A New Day

Life feels a little brighter this morning. The sun is shining, the sky is blue and I managed to send off another month's worth of columns. That deadline gets harder and harder to meet with each passing month. As I told my editors, "I think I need to live a more interesting life. Either that, or get very very quiet and see if I can hear the inner stirrings of my mind again. Technology is sure “noisy”, isn’t it??"

There is much truth to that statement.

My life has become very tedious. So tedious that I am placing too much energy on things that don't deserve that much space in my brain. This is a quality within myself that I most want to change. "Do what is within my power to change a situation where I feel powerless" is a motto I adopted since I opened up my daycare. It has served me well but it is getting harder to force myself to summon the courage and energy to do what is within my power.

I had a hard conversation yesterday. I hope it results in a positive change. I felt awful for saying what I had to say but it would have been worse to say nothing and keep forging ahead as if everything was okay. Sometimes we have to admit things aren't okay then take forward steps from that point onward.

The inadequacies I feel when I put off the inevitable become all encompassing and drain every last bit of energy I have left within me. This is not a good thing. Especially when my energy levels are already hovering at a near all time low. Pushing through and submitting my columns should energize me and push me through the month ahead of me. It could if I let it. One hard thing at a time. That is all anyone can do. One more hard thing today and maybe I can gain some momentum.

I crave a little more "interest" within my life but I'm not certain I have the energy to sustain it over the long term. Then again, if I just did one "hard thing" per day maybe I could sustain my energy levels a little better. Then again, maybe if I lived a life I was more interested in living maybe that would create a new found source of energy. A small "Catch 22" perhaps?

I do know one thing for sure. I am far too attached to my electronic gadgets, my ability to watch "Gilmore Girls" on Netflix any time I want and this "Facebook" addiction must go.

In a purely whimsical moment, I updated my profile picture to highlight my "young" back-of-head and back-of-self (only to my waist, of course!!). No face, no wish to go fishing for compliments. I simply thought I was pretty funny (yes, it was late and I was highly caffeinated). The amount of attention that profile picture received was ridiculous. There were (perhaps) two people who appeared to appreciate my humor. Now I'm embarrassed to change it again because I don't want to seem like I need the validation, now that I have changed my mind.

In the meantime, I must sit back and enjoy this day to the fullest. It is officially my last daycare day before my daycare world goes through its next transitional phase. I've called in reinforcements to help me through but I'm not rich enough to pay someone to help me do my job. I'm going to try my best, be open to do what it takes to get through the day and try and conquer this mountain ahead of me. I don't know if I have trained well enough to get to the top. Then again, I hear the descent is even harder than the climb. I haven't "climbed a mountain" lately. I guess it is time to see what I'm made of. This could be good fodder for my writing. We'll see.

Let's just enjoy today and let tomorrow take care of itself. Okay?

Something's Gotta Change (may as well be my hair)

I still haven't caught up to where I should and need to be this week, so I'm utilizing my caffeinated brain (iced coffee with my supper keeps me alert until all hours of the night) to write a little bit since I have neglected this spot all week.

The week has felt incredibly hard. Have you ever felt like you are not where you are supposed to be, not doing what you are meant to do without the people you know are good for you? That is "me" in a nutshell.

I have sequestered myself to spend some time with myself and I think I must be sick of my own company or mad at myself or at the very least I am very disappointed in how I'm rolling with life these days.

I have most definitely not been the best I can be. My attitude sucks. I don't use that word but it is the only word I can think of to describe myself.

I have stopped trying. I wake up each morning and challenge the day to beat me. "Bring it on, world. I'm awake. I'm showing up. See what you can do to bring me down when I start the day this low." Well, when you start the day with an attitude like that, you really have no where to go but down.

I have been spiralling. I think I've hit a rock though because I'm holding steady at the moment. It could be the caffeine. It could be my brand new hair cut. It could be because I'm daring to dream a little dream at the moment. When I wake up in the morning, my reality will hit me again and I'll have to start all over again. But right now? Right this moment? I feel "okay".

I am truly ready to retire. I'm done. I don't want to play this game any more. I want to wake up to a different life than the one I'm presently leading. How can I change that? What is within my control? I am checking out my options and I have my eye on the future (and my pension fund). How in the world can I change my circumstances so I can wake up and look forward to the day ahead of me again?

I long for that "sitting in a sunbeam moment" when my truest life's desire is laid out right in front of me and all I have to do is find a way to make it happen.

I have done it before and I could do it again. I think. I simply don't have my eye on the prize right now. I have a vague idea of wanting to be somewhere other than where I currently am but that is not enough to push me out of this safe and comfortable spot, just outside of that sunbeam.

