The Hook

Okay it is seriously a long time since I've updated because I almost forgot how to log into this darn thing!

I hope everyone had a great Easter/Passover/long weekend (does that cover everyone?) because we did even though it included a trip to Reptilia which is darn expensive but we did get our fill of Iguanas, snakes, crocodiles, frogs and every lizard imaginable. We saw a snake bite a rat too. I tell you the good times never end. I even got to pet an Iguana and a Cayman. Woo. Good thing we had hand sanitizer before lunchtime.

Lets talk about the hook. Some of you might not know me that well but the thing is that when I get interested in something I tend to go whole hog. If I like an author I will read everything they have ever written. If I am interested in a period of history I will read everything and see all videos (DVD's lord I'm old) about them. Seriously if you want to discuss WW2 I'm your girl. I even took an in-depth two year course on it in University. Anything you want to know about Watergate? Don't get me started. I was obsessed for about a year. The Holocaust - has been a fascination forever. (Please rush out and read Corrie Ten-Boom if you can). 9-11, The Great Depression, Confederation, Henry VIII, The Inquisition, The Roman Empire, The Ancient Greeks (I did double major in Classics and Philosophy after all). These events had a hook that interested me and made me delve into them. All of this is just the tip of the iceberg that lead me to a realization this morning.

As I was driving to work I was listening to "The Current" on CBC radio. Anna Maria Tremonte was interviewing an ex- Toronto Star journalist who had become obsessed with a story. Apparently early in 1994 a British Journalist videotaped a killing of a Father and young daughter in Rwanda. There were a number of bodies or people dying around them and these two were kneeling with their hands held out in the praying posture. They knew they were next. The tape showed them being bludgeoned to death. Apparently this was shown world wide with little notice. In 2000 The Star reporter went back to this Tutsi town and found the family of the Father and his daughter whom was discovered to be called Justine. He met the mans wife and she requested to see the footage even though she was warned it would be disturbing. After seeing it she showed the reporter pictures of her husband and daughter in good times. The reporter was so touched that he has revisited this family numerous times.

The Rwandan genocide in 1994 saw the Hutu's kill 500,000 people in four months. The total death toll came to between 800,000 and a 1,000,000 which is about 20 percent of the Rwandan population. Apparently this genocide was fueled by propaganda which encouraged the killings and as part of the annihilation utilized sanctioned war rape. Over 500,000 Tutsi women, girls and babies were exposed to unspeakable sexual violence that often lead to death.

I read Romeo Dallaire's, "Shake Hands With The Devil" which outlined his experiences in Rwanda and his eventual post traumatic distress disorder. Here is the thing though. I can't go any further. I can't read or see anymore about this. Once I get "The Hook" I am usually in totally. In this case and with the issues in Sudan I can't go there. I feel like a coward. I don't want to know more. I don't want any more images in my head of the injustice and violence done to these people. It gives me an inkling of why the world has largely ignored the troubles in Africa. The horror that occurs right now as we sip our green tea and check our facebook pages is almost too much to comprehend.

I am at a loss. I remember thinking, "why didn't people stop the holocaust in WW2?" But here it is people. Genocide occurring today and yet I don't want to know more. What kind of person am I that I can't look at it? Why isn't my usual hook hooking me? It's too much. I can't face it and today I feel ashamed.

Let me be indulgent

So today is my Moms' birthday. She would have been 66. She passed when I was 22 and she was 48. I reached for the phone to call my grams as I do every time it is Moms' birthday and realized she wasn't there.

Do you remember that skit on Sesame Street where this little black girls mom asks her to go to the grocery store and says, "get a loaf of bread, a jug of milk and a stick of butter". The little girl repeats it all the way to the store. A loaf of bread, a jug of milk and a stick of butter. Today I am a stick of butter.

Oooooh Mexico. I've Never Really Been But I'd sure Like To Go!

