News!

This blog has been such an amazing outlet for me and a way to get thoughts out of my head. For some reason, you keep coming back for more!

Just kiddin’. I really appreciate it. Truly.

I’ve got another project that you may be interested in. Second Born Son and I have launched a podcast called “CHATS” it is an acronym for Conversation, Humor, And Topical Stuff. It came to me after one of our drives home from college last fall when the two of us had been deep in conversation when it dawned on me how much fun we were having.

SBS mentioned years ago that of all the families that have reality TV shows, our should be one of them. While I didn’t quite agree with that, I did feel that we had some interesting points of view and some funny tales to tell.

Thankful podcasts save you from having to see the looks on our faces when we are laughing at each other.

If you are interested in getting a bigger bang for your entertainment buck (bwahaha) you are formally invited to check us out on your favourite podcast platform, specifically, iPodcast, Spotify, Google Play and for those of you who don’t want to download ANOTHER app, you can watch us on YouTube, just make sure you subscribe to our channel so we know you are with us!

Absolutely not abandoning this blog, but trying out another mode of communication, and I’ve got to say, I love the difference between the two.

Here’s hoping you’ll check it out! 😀

 

YOUTUBE

SPOTIFY

GOOGLE PLAY

iPODCAST

 

 

 

 

Harry & Meghan…the response is the reason

Unless you are returning from the International Space Station, you will know that the British Royal Family is evolving. Notice I’m not using any negative connotations to describe this.

I have just listened to a brilliant speech Princess Harry has given at a Sentebale in London. He addresses the audience not as a Prince, or a Duke, but as Harry. He speaks from the heart about HIS decision, for HIS family. He reaffirms his family’s commitment to the Queen, the family and to the United Kingdom.

But enough’s enough. He’s tired of the attacks, the scrutiny, the pressure and the life laid out for him that he’s never asked for, or wanted. Footage of him from 10 years ago shows his cautious view of his role. Harry is more comfortable with people, not media. He’s very much the boy following his mother’s coffin and the man who will not let history repeat itself.

When the Crown failed to act in his and his family’s best interest, he forced their hand. As soon as he did, the cycle he hoped to escape from, circled around again. Meghan was the issue. She was trying to return to acting. William didn’t like her. Meghan and Kate were competitive. At best it’s exaggeration. At worst it’s all lies. Worse yet, it’s a family matter that is playing out in the public. The media who weaves this narrative is the benefactor and cause of this soap opera.

I feel badly for all of them. It’s a nightmare to watch, I cannot imagine what it’s like to live through.

Unlike some monarchy challenges, this one is being handled well now that they’ve been forced to deal with it. No public funding, no HRH, no senior royal duties. Participate in events where invited by the Queen. Review this new “normal” in a year.

It’s smart and it makes sense. The “Royal Family” cannot continue to grown and encompass each of the Queen’s four children and by extension, her grandchildren and great grandchildren. There are a couple more members who should look at this development and realize the with Will having an Heir, a spare and a spare spare, there is little need for cousins to be paid from the public purse. Beatrice & Eugenie, we’re looking at you.

I wish the best for this young family and hope that this year brings peace, compromise and path forward that will allow a balance between duty and free will.

New Traditions

If you don’t have traditions at Christmas, I ask you, do you really have traditions at all?

We always enjoyed putting up the tree, decorating the house and getting gifts wrapped in preparation for the big day. Now, to be fair, the struggle of shopping beforehand is somewhat of a tradition as well, but let’s not focus on the negative just yet!

This year, instead of stressing over parking spots and jostling through the crowd, on two separate occasions I just left the parking lot and returned home. I wasn’t up for playing bumper cars with overly stressed and aggressive motorists. I like my Jeep too much.

It doesn’t hurt that there aren’t as many gifts to buy as in years past. With some family members opting to go gift-free, it means less need to shop, haul and wrap. This is definitely a change. I will never forget the Christmas about 15 years ago when I sat up until 3 a.m. wrapping presents, only to get up at 6 a.m. to head to work. In.Sane.

There are other changes as well this year. First Born Son, who has been less and less interested in decorating in recent years, wasn’t around for this year’s exercised, which may have been for the best, because honestly, he was getting vocal in his dislike of being asked to hang Baby’s First Christmas decorations. Second Born Son, who always enjoys the trimming of the tree, not to mention the selecting and installation of the tree, was away for the weekend. We couldn’t put it off any longer, otherwise we’d decorating on Christmas Eve.

It was mid tree anchoring when The Big Guy and I realized that THIS is our new tradition. No guilt, no inflection. Just reality. Our kids are getting older and things will change – especially if we have done our jobs right and raised two confident, independent young men. It’s a change.

Another change this year is the addition of a third tree. Yes you read that correctly. Three trees, more than two, less than four. Never saw myself being a “crazy tree lady” but hey, it takes care of the decorating in the kitchen. It’s the only artificial one since it’s adjacent to the fireplace and if it was real I’d have to a) run a hose directly from the sink to make sure it stayed hydrated or b) be prepared to have chestnuts roasting on an open fire.

