Enjoying the time we have left….
Author: Sarah
A New Christian Holiday
Second Born Son: Are we going to church tomorrow?
Me: Yes, it is Palm Sunday.
SBS: What’s so special about that?
Me: That’s the day that Jesus road into Jerusalem on a donkey and people spread out robes and palm branches.
SBS: Oh, so what’s next week then?
Me: Easter – when Jesus is crucified.
SBS: Crucified? What’s that?
Me: (perplexed – we are regular Easter attendees and he’s heard the Easter story before.) When he was nailed to the cross.
SBS: Ew ya, that’s gross! But I thought that’s why we have Halloween, cuz it’s scary!?
I’m a failure as a mother…..
How Much is Too Much Information?
There’s been a lot of Life going on at Boweryville.
I think it’s just that pattern of events collecting in waves and crashing at your feet; the spray of details, stress, kah kah and adjustments to reality being the result. Moving, career changes, good news, bad news, it seems we have taken 18 years of boredom and more than made up for it six months.
Which was the nucleus of a conversation had over the weekend with my parents. This conversation evolved into a debate over which is better, withholding information from your children, or providing full disclosure. I, myself, am a big fan of the latter. My parents, the former. Fortunately, The Big Guy sides with me.
My folks subscribe to the idea of not telling kids upsetting information. They feel parents should protect their children from negativity and maintain innocence as long as possible. I can completely respect their position, after all, it’s how I was raised. I never was privy to their decisions, their stresses or the impacts on our family. I’m not sure I disagree with all their choices.
But on the other side of the fence, I remember how I felt when I was a young child and they told me that my dog ran away. Years later, it came out that she didn’t run away, she was hit by a car at the end of our driveway and died. I also have memories of being in my bedroom and hearing my parents having conversations about adult topics – family strife, typical marital arguments and information that wasn’t meant for young ears. This has made me very aware of the things The Big Guy and I discuss within the hour or so after the boys go to bed, and where these conversations take place.
Perhaps it’s that natural sense of betrayal that occurs when one believes ones parents, and when you find out years later that the understanding you had wasn’t entirely accurate, it can be a little off-putting.
I also suppose it is also my background in Journalism, where the philosophy of “No Comment” is the last thing that should be uttered. It never benefits the subject and only gives license to armchair quarterbacks who want to pass judgement. Dozens of times I’ve spoken earnestly with my contacts and said “It’s better to say a little bit of ANYTHING than it is to say NOTHING.”
So when it comes the boys, we do believe it’s best to share information with them – without overwhelming them. I cannot protect them from everything that they will have to face, and I feel it’s a disservice to them to think otherwise. This is not the world I grew up in. It’s not the world my parents grew up in. It’s a world where my youngest child understands that there is drug activity at the highschool based on things he has SEEN while sitting on a schoolbus. He wasn’t with me when he witnessed this – so how could I have protected him from this revelation if we hadn’t already had the conversation of what drug use meant.
Both First Born Son and Second Born Son have similar dispositions. Neither of them deal with negative surprises very well. They both have the need to digest information, ask questions and then reflect. Their father and I support them, answer their questions and give them the love they need to get through the tough stuff as best they can.
Believe me, I would rather never have to explain death, loss, disappointment and failure to them. But parenting isn’t just about the lollipops and piano recitals, and I signed up for the good and the bad a long time ago.
It’s time to follow through.
Can I Put the Flannel Sheets Away?
I got a little messed up today. It started with this….
I did a little Happy Dance and decided to christen the deck. This meant I had to run to the shed, dig through assorted bikes, wheelbarrows, hose and shovels for this….
I spent 20 minutes trying to clean it up and prepared to park myself in it and spent the next 20 minutes cooking and freezing, as the cloud formations dictated. No sooner did I sit down than the wind picked up.
Suffice it to say I’m not going to but the winter woolies away just yet.
Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
There are very few weekends where I get to “do my own thing”. While I spend them doing things I enjoy, usually with the boys or as a family, this past weekend was all about “the girls”.
