Reality Check

With everything that has been going on in my world lately I have to say I've had trouble keeping all the balls in the air so to speak. Do you ever have those times when life has been busy and you feel like maybe you're neglecting your kids, pets, spouse, or friends? Thankfully these things usually pass for most of us. Everyone moves on, life returns to normal, and you feel like you aren't neglecting the ones you love. Or at least you aren't neglecting them quite as much as before. It's a start.

This weekend my kids were away visiting their dad. My ex-husband and I have been split up for over 7 years now so I've had lots of these weekends off. I tend to use them to catch up on sleep, do house work, grocery shopping, sleep, laundry, errands, and did I mention sleep? Well this weekend I was just finishing off some laundry and was putting it away in the kids rooms when I found some handwritten signs they had made. At first I didn't think too much about them. The kids both enjoy writing notes on small pieces of paper and I often find them in every room of the house...yes even the bathroom. Their bedrooms have had lots of papers floating around in them lately too. You see over the last few weeks both my children opened up libraries in their bedrooms. This basically consisted of looting all the books from the bookshelf outside their rooms and cramming them into empty drawers. Voila!! Insta-library. Of course with only two children in my home and both of them running personal libraries you can imagine how much foot traffic they might have gotten. The answer if you couldn't guess is very little.  They kept each other busy for an extra day or two by holding book exchanges but eventually they realized nobody was coming. I bet some of you are thinking "Gee Colleen, why didn't you go to their libraries". Well the answer is that I did. Several times. However most of the time these libraries ran at unusual hours like when I was in the middle of making dinner or at bed time. They also would just randomly shut down for the night and so it was hard to get there before the closed sign was up. Apparently these facilities also had difficulty maintaining staffing levels as you will see in the photo below. No wonder they had to close early.

I suggested that maybe some of the stuffed animals in our house might like to curl up with a good book but was told that animals can't read. Apparently the fact that they also are just toys and aren't actually real didn't factor in to the logic. It's pretend play children. Run with it. Sigh. Story time at the two libraries often ran at the same time making it hard to find enough stuffed animals that could attend. Sometimes the librarians got hurt feelings when their own stuffed animals would chose the other library's story time over theirs. Who knew what a cut throat business book lending could be. It was kind of a sad situation. All in all the libraries kind of lost momentum after a few days. Eventually one of the libraries converted to a restaurant. Considering that bookshelves were raided for the library I keep expecting to find food stashed somewhere in Camryn's room. By "find" I really mean "smell" the week old food. Oh. please don't be a milk or meat product. Cross your fingers for me.

So fast forward to this weekend when I'm putting away some laundry in the kids rooms. I walk into Camryn's with an arm load of clothing and start tucking it into drawers. While doing this I discovered a note that she had written. I'm not really one to snoop but it instructs the reader to "flip me open" in the bottom corner. How could I resist?

Outside of the note

So I flip it open to find what can best be described as a manifesto. Apparently Camryn was upset this week and I was just too busy to even realize that she had sat in her room for what must have been an hour concocting this plan and writing her farewell letter.

For those of you that don't read in this rare dialect called "Phonetics" I will translate:

Dear Mom and family, (I assume that would be Andrew and I)

I think you are wondering why my restaurant is closed forever. Are you? I love you and wish me happy trails.

Love,
Your daughter
xoxo

Write to you as soon as possible and thank you for all you did possible.  (I think this was meant to read "for all you made possible" but not sure)

P.S. Tell Andrew he was the best brother I could ever have. Love you Bro.

Then she drew a picture to go with it which was equally heart breaking. It appears to be a rendering of the moment Drew and I find the note only to realize that she is far along on her journey with her little stick and spotted bag full of necessities.

Now tell me that doesn't break your heart. In all the craziness of the last few weeks worrying about Andrew and all the medical stuff happening with him I hadn't even noticed that my Camryn was hurting and feeling this sad. In many ways our world has been crashing down around us but it hit me when I found this note that if the only thing I actually accomplish in a day is to let the kids know they were noticed then it'll all be okay. Don't think I missed the symbolism that I found this note when Camryn indeed was not at home with me. I did shed a tear as I stood and read it just like in the picture.

So we are making a few changes in our house. I'm going to try to dedicate a little bit of extra time to get to various libraries or restaurants that pop up in our neighborhood. I've also posted the note below. After all why should the kids be the only ones who can leave notes around the house?

Sucker punched by statistics

I originally started my blog in order to share some of the highs and lows of my life and hopefully make a few of you laugh. It's also been very therapeutic for me to be able to write again. As a teenager I used to keep a diary and would write endless amounts of whatever I wanted into fancy journals. Now I have the Internet and an audience. Little did I know how things would unroll and the response I would get. This particular posting has been kind of stuck in my brain and I have had a difficult time putting my feelings into words. Unlike my teenage diary I feel some sense of responsibility to both make sense and entertain you. I'm not sure if this entry will do either. I apologize in advance if reading it sucks hamster butt. Now that we have that out of the way.....

For those of you who have been regular readers you may recall that in January I posted Wishes and stuff..... That entry was about my son Andrew getting diagnosed with Autism. What you may not know is that Autism isn't the only condition Drew has. Let's just say that I've sat in more than a few chairs opposite a doctor, psychologist, or other professional and heard "Andrew has (insert condition here)". The first one came when he was about 5 years old. That was Tourette Syndrome. Basically Tourette Syndrome causes the person to have repetitive movements or sounds that they don't always have full control over. I will say I was relieved with this diagnosis because the other options the pediatrician was considering were brain tumour or Epilepsy. Tourette Syndrome is a relatively benign condition that can't kill you and will likely go away or at least get somewhat better over time. You can imagine that I had a "Yeah, it's Tourettes!!" moment in the doctors office that day. I did resist doing a happy dance around the room but don't think I didn't want to. Most people have seen Tourette Syndrome depicted on television or in movies as the person swearing uncontrollably. I will say that is a very rare situation. For Andrew most of his tics have involved movements like touching his nose, putting his fingers to his lips and blowing on them, tapping his wrist on things, blinking, or making an oh so frustrating sniffling noise like he needs to blow his nose....constantly....for days or even weeks. Some of the tics do cause other people to stare at us however in the big scheme of things it's manageable and not a major part of our everyday life. When Andrew was about 7 he was diagnosed with AD/HD. This wasn't a surprise since there is a strong family history of it and we suspected it for a while. At 9 they discovered he was quite bright but also had learning disabilities and then at 11 he was finally given the Autism diagnosis. So if you were keeping score that is 4 different conditions all in one kid. By the time the Autism diagnosis came last summer I felt like we had finally gotten to the bottom of things. It was a lot of stuff but nothing we couldn't handle as a family. But just when I thought it was safe to go back into the water...... I should have learned by now that the stupidest thing to do is to sit back and think "Wow, I finally have a good handle on life".

