Conversations with my sister's kid: defining masculity

My sister has a giant Newfoundland dog.  Giant puppy, actually.  So all the playful exuberance of a puppy in a package roughly the size of a mastodon.  The kids, I'm sure, love her, but it's pretty safe to say the novelty has worn off.

R: I think when I get my own place I'm going to get a cat, just so I won't be lonely.

R: That's not too gay is it?

*facepalm* (He's a teenager, so I try to have patience, but really?)

Me: No, I'm pretty sure having sex with men makes a guy gay, not owning a cat.  Besides, who cares?  Are you worried your masculinity is going to be called into question if you live with a cat?

R: Yes, kind of.

Me:  Just make sure to give it a really hyper-masculine name.. like Machine Gun Larry.  Even if it's a girl.

R (in suavest manner a 16-yr-old can muster): "Hi.. this is my cat, Machine Gun Larry." 


In other news, I'm totally making plans for the imaginary cat that my nephew doesn't even own yet.

Birthdays and Blog Awards

My oldest turns 11 tomorrow.  She also leaves for an over-nighter with her school tomorrow, so it's a little odd that on her actual, honest-to-Gord birthday I'm only going to see her for an hour or so, most of which will likely be spent kicking both her and her sister's butts into gear, as the little one also has a school trip tomorrow.  Not a day one wants to be late for the bell.

A few months ago T approached me about a show on YTV called The Next Star which, to the best of my knowledge is in the Idolesque vein of reality shows, except for the 15-and-under crowd.  That's pretty much all I know about it, except that I think the gay kid from Degrassi hosts it.  Toronto auditions happened to be the same weekend that we'd be doing her birthday stuff.  She begged me to take her to audition so I told her that in lieu of a birthday party this year, she could pick a friend and I would take them and Reegs down to the city for the day so she could try out, and then we'd go out for dinner.  That would be her birthday celebration.

I ran into a roadblock when I couldn't get photo ID for T, which was required.  Unless you get a passport, there's not a lot of photo ID options for an 11-year-old around here.  Ontario Health Cards only have a picture above a certain age, because kids change so damn fast that by the next doctor's appointment they probably look nothing like the picture on the card.

So we just pretend they all look like pretty flowers instead.  (Instead of their picture, you get a picture of a white trillium instead.  I Google-image-searched the hell out of variations of 'Kids OHIP card' and 'Children's Ontario Health Card' but all I could find were adult versions so if you're outside of Ontario, you're just going to have to take my word for it, as I'm not about to post my OWN kid's OHIP card on here.  Don't be silly.)

Also, no elementary schools around here have actual Student Cards.  That's just for high school kids.

So I told her this but assured her that we were going to go and that I would try to argue my way out of the photo ID thing.  I considered lying and telling the registration people that I had ordered a passport but that it had yet to arrive in the mail.

It was all kind of moot because I didn't foresee that we would actually miss the registration deadline, seeing as I had searched their site for a registration deadline and didn't see one so I had figured they were on all day.  We had left later than anticipated (the goal was to leave the house by 8, we got out around 9:30) and by the time we got to Yorkdale mall and caught the subway down to Front Street, it was almost noon, and the people at the Convention Center told us that registration closed at 9:30 that morning.  T was a little upset so we found a quiet area so she could have a moment, and so I could figure out for a contingency plan, which came in the form of a bus tour around the city.

Truth be told, the family rate for the bus tour was kind of pricey and at first I had said no, but got to thinking about it and went back and haggled with the guy, explaining that A) the Family rate included two adults and I was only one and that I had travelled with these kids only to have my daughter gravely disappointed ON HER BIRTHDAY NO LESS (not ENTIRELY untrue.. it was her birthday celebration day) and got about 20-25% off the price of the Family pass.  The bus tour included a boat tour of the Toronto Harbour, so once we got to the Harbourfront, we wandered around looking for drinks as my kids were ill-dressed for a day in the sun that was supposed to be spent waiting around the air-conditioned Metro Convention Center.  I got ripped off by a pop machine that stiffed me roughly four bucks from a $10 bill.  Once we had killed enough time we got on the boat for our tour, which turned out to be a relaxing half-hour journey around the Toronto Islands.

The Toronto Skyline from my side of the boat.

