Family Circus

From the Mouths of Babes

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

The conversations around the fire pit are the BEST! An interesting exchange transpired around the topic of our neighbors who have their house listed for sale. We noticed a family with two young girls looking around earlier in the week.

Second Born Son in a tone as serious as a Judge: You know, research says it’s better for a man to marry a woman younger than he is.

Me: Really…

The Big Guy: ~wisely silent~

SBS: Ya, because however many years there are between them, that’s how much longer he will out live her.

Me: Really!?

The Big Guy: ~eyes getting wider~

SBS: Ya, so I figure, one of those girls looking at the house next door, they look like they around 7 or 8, and they were cute! Did you see them? I think they were blonde too!

Me: What about “Cute-Little-Red-Haired-Girl-From-School”?

SBS: Oh, no – that would never work, we are the same age.

By the way, he’s TEN! (Going on 21 apparently.)

When doing the Right Thing seems so Wrong

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

What do you do when someone you love is in pain?

How do you say goodbye to someone who has been a part of your heart, your home, your history?

When do you stop being selfish by keeping them with you, when you know how hard it is for them to hang on?

How do you know when it is time to change your family, as painful and inconceivable as that may seem?

I don’t know either. But last week, we said Good-bye to our beloved Samson. Devastated is simply not a big enough word to define how we feel. His loyalty, brilliance and courage have left an enormous void in our family. We love you and know you are finally out of your pain.

Until we swim with you again……

The Graduate

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

There is pride, and then there is PRIDE! First Born Son graduated last night. Aside from Kindergarten to Gr 3, I’d like to think that Grade 8 was his best to date. And while I’d like to take credit –

…this lady deserves the pat on the back. She rocked FBS’s world.

 Which in turn, rocks ours! There are some awesome teachers our there. THANK YOURS!

 ~ One Very Proud Mom!

The Truck

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Since much of my time lately consists of watching Soap Operas and eating Bon Bons, my father thought it would be good for me to go on a road trip. He had to take his truck to “the city” to get some work done on it, so I might as well come along for the ride.

YES - it's a Chev - ignore the GMC hubcaps - no one is going on eBay to pay $150 a pop for Chev caps.

I needed a moment to ponder. Suffice it to say, the truck isn’t one of those posh “luxury” vehicles with a box on the back. Oh no – it’s rather… standard. As in Standard steering, standard brakes and standard transmission. Not a cool stick with smooth gliding action, but a shifter that rises from the floor on a steel stem.

This is the definition of "Basic".

Now when Dad bought this truck new, he went for the basic model. Vinyl floors, vinyl seats (which, coincidently, would rip your hide off when you sat on it in July, and gave your hemerroids when you parked yourself on it in January.) and no radio…

but an 8-Track player, ya’ll. If you know anything about the people in Boweryville, you know we LOVE our music – and we love it LOUD. I developed my love of Bass from the blown out speakers that distorted our favorite songs. Dad had an extensive collection of 8-Tracks, including artists as diverse as Neil Diamond and Johnny Nash. I’m pretty sure those two didn’t break bread at any Grammy after-parties.

Some of my favorite childhood memories are about this 8-Track. It helped me with my hand-eye co-ordination, and gave me a new appreciation for my father’s sense of aim. Anyone who has ever enjoyed their favorite artist on an 8-Track, would know that this media was not meant to last. The tape would stretch which would cause the music to distort, which would prompt my father to utter,

“JAYZUS! Roll down the window S!”

Being the good first-born child that I was, and since I was usually at the window with my younger sister sitting in the middle, I rolled down the MANUAL crank as quickly as possible. Usually just in nick of time before he backhanded the offended cassette down the length of the cab, through the open window, and out onto some back country road. Don’t judge him for littering, there was no Inconvenient Truth as of yet. And Thank God – because he wasn’t the only one using ditches as personal garbage cans.

So with the anticipation of more heartwarming memories, I agreed to join him on his trek. There is preparation that must take place when taking the truck out for a tour. The most important is THIS

must be down. No need for any more drag than we already have. Oh, and did I mention, the box has been reinforced…

…because many a cattlebeast has been transported in this puppy, and let’s face it – we need more weight in a three-quarter ton.

As we pulled out onto the highway, I felt we were moving a little slower than I’m used to. Dad points out that the mileage (snicker, chuckle) on the truck is best economized at 50 mpg. Now, we live in Canada, so the entire Imperial System is a mystery to me, and apparently the other drivers, as we were passed repeatedly as we got up to “speed”. I anticipated a certain route for our drive, but was advised we should plan our trip based on where the gas stations are.

We were blessed with a beautiful day. Sunshine and warm breezes met us, and the windshield of the truck, which concerned my Dad considerably. Needless to say we have no air conditioning, so the windows are down and the extent of our conversation is pretty much as follows.

“WHAT?”

“DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU, WHAT??”

“FORGET IT!!!!”

Quality father/daughter bonding, wouldn’t you agree?

After the repair was done, I’d had quite enough of being a spectator and offered to drive home.

Don't worry - he started breathing again soon after.

I must have caught him in a weak moment, because he handed over the keys. Either that, or he’d been waiting for some comic relief.

Do you have any idea of how heavy a three-quarter ton truck is? Now try and turn it in an intersection with standard STANDARD transmission with a high clutch?? All I can say is, I’m glad I could give the ol’ boy a chuckle. I would, however like to cuss out the Dodge Caravan driver who doesn’t realize that ROUND-ABOUTS ARE NOT ROUND-ASTOPS!

Suffice it to say, that loser is going to have nightmares of this…

…all up in his business for a long-long time.

And I was up most of the night with Ice Cold on my forearms. My biceps, however, ROCK!

A New Christian Holiday

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

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?

/ Sarah / 2 Comments

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.