The Truth is Stranger than Fiction

A Little Too Much Reality For My Liking

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

So, that extended break in entries… I was a little distracted with life.

Originally, it was the day-to-day stuff that got busy, like Halloween, but then crap started happening and I wake up today feeling like I’ve been hit by a truck and spinning out control like the hub cap it left behind.

My Dad has been ill, and things took a turn on Sunday. It’s not my news to share, but suffice it to say, I woke up to an urgent call at 8 a.m. and went to bed the following day at 2:30 a.m. There was a lifetime that happened in between. He is ok. Not great. Ok. He should be better if things continue the way they have for the past couple of hours. The problem is that things happened that shouldn’t have. He was in a great deal of pain when he didn’t have to be.

When the cashier at Wal-Mart makes a mistake on your bill, she can fix it. When the waiter messes up your order at the bar, you get a free drink. When the paint store mis tints your living room colour, you either learn to like lavender, or you get a refund. There is a reason why doctors are paid in a different tax bracket. The work they do and decisions they make not only impact the person they are in direct contact with, but also the legion of family and friends around that person.

Not reading a report is a mistake I would anticipate from someone working in a less accountable type of job. Not someone who is going to have to save a life. Patients need all the information to make informed decisions and fully understand what is happening to them.

We have launched an investigation to find out what happened in Dad’s case. We can’t change what has happened to him, but we can get some questions answered and prevent this from ever happening again, to him, or anyone else.

Hitting a Milestone aka “The Grass is Always Greener”

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Every parent looks forward to the firsts in their child’s life. First smile, steps, contracts with NHL franchises. Here in Boweryville, we enjoyed another milestone, just this past Friday night.

That’s the evening after Second Born Son faced his first exposure to drugs.

I’ll give you a moment to clean up the coffee that just shot through your nose. My apologizes for the nasal scalding.

And like so many things in my world – this impactful information was present in the most innocuous way possible.

“Hey Mom, did SBS tell you what happened on the bus today?” asks First Born Son. Let me add here that the boys have been in the house for OVER AN HOUR AT THIS POINT. I’d like to take this opportunity to emphasize how much I loathe “The Bus”. The stories I have from that period in my life make me a poster child for naivety shattered.

After hauling SBS from his father’s laptop, we had a detailed discussion about what happened and I used my journalist prowess to decipher every nuance of the incident. It would seem the little entrepreneur saw SBS board the bus with his box of elementary school fundraising chocolate bars and thought he could negotiate a trade of cocoa product for Grass.

At this point FBS is boarding the bus, and along with his friend, they punch the pusher and managed to hijack the conversation, as well as the proposition. I ask SBS what he’s doing while his brother is pounding the fellow bus rider.

“I just did this.” he sits at the dinner table, eyes as big as saucers, focusing on an imaginary bus seat in front of him, mute and unblinking.

In fairness, FBS has mentioned that this kid had marijuana on him in the past – he’s actually SEEN it on him. I would find out well after the fact and since it did not directly involve one of my offspring – I didn’t feel motivated to go vigilante on this kid. It’s part of the new era I like to call “I’m Only Raising My Kids.”

This time, a call to the bus driver Friday evening, followed by an email to the two school principals Monday morning, was required. The high school principal contacted me in the afternoon to advise the student had been called into the office. Suffice it to say, his day got infinitely more shitty than his morning bus ride, when the driver instructed him to sit at the front – an embarrassment he pinned on FBS.

While we’ve had “the drug talk” with our kids for the past few years, it’s still unsettling that it’s come so close to us, with SBS at such a young age. I’m not naive enough to think my kids couldn’t do drugs. I know SBS could easily have swapped chocolate bars for an easy high – and we discussed whether or not he wants to go down that road. His horrified response reassured me.

For now.

I thanked FBS for being there for his brother, and together we discussed things SBS could have said, in the event that this happens again and his brother isn’t around to help out.

I’m not dumb enough to think that this won’t happen again.

You can only go day by day and hope and pray your kids know enough not to blink.