After returning to shore, the two older girls wanted to go on a paddle boat ride.  Reegs and I went and checked out a free museum nearby, The Power Plant, while they waiting in line but sadly the museum didn't offer much.  Call me a Philistine if you will, but sometimes I think 'Contemporary Art' is a fancy-shmancy term for "Weird, and kind of sparse."  It took about 15 minutes to go through the whole thing.  We took longer in the bathroom. At least I didn't pay to get in, so that's something.

After the paddle boats we headed back to the subway as it was getting too late to hop back on the bus (kind of rendering the bus thing not worth the money... although the kid we saw that kept declaring with tiny fist pumped "I. LOVE. THE BIG RED BUS!" over and over again to his parent's chagrin kind of made it worth it).  This was all three girls first time riding the subway and was an interesting and slightly nerve-wracking experience.  I guess having walls zoom by a mere inch from your window combined with the sound of steel on steel can be scary for any first timer.

We had dinner at the Rainforest Cafe, which seemed like a good idea for a kids birthday.. kind of somewhere in between fast-food kid-mecca and grown-up sit-down dinner.  We ordered one ginormous dessert and between the four of us we still couldn't get through the gobs of brownies and ice cream and whipped cream.

Driving home from the city in the summer on a Sunday is definitely a great thing about living in Cottage Country.. you're almost always guaranteed to be facing the heaviest traffic on your way home, breezing along the Northbound lanes of the 400 while the city folks sit in bumper to bumper traffic on the Southbound.

All in all it was a great day and the thing that was especially nice was that all three girls were very well behaved and appreciative.  T and I have been butting heads quite a bit lately as she has entered into a typically self-centered pre-adolescent stage.. it's like pre-teens kind of regress to that toddler-stage where they don't actually realize that other people are people and may have needs and wants that don't revolve around and instantly gratify their own.  But even with the disappointment upon our arrival to the City, there was no whining, no fighting with her sister, no complaining and no pushing for more, more, more.  It was refreshing and I made sure to let her know that.. I enjoy doing things for them, but I like it even more when I know they appreciate it.

So tomorrow my baby girl turns 11.  Time doesn't ever go backwards, does it?  Not even for a minute.

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So in other news, I've now been awarded three times for the Liebster Award so I'm thinking I better get off my ass and thank the folks who've passed it on to me:

So thanks bunches to:

Crystal at Ideally Speaking, a socially active mom and closet comic geek which is how we initially got talking at work way back in the day.

Vanessa at Five Things About Nothing Important whose blog I really need to check out more 

Heidi Millerick at Eight Days A Week, who I've also been lax in checking out.

I may get around to passing this on, but I think for now, I'll just say that if it's in my blog roll over there ---> then it's probably worth taking a peek at.  I know others worth reading but I just don't link as they keep a lower profile.

Yeah, it's a total cop-out, I know.

"Are there no Burger Kings? Are there no No Wal-Marts?"*

Oh, Mr. Flaherty, you've really lost touch with the common Canadian, haven't you?

I can only assume this is the reasoning behind the statements you made today regarding those receiving unemployment benefits and the seeming unwillingness to accept employment that is 'beneath them' or 'too far away'.  

Finance Minister Jim Flaherty said Monday new rule changes to define "suitable employment" and "reasonable" efforts at finding work have yet to come down, but as far as he's concerned people should be prepared to take pretty well any available job.

"I was brought up in a certain way. There is no bad job, the only bad job is not having a job," he told reporters. "I drove a taxi, I refereed hockey. You do what you have to do to make a living."

I'm sure on a six-digit government salary it is easy to adopt a boot-strap attitude, seeing as how you, Mr. Flaherty, will likely never be faced with the prospect working two or more minimum wage, part time jobs to put food on the table.  The truth is that no, it is not always a case that any job is better than no job.  

A family faced with deciding between paying daycare and paying rent because even a full-time minimum wage position doesn't always cover both, especially in cases where there is only one parent, or more than one child.  This may not have been an issue if the National Daycare Program had ever come to fruition, but I guess that $100.00 a month bribe to make us forget about it made it ALL WORTH IT.