Everything in its own time and in its own way. That is the way life happens. One can push the boundaries and test some new waters but sometimes it is not an entirely bad thing to sit and check out the view just a little bit before you take a flying leap.

That's it. I'm just sitting here enjoying the view. I need to rid myself of this attitude, remove my blinders (sunglasses?) and maybe that sunbeam will come my way. The most uncomfortable times in life often lead to the most necessary change. I must believe that right now and revel in my discomfort. It will push me out and beyond of the spot I'm stuck in. I hope. But what if I'm stuck in quicksand? Most of my days, that is exactly how it feels. The more I struggle, the farther I sink.

And "this" is why I've stayed away from my blog this week. And this is a good day. Sigh ...

Tomorrow is another day. I will try, try again. Maybe the caffeine is starting to wear off. But the hair cut? I think I like it. If only my face wasn't attached to the flip side of this back view.

Oh well, a girl has to start somewhere. And if starting with the back view of my new hair do makes me happy, so be it. Now I must go sleep on my face because I don't want to mess up my new hair. G'night.

P.S. Apparently "this" is the reason I don't write at night.

Meandering Thoughts

I had a free hour at my disposal the morning before my youngest son graduated so I ran over to my lawyer's office and updated my will. Yes, my timing was very strange but I had this overwhelming need to simplify my life, my estate and tie up all loose ends as soon my last dependent officially became an adult.

"Name my three sons as beneficiaries of every asset I have, divide everything in three, remove all trust conditions and make this will be the last will I will ever need to write" became the theme of my thoughts in the months that preceded my youngest son turning eighteen years old.

My thoughts of having three adult sons have felt diverse and complicated and simple all at the same time. This is the first time since I was seventeen years old that I have not had a dependent. I thought I would be in a different place in my life when I became single, without dependants. I'm not sure who I thought I would be but I guess I simply assumed I would "know". I can die, now that no one is dependent upon me, has been a predominant line of thinking.

This sounds more morbid than it actually is. My first marriage was a complicated one and I was terrified of dying at any time while my first two sons were still dependent upon me. I could not have rested easy, knowing the potential mess I left behind. Things wouldn't have been as messy had I not been able to fulfil my parenting role with my third child but it would have been complicated enough. I simply wanted to be here to raise my own children. Plain and simple.

My children have all been raised but I truly believe there is still much parenting left for me to do. I look at my diverse family of four and I see four individuals at four different forks in the road. Each one of us is feeling and going through something completely different than the other and my present day wish is to find a way to unite us in our diversity.

I want my children to feel strength in their brotherhood. This is no easy feat when an average of ten years separates each one of them and there is a twenty year age span between my youngest and my oldest. There is a parallel division of ages within my own siblings and our family ties are strong and united. This is the gift I want for my own children.

Then there are the words my cousin spoke when she remarried after her children were grown. I can't remember her exact words but they were something to the effect that her first priority after her divorce, was raising her children. Once they were independent and on their own, she could think about remarrying. And she did. When her youngest child was twenty years old.

This thought spawned many others. Like "who am I" now that I have technically raised my children to adulthood? What kind of "package deal" am I, when all I am is me? My identity is going through a transition and I am not entirely certain who I am and what I have to offer to another person or a relationship.

I have perspective. I have maturity. I have debt. I don't have a financial plan. I make a living but I'm not living my life. I work but I don't have a career. I try to be kind but I fail at times. I do the best I can but I often fall short of what I expect of myself.

As an afterthought, I asked my lawyer what would happen to my (now) current will if by chance I was to remarry. I clarified my query with the disclaimer, "This is as unlikely as me paying off my mortgage before I die, but if per chance I was to remarry would this nullify my will?" The short answer to that is "Yes". The long answer is "Now that my life has the potential to be simplified, would I want to complicate it?" The short answer is "Yes, I do believe I do."

There were many thoughts streaming through my consciousness as I walked through my youngest son's graduation day. So many thoughts. My emotions were stable but there was much going on beneath the surface.

As I sat in the auditorium with every beneficiary named in my will and three out of four of my "in case of common disaster" clause, I thought if some horrific disaster consumed the lives of all of those underneath that roof, there would only be one man left standing who was named within my will.

I thought that crazy, insane thought and shook my head. Who in the world thinks thoughts like that on a day that is supposed to be a full on celebration? Then I woke up to the news that has been going on around us. Shootings, rage, terrorism and a feeling that one never knows when a life could be lost is prevalent within our world.

