Friday Five

1. It really is awesome to have a potty-trained child. Arguably, we have traded one set of inconveniences for another: instead of leaving the house with diapers and wipes, we now leave with at least one change of underwear/pants, wipes, and a folding toilet seat. We also have to suggest (sometimes strongly) that Gwen use the potty before we leave home, daycare, Gramma’s, or anywhere else we happen to be. This still seems easier to me, and I am very happy not to have to change (or pay for) diapers anymore. This new regime has slipped rather easily into our routine, and I am really proud of Gwen and happy that we took on this onerous task.

2. I read this incredible book called The Total Money Makeover: A Proven Plan for Financial Fitness which was recommended by a dear friend of mine. Ever since reading it, I look at money in an entirely different way. It’s been very eye-opening and definitely not always pleasant. I encouraged Chris to read certain sections of it too and we are working on our own money makeover now (made slightly more challenging by the unemployment and the unknowns surrounding his EI eligibility, etc.). The way I look at it, the next 1-3 years are going to be incredibly hard for us no matter what we do. But if we take some positive steps during that time, we will be in a better situation than we were before this crisis.

3. On a related note, I spent about $800 last year on weight-loss products. That doesn’t count my gym membership, either. I don't regret any of that spending but I can't afford it anymore, so I am working on finding new (cheap or free) ways to deal with my disordered eating and my love of sitting above any other activity. I do not currently have a goal to lose weight or even fit into a particular outfit. I just need to feel like I am looking after myself, without spending a ridiculous amount of money to do so. I bought Just Dance 2 for the Wii on Boxing Day which I have been calling my “cheap gym membership”. From Dec 26 until Jan 11 I danced/worked out every single day, then I got that nasty cold and stopped, and of course I have not yet resumed. That’s a pretty short-lived habit, even for me. Like anyone else, sometimes I need to say things out loud/publically in order to stick with my commitments, so I might be putting some of that stuff here. Here’s what I’ve got so far: Starting immediately, I'm back to dancing 6 songs/day, 7 days/week. Starting January 24th I am going to add sit-ups. In the Spring, I will start walking to work at least twice a week. I am not ready to make any chocolate-related commitments yet but I can see possibly giving it up for Lent.

4. I am just about finished my “Psychology and the Mass Media” course and will soon be starting “Understanding Media Literacy”. Electives are fun, but challenging: social science courses require a completely different set of writing skills from that used for humanities courses, which is my major. (I have finished the core English requirements for my degree, so I have to take some different stuff for my last few courses.) My recent term paper was about the power of advertising: I got to analyze ten different ads of my choosing to determine what types of persuasion techniques were used. I choose to examine ads from a parenting magazine because guess what, I have a few of those lying around. The results were interesting (perhaps only to me) and can be summed up thus: advertisers will use any and all persuasion techniques available to sell their products through the exploitation of the parent-child relationship. You knew that already, though. My exam in this course is next Thursday, please wish me luck!

5. I still really love my new job, which isn’t all that new anymore since I have been here for 10 months. For a long time I didn’t want to write or talk about anything negative about my job because it was so much hype and upheaval and hand-wringing to come to this position from my last one, and I thought any negativity would be met by “I thought this was your dream job?!” But I’ve now come to realize, even in your dream job there are bad days. And those bad days don’t make it any less your dream job. Kind of like how fighting with your partner doesn’t automatically mean you’re in a doomed relationship or that you don’t love that person. Unfortunately, lately there have been several bad work days close together, and that has not been very enjoyable. The weird thing is that despite the badness, I really do love this job.

But Wait There's More!

The day after Chris lost his job, we got the call that my grandmother was likely not going to last the night.

My grandma has been lost in a fog of dementia for several years now. Just over a year ago, she moved to an extended care facility. Since then, a part of me has been waiting for this call. Yet despite how prepared I thought I was, I wasn't prepared at all. I don't know how to process the grief at losing something I haven't really had for some time. It turns out that despite the fact I 'lost' my grandma a long time ago, I'm still not ready to let her go.

My husband never saw my grandma as she used to be, and my daughter won't even remember her. My grandma hasn't been able to remember who I am for quite some time. But I remember. Oh yes, I remember.