The following is a discussion that was held in Mexico a couple of weeks ago. I must preface this with the fact that I was in a bed with Charlie and Alan was in a bed with Sophie. Due to the fact we were in all one room we ALL went to bed between 8:00 and 8:30 each night. Because of this Alan and I often woke up at 1:00 or 2:00 am because we had slept for five or six hours. Please note that the following conversation occurred at about 1:00 am and was conducted with whispers.

S: Pssssssssssst Al?

A: What?

S: Did you hear that?

A: What?

S: There is something moving around in the drapes making noise!

A: WHAT?

S: Ssssssssssssh. listen!

A: Oh Man!

S: I KNOW! Effing nature! (I didn't say effing but you get the gist)

A: Goddammitt!

S: Well Charlie is nearest the curtains and he'll be taken first because he's so small.

A: Ssssssssssssssssh.

S: Oh crap it's on the move again.

A: Maybe it's a coati?

S: or maybe a capybara?

S: No it's not THAT big to be a huge Mexican rodent. It's gotta be small.

Al: Sssssssssssh

FIVE MINUTES LATER

S: Oh god there is is again. I feel like a ninja on defcon 5! I can't sleep.

A: What are you doing?

S: I'm lifting the sheets up so the capybara won't climb up on me!

A: You're an idiot!

S: Yes but safe. Will you switch beds with me?

A: No way man. I'm protecting Sophie. I don't make the rules........

S: Okay, now you're in deep shit because in all horror movies whoever has sex, smokes, drinks or is being MEAN is the first taken. I'm totally safe now.

A: (Laughs)

S: you are so totally screwed now. I will sleep easy.

A: Shut up.

S: g'night sweet!

A: Love you.

No one was abducted or chewed on. The people saw this and thought it was good.

Just a Quickie.........

Minds out of the gutter people! I have this feeling of happiness today that has taken me by surprise. I think I know why. Let's start at the beginning. I hate folding laundry. No, really. I hate it with the heat of a thousand suns. The laundry, it just never stops coming. You get it all done and then guess what? More, exponentially more. And fiddly too with all the wee socks I have match up.

I opened our laundry shoot (yes we have a laundry shoot I totally love it) and what did I find in the laundry cupboard? A MOUNTAIN of laundry. I felt so overwhelmed. I pictured myself folding every evening all week long. So guess what I did? I stuffed the laundry in two garbage bags and dropped it at the wash and fold on my way to work. It only costs a dollar a pound too. In fact I might be saving money in terms of water, electricity and detergent. Also I will have free time to do stuff other than laundry. Oh, I don't know, stuff like play "my little pony" or yet another round of Monopoly Jr. Still better than laundry.

I guess this is why I'm so happy. If someone told me when I was seventeen that having the laundry done would make me so giddy I would never have believed it. But I am. Next - how to get the toys to magically put themselves away at night!

Coming Clean.

Yes, let’s clear the air. I have a confession to make. Brace yourselves people. You all know I love my husband dearly. Well I have to come clean and admit I am also in love with another man. Yes it’s true. As hard as it is to make this admission I must do it. Please know that Alan is aware of this and has agreed that I can officially make this public so we can somehow work through this. The name of the man I am in love with is – Dr. Oetker. Now this name might ring a bell with some of you especially if you have been to a Loblaws or “Metro” (how dumb is the new name for Dominion?) lately. Dr. Oetker is not living anymore but his products live on. It turns out he wasn’t even a real doctor but actually a scientist who came up with some special type of yeast for bread products. Yes I am in love with a dead German man who said he was a doctor but really wasn’t. I also don’t really care that he wasn’t particularly hot either. Well, maybe he was hot in the turn of the century kind of way but it doesn’t really appeal to me. You see my darling Dr. Oetker created these pizzas. I still remember the day. About two Christmases ago I was at a house party and they were passing around snacks and on one tray were these small pizza slices. They were thin crusted with only tomato sauce, cheese and little pesto. It doesn’t sound that great does it? After one bite I was a goner. I immediately ran to the hostess demanding to know where this slice of heaven could be found. Dr. Oetker my angel pizza man made them and from there the romance began. The pizza’s themselves are much smaller that the regular frozen pizza’s like Delissioso so they are really only big enough for one adult or two children. I must always have at least one in our freezer or I become jittery. Alan generally is out two nights a week so those are Mama’s Dr. Oetker nights. (Please don’t call on Tue or Thur btwn 8:30 and 9:00 as I am having my “alone time” with Dr. Oetker). I actually wait until the children are in bed so I may have total peace whilst I am enjoying my secret pleasure. Yes for some women it is chocolate but for me it is Dr. Oetker. Go try them – and then thank me. Thank you Alan for being so understanding.