The other two trees are real. When we were picking out these trees at the local tree farm, I was chatting with one of the employees about our shared experience of man-children who may or may not have outgrown their youthful Christmas traditions.

She asked why we were getting two trees. I explained that I have one in the living room with the more formal, cohesive decorations and one in the basement where we break out the amazing ornaments from the boys’ childhood. Adorable baby baubles, John Deere tractors, Pirates of the Caribbean, hockey skates and handmade treasures from art classes all find their home on this tree. It’s in the rec room where we will play pool, throw darts and listen to music. I never want to forget these decorations. I want them out every year. The lady was impressed with our tradition and insisted she was going to do the same thing with her 20-something kids and their ornaments.

Not all traditions are good ones. For years the real trees we erected had a familiar pattern of behaviour. We’d put them up, decorate them and within an hour or two, they’d be on the floor – ornaments smashed and branches twisted. Eventually we smartened up and used a counter weight to ensure the tree wouldn’t land in the middle of the living room.

I also used to do a great deal of baking. Hours of butter, flour and chocolate. The evolution of our family has resulted in some dietary restrictions. No nuts and no dairy. That takes out a BIG chunk of Christmas baking!

One thing that hasn’t changed is my thoughts of my Dad during Christmas. He loved this holiday and went all out with decorating. Ironically, as The Big Guy strung the lights on the upstairs tree, he noticed a number of the bulbs were out. He smiled and said to me, “When you are talking to your Dad, can you ask him to take care of these lights?”

The moment brought a smile to my face. Dad has been gone for more than five years now. Invoking his name while we decorated was perfect. Dad would spend hours in his chair going through strings of lights, finding the burnt out bulbs and bringing back strings that had been destined for the landfill. We could have used him last weekend.

A couple of years ago was another change in tradition. My sister and I took over the tradition of hosting Christmas dinner. Our Mother had cooked for the better part of 45 years and we felt it was time to give her a break. At first it was a change for her, but now she’s glad to bring something to our homes, without the stress of planning and cooking for hours.

Moving forward we have decided to start a new tradition – to include the girlfriends of our sons. While we don’t expect them to join us on Christmas Day or Boxing Day when they have their own family commitments, we plan to have an afternoon filled with food, fun and festive movies. We will have memories thanks to the evolution of our family and our willingness to adapt.

It won’t be the same, but it will be awesome.

Merry Christmas to you and may you embrace your new traditions.

If You Didn’t Put Up, Shut Up

For the past four months, Canadians have either been anticipating or been actively engaged in a federal election.

Unlike our America Cousins, we don’t draw these things out. We like to campaign quick, vote in October and get back to important things like hockey.

This election was frustrating. Unlike your Grade 7 Social Studies class on government, there were few defined and costed platforms that really landed with voters. No need to talk about hearing what Canadians want and certainly no creative ideas coming from “leaders”. However, there were plentiful jabs, slanderous comments and stomach churning commercials “endorsed” by full grown adults even though the content was beyond immature.

One good thing about the day after the election is you get to see how many people showed up to vote.

This year it was only 66% of us.

This makes me think of people around the world who walk for days if not weeks just for the opportunity to vote in their election. People die to fight for the right to vote. Women in this country protested and died for the right to vote IN THIS COUNTRY.

And almost half of us didn’t. Even. Bother.

Shame on you if you didn’t. Kudos if you did.

It’s tiring listening to people rant about politics and not taking action when the opportunity presents itself. It’s even more frustrating because we are so critical of the U.S. political reality; the non stop election cycle; the immature name calling and lies.

I think Canadians can do better. Until we demand better, we can expect no better from our “leaders”. With a minority government we have roughly 18 to 24 months until we get back on this merry-go-round.

So let’s do better. All of us.

Shame On Us

The adult outrage against Greta Thunberg prompts this column. I dedicate it to her.

Her recent “How Dare You” speech at the UN National Assembly didn’t just get applause, but ridicule. How DARE this 16-year-old GIRL speak in such a manner? Within days social media was poisoned with memes of her outraged visage overlaid with mocking words pointing out her age, gender, her Aspergers or her appearance.

Shame on us.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in an environment where caring for flora and fauna was something to be proud of. When I had a home of my own, I wanted pets and to care for plants. We recycled, composted and had a barn pail for food scraps that went to our family farm for barn cats. We had less garbage with two small children than families on our street with only two people in them. I still have a laundry line. On days when it’s not conducive to hang wash outside, I have drying racks I my laundry room. I have switched to environmentally responsive dish soap and laundry soap. I have reduced my single use plastics to the point that I have carried numerous purchases from the grocery store to my vehicle because I left my reusable bag in the back seat.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not perfect. I’ve made choices that didn’t put the environment first. I’m trying more and more every day. I think that’s what we all need to do – try harder.