As far as working out of town, I like how you assume that this is an option for most people.  Consider those without cars... That's right.  Some people do not own their own vehicle, or may have medical conditions that prevent them from obtaining a drivers licence.  Shocking I know.  Also, shitty and/or non-existent mass transit systems are also a thing.  Let's assume that a vehicle is readily available.  Consider the current price of gas, sitting at between 1.27 and 1.35 per Litre in Central Ontario... once again, one falls into the trap of spending a good portion of their wages on fuel, which is aggravating enough when one lives relatively close (my own commute is a decent 10-minute drive) but becomes teeth-clenchingly frustrating when one is earning minimum wage and paying (in fuel) for the privilege to do so.  Not to mention, coming back to families, commuting adds time to the workday that ends up covering the cost of.. you guessed it! DAYCARE.

I've known people who have, repeatedly, found themselves in the position of having to decide if a job is even worth taking once expenses such as fuel and daycare are considered.  Often, it's not.

As far as the lack of laborers in Alberta and Saskatchewan, well it'd be pretty awesome if everyone on EI benefits had the resources (money, transportation) or the lack of ties to their current geographical area (oh, like schools, family, support systems) combined with the skills for the jobs available out there to relocate for the sake of work.  Ideally, anyone should be able to do this if they wish.  Here's the thing.. packing up and moving across the country the size of Canada is kind of a BFD, if you read my acronym.

Jim, you make it sound like the unemployed are all simply turning their noses up at jobs deemed 'unworthy' but mostly the need to turn down employment is a simple case of logistics, as illustrated above.  Does pride play into it as well?  I'll be honest.. as someone who worked their ass off through three years of school earning a Bachelor's degree which was supposed to help me escape a life of convenience store servitude, if today I were to find myself unemployed (she says, knocking on wood), I'd be more than a little fucking hesitant to get behind a counter for 10 bucks an hour while trying to pay off the crippling amount of student debt that BA earned me.

And do you know what, Jimmy?  Canadians pay into their EI benefits.. EI is not a government handout.  It is a fund that we as workers pay into, and should be able to use to our full advantage.  If I pay for auto insurance on a brand new 2012 Lexus and someone rears ends me, the insurance company shouldn't be able to hand me an '84 Chevette and say "Well, any car is better than no car!"

Should people on EI benefits be making a concerted effort to seek employment?  Yeah, for sure.. and I am willing to bet that most of them do.  But to say that people who have found themselves without work through no fault of their own should be satisfied with any given job offered them is condescending at best, downright insulting at worst.

Some would rather die.*


*is invoking Dickens melodramatic?  Maybe a touch.  I offer no apologies.

Just Hope That She Doesn't Have a Run-In with Magneto

My kid swallowed a marble last night.

Now, since I know you're probably going to ask, no I do NOT have a toddler running around that I've conveniently forgotten to mention.

This was my youngest child who is going to be all of nine years old in a few short months. My supposedly borderline-gifted almost nine-year-old swallowed a silver ball bearing from one of those Magnetix sets because she missed the memo that putting random shit in your mouth for no good reason is the kind of crap you're supposed to stop doing usually around the time you are toilet-trained.

There we were, almost ready for bed and as she was walking into the kitchen, she looked up at the ceiling and then suddenly started screaming, and coughing a bit.  But mostly screaming, while clutching her throat.

At least she's not choking, if she can scream like that is my first thought as I run over to see just what the hell happened to make her start wailing like a banshee.  In mere seconds she stops, calms down.

“What the hell happened?"

Perfectly calm, she answers “Apparently, I just swallowed a marble."


Awesome right?


I had no idea what to do.

Logically it seemed like the thing to do would be to wait it out, until nature took its course and the marble made it's way out via a route that would possible end up shattering my toilet bowl.  On my mom's advice I called Telehealth and after hearing that Reeg's was having some stomach pain, I was advised by the nurses to take her to the ER.  Which I did even though I had a feeling it was probably a wasted trip but good old Maternal Guilt™, that fucker, kept telling me that if I DIDN'T take her then I'd regret the hell out of it when said child, now affectionately and somewhat mockingly referred to as Marble Girl, died of a perforated bowel in the middle of the night.

Maternal Guilt™ is a bitch that way.  I think he feeds off the souls of the perpetually anxious and insecure.

So sending her sister off to Grammy's, I packed her up and headed to the hospital, making sure to bring a book because fuck wait times.  Two and a half hours and one x-ray later, we left Emerg with the sage advice that she would probably pass it and bring her back if she experienced ‘Severe pain'.