“What I Did This Summer” by Sarah

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Ok, so we’re not going to talk about how long it has been since my last entry. Mostly because I really can’t handle the guilt. But in my defence, there has been a lot of stuff going on these past few weeks. It’s almost like God is sitting up there looking down and saying “Hey, let’s see what she can do with THIS!” That God, such a sense of humour he has…. So, in no particular order, let’s get you caught up.

THE JOB HUNT

I am officially employed – cue the choir, trumpets and kazoos. Ironically, I can’t talk too much about my new job, but I can give you some parameters.

1. It is in law enforcement (hence the “can’t talk too much”) but I don’t, sadly, have access to firepower, or for that matter, handcuffs.

2. Taking this job required computer training. While I’ve participated in training in the past, I would have to say, hands down, that this instructor was THE WORST teacher I’ve ever had. That includes you, Mr. Walduck. I’m sure you are glad to pass the torch from Gr. 10 Accounting.

3. Shift work is involved, but since it is part time, it’s not too bad. I have had to rewire myself to understand that napping in the day is not a sign of sloth, but an essential key to survival. You will have to ask my family how well that’s working out, but I’ll hedge my bet to say it’s a “thumbs down” kinda result.

4. The Boys’ reaction to my employment status was mixed. On one hand, they knew the steady flow of baking they had been enjoin would slow diminish, but on the other, they were going to get the “Kid channels” as promised to them “When Mom gets a job”  since Dad’s job offers us an attractive discount on our fibre bill.

5. I have worked two nights, and now, two days. In this length of time, I have come to realize that no matter how bad things may be in my life, someone out there is suffering through something 100% WORSE. I can promise you this – and it is heartbreaking. It makes me appreciative for a good man and two amazing children, two terrific parents and an extended family I am proud of. There are so many worse scenarios out there right now.

THE BOYS (and yes, that includes Roman)

1. Well, we are back to school. With this coinciding with the start of my new job, it’s been an interesting experience. Add to the fact that First Born Son started High School, and it is fair to say the anxiety level was at an all time high here at Boweryville.

2. The dog HATES school.

I am serious considering renting him out for weddings and Bar Mitzvahs.

This is Roman on Day 2 of Back to School. He is sitting in the kitchen – howling. This is after he watched the boys walked down the driveway and spent five minutes doing this….

Forgive the poor quality - it was edit photos or write the blog. I guess by now you've figured out which I chose.

He’s sitting at the front door trying to see if they are outside. You can’t actually “see” through this glass, but you get an idea of shapes, and this pup is looking for a big blob and slightly smaller blob. On Day 1 – he spent the day running from door to door, whining to be let out. It’s like he thought he lost track of the boys and was convinced that “they must be out back, no? Oh, well, let’s go check again out front! No?!? I must have just missed them.” I think you get the idea.

Now he spends most of his time looking at me with a look on his face that speaks volumes. “YOU are a lousy mother for losing track of your CHILDREN!” Join the club pup.

3. Ironically, The Boys do NOT hate school. FBS is loving high school and Second Born Son has a teacher who taught his brother. We all loved her and are looking forward to a great year ahead!

4. No hockey for SBS this year. He’s decided to “take a year off” and once it became evident that he was not headed to the NHL, The Big Guy and I think it is a misappropriation of parenting to force him to play. We realize we are the only two Canadian parents to take this position. He would like to try skiing and I’m thinkin’ that’s a GREAT idea!

5. FBS is playing, and actually trying out for Rep this year. Anyone who has followed this blog knows the hardship this kid has gone through in the name of love for hockey. The fact that he’s grown almost a foot in 18 months has certainly helped his odds. We should know which team he’s on in a couple of days. I’m just thanking the stars above that we didn’t have to replace his pads, catcher and blocker, but I just didn’t managed to find that $2,000 lying around this summer.

PARTY CENTRAL

1. We’ve been “Party Central” lately!

Two birthdays at one party - hey, we like a big BANG for the buck!

We had First Born Son’s birthday at the same time as my Mom’s. But we actually held it on my father-in-law’s birthday.

We do having a living room, but everyone wants to sit in the kitchen....

But it’s all good, because we had his birthday the weekend before…with his sister’s….

This could take a while....

And then just yesterday, we celebrated FBS’ birthday!