So do you remember back in high school in grade 12 math class when you sat there wondering when the heck will I ever need to know how to calculate the probability of two events occurring together? I have your answer. Listen up kids. It's when you are a 36 year old divorced single mother of two kids, a handful of pets, and apparently have too much time on your hands. That's when. For all of you who hate math please bare with me. I'll try to get to my point as quickly as possible and spare you my calculations. I will confess I had to brush up on my probability skills for this next part. I guess I should have paid more attention in class. So yes I did a bit of research for this blog and I did it all for you. No need to thank me. As if anyone would thank me for math. Ha ha. I crack myself up.

Statistically the odds of getting Tourette Syndrome is estimated to be about 1 in 100 but because so many people go undiagnosed this is just a best guess. Having ADHD is around 1 in 25, the most current stats regarding Autism is 1 in 106 kids born today will have it and 1 in 10 people are thought to have some form of learning disability. Taken together the odds are approximately 1 in 2.65 million of having all of those things together in one person. Okay some of you experts may disagree with the exact figure. Conditions like Tourette Syndrome, learning disabilities, Autism, and ADHD are often seen together so that could skew the results a little but for the sake of argument let's just agree on this number. I just don't like math and research enough to get more precise than this okay. Besides 95% of my readers won't like math enough either for me to bother putting in the effort. For the other 5% you have my sincere apologies for letting you down.

Because of the co-diagnoses up until now Andrew has been affectionately referred to in the Tourettes world as being "Tourette +++ "(plus, plus, plus) with each plus representing a co morbid condition. Doesn't that sound so much better than just being plain old "Tourette"? Personally I think that these 4 things should be enough for anyone right? So how did he go from 1 in 2.65 million to possibly being 1 in 185 billion....yes billion....just 2 short weeks ago?  Great question. You can relax the math part is over. Phew!! 


Push up baby at 5 and a half months old



Holding his own weight at 4 months

To explain I'll have to go back a little bit further in time. When Andrew was a baby he was strong and active. He was literally born kicking on the way out. Good memories!! He was also early with all his milestones. I used to think that the milestone charts at the doctors offices were way off because he was months ahead of the curve. Now some of you will probably assume that my memory of how strong he was has faded. I have included some photos to show that I wasn't just imagining it. He was Mr. Muscles. Then somewhere around the age of 4 or 5 years old something changed. It wasn't really obvious at first. It's not like I can look back and put my finger on a specific event. Just that somewhere in that time period Andrew's motor skills slowed down. He become more cautious and reluctant to try new activities. A few years later when Drew was in grade 3 I realized that he had neater printing in Kindergarten then he did currently. The pictures that he drew had less detail in them. Over time his hands started getting weaker and he would sometimes drag his right foot when he walked. I can't tell you how many times I mentioned these things to his doctors. Nobody seemed alarmed and I got lots of reassurance that it was nothing. Usually in the form of a look like I was completely nuts. I just called it "reassurance" to be nice but in reality they all thought I was bonkers. Finally last summer right around the time that I had pursued the private assessments for Autism Andrew was finally referred to a neurologist. Mostly because I think they got tired of me in their offices complaining that something more was going on. Of course getting a referral means a long wait especially when they imply in the referral that the child's mother doesn't have a clue. I really should write a book about how to win friends and influence people. Apparently I'm really good at it. Yah. So the wait seemed like forever but it was something I had fought to get for several years so I was glad to take it. As you may have already guessed that appointment took place 2 weeks ago. I was fully expecting to walk in and be told that Andrew was fine, I was just a worried mother, and I was indeed completely crazy as first thought. I sincerely expected that I would get through the visit and there would be a very simple explanation. I just hoped it wasn't that the men in white coats were on their way to pick me up for a "vacation".

Walking with a sharp stick at 13 months and apparently he was stable enough we weren't worried. Gulp.

After almost 2 hours with the neurologist I walked out of the office with one single piece of paper in my hand. A piece of paper that could change everyday of the rest of our lives. The paper was a requisition for blood work. Not just any old test though. A test for a genetic disorder that if true likely came from me, his mother. The condition is called Becker Muscular Dystrophy (BMD). The hallmarks of this condition is that a child will usually appear typical at birth. Check. Somewhere between the ages of 2 and 21 they will start to lose motor function. Check. It almost exclusively affects males. Check. Muscles can deteriorate over time. This is called wasting. Sadly I think we might be able to say "Check" to this one too. The condition occurs about once in 70,000 live births so is quite rare. It's progressive and there is no cure. Chances are pretty good that if he does have it he'll be in a wheelchair by his 25th birthday but maybe even sooner. Girls can also be carriers but rarely have symptoms. It is usually passed from mothers with the defective gene to their sons but could be the result of a spontaneous genetic mutation as well. So while I try to absorb such a huge possibility I also have to face the fact that I likely gave this to him too. I know it was the luck of the draw, blah, blah, blah. That doesn't make me feel any better. We have no known family history of any neuromotor conditions so it's not like I had any clue this would happen. I get that in my head. It's not my brain I'm worried about. It's my heart. On the one hand I know how strong I can be but on the other I worry that it won't be enough. I was strong enough for Tourettes, learning disabilities, AD/HD, and even Autism. I just can't help wondering how other parents in this situation deal with something as big as Muscular Dystrophy. 