And now for something more seasonal:

Fourteen Serious Questions Raised By” Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer"

1.) WHY IS SANTA SUCH A COMPLETE BASTARD?

I'm going to say he has a chemical disorder, probably Bipolar. The elves sing him a very nice song and he's a total jerk about it, leaving the desperately co-dependent Mrs. Claus to patch things up. He has some sort of eating disorder that causes his weight to fluctuate wildly. He tells Dasher he should be ashamed for presenting Rudolph to the community simply because the child has some sort of nose disorder. He only changes his mind about Rudolph once he figures out a way to exploit him. Plus, this guy is absolutely ITCHING to cancel Christmas. Hey Santa. It's not your call. Christmas is the day Jesus was born. God will let you know if Christmas is cancelled. Until then, get in the damn sleigh.

2.) WHAT'S UP WITH CLARICE?

A generation of men is all screwed up because Rankin/Bass decided to make Clarice disturbingly attractive. She's a little forward, a little coy, and those eyelashes! I swear to God, men should all organize a class action suit to pay for therapy.

3.) WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE ELVES?

Why are they such fascists? Like the head elf isn't way different than all the others? And what about the tall elf? Is he an engineer? Is he from MIT? Why is he tall? And how come the head elf and the tall elf don't get in any trouble but Hermy does? 4.) WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE REINDEER?Okay, Rudolph's glowing, squealing nose is weird, but why do the other reindeer find it terrifying? What is it about a glowing, squealing nose makes other reindeers pupils shrink and their bodies convulse? And why does it mean that Rudolph can't 'play in any reindeer games'? He's the best at flying !

5.) IS IT HERMY OR HERBIE?

My word to God, he gets called both over the course of less than an hour.

6.) WHAT'S THE DEALIO ON THAT TALKING SNOWMAN?

Forty years ago, Burl Ives, who lent his voice and a lot more of his image than you'd think to the Talking Snowman was a big star. Now nobody remembers hits like "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" or "The Ugly Bug Ball" or his Oscar winning turn as "Big Daddy" in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof". All anyone remembers about Burl Ives is that he is the talking snowman and they don't even know he was really Burl Ives. I imagine this makes the ghost of Burl Ives just about as mad as hell.

7.) WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH TIME AT THE NORTH POLE?

Okay, follow me here. Rudolph runs away from home right after Reindeer practice. He has adventures with Herbie and Yukon Cornelius and visits the Island of Misfit Toys. Then he leaves them behind and is off on his own long enough to enter puberty and grow antlers. Meanwhile, his Dad went to look for him right after he ran away, followed almost immediately by his mom and that Little Tart Clarice. The near adult Rudolph returns home to be informed by Santa that everyone's gone looking for him. We know it's been less than a year because Santa says he can't fly the team without Rudolph's dad, but it sure as hell has been a while. Rudolph goes directly to the Abominable snowman's cave JUST IN TIME TO STOP HIM FROM EATING .....CLARICE! How are we supposed to view this sequence of events? Where Mom, dad and Clarice looking for Rudolph for almost a year before the Abominable caught them? It's just a coincidence Rudolph stumbles upon them moments after that? I think this stretches credulity. I'm forced to assume that somewhere in the vicinity of the Island of Misfit Toys there's an object of immense mass, perhaps a Fallen White Dwarf Star, and that proximity to this mass causes relativity in time so that Rudolph has aged nearly a year while only having left the Pole for about a day.