I remember her kitchen. She welcomed us there as often as she could and taught us with infinite patience and laughter how to make delicious wonders out of the most mundane ingredients. She hosted these gigantic dinner parties at the drop of a hat, and never seemed to break a sweat as she somehow produced enough food to fill a full-sized billiards table, which was always covered with matching tablecloths for the event. I remember her pride and excitement as she would annouce, "Tonight, we have THREE desserts .... 'rayyyy!" She was a fun and gracious hostess and did it all with a smile on her face.

I remember her piano. It was she who inspired my dad to become a musician, and nothing made her happier than having him play piano at her parties. Everyone would gather around the piano and sing with gusto, with heart, with joy. She loved music and she loved the spontaneous participation that came from an impromptu song. She sang and danced and smiled, and her joy was infectious.

I remember her cabin. My grandfather bought her a float cabin on Powell Lake as a Mother's Day present about thirty years ago. She'd been raised on the prairies and didn't swim, but she loved to stand on the shore, wading into the cool water up to her waist, cherishing the natural beauty all around her. Before long the cabin was just another venue for her to host amazing parties and produce delicious feasts, despite its tiny and ill-equipped kitchen. It brought her so much joy to be surrounded by friends and family at this somehow luxurious and yet primitive vacation spot.

I remember what we had in common. We were both September babies, we both adored sweets and despised spiders. We both enjoyed crafts. I was always pretty sure I was her favourite - she was always so happy to see me.

I remember her love for my grandfather. The obituary tells the truth: there is no other way to describe their love than as a storybook romance. They were married for sixty-one years, and their love and devotion was evident in their every word and action towards each other. I remember my grandfather showing me the park bench on Lost Lagoon where they'd sat and "made cow eyes at each other". Naturally, to a 10-year-old this was disgusting, and I'm sure I made the obligatory grunts of "GroooooOOOOOOoooosss!", but even then - I knew there was something magical about that love, about finding the one person who made your soul rejoice.

I remember that she was important. She was a bank manager, and though I didn't know it at the time, it was probably a pretty big deal to be a bank manager and a woman back in the 1970s. I remember that she knew lots of things about money and that people could rely on her for good advice and a friendly smile.

I remember her loss. I was barely six years old when my uncle - my grandma's youngest son, still a teenager - died in a bizarre accident. I remember the policeman coming to her door. I remember, to my shame, that I had no grasp of what was happening, and that I continued to nag her to find me the SCISSORS, Gramma, so I can cut out my paper doll. I remember that she found me the scissors. This was the only time I remember seeing her without her smile.

I remember her generosity. I remember her patience. I remember her kindness. I remember her inspiration. I remember her faith. I remember her strength. I remember her wisdom. I remember her laugh. I remember her hugs. I remember her smile.

Tomorrow, I'm travelling with my family to Powell River for my grandmother's memorial service, and on Saturday I will summon every ounce of strength and stamina to sing "Smile" for the people who have been touched by her life. I've never wanted so badly to do well at something, and yet been so sure that I will not be able to manage it. It's likely that I shouldn't worry - as my sister points out, Grandma will be too busy catching up with her son, her mom, and her best friend Barb, not to mention watching a full-colour slideshow of everything she's missed in the past several years; she'll never notice my warbly voice.

And I am quite certain she'll be smiling.





Rena Marguery Campbell “Princess”
September 3, 1929 – December 3, 2010

Rena went to her heavenly home just after midnight on December 3rd 2010. She is survived by her husband and best friend of 61 years, George. Rena also leaves to mourn, her two sons Ron (Maureen), and Doug (Evelyn); grandchildren Laura (Chris), Sara (Dave), Duncan (Theresa), Amanda (Joe), and Kaleigh, as well as great-grandchildren Andrew, Scott, Gwen and Abby. Rena is also survived by her two younger sisters, Donna, and Greta (Dave) and their respective families. She was predeceased by her youngest son Gordon in 1981.

Rena was born in Cabri Saskatchewan, and lived on the family farm in Shackleton, before moving to Vancouver with her parents and siblings in 1946. It was in Vancouver that she met, and fell in love with her husband George, and in 1962 they moved to Powell River, where she resided happily until her passing. Rena was the first female bank manager of the Bank of Montreal, Townsite branch, Powell River, and was well loved and respected by her staff and her customers. Rena had a smile for everyone, and always sought the good in people. She and George shared what can only be described as a storybook romance, their entire married life, and spent countless happy hours together traveling, entertaining, or relaxing at their cabin on the lake. She loved all her family unconditionally, and was a fabulous mother and grandma. The world will be a little lonelier without her smile.