I cannot focus on the unknowns and all I cannot control. The only thing I know how to do, is to spread kindness, try to raise wholehearted children, keep peace and tranquillity within our home, our hearts and family. I know how to listen and hope the words that escape my mouth and fingertips are ones of compassion, honesty and openness.

Our world is feeling very divided. I do believe what I wish for within our world is what I wish for within my own little family unit. "Each one of us is feeling and going through something completely diverse than the other and my present day wish is to find a way to unite us in our diversity."

We can't change the world. But we can change ourselves. I hope you look kindly upon those who are different than you today. Spread kindness in the hope that it grows and prospers. Kindness wins. I truly believe there is much more good than evil in this world of ours. The evil is getting far too much publicity. Ignoring it and pretending it isn't happening is probably not the answer. But how about reflecting kindness and compassion to those who frighten and threaten you? What if we looked Fear in the eye and listened to life from their perspective?

"Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced."

~ James Baldwin

One Small Habit at a Time

After spending a week with my sister (followed by four days with me), Mom commented time and time again about the way my sister cleaned invisible dirt, picked non-existent weeds and was constantly shining up her kitchen appliances "like they would never get dirty again". I listened to Mom's description of my sister and wished she had been talking about me.

I explained to Mom that it is so much easier to simply keep on top of the dirt (and weeds). If you don't, the dirt and weeds continue to grow and a small jobs become big ones. I know that because I am smack dab in the middle of a very big, dirty, grime, dust and weed infested home. Everywhere I look, there is something that needs to be done.

I keep on top of things the best I can during my daycare oriented weeks. Which isn't saying a lot, but at a bare minimum my laundry doesn't pile up, the fridge is full, the bathrooms and kitchen are wiped and swiped as we go and the yard is tended. It feels like "a renter" lives here. Someone who takes care of the bare necessities around the house. No more and no less.

Back in Daycare 1.0 I somehow managed to not only sweep, but sometimes give the kitchen floor a quick wash after lunch. Oh. My. Gosh! During my days in Daycare 2.0, I am lucky if I manage to sweep the floor twice a week. I used to have a weekly routine which included vacuuming and wiping down the couch at the end of every daycare day; cleaning bathrooms and dusting the house from top to bottom, once a week; the kitchen floor got washed twice as much as it now gets swept; door frames and pictures were dusted; and kitchen cupboards were wiped down. 

And ... I used to actually cook (and bake)! I would wake up early so I could get some soup simmering or a casserole prepared for lunch and make a batch of muffins or cookies. I actually read cookbooks in those days so I could find sneaky ways of making sure the kids got a good variety of fruits and vegetables. I used to sit down every Friday afternoon and plan our lunch, snack and supper menus for the upcoming week so I not only had the right groceries on hand, but I didn't have to waste energy wondering what we were going to eat.

Life around here has become "doing the bare minimum" and not even that got done over the course of time Mom stayed with me last week. I threw in a load of laundry the morning she arrived. I tossed it into the dryer the following morning. I folded it the morning after she left. I swept the floor before she woke up one morning. I didn't touch the vacuum cleaner for the duration of her stay. Groceries were not bought. Laundry was not done. The lawn had been mowed before her arrival but missed its weekly "edging". I felt like some kind of superhero because I managed to sleep enough to keep functioning and eked out a bare minimum of quiet time which restores my sense of status quo for the duration of her visit.

I was ushered into the new week with the hardest daycare day ever. Was it harder than it had to be, because I was running on fumes? Now that I've had a few days to step back and look at it, I believe that was one of the reasons the day fell apart the way it did. Exhaustion does not look good on anyone. I was down right ugly on Monday. After my very long daycare day, I vacuumed, mowed the lawn and walked to the mailbox (a five minute walk) and I honestly didn't know if I would ever make it back home again. I was so weary it felt like I was walking the wrong way on a moving sidewalk. Step number one was to sleep. So that was all I managed to accomplish on the first day.

The second day, I edged the lawn (with household scissors) as the kids played by my side. I looked up from my work in progress (you don't get far while tending four little people playing with bikes on a driveway) and I was pleased. It was a small step, but a step in the right direction.

The third day, I trimmed some of the lawn in the back yard. My heart smiled. It was starting to look like someone who cared lived here. And it was good.

I finally had the energy to sort my laundry on the fourth day. I had a grand total of two full loads. One of the loads was sheets, tea towels, dish clothes and wash clothes. It was so hard to make all of those beds afterwards but I not only managed to do so, but then I did the hardest job of all. I showered, washed and dried my hair after the first load of laundry was tended.

