No Rainbow Unicorns Found Here Today

A lot of what has kept me from putting personal stuff out here is the nature of some of my thoughts.  I don't want to come across as complaining, nor as a "Negative Nellie", however sometimes things are not always rainbow-coloured unicorns pooping out golden leprechauns.  As much as I would like that to happen, somehow it just doesn't.  (Which is probably for the best because that sounds painful.)

The rational view is that life is a mix of the two, or even somewhere on the great bell curve of life that falls between disaster and the above-mentioned unicorn.

That was today.

Aside from the traditional Mother's Day festivities that somehow always seem to involve me getting the boy to pick out his favorite things to do and then spending the whole day doing that, unpleasant things creep in.  The one that has me most uncomfortably saddened is the quality of some of my neighbours in this community.  Apart from the great neighbour right-next-door who is kind and helpful and pleasant, that is.

Today the windstorm blew my patio umbrella over.  I know, I know; first-world problems.  Not a big deal.  Not even a big deal that it broke.  What upset me was as I was struggling to upright the umbrella and it's 30 pound weighted base from where it was wedged under the deck to perch it back up over a 5 ft deck railing, one family of neighbours was walking past, saw me struggling, and kept going.  On their way over to visit another neighbour 2 doors down.  Both families with whom we used to hang out but who have been, over the past 6 months, pointedly leaving us out of the neighbourhood potluck get-togethers.  Our kids all play together.  We used to have coffee together, and dinners together, and help each other out.

Now – nothing.

Not a word.  Not a helping hand.  Nothing.

It's as if I don't exist to them.  And I have yet to find out what I did that was so horrible that they want nothing to do with us.

I tried really hard to be friendly.  (Not so easy for a socially awkward, not to mention very shy and timid introvert.)  I introduced one family to another, overcoming much resistance and apathy to meeting on both sides.  Just to be clear, it was more coaxing on my part than pushiness.  I drank more coffee than I would have liked because drinking coffee was their thing, and keeping my insulin level under control is easier with less caffeine.  I started drinking alcohol again with them even though I felt better off it, because drinking alcohol, and lots of it, was their thing,  And apparently I was more fun when I drank.  And I'm apparently weak enough to fall to pressure.

Today, I just don't feel a part of this neighbourhood.  I don't feel that I fit in.  (And I'm way too old to be feeling this way.)  Unfortunately it's easy to let it bother me.  Having a real friend close by would make all the difference, but I don't.

As much as I had a great time going to the skatepark, twice, with my little scooter-head, bowling and pizza (we cheated on our diets today), and finally to the ice cream parlour (did I mention the dietary cheating?), I'm left feeling a little sad.

Reading what I'm writing here, I realize what I'm actually sad about goes beyond neighbours being rude and unneighbourly ... is that I let this ridiculous situation bother me.  I'm sad that I let these neighbours – who clearly don't like me for who I am and push me to do what I'm not comfortable doing and won't accept me if I don't – affect me this way.  I'm sad that I'm not stronger and tougher with thicker skin.  I'm beyond sad lately; I'm pathetic.  I've let this bother me for too long.  This has been a monkey on my back all winter, and a reason for part of the Blahs that I'm trying to shake off.

As I watch our other neighbour, the nice one, put his house up for sale because of issues he's also having on this street (ones that so far have not gone away despite his efforts), I'm thinking maybe he's on to something...

A Christmas Story With Some Suspense And No Moral

Here's a heart-warming story for the Christmas season. Although the Christmas aspect might be little more than incidental, it still counts. After all, everything right now is about Christmas here.

I heard a scraping sound while I sat a lunch yesterday. I looked up and saw the cat -- Ayanna, the new cat, who obviously doesn't know any better -- had gotten behind a box I had on the counter, had her head down and was pushing my new 3-tier serving tray

with her head across the counter, from the back, toward the edge. I yelled out "No!" and lunged for it. Of course I was in the dining area, so it took a moment to get there. However, I made it just as a third of it was hanging over the floor. Did you see in the picture how the glass plates are on top of the box? Because I'm a moron.

Thankfully I caught it in time and no dishes or cats were harmed in the making of this post.

The conclusion to the story goes like this: after shooing her off the counter and grabbing the box and dishes, I saw Ayanna race over to the tree, fling herself at it like a mad Christmas monkey and start playing hockey with the ornaments.