8.) DO CLARICE'S PARENTS JUST NOT GIVE A SHIT?

Rudolph runs away and his folks go after him. Clarice disappears and her parents… don't appear in the special. Is she an orphan? Is that why she's always on the make, looking for the love she never got?

9.) WHY IS KING MOON RACER SO DAMN COOL?

Aside from the fact that a Lion with wings is pretty cool to begin with, no one knows. I mean what does he do? He's king of an Island of Misfit Toys and all he wants is for Santa to take them off his paws. Then what would he be king of? A lot of Permafrost, that's what. But he's still cool as hell and anyone who says he isn't can meet me out back for a serious beating.

10.) IS THE BUMBLE MENTALLY CHALLENGED OR WHAT?

Ten minutes before Herbie yanks his teeth out, This hulking brute snapped a stalactite off of the roof of his cave and beat Rudolph unconscious with it. Now he's harmless because he doesn't have teeth? HELLO! You still have huge friggin' claws! You're still a friggin' GIANT! Get another stalactite and beat Yukon Cornelius to prospector paste instead of letting him push you off a cliff!

11.) WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE DOLL ON THE ‘ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS'?

She looks fine, right? She isn't. She wouldn't be on the ‘Island if Misfit Toys' if she was. Check it out. Rudy tells King Moon Racer that if he ever gets back to the North Pole he'll give Santa the 411 on the Misfits. Christmas Eve, when the doll thinks Santa isn't going to show, she goes on a crying jag and accuses Rudolph of having promised to help them. Okay, A.) He never made any promise B.) Rudolph doesn't run Christmas, Santa does. I'll tell you why the doll is a misfit. She's a little liar.

12.) WHY DOESN'T CHARLIE IN THE BOX CHANGE HIS NAME?

You can do that, you know. Have your name changed. Plus I’m kinda partial to Charlie.

13.) WHY DOESN'T THE JELLY SQUIRTING WATER PISTOL EMPTY OUT THE JELLY AND PUT IN WATER?

I mean, it's not brain surgery. Stop looking for Santa to solve your problems. He's a bastard.

14.) WHY DOES RUDOLPH AGREE TO LEAD SANTA'S SLEIGH?

I mean, when someone treats you that way, all they deserve is a swift hoof in the privates. I'm serious. Guide your own damn sleigh. Then when you crash in the Andes you can eat your Reindeer to survive. Nobody likes a skinny Santa.

On that happy note – Have a great day everybody!!

Darling Boy

Dearest Charlie,

My love for you knows no bounds. Every triumph of yours is like my own. Every sadness you have cuts me to the bone. If I could wrap you in cotton and stick you in the closet to know you are safe I would. That doesn’t seem to be an option though so we must carry on as normal. All that being said, let’s just put that aside for the moment.

You have started to play basketball with the EBA (Etobicoke basketball association) and they gave you your own jersey and kid sized basketball. You love your new ball. You love to bounce it in the house which I perhaps don’t love as much as you do. Guess what happened to me the other morning? I woke at 5:30 and couldn’t fall back asleep so I decided to go downstairs and read in the family room. As I was walking down the stairs in the dark, and this is the important part so please pay close attention, I stepped on your ball that was at the bottom of the stairs. The ball went shooting forward and I landed on my scrawny butt on the bottom stairs. Keep paying attention because my little story isn’t over yet. As I lay sprawled on the bottom step I sort of flopped in a fish-like fashion onto my side, still in the dark, and rolled onto some large Lego pieces. These Legos’ bit into my side and added to the pain I was feeling from my fall. I rolled over one more time, happily not hitting any toys this time and started swearing under my breath like a fishwife. I contemplated getting up but was afraid of what might happen next. So guess what I did? I just laid there in the dark. Really. I just decided to just be. To do nothing at all. It’s been a heck of a long time where I’ve done just nothing. I realize if I’m not working or parenting then I’m reading or checking the news. I think your Mommy needs to learn how to let go sometimes and just be. The funny thing is that I recall we did the “clean up” song and tidied the family room before I went to bathe Sophie. This small ensuing mess must have magically happened afterward.