Able to climb up slide by about 14months



I will say that we don't have a confirmed diagnosis yet and lets hope he's not 1 in 185 billion. Wow!! That's completely mind boggling isn't it? There is an estimated 7 billion people alive on the planet today. If the test comes back positive he very likely could be the only person with this combination in the entire world. In fact most scientists think that by the year 2100 we might reach 12 billion people. There may never even be another person in all of history or the future with this combination. Of course I haven't really looked into it yet but I'm guessing we'll be the only family at the support group meetings for this one. Hmmmm. And you thought you were a unique individual......

The art fairy has the flu



Bear hibernating underground by Camryn



Last week Andrew had to complete a book report for school. He attends an Art Based program because it allows him to express himself in other ways besides sitting in a desk for 7 hours with pencil in hand which is something even I would dread. Last year he did a dance about electrons, a Power Point presentation about the Great Depression, and sang about the fur trade. It really is an awesome school. Of course like any regular book report it had to have a title and a summary that didn't give away the ending. The only other requirements that his amazing teacher Mrs. E. gave were that it had to be presented in a unique and engaging way. The method and materials used was left up to the student. In other words we had a whole lot of free range with this. I say "we" because Andrew really needs help organizing his thoughts and projects. Last October he had a French project where they had to make a mobile. You know like you'd hang over a baby's crib only this one probably wouldn't have met the Canadian Standards Council guidelines for baby products. Still an interesting way to showcase his knowledge of all things Halloween in French. It was a great idea but not one that is easily pulled off in an hour while trying to get dinner on the table and help Camryn with her homework for the night as well. I'm working on cloning myself though so that in future this is a breeze. Yah, don't hold your breath for that one.



Various trucks by Andrew



 I'll confess that Camryn and I did a good chunk of the coloring on the mobile but we had a good excuse. We didn't find out about it until the night before it was due and Drew has fine and gross motor issues so large amounts of printing and coloring are very hard for him. This project had no shortage of either task. He did the printing but the bulk of the coloring was done in an assembly line fashion. Of course I always let him direct things and try to keep my mouth shut as much as possible. I figure my job is to be the hands and not the brains. Drew is perfectly capable of being way more creative than I could ever dream of. And for those of you who think he'll have an unfair advantage by having me do his coloring I will let you know that I have made children cry with my drawing. Namely Camryn. She has sobbed more than once when I tried to draw something like a dragon for her. I guess it wasn't what she imagined in her mind. It wasn't really what I imagined in mine either. I have a serious problem with spacial relations and so I can't draw much of anything without making myself want to cry too. Let's just say I'll never be able to quit my day job to pursue art. At least not if eating remains important to me. Therefore I don't have the least bit of guilt being the coloring mule for my son. I just hope he can overcome the disadvantage I have thrust upon him by "helping".



Penguin by Camryn

 So Andrew chose the book series "39 Clues" for his report. I read the first book in the series so that I could understand the characters and the plot when we started the project. After all it's hard to prompt Andrew through something I don't have a clue about in the first place. An interesting read for those of you looking for a little mystery and adventure. I think it speaks to the draw of the storyline that Andrew has plowed through them given he also has a reading disability. I confess that there were times when I just couldn't put the book down myself. The series also has the added bonus of tossing a little bit of history and geography into the mix. I can't say that liberties weren't taken with some of the historical facts for the sake of the plot but it would be an interesting jump off point of discussion for those who are looking for something more than just mindless fiction. For the project Drew decided to make a poster with 3D artifacts from the book. Of course we had to find a way that he could create these items so we bought some craft foam, some new markers, glue, pieces of felt, etc. After Andrew completed the project we had lots of extra supplies so I just left the materials out for the kids. I haven't had to ask them to turn off the television or put away the DS once in 3 days. They've been busy little bees cutting gluing and our newest thing....stapling this thing to that. I'm talking hours and hours of enjoyment for less than $15. It created quite the mess but the stuff they came up with on their own has been fun to discover. So my house looks like the art fairy puked all over.





Oh my.....

 

You may think that I am likening my children's art to vomit but please understand I think they are geniuses in this realm. I say that only because they have overcome my genetics to be able to produce something you might actually recognize as art. If that's not amazing I don't know what is. It's not their creations that are puke-like but rather the process and the "creativity" that is left behind all over my living room floor that is something to behold. Please don't misunderstand I love that my kids just run with their ideas. What they create is so cool it blows my mind. I just wish that the art fairy would clean up when they've finished spewing their brilliance all over the house. Gravol anyone?



Oh my Murphy!!

A few weeks ago I came into my room and found Murphy in my bed. He was just sitting there on my pillow. You may wonder who the heck is Murphy and why is he on Colleen's bed anyway? Well I asked myself the same questions....only I didn't talk to myself in third person....just in case you were wondering. You see Murphy is a monkey. A stuffed one at that. Okay, okay, let's get technical shall we. Actually Murphy is not a monkey, he is an ape but I like calling him a monkey and I'll tell you why.

"Murphy" by Camryn

For starters Murphy the Monkey sounds way better than Murphy the Ape. Don't you agree? Great! I love when we have consensus. Secondly it would probably really bug my first University professor to no end for me to call him a monkey. You see just a few years ago....and then a lot more before that.....I walked into my very first lecture at the local University. The class was Human Evolution and it was taught by a professor that introduced herself as "the bitch of the Anthropology department". Her words, not mine. You can imagine I sat through that first class wondering if I was really cut out for post secondary education or if I'd be better off anywhere else but that lecture hall. I will give her a bit of credit though. It reduced the class size by about half before the next session. I made it through this course and a year or two later took Primate Behavior from her as well. I learned two very important lessons in that class. The first was that Bonobos are freaky little primates and I don't mean in a make your skin crawl kind of way. Let's just say they really like each other. A lot!! To them sex is like saying "Hi buddy, how's it going?" or "Nice weather we are having". They have no standards and no boundaries. The second lesson I learned in that class is that monkeys have tales and apes do not and under no circumstances are they to be mixed up. Basically this prof told us that if we couldn't get that one thing right she would fail us even if it was the only mistake we made on a test. Awesome!! For those of you who know me or who have been following my blog you'll notice that I went into Psychology and not Anthropology as my major. Coincidence?



