyes); followed by "2:12 ... and Lucas is crying!" My friend called me at 2:16. Do you know what this friend told me after we chatted for a while (and I had two children who were already up from their naps)? "You sound so calm ... so happy". I simply replied, "I am ..."

This same friend asked me what I did to pass my time during the day. She also runs a daycare from her home and knows of the tedium that can happen within a career of child minding. A person must exercise their over-5-year-old skills regularly ... so she knits. She asked what I did. My answer (yesterday) was, "Well? I finally sat down and had lunch at 2:00". After Day #1 with my full-house of four-year-olds and under, I didn't have a spare moment (just wait a minute ... I did ... and I started my first chapter of our new up and coming Daycare A B C book ... I wrote the chapter entitled "A").

My nappers were all gradually waking up when my Second Son poked his head into the living room, flaunting a ham. He suggested that he would share it with us at supper time if perhaps I could make some scalloped potatoes. He obviously hadn't spent the day in my shoes. I could no sooner take the time to peel potatoes, onions and mix up a white sauce, than I could write the Great Canadian Novel in the midst of the aftermath of nap time. It was 5:35 when I wandered into the kitchen and said that I could possibly start making those scalloped potatoes now. Needless to say, My Youngest and I had a hamless supper.

More news on yesterday's front - our Senior Cat seems to be holding his own with his steroid regimen. He is not the frisky cat that he was before he got pneumonia but he is stabilizing. His fur is soft & shiny and he has stopped shedding. But I think that has something to do with ingesting 'gold nuggets' of "Medi Cal Gastro Intestinal" special cat food that our cats are feasting on, in an attempt to alleviate our Junior Cat's chronic diarrhea. They are eating this food like it is candy and they are both looking black and shiny and beautiful. I hope their 'insides' are looking as beautiful, happy and healthy as their 'outsides'. The long term cost is going to be as comparable as the gold wafer that my brother just bought for his daughter's 21st birthday ...

My time is up and the only other thing I can think that I was going to write about is the marvels of aging. There are few surprises for me in this area. My sisters are nine and eleven  years older than I am and I have been privy to many up and coming events because they tell me all about it before it happens to me. There have only been a few surprises - the receding hairline (apparently my brother and I are the only ones suffering this side effect of aging). And I have discovered one more thing. Those nasty black chin hairs that have the ability to grow to half an inch before you notice them??? They eventually turn gray (and have the ability to grow even longer). You know those pictures of people scratching their chin in an expression of earnest concentration? They are not thinking of anything besides "I wonder if I have any chin hairs today ..."

And on that note, I bid you adieu. Happy Tuesday ... may it be a hairless chin day for you all!!

Guilt

Add one part guilt to an already overloaded equation of too much work and not enough play in my day and I was a small bit of a hot mess.

I felt like a petulant child as I drove to work yesterday morning. I didn't want to go. I needed to stay home. I should spend some time taking My Youngest out driving. Our Senior Cat needs to spend a 'cat day' with me. I. Need. To. Breathe.

So I did one thing.

I parked my car outside the house of my employer. And I made a call. I called My Youngest's father to see if he could take Our Son out driving. Please. I whined. I wanted to cry. But I didn't. I simply asked for help.

Then I worked. And it was good.

I came home with one of those pre-made suppers from the grocery store. A small roast chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy and Caesar salad. I moaned and belly ached (quietly) as I put our meal together. I got pots, pans and dishes dirty. It (felt like) it took forever to assemble our pre-made meal. Finally, finally it was ready.

My Son didn't like the smell of the pre-made mashed potatoes. "Put gravy on them. Gravy can save anything", I insisted. He didn't. He sprinkled a small amount of chicken over his Caesar salad and was happy.

I could have picked up McDonald's, had an instant, on-the-spot meal and thrown away all of the containers for the price of this 'luxurious' meal that I had assembled. All in the name of guilt. Granted, I have enough left overs to feed my daycare crowd lunch today. I also have chicken broth so I can make My Son's favorite meal - home made chicken soup. I couldn't have gotten that much mileage out of a McDonald's meal.

My Son is fifteen years old. He needs next to nothing from me (and that is about exactly what he has been getting). He does enjoy the odd 'home cooked' supper now and again (and that is about exactly all I have been providing for him over the course of my three-working-weekends). He simply needs me to take him out driving.

Last night I told him that I could cancel my blood donation appointment tonight so that we could go driving before his next driving lesson tomorrow. He seemed good with that. I think that is our plan. I am skipping out of a blood donation (I can easily rebook that), in favor of doing One Small Thing for My Son.

I had a dream this morning ...

My son and I were sitting in the living room savoring the moment (we were probably watching our cats ... my dream memory is very hazy on this point). All I know is that we were both absolutely, completely and totally in our glory. I said, "Let's skip today - you can skip school. I will call in sick. Let's just skip out on everything today."

It felt beyond marvellous. I was overwhelmed with the feeling of doing the right thing. My Son is almost grown and needs so very little from me. But we have our moments. And we were going to revel in them.

Then I woke up. Ahhh ... the idea of 'skipping school' with My Son still felt unimaginably wonderful.

So yes, I will reschedule my appointment to donate blood. I will go out driving with My Son. After we eat home made chicken soup. I will close my eyes and trust My Son's new driving skills. His head knows the mechanics of what he must do behind the wheel. He simply needs to practise. I need to relax and enjoy the moment.