Instead, grown adults are hurling insults at a child. Pointing the finger at Millennials. THEY are the ones who want new cell phones. THEY are the ones who are mass consumers. THEY should not be lecturing their elders about environmentalism because the older generation consumed milk out of glass bottles and diapered their babies in flannel nappies. Ok, I’ll concede that point…. But the kind of change needed isn’t limited to how we consume dairy products. It’s decades of abuse and neglect of resources that could only tolerate so much. Decades of cars with little if any emissions regulations. Decades of big businesses not being regulated for physical and air borne pollutants. Bucks before polar bears, right?

The semantics of “global warming” vs “climate change” makes me want to stab myself in the face. ToMAEto TomAto. Talk about fiddling while Rome is burning.

I did share a meme that listed a number of suggestions that people could try that would make a difference. Everything from laundry and shopping to reducing how much garbage we generate. Within hours I had a reply to this post.

“Some of these suggestions aren’t practical. JS (just saying)”

Really?!?

Fortunately I took a sober second thought and instead of ripping this “friend” a new one, I replied the common sense that was implied by the post.

“These are suggestions that we can draw from – even one or two can make a difference.”

DID I REALLY HAVE TO SAY THAT?

Yes. Yes I did.

Shame on US.

I get it. If you live in an apartment, you likely don’t have access to a laundry line. But you could pop up a drying rack. Just work with me here, ok?

Just try.

Not on the Side of a Milk Carton…Yet.

I could spend the next couple of paragraphs listing off reasons why I haven’t written but it’s old and stale, so I’m going to say thank you for coming back and reading this. You have the patience of Job. Gold star for you.

I and indeed my entire family have fallen into the rut of the runaway reality. You know, where the weekdays run into the weekend and the weekend rolls right into the next week, and rinse and repeat…

I’d love to wow you with stories of summer adventures, alas, the two weeks I have with The Big Guy were spent with he finishing the landscaping – the second stage of the home reno – and me watching him. My role was head cheerleader, food provider and to keep track of his fluid intake to ensure he didn’t dehydrate. Of course it was the hottest stretch of weather when he worked on the project.

At the end of the day, it is gorgeous and we are delighted. We’ve also made a pact that we won’t do any more home improvement for at least a year. There is a basement bathroom to finish, and we still have painted plywood in our bedroom – but we know that won’t hit the top 5 list any time soon.

If you could see me right now, you’d see that I am holding up my right hand. I am vowing to write more frequently. In fact – today is Thursday and I’m going to have at least one post within the next seven days.

Promise. 😀

I’m Slipping…or Not.

Truthfully, I thought I was losing my ever-lovin’ mind.

It’s bad enough that I have glasses that help me when my eyes are tired, but to lose a pair? Come one. I’m 47, not 87.

With the chaos settling around the house, there have been a couple of things that have gone “missing” temporarily, then found, as we all learn where things are going to be stored. I’ve even had a couple of good purge days where I was able to be merciless and toss or repurpose items that were not living up to their full potential.

But the glasses were gone. I couldn’t tell how long they had been gone. I just knew that any time I wanted to drive at night, I really felt like I would do better if I was wearing them.

Finally over the weekend, I got serious about locating the glasses. Fortunately I had my prescription sunglasses, but the other pair were GONE. I looked in places that I thought they might be. I looked in places that I knew they wouldn’t be. It’s like I had them and then, suddenly, I didn’t.

Both The Big Guy and Second Born Son were aware that I was looking for these glasses. SBS immediately indicated he had no idea where they were, but if he found them, he’d let me know. TBG, however, was far more invested.

As anyone knows, when you are looking for something, have someone making “helpful” suggestions is, in fact, far from an aid in the objective. TBG asked if I checked my purse. I had. He asked if I looked in the Jeep. I had. He asked if I looked in any of the new handy drawers in the kitchen. Of course I had – that was the first round of searching. He tried his “Dad Voice” on me, lecturing me about keeping track of my things. I reminded him that I already had a father and TBG need to slow his roll. I added the eyebrow for emphasis. I’m pretty sure my eyebrow trumps his Dad voice.

It wasn’t until Sunday that all was revealed. Heading out the door to grab some groceries, I happened to look up to the very top shelf of the front door closet and there they were; on the highest point on the highest shelf, in an area that I cannot reach without a stool to stand on. Remember, I am not short. I immediately knew what happened.

This shelf is a favorite of TBG’s for when he wants to quickly clear the hall the table of any items that he deems to be clutter, junk or simply don’t belong to him. I grabbed the nearest chair, hiked up to grab my glasses, and set out to find the father of my children.

I found him, unsurprisingly, cuddling Roman in the garage. Apparently I had interrupted a nail clipping session. Whatever. I held out the glasses for him to see. He was genuinely happy to see I had found them. Then asked the obvious question.

“Where did you find them?”

As I relayed the location of the glasses case, I could see the penny drop. He didn’t initially recall putting them there, and even tried to suggest that perhaps I had put them there, but couldn’t row that boat because he KNOWS I hate things being put up there. I would NEVER put my glasses there. He doubled down and tried to suggest that I should just be happy that I found them.

I suggested that he needs to stop “helping” me.

Because it’s causing me my sanity.