Murphy in real life



About a year after taking the Primate Behavior course I was working my dead end job at a local discount retailer that sticks happy faces on everything to make people think they are happy. Ha ha ha, he he he, ho ho ho. Yah. Anyway I was finishing what had been a very long shift working on the cash register when looky looky who walks up to my till. My former professor Ms. Monkey expert. She looked really happy (did you catch the sarcasm, it was there). Guess the happy faces had no effect on her feelings shield. Imagine the sound track from Star Wars with the humming of light sabres and ray guns being deflected by magical force fields. I introduced myself as a former student. She kind of perked up. I wish that hadn't happened because I was about to ruin her day all over again I just didn't know it yet. She asked me which course I had taken from her. Well damned if I could recall the name of either course at that moment. I could place the blame on any number of factors. Maybe it was the coffee from the staff room that had that hint of chemical flavour in it, or the synthetic fibres from my uniform, or the awesome store morale that made you want to give yourself a lobotomy but truthfully it was just one of those moments when I should have shut up about 5 minutes earlier than I did. It finally occurs to me and I said "I think it was Human Evolution". The smile falls off her face and crashes like a crystal figurine on the floor. She says "You THINK it was Human Evolution. Wow, that's super. My life has meaning now". She takes her bags and walks away. All I can hear is the click, click, click sound of her shoes on the floor tiles. I guess that could have gone better. One good thing came out of our chance meeting though. I was able to corroborate that she was indeed the bitch of the Anthropology Department.

Playdate with "Rainbow Butt Monkey" who is also an ape.

So long story short the stuffed primate on my bed is Murphy and I'm calling him a monkey because I want to and nobody can stop me. Murphy has actually been in our house for about 2 years now but he has only recently been upgraded in status to a name worthy stuffie. We have lots of plush toys that call our house a home but only a few get a name that anyone can actually remember a few weeks down the road. The only reason I bought Murphy was because he came with a cool video about Chimpanzees. He was a package deal. Until recently he was also just an after thought. However one day I walked into my room to find him sitting on my pillow. Camryn advised me that he now belonged to me. This is not uncommon. Camryn is a very generous kid but when it comes to any kind of stuffed animal she has a hard time parting with it for long so typically any plush toys I ever get from her end up right back in her room by the end of the day. However Murphy was still in my room the next day and then the day after that. It's now been a few weeks and to be honest I kind of just expect him to be there when I walk in now. It's not so much the fact that I have a stuffed animal in my room to keep me company as it is that he is evidence of Camryn's progress and growth. Of course the fact that I insist on calling him a monkey is apparently not evidence of my progress or growth. Glad one of us is maturing.

Blah!! and other thoughts about shopping

This weekend I went to the mall. That doesn't sound overly exciting but stay with me. Not that I promise you it will become exciting but I'll do my best. I had a few things in mind to buy but nothing really solidified. I will confess that is my least favourite way to begin a shopping trip. You see I'm not a big fan of malls at the best of times. They are noisy and crowded to start with. The particular mall I chose to torture myself with just so happens to stretch between about 64th Ave and 58th. You got it....it's 6 blocks long. There are two floors so really it's more like a dozen blocks of walking if you don't count all the twists and turns as you try to get by the crowds of teenagers who seem to congregate in 12 packs and say things like "oh my gosh, you're kidding me" as if their friends are always lying to them. Trust me kids you're friends are telling you the truth as they know it. Now get out of my way. I have a lot of stores to hit.

So I start my trip to this marathon of a mall and in search of what else....a parking spot. You'd think in the middle of the slowest months of the retail shopping year it wouldn't be to hard to find a place to put my car so that I can spend some money. Surprise!! Apparently there is a flash mob at the mall. Oh happy day! I did manage to find a spot that was so narrow I practically had to get the WD-40 to slide into it and then a can opener to get out of my car. But the good news is that it's only about 100 feet from the door to the mall. Booyah!! That should really cut down on all the walking I'm about to do....yah, I'm not buying it either.

I managed to get into a few stores without a lot of luck finding anything. Of course remember I'm not even sure what it is I'm looking for which makes it that much harder to find "it". Maybe if I'm lucky a little leprechaun will jump up out of the clothing racks and say "Ha ha, you found me pot of gold". That would be quite helpful. Maybe I'll write that on a suggestion card for the malls customer service people. Does anyone ever put suggestions in in there? If they do what sorts of things get suggested? Enquiring minds want to know. Surely nothing as brilliant as my leprechaun idea. Just think how much time you'd save if they had that feature.

So I walk into one of the more popular brand name stores and had been looking at clothing for about a minute when this wash of white light flashes from the ceiling of the store. I look up and the fixture is about the size of a can of pop. I realize I'm kind of thirsty and could go for a can of pop right about now but there is work to be done. The white light is madly spinning around when I hear a chime followed by another. The light continues to flash so I look around the store. Nobody seems to have noticed or cared what this light is. I wonder if this some sort of secret sale? Is this an indication that someone is shop lifting? What the heck is this light for? Still nobody in the store is reacting. I assume they must know that everything is fine because despite me not knowing them at all group mentality tells me that if nobody else is worried about this light I probably shouldn't be either. Famous last words? Hmm, let's take a minute to ponder........alright, I'm sure it's nothing. Just a random light flashing and chiming. I mean that happens everyday doesn't it?