I feel like I should have cropped out my kids pelvis. That's weird, isn't it?

Thing is, ‘Severe Pain' is pretty fucking subjective.  Especially in a child who doesn't really know how to express gradations of pain other than by using extremities.  Which is why we ended up back in the ER again today to basically end up with the same set of sage advice, but from a different set of doctors. Even though the marble had NOT.  BUDGED.  AN.  INCH.

Last Night's Pain.

Today's pain, which led to another ER trip.  Yeah, that's right.  KANYE-SIZED PAIN.

This time before leaving, I made the doctor specify exactly what kind of pain I should be on the lookout for, none of this vague-descriptors-like-severe bullshit.  Vomiting, doubled-over, clutching stomach type pain.  

So we play the waiting game, and tomorrow I once again get to take her back to Emerg for another X-Ray because in all likelihood, it would take three weeks to get an appointment with my doctor.  

The girls stepmother remarked to me on the phone "I bet she never does this again."

I do too.  If the tedious amounts of time we've had to spend in hospitals with SWEET FUCK ALL to do doesn't deter her, the amount of ribbing she has received certainly will.  I have thoughts for a Marble Girl comic and possibly a halloween costume and a series of licensed merchandise and action figures.

Conversations with my kids: a history lesson

We're in the parking lot of the arena. The road is being blocked off and there are a bunch of Sea Cadets standing around.

Me: They must be having a parade. Maybe it's for V-E Day.
T: What's V-E Day?
Me: Well, World War Two ended on two different days. V-E means "Victory in Europe", when the war ended in Europe, sometime in May.
T: Probably May 9th, if they're having a parade today.
Me: yeah, probably. The war in Japan, on the other hand, ended on August 14th - my birthday - so that is referred to as V-J Day.

*giggles from back seat*
Me: what?
T: ...nothing. It just sounds... funny.. Veee Jaaay.
Me: what?
R (from backseat): IT SOUNDS LIKE VAJAYJAY!!!

*peals of laughter from both sides*

Me: Oh my God, you guys.

I'm not here but I am there.

Hey, y'all.

Been crazy busy. Probably only going to get busier. Hopefully will have time to fill you in soon.

Meanwhile, I'm featured today over at So... What Else? where I'll be getting all meta on you and talking about blogging.

I also have another post at Different Paths, Same Destination talking about the various activity I've been up to this week, including my first experience at boot camp.

Tootles for now!

Quick and Dirty Photo Post.. but not actually Dirty Photos.. sorry.

So excuse this moment of vapid attention-whoring, but I got new glasses and I want to show them off.  On previous trips to purchase eyewear I was torn between lighter or thicker frames.  Last week I went in and there was a sale...

So I got both.

That is, indeed, the newly-detesticled asshole cat on the chair behind me.

Pair number two

Oh and in case you were wondering, I also got myself a little bit of a giftie.

Sexy, right?

I'm now tasked with the.. uh.. task of giving him/her/zie a name.  I haven't even assigned it a gender.. most of my other guitars I've given guy monikers.  This one is a little prettier, a little sexier that I'm inclined to lean towards a more feminine signature.

I'm thinking of naming her after a song name.  I've always been a little fascinated by 'name-songs' and always a little jealous of people who have songs with their name in the title.  At least, I was jealous until I found out that one of my favorite alt-country (I really can't lump them in with regular country, but they're not *quite rock*) bands, Blue Rodeo had a song called Andrea.  It's an odd little tune, sung by Greg Keelor, and sounds like some kind of 'My Drug Buddy' type tune.

Andrea I'm so happy that you called 
Just to hear your voice 
Helped dissolve 
The paranoia 
Until the drugs wore off


The name Jolene, after the Dolly Parton tune, is jumping out as a possible option.  It's a fairly unique name and seems to match the vibe I get from this particular instrument.

What are your favorite "Name-Songs?"  Do you share a name with any songs that you know of?

I wanted to upload a video to christen my new whats-her-face, and was inspired as I wrote this post so here you go.  Be warned, I hate seeing myself on video, so I haven't watched this.  If it's terrible, you have my sincerest apologies.



Isn't that one awesome thumbnail image?  I WILL EAT YOUR SOUL!!!  I need a haircut.