I am going to appease my guilt tonight. And it will be good.

If It's Not Done Early ... It is Not Done at All

If it doesn't get written done by 7:30 a.m., there is a pretty good chance that it is not going to get written done at all. This is the story of my life.

Things have been headed this way for a while. A week full of  Daycare Days, followed by weekend employment with writing assignments tossed in for good measure equals a lack of productive time within my life as I know it.

Life has become far too busy. I have worked three weekends in a row. I did take one entire day for myself, but I managed to turn a fun-filled day into a work day. I left the house at 8 a.m. and didn't return until 5:30. Trust me to turn fun into work...

I wake up Friday mornings with a pit in my stomach. Oh no. The weekend. Friday morning, I tried to write about something that was not of the oh-no-it-is-Friday-again variety. But I ran out of time. I couldn't get the words written before my revolving door opened for the day. I took a minute and wrote down what I could when the morning got quiet but I didn't have time to finish my thought and post it. It didn't get done by 7:30 ... so it didn't get done.

I started this post yesterday morning. Then I started emailing and texting and talking in the middle of my second paragraph and the next thing I knew, I had to run out the door to get to work. I got home and barely got through supper when the evening's events took over. Then I slept.

I resumed this post this morning. I added an excessive amount of words that were unnecessary and then wrote an email instead of editing this down to size.

I have reset my alarm for 5:00 a.m. ... maybe an extra half hour in the morning will help. But what I really long for, is a leisurely weekend morning.

I miss my weekends. I really, really do.

I am grateful for all of the avenues of employment that have opened up for me. But life is so much more than work. I know that I need to earn a living. But what I really long for is a life.

In the mean time, I have my mornings. I will have to make the most out of those precious hours and do as much as I can before 7:30 a.m. ... because if it isn't done by that time, it probably won't get done.

Sigh. I am off to work. Again.

Listening with My Heart

I take care of two little two-year-old girls. I've tended one of them since she was a year old and not speaking at all. The other has just been here a few months and is just now becoming more comfortable and more vocal within our little daycare environment.

It is fun to listen to these little girls chat amongst themselves. Part body language and demonstrative; another part verbal and inflection. Every day I understand more and more. There are some things that are cuter than others ... but the ability to communicate relieves some of their frustration (and sometimes creates more when they know that I know what they want and the answer is still 'No').

Enter our new four-year-old girl. She has Down Syndrome and she is fitting into our family like we have been waiting for her all along. She is sweet, loving and is very demonstrative. She communicates ever so clearly ... but she simply doesn't speak in words that we recognize.

The first day was so easy. It was just her and my two-year-old girls. They communicated amongst themselves and our New Girl found a favorite within the group and lavished her with hugs and affection.

The second day was full. Our three-year-old returned after a two week absence and our new one-year-old spent the entire day as his final trial run before his mom goes back to work next week. My three regulars were so happy to be back together that they noticed little beyond their own little circle. Everyone went about their day in their regular fashion and the new ones coasted along with ease.

The third day? It was rough. We were down to 'four'. In my prior experience, even numbers work out better than odd. But My little New Girl hasn't found her place within the group yet.

The three-year-old boy hasn't figured out how to play with our New Girl. This isn't much different than when our second two-year-old started coming here a few months ago. It almost seemed like he ignored the new addition to our family until he figured out who she was and how she played. They are now like two peas in a pod.

It is too early in the game to say if the language barrier is going to make a difference as to how our New Girl finds her spot in among our little family. Kids are so innocent and accept everyone they meet at face value. I keep thinking that is exactly what is going to happen here. But I can't help but wonder if the communication barrier is going to make a difference.

She is very good at communicating what she wants. But the world is filled with situations that go much further than wanting something to eat, inviting someone to play or showing someone what you want them to do. Those are the scenarios that concern me - the times when someone is crying and no one has the ability to communicate what happened. And that is only the beginning.

My daycare day is filled with a house full of little people developing their new language skills. It is interesting, challenging and fun all at the same time. It is intriguing to watch and listen to the development of their vocabulary and how they put things all together. It is frustrating when they know what they are trying to say and I don't understand. It is delightful when their simple language puts a new spin on our tired old language. Their language skills are growing in leaps and bounds.

But what of my little four-year-old that is not yet verbal? She reminds me so much of my two-year-olds in so many ways. She is a tiny girl and one would never guess that she is as old as she is. Her inability to talk adds to the illusion that she is younger than she looks.

I'm just winging this so far. I talk to her the same I talk to any age of child. I know her comprehension is far more complex than her vocabulary so I don't want my manner to be demeaning to her. I don't want her to feel lost in this crowd. I am not sure how to try and enhance her ability to communicate but I am wondering if the kids will intuitively find ways to communicate with her easily.

The progression of our communications skills is yet another one of those little things that we take for granted when all goes as we expect. I am eager to watch the development of friendships and communication within my young daycare family.

Verbal expression is just one means that we have to communicate. As I sit back and watch our cats interact with each other, not a word needs to be said to understand what they are 'saying'. When all is good in their world, that is enough. But when its not ... a few words of understanding go a long way.

I must listen with my eyes and my heart to hear what this little girl has to say. That is a good motto to live by no matter who you are trying to hear.