I pick out some clothes to try on and head for the fitting rooms. This is always fun right? Seeing just how horrible you look in the latest fashion trends. I saunter over with the light still flashing and the occasional chime coming from the ceiling. Just after I walk into the dressing room (and a full three minutes after the light started flashing) I hear a reassuring robotic voice say "The fire alarm has been activated, please remain calm as we investigate and try to locate the source". Are they kidding? They have a high tech robot working for them and have lights flashing inside what I presume is every store in the 12 blocks of mall concourse but they don't know after 3 minutes where in the building this is happening. Awesome!!! And now I'm standing there in clothing that doesn't belong to me wondering what the heck to do. I decide very quickly that nothing looks good enough that I want the fire fighters to find my dead body in them so I get back into my own clothes and leave the store. Everyone is still calmly milling about when the announcement is made that the incident is now over and that we "can continue enjoying (our) shopping experience". Yah, I think everyone already was. Maybe this happens so often they don't notice it anymore. Great emergency system guys. Well done.

I walk back and forth weaving in and out of swarms of people who no doubt are as perplexed as I am about where the heck they are going. Recent renovations at the mall including the addition of a new wing have me completely lost. I'm sure I've double backed and retraced my foot steps a dozen times now. Did I mention how much fun I am having? Sigh. My next step is bra shopping. Sorry guys. This was too good to not bring up. Feel free to skip ahead if you must. I know you're probably getting a little squeamish at the thought already. We will forgive you. However before you go I do want to start this section with a big old thank you to the man (or men) involved in this part. I'm not sure exactly who the brain child behind this was but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a woman. You see every bra in the store had a tamper proof dye pack on it. This does not seem extraordinary and at first thought it's not. I'm sure that women steal bras all the time....even the really ugly ones. Who wouldn't want one of those army issue bras for their collection if they could get it for free? Not that they didn't have some nice ones but when I say they were all tagged I mean every one of them. Of course if they didn't make these stupid things $50 for a basic bra then people wouldn't steal them as much. But I digress.

So you'll notice from the photos that the genius who tagged these suckers put every one of them right in the middle so that when you try them on they dig painfully into your breast bone. Sorry again guys. I just said breast....breast, breast, breast. I suspect we've just lost half of the male readership. Either that or we just gained a few. Show of hands how many of you found my blog by Googling the word "breast" and are reading this by accident. Sorry about that...well not really. So lets continue. Now I could have gotten the lady in the over sized sweater and clunky shoes who was working in the change rooms....and who I might add had droopy "girls" herself.....to help me by removing this tag in order that I try it on without pain and suffering but she was busy helping some red faced guy who was desperately looking to buy his wife lingerie for February 14th. I say it was for his wife but really most men have figured out not to attempt this by the time they know their partner well enough to actually marry them. However for the purposes of my story lets say it was his wife. I don't know this woman but unless she is a size 0 (which in my humble opinion is a crime against nature to begin with) she is going to hate him. Less hope she's freakishly skinny because if not it's going to be cold shoulder Monday instead of Valentines day at their house.

So I was stuck attempting to try on a series of bras that have dye tags that dig into my skin so hard it actually left a bruise. I'd show you pictures but nobody needs to see that. Trust me I'm doing you a major favour. No need to thank me. Let's instead thank the super genius who attached all these tags where he did. Good job buddy!! The world is a better place I'm sure. Let's hope you've lead a good life because if not I know what is waiting for you on the other side. Brimstone and bras with dye tags, that's what!! Finally I give up and leave the store. Onward!!

Next is shopping for purses. I say a little prayer to give myself strength during the trying time to come. I hate purse shopping. I've had the same $40 purse for the better part of 3 years. I've been able to trash it. You know why? Because it only cost me $40!! I walked into one of the larger department stores at the mall today and headed for the handbags. I'm looking around and they are all designer labels. The cheapest one is $550 for some crappy looking nylon purse by nobody I've even heard of. I could get a nylon purse at Wal-mart people. In fact I could probably get 20 of them. Why would I buy one from here for that price? So a sales associate happens to be walking through. I politely ask her "where are the not $550 purses?" She smirks back at me and says we have this one here for $520. I don't think she quite understood me. Nor do I think she'd find the witty comeback I have dancing in my head at that moment amusing. I sigh and walk away. Don't get me wrong if I found the perfect purse and it was under $200 and I thought it might actually be worth having I'd probably just put out the money in order to save myself from the disgusted looks of the sales associates at the next store but I'd be insane to spend that kind of money on something that won't be durable enough to survive my lifestyle. A dog that pees on stuff, two wild and crazy kids, and my awesome coordination.  Yah, don't ask about that last one. Let's just say I trip going upstairs....a lot....and when I do I will try to save my face and my pride before my purse okay?

After a long afternoon I finished my shopping with reasonable success. I found everything I didn't know I needed, got sore feet, and a bruise in a place no woman would want one, and got a blog idea to share with you. What more could a girl ask for?......Other than a purse that costs less than a car and a bra that doesn't cause internal bleeding that is.

Midnight adventures

Last night as I was preparing to go to bed I heard some whimpering. It was a familiar sound. One that I have become accustomed to over the last decade or so. I had been down on the computer checking emails so I headed upstairs to where the noise was coming from. There squeezed behind a floor lamp was my daughter Camryn. She was making a crying sound and certainly looked disoriented and upset. However I knew that I needed to approach her in a calm way. You see she was sleepwalking and the crying was part of her dream. Both my children are nocturnal wanderers. They don't sleepwalk very often, maybe once a month but it is not uncommon for Cammie to be tearful during these episodes.

The first time it happened was when Andrew was about 2 years old and I was pregnant with you know who. He had fallen asleep on the couch in the evening and I just hadn't moved him into the bedroom yet. Suddenly he sat straight up as if wide awake and said something about how the car was yellow. Then he quietly laid back down on the couch as if nothing had happened. We didn't have a yellow car so I asked him to repeat it but he was already back asleep. Well in reality he had always been asleep but I didn't know that at the time. Often it's very hard to tell. Both kids will have their eyes wide open, come right up to you, and talk as if it were an everyday thing. The only way to tell is how they behave after that point. Drew will walk into my room at night, say something, and then go back to bed. He always says it with conviction as it it were some great philosophical words that I should write down but by the time I am awake enough to realize he is already climbing back under his warm covers. To date I have never been able to make out a complete sentence from him. I can usually gather the general gist of what he says but never the whole message. Often it's random and confusing....or maybe it's just me that is random and confusing leading to his profound words being lost forever. I hope it's not the solution to world peace because then I'd feel really bad about missing it.
 