That broad in the back looks familiar, but I never see her in any of the other pictures...

So suffice it to say, the five pounds I gained with all the birthday cake I seem to have worn off with the back and forth with the dog to each of the four doors of this house.

ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE WITH THE CLASS?

1. Farm update I guess. We finally said good-bye to The Farm. The household items were sold at the end of August and while it didn’t impact me as much as the first auction did, it was still a tough day. Once again, SBS directed traffic, and FBS helped his father on the wagons. It was interesting to see some of the artifacts that were unearthed.

Butter Churn

This butter churn now resides south of the border.

What almost $300 looks like!

It was amazing what people were willing to pay for items. Here is a bovine horn with gunpowder in it. Sold for just under $300. Give me a moment while I look for a saw and some horned Herfords…..

I managed to pick up some items myself, but we’ll leave that for another day.

2. Worked our a$$es off outside! I was so sick of looking at the Red and White shed – in case you can’t remember….

The job necessitated the dog run, which began the thought about how to paint once it was done...

and once we realized the pup needed a proper run for when I’m a the mine and the boys are at school, we realized if were ever going to get rid of that colour, the time was now.

I'm supposed to be up on the ladder, but no one would hold the camera for me.

So I started painting. No one could get where I was going with “mud” for a colour, but patience people!!

TA-DAH!

The idea was to make it disappear. I don’t want to see it any more and I think it is Mission Accomplished! The Big Guy gets credit for the finishing touches, such as some of the trim and the kennel. Roman has the best dog run this side of the Saugeen!

IN CONCLUSION

Therefore, I defend my failure to submit on a regular basis on the grounds that I haven’t exactly been watching soaps and eating bon bons.

That being said, I will make a concerted effort in the future! 😉

About A Boy

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

I have just experienced a rather profound moment. It happened shortly before I took this photo.

I had been listening to the Weather Network, where, in true media fashion, they sensationalized the rash of tornadoes that ripped across my region two years ago. Footage of uprooted trees, destroyed buildings and rescue workers made me anxious when I looked outside. At that moment I immediately identified with two people who lost their son in that storm.

Ironically, I knew The Boy’s parents when I was about his age. His mother rode the bus with me in elementary school and was like an older sister to me, in spite of the fact that she was already the eldest sister of several other siblings. His father rode the bus with me in high school and was someone I could relate to, with his dry sense of humor. I never met The Boy but years after I lost track of his parents, we found ourselves across the room from each other at Prenatal Class. His parents were, like The Big Guy and myself, expecting their first-born child. We spent a summer of excitement and anticipation. We joked about the scarier aspects of childbirth as a coping mechanism. We cheered each other on with our little milestones and marvelled at how our lives continued to be intertwined.

Then lives got busy with babies: ours with First Born Son, theirs with The Boy; and eventually, second babies. It wasn’t until I was on facebook years later that I was able to see what a gorgeous child The Boy was. Dark thick hair like his mother, eyes like his father, and by his mother’s description, a true blend of the both of them. He was more than clever; he was kind, insightful and generous. He had a wisdom beyond his years and after his passing, triggers and memories haunted and comforted his family – the beauty of a butterfly, the surprising reaction of the family pet, the generosity of his classmates.

The first year goes by, and with it, the first Christmas, birthday, school year and other milestones a family celebrates all without The Boy. His family healed, but is still wounded which is why I was so upset with the television coverage today. In the aftermath of the tornado, The Boy’s family refused to talk to the media. They didn’t want their personal nightmare played out like some cheap entertainment for mass consumption. I respect them for that – and wish more people would do the same. They never gave permission for his name to be released, which is why I’m respecting their privacy now.

I have looked at First Born Son and felt a twinge when I think how tall he is getting and how he will enter high school in a couple of weeks – all things The Boy would be doing too. I cannot imagine the pain of losing my child, but I can appreciate the loss. No one wants to live it, and those who live it, will never escape it – and from what I understand, they don’t necessarily want to.

But back to the sky. When I saw it, I felt overwhelmed. I know how the family dreads storms, especially those with high winds. There was definitely something brewing.