My dear friend is getting married next week in Dominican Republic, so it is only right that we celebrated her last weekend as a “free” woman with some quality estrogen time. For blogging purposes, let’s call her…. Val.
This is Val.
Don’t worry, she’s very happy about getting married. I think the veil is giving her a headache. And it’s borrowed, and every woman knows a borrowed veil can make a girl a little down in the mouth. Don’t worry, she will look happy very soon.
This is Val’s cake. Maybe the reason she looks the way she does above, is because she never got a piece fo her cake……
This is Val, getting happy. As you can see, she is a talented person and her favorite color is blue.
This is “Chandy”. She was the hostess and is the Maid of Honor. Please excuse the poor quality of the photo – it’s an action shot as Chandy was teaching her guests the proper technique for her Smurf drink. She has a lovely home and had a great spread of food – which is the goal of every capable hostess.
This is Chandy’s living room. As you can see, there was a conference underway at the same time as the pedicures, which necessitated the presence of the Crackberries…. Fortunately, this took place BEFORE the Smurf drinks came out. Here you also see “Janine” and…uh…”Ellen”.
Val is happy here – it’s before the veil fell out the first of 174 times in the evening. “Jody” thinks it’s a sign of very healthy hair. Jody is Val’s stylist for her destination wedding. Yes, Val has “people”.
This is Chandy taking pictures of “The Sisters”. These two are pee-your-pants-funny and should be hired for every bachelorette party, bat mitzvah or Friday night. This camera is the one that recorded parts of the evening that you will not find here…and has hopefully been confiscated by Val….
This is Val being brave and allowing “Lesley” to fit her with false eyelashes. Val just wanted to be as aluring as Lesley. Since Lesley is the local “Lash Pusher” it only made sense that she put them on Val.
This is everybody. Everybody gathered at Val and her beau’s place before painting the town red. The plan was to hit a couple of bars…we hit one – or did it hit us back?
This is Val going to bed. You can tell she used to be a dancer – she’s so graceful! I don’t know how she got up the stairs. I don’t know how she got undressed. I do know how she got in my truck and it involved assistance. She doesn’t know…
This is Val the next morning. Look at how bright and chipper she looks! She made sure she was up and cooked a full breakfast for her out-of-town guests. Val will be a good wife! I would have told them to be quiet as they left to get their Egg McMuffin.
Congratulations to you both. Will be thinking of you next week!!!!!!
Woman’s Best Friend
This is Samson.
When he’s cheeky, he’s “Sparky The Wonder Dog”. He’s a purebred Mutt, but if you see shades of Lab, Shepherd and Rottweiler, you wouldn’t be wrong.
Sam and I are spending a great deal of quality time together, and while I wouldn’t call myself a fraidy-cat, I must say, there is something very reassuring about having a dog around. But Sam is an odd combination of brave boy and wuss.
Exhibit A – I don’t know what the driver of the oil truck has done to him, but he’s got a 110 lb dog pissed at him. That truck can be come up the hill – a street away from ours and Sam will go nuts. I have a hard time wrestling him away from the door when he’s hurling himself at it. Imagine a mohawk down his back – the hair is completely on end.
Exhibit B – Anyone who comes to our house has a “greeting”. Usually it’s four or five loud, sharp barks. These barks are so intense that you will still have the echo reverberating in your cranium when you crawl in bed at night.
Exhibit C – A friend of ours, who also happens to be a police officer, nearly soiled himself when he popped in unannounced. While Samson wasn’t going to let this “visitor” just mozy onto the homestead, he was more than glad to see the kids, whom he licked and bounced around like a pup. Sam LUVS the kids. Wanna break into our house? Bring an infant over – Sam goes ga-ga over the babies and wee-ones and he’s as gentle as a lamb with them.
Exhibit D – The lady who dropped of Sears catalogues at our previous residence would not get out of her van to drop off the magazines. Instead, she would fly up our little driveway at highway speeds and pull thisclose to our house to place the item in our mail box. We half expected to have her Dodge grill break through into our living room. This was after we had a tete-a-tete over Samson.
Irrational Lady: “THAT DOG needs to be tied up!”
Me: “Why? He’s on his own property?”