So finding Camryn squished behind the lamp wasn't that unusual for her. I've found her asleep in all sorts of places in the house. Sometimes on the floor or the couch in the living room but some of the more amusing were sitting at the kitchen table, on the bottom step of the stairs, on an empty shelf in the bookcase, and of course now behind the lamp. Because I was awake and heard the whimpering I was able to get to her before she closed her eyes again. She was looking upset so I asked her what was wrong. She tends to stumble through a conversation when she is sleeping. She will stutter and seem somewhat confused. She can answer basic questions although sometimes in interesting or nonsense kind of ways. Drew on the other hand is just matter of fact about it. He will say something once and then don't bother wasting your breath. He won't clarify or repeat himself. So I asked Camryn what was wrong and she manages to get out that she "can't find it?" I ask her what "it" is and she looks even more confused than before. She continues to randomly talk about "it" but I never really found out what "it" actually is. I asked her if she wanted to go back to bed and she said "yes". If that's not proof that she was sleeping I don't know what is. Really, what kid would want to go to bed after all? I carefully walked her back upstairs to her room. She laid down and said "okay, she can come". Look at me, I seem to have just negotiated that "she" can come. I don't know who she is or where I talked Camryn into taking her but pat on the back for me. A few fist pumps and I say to myself "I deserve cookies for that". I go back down stairs and treat myself to my well earned treat.

So far I've been lucky that neither kid has done anything too nutty. I hear horror stories of people going outside in their PJ's which in our wonderful Calgary winters could be very dangerous. Neither kid has eaten anything or crawled into the bath tub or otherwise gotten themselves into a sticky situation but of course as their mother I worry. So far the only challenging thing is the waking up to a child's silhouette in my dimly lit room. A child who is standing over me starring intently at me. If you've never experienced this sort of thing let me say I suspect the adrenaline rush is similar to bungee jumping or sky diving. Nothing says wake up and fight for your life like someone unexpectedly starring at you while you sleep. I have a weird fear of being watched so even though these are my own children watching me sleep it's still a little disconcerting. Don't bother asking me where I got this fear from because I have no idea. It's not like I had any siblings who did this to me. It's not like I have ever had anyone (that I know of) stalk me. Alright well there was that one guy that I met online a few years ago that emailed me pictures of his cat dressed up and all his baby pictures for a over a year despite repeated requests to stop. And no we never even met for coffee. Can you say socially inappropriate? As unusual and creepy as that guy was I had this phobia long before him. Where this fear actually came from I'll never know but I must say waking up randomly with someone watching you does not seem to help a person get past it. 

So if in my old age I am a little bit off my rocker, talking about yellow cars, showing up at the bed sides of my fellow nursing home residents to watch them as they sleep, and regaling tales of how I was an ace negotiator for unnamed girls going to unknown places please just calmly walk me back to my room and tuck me in bed. I'll be fine and won't remember a thing in the morning.

Little White Lies

I'd like to start this blog entry with a declaration. I generally think honesty is the best policy. I don't advocate lying to people. It tends to just get you into trouble. But I'll tell you the truth.....I lie sometimes. Not that you should believe me....I just told you I lie. Maybe you're really nice though....of course you are....and you'll cut me some slack just this once. See you're a better person than me already.

I don't lie about my accomplishments or at least I try not to. I don't pretend to be someone I'm not either. I think that if someone is important enough to you that you'd want to impress them then they likely deserve for you to be honest with them. That being the case I have a confession. I've lied to my children. Yes, it's true. The two people that I love more than any other creature on the planet are the victims of my dishonesty. Some of them are pretty innocent like when they were little and I just needed them to get to sleep so I didn't go insane I would skip pages in a story book when they weren't looking. I've slipped vegetables into some of their favorite foods....of course I got caught almost every time. And I keep the best cookies hidden for myself. It's all true. They wouldn't know a good cookie if it bit them on the nose....they're kids. All cookies are great to them.

But today as I took the water tank from Andrews humidifier into the upstairs bathroom to be refilled I was reminded of one of my best and most sneaky deceptions yet. As I walked in I saw Charlotte. Let me explain where Charlotte came from and why she is now entangled in my web of lies. Andrews grade one year is mostly a blur to me. It was a busy year....or at least I assume it must have been because I don't remember very much from it. Of course we got the regular rounds of grade one worksheets and dried macaroni noodles glued in the shape of the number 2. Drew grew out of his new shoes by November and left his coat in the classroom almost everyday. Pretty standard stuff right? Then came Mothers Day. The beginning of the big lie. You might as well start warming up your voices to chant "Liar, liar pants on fire".

Andrew brought home Charlotte in a small painted flower pot. You see Charlotte is a spider plant....or at least she was a spider plant. Rest in peace dear friend. She was fairly new to this word and I imagine her root system wasn't strong enough to survive the Black Thumb also known as "Mom" in our house....me, okay....it was me. I admit it. Poor little thing. Day after day I'd walk into the kitchen and see her slowly withering away as she looked at me in her "Oh please water me" kind of way. Sometimes I'd do it and sometimes I'd forget. Well, mostly I forgot. I didn't mean to neglect her but it happened. That girl hung on for a few months. Every time I'd water her she would rally and perk right back up as if she were saying "I'll be okay. I can just walk it off" (cough, cough, wheeze). I think a part of me thought she was invincible. Truthfully I didn't want her die....especially after Andrew named her. I'd like to say I know where the name Charlotte came from but I don't. To my knowledge he had not heard the story of Charlotte's Web yet. Almost ironic though that our Charlotte would be part of a web too....a giant web of lies. I will point out that we don't own plants for a good reason. Case in point.