Clean hair makes me feel like Wonder Woman. I start to feel invincible the minute that hard job is done. I woke up this morning, turned on the washing machine to wash my second (and last) load of laundry. My household chores have finally just about been caught up to where they would have been, had I simply cleaned, washed and puttered as I went along instead of putting life on hold for four days.

The fridge is still empty and the errands that need to be run are piling up, but now that my hair is clean I feel like I may be able to tackle most of those feats by the end of today. 

I really, really need to reinstate my clean-as-I-go policy. I had some very good habits back in the days of Daycare 1.0. Why am I having such a hard time reinstating them? They worked. I felt good and comfortable and relaxed in our relatively clean and maintained home. 

One small habit at a time. That is really all I need to do. I used to dry mop the cat hair downstairs every morning, then vacuum upstairs and wipe down the couch every day. I used to clean, vacuum and dust downstairs on Thursdays. I used to dust, clean bathrooms and wash the kitchen floor on Friday. I used to buy groceries during the week so I didn't have to waste a moment on the weekend tending to that nasty job. I used to be organized. Now I am barely eking by.

I want to clean invisible dirt, pick invisible weeds and shine down my kitchen like it is never going to get dirty again. I feel energized when I am living in a clean and clutter free environment. One habit at a time. That is all. If I can't manage to wake up at 5:00 a.m. to go for an early morning stroll, maybe I can take that energy I'm not using there and delegate it to our home. 

Something's gotta change. And I think that "thing" is me. In fact I know it is. 

Breaking Free

The days are hard but the nights? They are so very easy. Except when a cat escapes and doesn't come back.

Yes, our darling little black cat "Jet" darted out the door when my last daycare daughter left for the day. No problem, I thought. He is easy to catch. Except this time. He darted to the left and then snuck through our neighbor's broken fence board and that was the last I saw of him.

I thought he would hang out at our neighbor's and then jump over the fence and back into our yard when he was good and ready.

An hour passed quickly and he hadn't come home. The second hour was longer. I went out to scrub some graffiti off our fence and hoped he would hear me, get curious and come home. I had a very good conversation with a neighbor I've never spoke with before, so he could hear my voice if he was in the neighborhood. Nothing.

The third hour was endless. I confessed my sin to my youngest. He snuck out on me and went into the neighbor's yard. I should have went after him immediately. I didn't. It was all my fault.

My youngest wandered over to our neighbor's to see if she could see him. Nothing. She walked up and down the alley. No sign. She came home and said, "He's going to have to come home on his own. There is no way we can find him." I sadly agreed. And waited.

My only ray of hope is that he is microchipped and licensed. If someone called Animal Control, he has ONE free ride home but that's it. He's never used up his one "Get out of jail" free card. But if a cat-hater found and trapped him, we may never know what became of him.

As that second hour slowly stretched into the third my optimism started to wane. "This is it. This is the time he doesn't come home."

As my youngest and I waited the long wait, we agreed that the only way he can go out now (if he came home) will be on a leash. He'll hate it. But he earned this right.

As emotion started to overrule reason in my brain, I was reminded of the few times my middle son didn't come home when I thought he would. I have promised myself not to be a worrier. Worry is the most useless emotion there is. Worry without action is a complete waste of energy. I do worry but I try to accompany it with action, thereby lessening its hold on me. But when you are waiting for someone to come home who doesn't arrive when you expect them to, the best place to be is "home".

Animal control comes right to your door to deliver your wandering cat if he hasn't used up his one chance. Once, I wasn't home which resulted in our Senior Cat having to spend two nights in "jail" because my hours didn't coincide with the pound's. I was his registered owner. I was the one and only person who could release him. I had to stay home. Just in case.

I was exactly at the point that I have come to a handful of times with my middle son. I felt the words and emotions hit my consciousness. "If you aren't home in fifteen minutes, I am going to have to officially start to worry."

Ten to fifteen of those minutes passed and by the time I hit my official worrying phase of the evening, I looked out one last time. And there he was (just as my middle son always showed up when I hit this state), standing in the middle of our back yard like he had been there the whole time. "You little renegade, you! Come back inside where you are going to spend the rest of your days."

Less than ten hours later, he was clawing at our new back door. He was absolutely desperate to get outside again. He wasn't even to be distracted when I opened up the drawer of cat toys. He wanted outside and there was no talking him out of it.

"I'm so BORED!!" our poor little Jet Cat must have been thinking as he started exploring places he's never seen before.

My daycare family was due to arrive and if I didn't act, he would sneak out the front door and pull another disappearing act. Welcome to the world of being tethered to your home, Jet. It's going to be a rough transition. But at least I will be able to sleep at night, knowing exactly where you are.