In other news, I went to Guelph yesterday with my friend Tess for her birthday.  We loaded up the car with all of our respective children and her SO, and went to see A Suessical Musical along with her sister and grandma.  Was a very late night as showtime was 6:30 and Guelph is about three hours away from here.  The children were extra "F.U.N." (read: Fucking Unbelievable Nightmare) to get up this morning but all in all it was worth it, a fun time for everyone involved.

One last picture.  Although most of the time he's kind of a dick, as I have mentioned, occasionally Simon manages to break out the cute.

It's like a kitty-vampire coffin.  Kind of.  If cats were shaped like guitars.

Put your hand up if you totally saw THIS coming.

It was only a matter of time wasn't it?  Only a matter of time until the horrid shitshow attack on reproductive rights (aptly termed the War on Women by the media) started to creep its way north of the border.

Today Parliament, in spite of Steve-O's empty promises not to reopen the abortion debate, is debating whether to have a big old special committee to discuss the whole “Does life begin at conception” thing.  I caught a snippet on the news this morning regarding the debate, and later came across the story through Twitter (via @creativetweets).

Abortion rights debate spurred by MP's motion

Granted, the definition of the current law, which basically states that life begins when you fall out of your mom's vagina, is rather outdated seeing as it's based on a British definition that goes back about 400 years.  Any woman who has had her ribs bruised to shit by a fetus that seems to fancy itself the next Bruce Lee will tell you that this definition doesn't quite ring true.

But I am not, for one second, buying that this debate is being held in the name of clearing up an old definition in the name of being more scientifically accurate and “in line with 21st century medicine”.  Especially when you consider that Stephen Woodworth, the Conservative MP who brought it to the table, all but admitted that the motion is linked to abortion.

Woodworth wants to have an honest discussion but I think it's a discussion that should be kind of moot.  Regardless of when government rules ‘life’ begins, does one ‘person’ (or fetus') right to life cancel out another person's right to NOT have another person take residence in their body for up to nine months, possibly to the detriment of her own health?

I'd say no, regardless of how this fetus or person got there (ie, the ‘good' abortion vs the ‘bad' abortion) and no regardless of whether the reasons for abortion are considered selfish or noble/tragic.  Pro-choice means choice for all, even if we don't like or agree with those choices.  Anything less and we run the risk of allowing our rights over our bodies to be eroded.

I'm glad to hear that at least the NDP is planning to vote along party lines with the idea that the right to choose is NOT up for debate.  Conservatives, we don't know for sure, but it doesn't look good.  Rae has said that the Liberals will likely be allowed to 'vote their conscience'..

My friend @corecorina posted a link on twitter to a petition put forth by Liberal party member Lucie Pepin.  I will be signing and I encourage those who are eligible to sign as well.  We've already seen from the way things have been going to hell in a handbasket in the U.S. that allowing this debate to open again can quickly dissolve into a slippery slope to the point where even a miscarriage could potentially be grounds for criminal charges.

Mommy wants a new shiny.

Some people have what are called ‘Champagne taste on a beer budget'.  Not sure when it started, if it was as a kid when Christmas-season warnings that “There wouldn't be much under the tree this year' always seemed ludicrous when Xmas morning rolled around, or when I was a teenager and was content with thrift store clothing and a job that afforded me just enough money to keep me in cigarettes, but I've always been more of a Beer Taste on a Beer Budget type girl.  

Population: Me.

I'm not great with having money and I'm especially not great with spending it.  When I was younger it was just a case of not having a desire for expensive things but as I got older it's become a bit of a phobia.  A lot of it stems from some very bad financial decisions during my ill-advised way-too-early marriage.  The ex-hub and I were neither of us very good with finances, probably as a result of neither of us really having any money.

We got into what seemed at the time some pretty serious debt.  There were calls from collectors and there were days when I ate melba toast and jam from the food bank for days on end.

Eventually, with some help and guidance from my parents we were able to climb out of the whole we had dug for ourselves.  This is especially fortunate because it meant that when the marriage fell apart we really had no debt to speak of.  No real property either, but that's a story for another day.

As a result, I absolutely loathe being in debt and I have a hard time making large purchases, especially ones that I cannot pay cash upfront for.  Seeing as I am looking at buying a house within the next year you know this means I'm pretty much shitting my pants at the prospect.