One day I went in and she was just laying there in the window sill. A dry, crackly, shrivelled shell of her former self. I knew she was gone. I felt terrible and hid the plant from Andrew thinking he'd probably never notice. After all he was only 6 right? The first day without her in the window went well. He didn't notice. Then on day two as I'm frantically scrambling to get dinner on the table I hear a little voice "Where is Charlotte?". My heart sank. How could I tell this sweet little face that I had murdered his Mothers Day gift to me? Now you may say that it's hardly murder when you accidentally let a plant dry up....or at least that's what I try to tell myself of in order to feel better. However the truth is that I knew she was there and I neglected her most basic needs. So how do I now say to this little guy that something he loves enough to name is dead and hidden under the sink until a suitable spot is found? "I'm not sure honey, I bet she's around here somewhere?" Did I actually say that? "Okay" I hear back.....and now did I also just hear him buy into that totally implausible lie? As if plants just get up and walk around the house only to be found in a sunnier window than you left them? Yes, yes I did just hear him say that. Problem solved right? I bought some time until he forgets about it. Great.

(Buzzer sound) System fail!! The next day. "Where is Charlotte today?" he softly asks again. And then day three, four, and five. The panic sets in. Now what am I going to do? The kid is waiting for her to come back and he's not forgetting. Luckily it was the kids weekend with their dad. That bought me some time to think, plan, and pull off what would become my 5 year deception. It occurred to me to go to the local garden centre and see if I could find a similar type plant. I figured he'll never know if it was something else entirely.....he's only 6 after all. So I hop in my car and head over there bright and early Saturday morning. It was summer so half of those stupid things were in bloom. The other half were so clearly the wrong type of plant I knew he'd figure it out. Some poor 15 year old whose parents probably own the place and make him spend every free moment of his life working there was quite baffled when I complained under my breath "Do all these horrid things have to have flowers already? Yeesh!!" I assume that the lone security guard was probably told to follow me through the store at that point. "Follow that mumbling, flower hating, crazy lady Jim....she might be trouble".

Finally I pass by an aisle I had been down several times but somehow failed to notice the 10 actual spider plants hanging from a beam above. As if the sun came out from behind the clouds I realized that I might actually be able to solve my problem. Now to look for the smallest most spindly looking one they have. It's like going to the SPCA hoping to find a dog with only three legs and Kennel Cough. Yah, I'm sure Jim the security guard had his hand on his can of pocket mace as I paced back and forth looking at all these incredibly robust, healthy plants. "Seriously, why are these all so healthy?" I say. Jim's heart starts pounding faster as he prepares to take me down. I find the smallest one which is at least 20 times bigger than Charlotte. This will never work I think to myself but what choice do I have? It seems even more insane to drive across town in search of a sicker plant to fool a 6 year old. Yah, now I start worrying about how crazy my plan seems. Where was this logic a few hours ago? I have sympathy for all of you who have tried this with a hamster or goldfish.

So Charlotte the sequel came home with me. She was much to big to repot into the original container so I just left her as is in the generic white pot she came in. The next night when Drew came home he saw her and with a hint of glee in his voice he said "Oh Charlotte you grew". I stood there flabbergasted. He's buying it. "Yes, honey, I found her upstairs by the window. She was enjoying the sunshine".  Now I'm just tempting fate. I tell myself to stop talking. He spends about 10 seconds looking her over and then leaves. I'm not sure if I should be relieved or annoyed that he's not throwing me some sort of party to honor all my hard work. Kids I tell you!!

Fast forward 5 years. We still have Charlotte II. She is upstairs in the bathroom hanging from our shower rod. Hey, give me a break. She's still alive so I can't be doing to bad a job. Okay, her pot....the same one she came in has started to crack as she pushes her way out. I noticed that 6 months ago but as always life has been busy. Who am I kidding? I'll probably be shopping for a spider plant this summer. And as I walked in tonight I swear I saw her shaking side to side in a disapproving "I'm so disappointed in you" kind of way. My lie worked but the plant torments me just a little every night. So if I had it to do all over would I?.....HECK YAH!!

Open letter to my Snow Man





Dear Snow Removal Guy,

We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot. Please know that I love the idea of someone else shovelling my sidewalks. I really do. Especially in -34 C wind chills. For that I will forever be in your debt. However I would like to chat with you about a few things.

First it isn't very nice to bury my car as you pass along the sidewalk with your snow blower. Remember that time you watched me sweep all the snow off my vehicle? That glint in your eye. Me stupidly standing there with the snow brush still in my hand watching you mere seconds before you came along and blew twice as much snow back onto it. That was awesome!! Really one of my best moments ever. I think you thought I was mad at you when I was screaming and swearing but really in my heart I was trying to show you how much I appreciated all your hard work. I was just so overwhelmed with love at that moment I didn't know how else to express it. You got me good. Really funny to do that just as I'm leaving for work. Ha ha. Score one for you friend. 

My car partially dug out



I realize that I am partly to blame. After all I park so close to the walkway....the same place I have parked for over 6 years. Just because that is my assigned spot is no excuse and I agree that I should just accept it. But since we are such good buddies could I ask that when you are deciding between my car and the green space to dump snow could you please at least consider the green space as a possible alternative? That would be ever so sweet of you. Not that I don't love having to get help digging my car out of the igloo you have built over it. It's very creative and child centred of you to think how much fun the kids and I could have in there. I just don't want to have too much fun. I might stop appreciating the little things you do for me. I'm sure there are other people who deserve this kind of special treatment too. I certainly don't want to be greedy and keep all this excitement just for myself.



Stairs....yes really!!