Do you see that slice in the clouds? It’s almost as if your arms were long enough, they could pull back the layers and reach into heaven. Or perhaps, if you were in heaven, you could see what was happening down below.

And it occurred to me; The Boy’s family was marking this year’s anniversary this very day with a barbecue. They wanted to celebrate, rather than mourn. And so I looked at the clouds one more time with rose-colored glasses.

There is a silver lining in those clouds – do you see it? The Boy is there, looking down at his family; celebrating with them. He can’t keep the storm away but he was a Glass Half Full kinda kid, therefore the beauty inside that angry cloud could be nothing but happiness. The Boy was full of joy, his mother said, and suddenly the trepidation I felt early was replaced with peace.

While I couldn’t be there for the barbecue today, I was very present in spirit. And I believe The Boy was too.

Volunteer Hours

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

Merriam-Webster Definition of VOLUNTEER

1
: a person who voluntarily undertakes or expresses a willingness to undertake a service: as a: one who enters into military service voluntarily b (1): one who renders a service or takes part in a transaction while having no legal concern or interest (2): one who receives a conveyance or transfer of property without giving valuable consideration 
Funny, this definition does NOT include “whipping boy”, “blame target” or “root of all evil”.
Let me start by saying, I love softball. I love playing it, watching it and for the past several years, coaching it. I’ve had some trials and tribulations, with the past three years being the most difficult. It was to the point that I had decided this year I would not coach, but be a “Mom” in the stands to Second Born Son. But he asked me to coach his team, and since I had only ever helped with First Born Son’s team, I felt it was only fair to help out at least once with SBS’ team.
In recent years there has been a pattern with the issues facing the coaching staff – the kids stop or never did take it seriously (and by this, I don’t mean that they don’t have fun, they just fail to engage in the sport), then the parents get all annoyed that the team isn’t doing well, then gets in the coaches’ grill about how they handle the kids.
Personally, I have taken the view that organized sport is a prepping ground for real life. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you can do your best and some (umpires) can prevent you from winning. Working hard and practicing pays off. You won’t get a gold star just for showing up, you actually have to excel to be acknowledged. Mediocre is just that. These life lessons are why we’ve signed the kids up for organized sport.
But I’m among the minority, apparently. Parents want their children lauded for simply standing on a base. If I ask them to hold their glove in a ready position (partly to “look” like a ball player and mostly to prevent them from eating a ball) I’m being harsh. This revelation was given to me cold and hard by an irate parent, just this evening. This same parent hosted his own ball practice with certain members of the team, but failed to invite, ironically, the three kids whose parents are on the coaching staff.
Such negative and divisive actions have impacted the team pretty much from the beginning of the year. The kids feed of their parent’s energy and combined with their own less than ambitious outlook, end up being a team that could win many more games, but don’t.
It’s unfortunate. I feel bad for the kids who will someday go out into the real world and find out that Mom and Dad can’t hold their hand while they are at their first full time job. I’m sorry for the parents who will look back at this time in their child’s development and realize that there was a service being paid in how coaches motivate and indeed criticized their children – and how their children were able to use that motivation. We play numerous teams in a year and most of the coaches are strict. I’ve heard much more severe comments made from other benches – the teams played better, the parents were supportive of the coaches and that results in wins – which is what all teams strive for.
What it comes down to is this – I’ve volunteered in minor sports for nine years. I’ve never taken a year off. The time has come. I never suggested I knew everything about softball, and indeed have enjoyed the fact that I’ve been able to learn as I’ve move along as well. But to have a parent be critical and suggest I, and my colleagues, are doing a bad job – when they themselves never learned how to play the sport, well, it’s simply insulting.
Sadly, minor sports are experience a drought of volunteers as severe as the lack of rain we had in July. Teams will not be formed without adult volunteers, but who would want to step up, knowing parents and in some cases, players, are ready to tear them down? Individuals with much more experience than I have been dragged through the mud, all because a parent felt their child may have been slighted. I would never have volunteered to coach children if I didn’t like kids. I would never offer my time if I didn’t feel I had something to contribute. To be told otherwise is hurtful.
I don’t know what the answer is for the issue at large, but I know I won’t be signing up for any more volunteer hours any time soon.