IL: “Well he’s a nasty dog – he should be tied up.”
Me: “He hasn’t bitten anyone.”
IL: “Well he’s a very aggressive dog!” (Let’s note here that she, herself, is becoming aggressive – I refrain from suggesting she should be tied up.)
Me: “He’s doing his job. He hasn’t bitten you, and he lives here.”
IL: “Well, I was attacked by a dog as a child!”
Me: “Well I’ve been bitten by four dogs, what is your point?”
She spins around gets back in her mini van and backs out of the driveway so fast that she shoots gravel in every direction. I ponder the reaction I would get if I’d sustained an injury from her behavior.
So Sam has a reputation. I’m sure it makes him very cool with the other Mutts he hangs with. I must admit, we don’t help with his bad street cred, since we’ve been known to reply in this fashion…..
Q: “Wow, big dog. Does he bite?”
A: “Not yet.”
This is a selfish response – but an honest one. He’s an animal – and any animal, when provoked, is going to react. However, I like to think that if the crazy oil truck driver were to force his way into the house, Sam would rip him limb from limb.
That being said, this weekend we were cutting trees.
And Sam, who has been enjoying the weekend outside with the boys, does this……
I can’t zoom back any more in this shot – because my leg is attached to my foot, which is immobilized by his BUTT!
Vicious dog. I wonder what the Sears lady would have to say now……
I’d Like to Offer an Apology
Dear Telemarketer who called my house last night,
I’d like to apologize for my husband. The Big Guy was pretty firm in his tone when it came your ill-timed call. I’m not sure where it came from, given the times I’d like him to pitch a fit and he doesn’t oblige me.
I would like to explain to him that you are located in a windowless room, God knows where, and likely working on a commission system. I’d like him to understand that everyone has the right to make a living and you are simply doing your job.
Perhaps I could explain to him that you likely get dozens of responses, very similar to the one he gave. Maybe it’s dozens of responses that are much worse.
I’d be glad to do all of these things, if you agree to do the following:
1. Stop calling my home, since I’ve registered on the Do Not Call Registry.
2. Look at the clock, and realize that 6:30 p.m. is still considered the Dinner Hour and since we all know how important it is for families to dine together, you will refrain from calling at this sacred time.
3. Look at the calendar. If it’s a Sunday – suffice it to say you will not call us – PERIOD. There is no good time to call.
4. If you are going to “pitch” something, give us the chance to decline sooner than 45 seconds and one mother-of-a-run-on-sentence. I’ll give you a hint – you won’t win either of us over if you try to drown us with your sales shtick.
5. We have insurance. We have a bank. We have a religion. We have a phone company (obviously) and a cell phone carrier (just as likely). If we need to change things up, we’ll source you – and will likely decide on a company that has NOT harrassed us via the phone.
6. Since we have call display (as most people do) and you’ve tried us at various times of day without answer – ASSUME WE ARE IGNORING YOU. You should probably save your time and start working on some other poor shmuck.
Since I seriously doubt your ability to honor one, never mind all of these terms, then I suspect we will continue to handle your calls as we do.
As I said, I would like to apologize….but I won’t.
(p.s. HOLY FRIG – AS I FINISHED THIS ENTRY – ANOTHER TELEMARKETER CALLED!!!!)
The Big Guy hits the Web
It’s only been three days and I’m already a fan of Word Press! So much so, that I’ve taken the initiative to launch a site for Peter Built Landscape Company. Yup folks, The Big Guy is ONLINE!
It was bound to happen; first with the Facebook account and now shamelessly plugging his business, The Big Guy will now have a head too large for most doorways.
On a serious note – if you are interested in top-quality landscape design and installation, be sure to check out peterbuiltlandscape.wordpress.com . We are in the beginning stages, but eventually I’d like to have a selection of his favorite completed jobs available for online viewing.
The Farm
We’ve had a pretty significant development here in Boweryville. The Farm is Sold.
“The Farm” is actually the homestead where The Big Guy’s ancestors purchase property from The Crown and made a parcel of what would eventually become 300 acres. Right now, Uncle B lives there and as he is a bachelor – it’s a big six-bedroom house that seems empty. It is a stone farmhouse, as was common in that area of the province, but what wasn’t common was the workmanship.