She's really a gremlin, deep down in her heart.

I blame myself for feeding her after midnight.

I Had A Good Good Day

I can't believe what a good day it was today.

I can't believe I wasted so much of yesterday in anxiety and panic attacks just thinking about the dental appointment.

I can't believe I took three scooby-snacks to help me cope.

I can't believe how much it helped, and how -- for the first time in about a year -- I've been pain-free all day.

I can't believe I haven't approached my doctor to find out if I can be on these scooby-snacks ALL THE TIME.

Just sayin'.

Bread Mittens!

I guess I need to explain...

This photo was kind of off the wall, and I guess an explanation is in order. There was this game my husband and I played over the phone with his friend... the friend loves garage-sale-ing and unique things (and his birthday is a couple weeks away), so I found this thing... I didn't know what it was but I got it figuring my husband and his friend could find something fun to do with it. We fed him obscure but truthful clues and he had to guess what it was. He guessed after about 55 minutes. But one of his last guesses before he finally got it was "bread mittens", which I have no idea what it meant but it cracked us up. We were hysterical. And then, high on giddy laughter, we got ourselves a bunch of weird ideas, one of which was posting this with the title. In the end, one of those inside jokes that is hard to explain. However, since some very understanding people commented, I didn't just want to take the post down but instead explain it. Somehow.

Thanks for understanding.

Why Homeschooling Is NOT For Me... Or Him

I've been thinking about homeschooling since I was pregnant and idealistic. From what I've been hearing everywhere, it's not just for freaky conspiracy-theorists who live in the woods anymore.

I had visions of using a wholistic model of learning (and here I'm just making this stuff up as I go along, so all those educators please go easy on me.... I'm not a trained educator)... field trips and learning one-on-one and having discussions and not being tied to a desk. Learning as fast -- or as slow -- as he needs to, and turning everything into a fun learning experience.

It actually sounds wonderful -- knowing just what your child is learning and making sure that he gets a well-rounded education, especially with getting out and being all hands-on, going places and providing unique experiences.

It sounds like a lot of work on my part though, but I'm down with that.

What I'm not down with is the surprising discovery I've made in living with my son. It's something I've been struggling with for a while, and it's not going away. So I'm being courageous here and speaking up: he thinks I'm dumb as sh*t. I was hoping this wouldn't happen until he was at least 13, but apparently adolescence hits much earlier nowadays. Like, at 3 and 4.

He asks questions incessantly, because he's curious and that's great. And when I answer he replies inevitably "No, that's not right." That's not as great. Unfortunately our conversations typically end with a motherly sigh and these horrible words coming out of my mouth: "If you don't like the answers, please don't ask me questions."

Oh yeah, I'm stifling his learning already. And it's totally made me not want to teach him anything. Not even a little bit. Examples:

Shoes with actual laces? He can learn it in high school. They make velcro-strap shoes until then. I know -- I've checked.

Wiping his own butt? He can figure that one out by himself.

Making the bed? Why does it need to be made? It's just going to get un-made at night.

Counting in order -- not skipping 14 and going straight to 28, 29, 20-10, 20-11? Actually, it has it's own logic, but somewhere somehow someone will set him straight. I hope. God knows I've tried, but he likes his own numbering system best.

Constructing paper airplanes (so I can get a break from everything dinosaur)? Nope. No-way. No-how. Turns out, I'm a paper airplane making machine and he's content to beg me to make more and then chuck them at me. He is very good at making them fly, and it has become an all-consuming new interest, so it is successful in that there are no dinosaurs involved. For now. Mission completed. (Knock on wood.)

And I won't even get into how much he tunes me out and I have to repeat everything I say in very precise tones, if you know what I mean, and then make him parrot back what I said to be sure that he does in fact hear (contrary to what it appears) and that he can understand what I'm saying. The good news is, comprehension of my statements is increasing. I can tell by the tantrums when he doesn't like what I say.

So, I guess I won't be following this homeschooling fad after all -- darn it -- and I'll be subjecting him to the local school system.

I'm good with that right now. It just feeds my personal belief system of fundamental laziness whenever possible. Win-win.

Oh No... More Whining! (And Not Even A Pretty Picture To Go Along With It!)

Disclaimer: Sorry I don't have sunshine and rainbows up my arse today. I just have some things I need to get off my chest and out to the universe. And then the universe can slap me upside the head. Because I probably need it.