So through your basketball placement I actually learned something. I need to be. I need to breathe. I have to be still. This is a lesson that I know will take me years but once again in a weird way you have given me food for thought.

Dear Charlie – you are my biggest challenge and my biggest reward. You have tested me in ways that I could not believe but I have learned so much from you. Your tenderness and capacity to love leaves me breathless.

Now – go pick up your toys.
Love Mommy

Princess Problems

Oh Hey!

Yes, it seems like I have disappeared, yet again. Here's the thing. Sometimes the more I have to say the less I blog. Funny isn't it? Well I've started numerous entries and deleted them because discretion got the better part of me. Damn that discretion voice in my head!

I've just gone through a long period of dealing with some people who are frankly nutbars. I would so LOVE to give you the details but Alan has cautioned me against it because as you know once something is on the net it is out there forever. Darn Alan and his appropriateness - blame him. This is the sort of thing I hate. Whenever someone says, ohhhh I have some juicy news BUT I can't tell you! It drives me crazy! Doesn't it want to make you throttle people? No fair and bad form I say. If you know me and want the deets then email me and I will spill the deets privately. But seriously - crazy folk. Enough said.

So let's talk about Princesses. Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a girly girl. Yes occasionally I get girly but I'm not super girly. Since I've had Sophie I've put in a lot of thought about the Princess phenomenon. Frankly I'm not crazy about it. Yes, imagination and fairy tales are lovely but that's what they are, fairy tales. For the longest time I've been resisting the exposure to the princess stuff with my daughter because I choose not to feed into it. The fact is that I don't believe that "every girl is a princess" nonsense because guess what? We're not. I don't want Sophie to be spoon fed this nonsense. Yes, every person is special, but the fact is we all are not going to move into castles and be super rich and beautiful and the Prince isn't going to solve everything.

I get queasy when I go into little girls rooms where it looks like Walt Disney has thrown up in there with all the Princess stuff. The pink and purple and glitter just seems like too much. Here is the thing though. They seem to be totally drawn to it. One Saturday morning when Sophie saw a commercial for "My Little Pony" she almost lost her mind. There were ponies! With long beautiful hair! And shiny Jewels! It rocked her world. Despite my best intentions of having a non-girly girl it seems like I just might have one.

The saving grace is that when I asked her who her favourite Princess was she said, "oooh Sinner-ella!" Now I can totally get down with Sinnerella. My theory is that she has long, glossy black hair and shows more cleavage that the average princess. Whilst the other princesses are busy flitting about castles singing songs of love and happiness under her breath she is muttering, "this is total bullshit". Whenever the princesses are called together for yet another photo-shoot for a backpack or lunch box she asks about the next coffee break. You know she secretly just wants to sneak a smoke or text her boyfriend who is decidedly un-prince like. Sinnerella has all the other princesses numbers and isn't afraid to use them. "Oh yeah Cinderella? You just haven't found closure for losing your mother!" "Jasmine, admit you hate that Arabian sexist regime!" "Bella, please, a beast? Really?"

For all my hopes my dear daughter now sports a Princess backpack to preschool (sans Sinnerella) but I will remain optimistic that she can outgrow it.

With no segue at all I must mention that I am thinking about stopping this blog. Mostly because it seems to have a, "Look at me! Look at me!" aspect about it and I've never wanted to be that type of person. Let me mull it over.