Today I am a happy girl, because I got my tax return back with enough of a return to pay off my remaining credit cards.  I cancelled the one with the larger credit limit and the other one will be locked away, only for emergencies.

This means I am now down to one debt, my huge mother-loving student loan.  It also means I have a little bit to play around with, although the bulk of what is left over will be going towards my down-payment.  

Mommy wants a new shiny:

Say it with me:  “Ooooooh...”

There's one of these babies in our local pawn shop for about $400 bucks.  It's a Takamine acoustic (which is probably my favorite acoustic brand) with a built-in pickup.  This isn't the exact one they have but it's pretty damn close.

My problem is the actual act of spending money.  Over the next week I will probably hem and haw and think of a million and one things I *should* spend my money on... namely the kids, because maternal guilt, you know.  They NEED things like summer clothes and I need stuff for the house and blargh blargh blargh.

I totally over-think this shit.

I can afford it.  So why do I find every reason in the book NOT to treat myself?

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I have another post up at Different Paths, Same Destination.  Go read, and while you're there, give the other ladies there some love as well.

Five Years in the Saddle and Other Things of Varying Import...

Ah yes, so here I am again.  Two weeks since my last post and doing what I said I wouldn't do... the obligatory “I'm such a bad blogger” post, apologizing for not posting.

Meh.

I'm not really sorry.  Well, kind of.  Maybe a smidge.

But life happens, you know?  I've had lots to do and not a whole hell of a lot to say.  Or maybe lots to say, but not much time put it all in words.  And since those things distracting me from the computer are ultimately good things, I don't feel much like apologizing.  I will only ask that you bear with me and express my gratitude to those humble few of you who choose to stick around.

I've done some housekeeping here, to freshen things up a bit.  New layout and such.  It's a bit dark, I know.  I tried to avoid the light text/dark background thing but my aesthetic tastes got the best of me.  I'm a bit dark, myself.  At any rate, it's nothing compared to my newly-created Tumblr account, which I am still trying to decide on a layout for and as such is a complete and utter mess.  I'm still not sure what I'm doing there.  If you click on that link, shield your eyes.  It's pretty garish at the moment.  What can I say? I loves me some animal prints.

Today marked a grand total of five years at my current place of employment, who shall go unmentioned here for the sake of preventing embarassment should their name come into connection with my various ramblings, off-color humour, strong opinions and penchant for saying shit and fuck a lot.

But yeah, five years.  Not bad for what was supposed to be a temp job.

Fresh out of university I was faced with the ungodly task of actually trying to find a job.  Having recently attained a Bachelor of Arts in Sociology (because fuck employability) attaining paid work seemed a daunting task indeed.  As I was contemplating what to do,  my sister gave me a call to let her know her workplace was looking for a temp to come in for a week and do some data entry work.

I said sure.

A day or two before I was due to start, I called her in a panic.  I had not done paid work in over four years, and previous to those three years of university and one year of maternity leave before that, I had been more or less steadily employed as a convenience store.  Office work seemed way over my head.

Quickly bringing me back down to Earth she reminded me that I was being hired without an interview or a resume.

“Really, Andie?  How hard do you think it's going to be?”

So my initial fears turned out be pretty unfounded.  By the end of the week it had been mentioned that I would be needing work for the summer and after being impressed by my ability to listen to and follow instructions I was asked to stay on.  Summer turned into fall and I stayed on part-time my initial plans to go back to school and upgrade my degree from a general to an honors degree fell through.  When my sister decided to leave the following winter, I figured I was pretty much in it for the long haul and moved into her cubicle.  The work was challenging and even stressful at times but I knew I liked (and still do like) all the people I worked with.  To this day, I can honestly say that I do not dislike a single one of my co-workers.  Given stories I've heard from others regarding workplace drama, that's a pretty rare thing.  I've collected a fair share of customer service stories and this last Christmas I came to a shocking realization that I'm no longer ‘the new girl’ (although learning as I went I got a lot of mileage out of that title) but actually kind of a veteran around the place.  Which kind of blows my mind.  That's what happens when you just kind of show up and never go away, which is the abridged version of this story.

In other news, my asshole cat, Simon, had his visit with the vet and has been officially rendered sterile and female cats in the area rejoiced.  Bob Barker would be proud of me.  Simon, not so much.  That's a post for another day.

G'night.