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.)

The Aftermath of a Funeral

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

I know the calendar has May as a full month – but I can say with all certainty that the last time I looked at the calendar and processed the date, it was May 6.

And here we are now in the last full week of the month.

In a nutshell – life in Boweryville exploded about two weeks ago. The Big Guy’s mother passed away. While it was not unexpected, it was sudden. We knew her end was in sight, but certainly not within days. He and I found ourselves in the position of aiding his father through the demanding and emotional pitfalls that planning a funeral can be.

Throughout this experience, I found myself faced with huge ironies that I would like to share – in no particular order.

1. People forget who the funeral is for. Firstly, the deceased and secondly, the surviving spouse or offspring. Any decision that we were faced with making was filtered this way – Would she have wanted this? Does my Father-in-Law want this? Does TBG or his brother want this? Anyone outside of that pecking order was simply not considered. There was a person or two who would make comments about decisions that were made – and I would refer to the Pecking Order. I don’t think you have to apologize for that.

2. Funerals bring out the worst in people. While it’s lovely and romantic to think of loved ones clutching Kleenex to their chest and gently weeping, so great is their pain, the cold hard truth is, there will always be one asshole individual who will try to make ANY situation about themselves. This is not the time for drama. This is not the time to lay a claim. This is not the time to purge yourself of your past regrets. Get. Over. Yourself.

3. There have been many times in my life as a Mother that I have been proud of my children, but never more so that during the day of visitation and the next day at the funeral. My boys stood and shook hands with hundreds of people they didn’t know. They watched people react emotionally and they handled themselves brilliantly. My heart swelled when I was paid a very sincere compliment from someone who appreciated how well the boys conducted themselves. They made eye contact, they smiled when appropriate, they answered questions – usually the same ones – sincerely and politely, for hours. While it made my heart full to see them do that, it nearly made me burst with pride when someone else actually noticed it too.

4. Have I mentioned yet that people are assholes inconsiderate? One person who came to pay his respects actually said to my boys “Well, you’d better get used to being in this line-up because with the age of the people around you, you’re going to be doing this a lot more often!” While First Born Son and Second Born Son were busy picking their chins off the floor, I wondered to myself what his ride home was going to be like – as his wife looked ready to put him in a box herself!

5. For all the times people have thought us crazy for buying shirts, ties and suits for our kids, it totally pays off at a time like this. Second Born Son is not naturally drawn to the button shirt and tie like his brother is. But when I advised he would be wearing a tie for two days – as well as his suit for the funeral, he merely nodded – he knew it was not only proper, but required. I loved him even more for it.

6. A part II to that thought….we realized that we needed to buy SBS shoes – and ended up getting him a pair of MENS SIZE 7 DRESS SHOES. I’m in distress over this! My baby is wearing MENS SHOES! The only thing that saved my breaking heart was his humor. When presented with several Oxford styles as well as a pair of more on-trend slip ons, he replied “I don’t care what dress shoes look like, as long as they are comfortable. I only care what my running shoes look like.” Good to have your priorities Little Man!

7. You truly find out who your friends are in times like this. People you would never anticipate hearing from will show up at your door with a pie, cheese tray or other gesture of kindness. This gives you faith in humanity, not to mention about 10 extra pounds. I think I have to avoid lasagna and funeral sandwiches for a couple of weeks.

8. Regret is a useless emotion. The first time I heard it was in college, but this saying has become my motto. I want to live my life without regret, and I feel,  so far, I’ve done well. Throughout this experience I’ve had a front row seat to actions and consequences regarding regret. Death always wins – none of us gets out of here alive, so you might as well make your choices and actions so you go in a direction without regret.

9. Not every death is a bad thing. When you see someone will not improve, and you know there is suffering involved – all you want for them is peace. If death brings peace, so be it. The living are there to console each other.

10. I need to give some serious thought to my final wishes. I cannot imagine giving my husband, children and parents the chore of planning and imagining my needs and wants. The pain one goes through to create a sendoff their loved one would like is heart wrenching. No one should have to go through that.

I’d Like to Offer an Apology

/ Sarah / Leave a comment

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!!!!)