Welcome to your new life, you little runaway. This is going to be harder on us than it is on you, I'm afraid.

All Out of Tricks

I'm one day into the new week and I am defeated.

I don't know. I either need to close my daycare or only take care of girls. Nobody "won" yesterday but the boys defeated me. Completely, utterly and totally. I told our cats I probably needed to cry. But there were no tears. There was nothing left in me at the end of the day. Nada.

Today is a girl dominant day and I am so relieved that I could almost kiss the ground they walk on.

I don't know about this new generation of children. They are a new hybrid. Nothing I have ever done before has worked. I have no more tricks up my sleeve.

How do teachers do it? Kids walk into a classroom from all walks of life, from homes with varying expectations and acceptable behaviours. In the "old days" I used to feel capable in my role of preparing these little humans for what was to come when they started school. I thought my role was an important one and I felt like I did a decent job so the Kindergarten teachers wouldn't be starting from scratch.

I have had most of these children since they were a year old. The oldest I take care of will be four years old in four months. He lives by the rule "I do whatever I want, the minute her back is turned". There is no respect, not even a healthy fear of my "angry voice". Nothing. Yesterday he even tattled on me to his mom.

I'm ready to retire but I still need an income. Selling all my worldly possessions and going to help the orphans in Rwanda sounded like a good option yesterday afternoon while I savored the two hours of quiet time I have managed to enforce.

Anyone have any better ideas?

A Whirlwind Week

It's been a whirlwind of a week and I am very glad to have it all behind me. I just now folded the laundry I put in the washer five mornings ago (then put in the dryer a morning later). I've logged 1,135 kms on our Saskatchewan highways, travelled down gravel roads, sketchy highways and drove down memory lane with my mom. Literally and figuratively.

I listened more than I talked and I still talked too much. I'm not putting myself down when I say that, it is simply that I ran out of words long before the days were done.

My youngest son graduated and it was a privilege and honor to share the day and all the memories with family. My own little "family of four" were all together, my mom wanted to come out for this occasion and my sisters joined the party. It felt a little bit wonderful to spend the day surrounded in family.

Mom spent a full day with me and my daycare crew. Considering she found the ticking of our kitchen clock loud and irritating, a day with four very vocal and busy children felt very long and hard.

We had a full day at our disposal so we drove around and took in a little bit of quiet family visiting. We spotted a moose in a field, a few deer in the ditch and generally took in the beauty of our Saskatchewan landscape, enjoying this summer season of growth and greenery as we made our way down country roads from one destination to the next.

The next day, we drove out to our home town to take in the parade and festivities of their 105th birthday and "Homecoming". For a small town of (I believe I heard this correctly) 195 people, they put on quite a party. There were 700 registered guests and many who didn't "sign in" to be counted. It was quite possible there were about 1,000 former residents and families who gathered. It is a small town with a big heart. It feels very humbling to be a part of such a community.

After one very long, exhausting and busy week I met my brother at the halfway point between our two cities and we got Mom back home safe and sound and (I would imagine) just a small bit exhausted.

Mom is 88 years old and full of vitality and spirit. It was a week that wore me out, pushed me out of all sorts of comfort zones and into a world where I barely had time to recoup from one day before the next was thrust upon me. Yet Mom woke up each morning with a "What's next?" kind of attitude that put me to shame.

I asked her if she knew who may have been the oldest one at our hometown reunion and she answered, "I certainly hope it wasn't me!!" There were some pretty worn out souls who attended our homecoming and Mom certainly didn't look like the oldest. Not by a country mile. But at the age of "88", she could have been. I replied, "But what if you were? I think that would be the greatest compliment you could receive" (as I thought of those who were ailing, in wheel chairs and looking very tired and worn out). Mom may not be as spry as she was even five years ago, but she went where she wanted to go, reminisced with the best of them with her quick wit and smart comebacks.

I really have no desire to live a long, tired life but if I do, I want to be "just like Mom". Too stubborn to let a few little aches and pains be the centre of my conversation and thoughts. I want a mind that is as sharp as hers as she can easily pull out the facts and memories old and new. I would only hope for one minor modification. I hope my brain holds onto the "good stuff" and lets go of that which does not serve me.

I marvelled at the way people act in Mom's presence. At times, it was like the seas parted to make way for Mom to be seated and comfortable. One person even gave up their lunch for her. There was a sense of respect and admiration for this spry, vivacious soul. Mom has always been one who has been small of stature but is large in her presence. She never complains about her health, her lot in life or her circumstances. She is not only who I want to be, in most ways she is also who I want to become.