I'm feeling a little lost. This isn't a new feeling to me, but it's settling in for a good long visit. The move we made a couple of months ago was supposed to "fix" some things. And in many ways, it has. It's been good... more than good--it's been great. I really like it here.

The living nightmare house selling got rid of our old mouldy cramped terribly-unwanted shack and brought us to this amazingly comfortable well-situated roomy beautiful home. Even if the nightmarish aspect of selling put us in the house so that we're (hopefully temporarily) house poor. (I've decided to give up buying--and using--cleaning products and other such luxuries to cut back on costs. I might need to give up showering and eating as well... we'll see.) (When I mentioned the first part of the plan to someone, he said "so you're going to start cleaning so you can stop?" Ha ha. Funny. But, no, true. He has a point. I just won't buy more when it's time. I'm so relaxed about that decision.)

I spent most of the past 5 years in a place where I was to all intents and purposes "unemployable". (I'm going to bitch about it for a moment because I need to... it grates on me and I'm having trouble letting it go, which I need to if I can move forward.) Where was I? Oh, yes: unemployable. That's me: a college degree, a graduate degree in one of the best counseling therapy programs in one of the better universities... excellent experience in my field with a pretty darn good track record and awesome reputation in my area (if I do say so myself)... a sparkling resume padded with numerous volunteer experiences and extra trainings, achievements and accreditations. And I'm unemployable. Because I got my degrees in the States. According to Canadian standards, I don't have any degrees. I know; I checked.

Within the last five years I worked at a call centre for several months (Best Buy rebates -- my own little version of hell) until my back gave out from sitting at a desk all day long. They couldn't give me shorter hours--it was flexible time or nothing. (That means you go in if they needed you, whether it was for 12 hours straight or 12 hours for the entire week... and you never knew ahead of time what you were going to get.) I worked as a customer service representative for an electronics superstore. Not a bad experience, but not something I could do long term. And hey, it gave me enough "credit" to get government maternity benefits.

I also worked for a short time in a woman's shelter. Alas, it was only a relief position for vacationing full-time workers, and the shelter existed quarter to quarter on fundraising and charity, so I was never able to land a permanent job there. I tried to start my own counseling business but got shot down because I didn't have "what it takes", either as a person or credentials... according to the business office. I made an attempt to offer training to others working in the field, because I do have good knowledge and experience to pass on. Even if I can't get credit for it. That dream died early when my body betrayed me and I found out I have Fibromyalgia. (But I'm not going to talk about that. So bored of that!) Then I tried my hand at youth work. Turns out the stress coming from lack of management in the company and employee back-biting and gossiping really set off my fibro and I had to take permanent stress leave.

Most lately, I was so desperate to do anything that I practically begged to do volunteer counseling at the shelter, but was shot down. Not very gently either. Turns out they just didn't want me or what I have to offer. (There were other things/people that shot me down in my personal life too, but I can't talk about that here. Let's just say I'm really lacking in self-confidence now.)

This has become the theme of my life lately: whether justified or not, feeling rejected and unwanted. I'm terribly afraid it's already making me bitter. And I'm also terribly afraid of being rejected here, in this new place. (Granted, I can't actually work anyways until my boy is in some level of regular school, and that's a couple years off. But I'm still chafing that I'm missing out on opportunities and my middle age is starting to slip away. Yes, as trite as it sounds, I feel old.)

I feel like I've come to a dead end in my career. Yes, I could go back to school and do another 4 to 6 years to get back to where I was in the States, but frankly, even if I could afford to (remember I can't buy soap or meat?) I have to say I'm just not that interested in jumping through more hoops for the system that hasn't been that encouraging to me. Yes, I know this makes me a whiny bitch, but it's where I'm at right now.

I don't deal with change well, and yet I crave new experiences and new adventures. It's one of those idiosyncrasies that make people want to leave my presence and take up drinking after being around me for a while. I personally think it's charming. Okay, not. But still, it is what it is.

And so we're here. A new place. Filled with new experiences and adventures. And I'm too scared to try.

My point is: I'm very grateful to be here. And somebody please slap me.

I Finally Figured It Out...

...this is what it's all about:

Love a little more...

A little freer from yourself

(forget about what everyone else thinks because they don't matter)

Give love

With fewer expectations

More acceptance

More tolerance

And more kindness

Just...

... love.