This hutch is in what would have been the dining room. It’s now the “Parlour” except, no one uses parlours any more. I don’t even have the shot to the floor and you can see floor mouldings. They are at least a foot high.
This was a home built by a family after a great deal of struggle and toil. The matriarch of the time watched her dream home being built and, if she was like any other woman I know, longed for the day she could move in and enjoy her modern conveniences. She died the first night she slept in the house.
There are countless stories to be told of lives lived within these wall. Each of The Big Guy’s aunts and uncle, including his father, were born in this house – likely in the room next to the kitchen. This is the same room people were laid out in for views following their deaths.
The view off the front porch is nothing short of breathtaking.
This is the place where I met The Big Guy. A large part of our dating life was lived out here. This is the first road trip we brought each one of the boys when they came home from the hospital and some of our fondest memories were lived out on the field above. It is, without a doubt, one of the best toboggan hills you will ever go down.
The reasons behind the sale are not mine to share, but I can tell you that being here always felt good. Just about every memory I have of being here is funny or warm. A psychic once confused this for my family farm, saying, “But you want to live there – it’s a part of YOU.”
Perhaps it’s because it is two farms away from the farm I grew up on. That house also had a fabulous view. The feeling about this place, however, is hard to describe. I feel the history in the woodwork. I have an overwhelming urge to touch the stones. It’s like The Farm has a life of its own and it actually speaks to some of us.
While we knew The Farm was “for sale” in the most casual definition of the phrase, it couldn’t prepare us for the news that it was sold. First Born Son has always had a special place in his heart for The Farm. He was born a generation too late, but he has the patience and passion for farming. The Big Guy, who actually went to Agricultural College because of his love of The Farm, was also hit hard. Second Born Son was never interested in being a farmer, but loved the idea of the fantasy world he could create in the hay mow; the interaction with the cattle and the mystique the “oldness” the barn represented.
We seriously considered taking over The Farm and spoke to Uncle B about it before we had FBS. It would have involved one or both of use giving up a kidney. It was not meant to be.
While the reasons behind the sale are not for me to share, I feel like time is slipping away. We have been visiting The Farm at least once a week for the past month. We only have one month left. FBS gets quiet when he thinks about The Farm and how he’s never going to work the land there again. He’s been blessed to enjoy two summers where he’s actually lived at The Farm with Uncle B for a couple of weeks. We’ve tried to tell him it’s a blessing he had that time at all, but for him, it’s a taste of what he can never have.
It’s a bittersweet time for the entire family. The end of an era is nigh and as the deadline draws near, it will be come increasingly emotional for all of us.
Until then, I’m taking an offensive amount of photos. Uncle B laughs at me for my interest in cobwebs and nails.
But there’s a beauty in these images. It’s the heart of the farm I want to capture for us for when we can’t be there to feel it.
Hello world!
Are you ready for The Bowery?
For those of you who have been patient enough to follow me from my previous life on Blogger, THANK YOU! For those of you who are masocists, feel free to check out thebowerygirl.blogspot.com and see if your brain explodes before your computer does.
In spite of feeling like I’m starting over, I do like the idea of a clean slate, to get some ideas together and be organized in my writing.
So, who am I and what gives me the right to thing I have anything to contribute to the World Wide Web? I’m Sarah. I started The Bowery in a weekly community paper that I was employed by during the first stage of my working life. I have some pretty firm opinions and while I do like to share my opinion, I respect the fact that I’m not the only one. I’m open to learning and feel we all have something to give. (Some of us should give a little less than others…)….which leads me into the final thing you need to know about me. I have a bent sense of humor. Irreverent – yes, politically correct, not always.
I am a mom and a wife, which means nothing, other than I have a lifetime of material, when it comes to hilarity, heart-rendering poignancy and a heaping helping of reality. You can relate to me because we are similar – we want the best for our kids, want more for ourselves and are able to sit back and laugh at the stupidity that life hands us.
Welcome!
The Bowery Girl 