Secondly I would like to point a little thing out to you. There is no point shovelling the walk and then leaving the stairs with a foot of snow and ice. It's actually not the flat surfaces that pose the greatest risk. No really. I mean it. I know it's hard to believe but understand that as your biggest fan ever.....EVER, I promise not to steer you wrong. I've watched more than a few of my fellow condo dwellers swan dive off those suckers. You may have noticed the deep indents in the snow where their bodies lay motionless for several seconds as they get their barrings. Me standing there wondering if I need to call 9-1-1. I appreciate the adrenaline rush but understand that my heart doesn't need any help to beat. It's doing okay without your assistance. Thank you for thinking about me though. Nobody clears the walks or cares like you do. I like the added touch of having the snow collapsing back onto the stairs. Makes it more treacherous for the senior citizens in the complex. You and I are both laughing about that one. "Oh here comes another one" we both say as we chuckle under our breaths. That just never gets old does it?

Third I would really prefer to sleep at 6:00am on a Saturday morning rather than listen to you randomly blowing snow around the complex. Of course there isn't much else on this earth more amusing than drinking my morning coffee while I watch you and your friends sabotage each others hard work. You blowing snow on your buddies freshly cleared walk way and then when you go around the corner he does it back to you. Oh man that's great. I get so much joy from this game of cat and mouse. Not quite as much fun as when you cover my car but it's still pretty awesome. I also love the fact that the condo is likely being billed by the hour. Makes it that much funnier to see you recovering the sidewalks and then having to go over them again.

Well buddy I think that's all for now. Thanks again for everything you do. I know that your strong work ethic and attention to detail will lead you far in life. I can hardly wait to see you move up the corporate ladder. You will be greatly missed once the snow disappears. Here's hoping for a quick end to winter.

Your friend,
Colleen

Super carb-aholic expialidocious

Picky eater !!

Two words that strike fear in parents who don't have one and cause an anxious knot in the pit of the stomachs of those that do. If you are already a member of this club welcome back. If you are not yet initiated we will save you a place. Lucky me I have two of them and guess what? They are picky about different things. Try not to be jealous okay?

Yes, Camryn is my super carb-aholic kid. If a food is white she'll consider it. If it falls into one of the following categories she'll probably put it in her mouth. Pasta, rice, potatoes, bread. All carbs, all the time. Regardless of what it is make sure it doesn't have any spice, no lumps for goodness sake, should be one solid color without a hint of extra anything in it, no funny smells or weird sounding names, and if possible should be a food she's already familiar with.

I would say that she's always been fussy about food right from the start. She certainly wasn't impressed with any solid foods except for Mini-Go yogurt. Those suckers were gold to her and she'd eat as many as you could find in the fridge. She'll still eat those things like they were going out of style. As a toddler it was all about Kraft Dinner. Gee that never went away either. Don't even get me started with how much milk that kid would drink. All that calcium was super helpful when she went through her biting phase. Yippee!! Strong teeth. She was so set in what she would eat that we even had to introduce brown chicken to the menu. This was a magical food at our table. Something my picky eater couldn't live without. Bet your dying for this mystery recipe. Okay here it is. Brown chicken and rice:  First go to the store and buy ground beef. Yes I said beef. You see brown chicken is not really even chicken at all. It used to moo. Brown it. No spice except for a pinch of salt. Serve it with rice. Voila!! A masterpiece. Only the fanciest dinners at my house. Wonder why I never have dinner parties? Now you know.

At the age of three there was absolutely no way she was going to eat anything but chicken so "brown" chicken it was. I couldn't believe she actually fell for it. The other day I tried serving "beef and rice". Silly me. She just looked at me like what garbage are you trying to pull Mom? What can I say it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time but now 8 years later we still eat our special brown chicken and rice. At least she'll put it in her mouth.

Then I have Andrew who is the most polite picky eater I have ever met. He will sweetly say "No thank you" or "I'm full" after only a few bites rather than consume a food he does not like. Now some of you are probably sitting there thinking to yourself "kids will eat if they are hungry enough". Please know I'm not trying to hurt your feelings when I say that's garbage. Maybe a perfectly typical kid somehow understands that theory but as a mother of a kid who would actually starve himself just believe me when I say that it's not always the case. When he turned three Drew didn't gain any weight for a year and a half because he simply refused to eat more than two bites of anything....yes, I mean anything....even candy. The biggest problem though was that his list of acceptable foods kept changing. That was actually harder than dealing with Camryn who was pretty reliable in what she would or wouldn't eat. Drew would love broccoli for 3 weeks and then one day simply refuse to eat it again for two years. The only food that never went out of style for him was good old PB&J sandwiches. That was really nice except that you can't take those to school anymore for fear of allergies. I've had to try and get creative with weekday lunches but truthfully he's just opted to go hungry many times. Given how skinny he is already you can see why I just try to give him what he likes.

For those of you that are still in the midst of your struggle I will offer you my not so sage wisdom. Who do you think I am, Yoda? This is all I got people....

1. If you change the name they will come. Okay, changing the name of a food may not fool your kid like it did in our house but it's worth a shot. What's the worst that can happen? They grow up and totally embarrass themselves when they try to order brown chicken steak? Serves them right for everything they put you through.
2. Give them a Kraft Dinner sandwiches if that's what they'll eat. Okay, so everyone you know will think you are completely insane....you probably are. Accept it and move on. You have years to lay guilt trips on them for all the anguish and public humiliation they have caused. Get them back by dressing them in a reindeer sweater, take a picture, and show all their friends when they are fourteen. You'll feel better I promise.
3. Keep putting a variety of foods on their plates. Even if you know they won't try them just have it sitting there. If they freak out about that put it on a plate near them. One day you just might be surprised and they'll put it in their mouth. Try not to jump up and down screaming "I win. Your going down kid!!". Scaring the heck out of them probably won't leave a positive association of that food in their minds. Sit back and do a happy dance in your head but on the outside be as cool as ice. You rocked it and you know it!!
4. Lastly with all kidding aside. Ask for help if you need it. It's out there. If your kid is so picky they really won't eat, are losing weight, are getting so selective that they are down to only 5 or 10 foods total, or it's really impacting your family ask your doctor for help. And tell them that I sent you. Gratuities are gratefully accepted but your undying adoration is more than enough.