A celebration of Rena’s life will be held Saturday, December 11, 2010 at 2:00 pm at Faith Lutheran Church, corner of Ontario and Alberni. Memorial donations to Powell River General Hospital, 5000 Joyce Ave, Powell River, B.C. V8A 5R3.

Overachiever

So, somehow in the past few months I have agreed to and/or recommitted myself to the following major projects:
- completing my degree
- getting our yard/house in shape to sell
- professionalizing my blog

Any one of which could easily eat up all of my spare time (spare time being defined as "any time that Gwen is asleep and I am not at work"), and of course in typical fashion I have decided to do ALL THREE of these things. This is not at all an unusual pattern for me. At this time last year, I had agreed to and/or recommitted myself to:
- Being a member of Church Council
- Being a member of Church Call Committee (this is the group responsible for finding, choosing, and hiring a new pastor for the church)
- Going back to work full time after a year's maternity leave
Starting a new course with Athabasca University

Since the remainder of 2009 saw me suffer approximately 1,486,392 overcommitment-related panic attacks and nervous breakdowns, I SWORE this year would be different. SNORT, GUFFAW. Well, I guess it kind of is, in the sense that the projects I am committed to this time around are of my choosing; and my family, rather than any outside party, are the ones to whom I am responsible in these goals. They are much more likely to cut me a little slack when I inevitably have difficulty in balancing everything.

There is a saying I came across some years ago that has stuck with me, and I really do believe it. "You can have ANYTHING that you want in life. You just can't have EVERYTHING that you want." Despite my strong belief in this, I repeatedly try to do everything at once, and drive myself crazy while doing it. I have no idea how I am going to awesome-ify my blog AND finish my degree AND become a master gardener AND continue the excellent standard of wife-and-mothering that my family has come to expect (SNORT, GUFFAW). Either way, you - my faithful readers - come out the winners: either you get to be part of an awesome online community or you get to laugh at what I'm sure will be the incredibly amusing antics I'll be performing along the way. Anything to entertain, that's me.

So, look for some interesting changes here over the next couple of months. I've bought my own domain and have hired a web developer to pretty it up for me since I have no idea how to do that myself. I'm going to learn how to get hooked up with decent ads so I might actually make some money. I'm going to try to post at least 3-4 times a week and keep up with standard of quality content that you are all used to (say it with me: SNORT, GUFFAW.)

If you'd like to help, there are a few things you can do. You can recommend this site and the Facebook fan group to your friends. You can drop me a line and tell me what you like or don't like, what you want to see more or less of in the future: I'm very open to that type of feedback. If you have any skill with graphic design or marketing, or know someone who does, PUH-LEEZE let me know - I'm especially looking for someone who can work with me in designing a logo. Oh, and you can click on the ads. That would be kind of awesome, and takes no time at all. You might even find something you want, who knows?

It's kind of a weird place for me to be in, mentally. I have been writing here consistently for nearly three years, I've hit 500 posts, I have a small group of loyal readers. Lately, a lot of people I know in real life have gone out of their way to tell me how much they enjoy the blog. And I'm starting to get online comments and followers from people I've never heard of, people from faraway places, people who've stumbled across the site, enjoyed themselves, and let me know. That makes me feel validated: that maybe something that started off as a place to record my journey as a mother and then my daughter's life through my eyes has taken on a life of its own and is reaching people in some way. It's still a leap of faith for me to put on my big girl pants and say, Yes. I believe my writing is good enough to earn some money. It's really hard for me to write this entry and publicly say this, because if I fail, it will be obvious to all and I HATE THAT. But sometimes you've got to take a leap of faith.

My wildest dream is that I will be able to earn enough money to take one or two days off work per month so that I can finish that degree. That's the brass ring, and I have no idea if it's possible. But I won't know unless I give it a shot. So wish me luck. And, you know, click those ads. I'll keep you posted.

Pro-School

Today a really lovely box arrived at my doorstep.

It's just like thousands of other boxes all over the country, maybe millions of boxes all over the world. It's just like dozens of boxes I've received before. But this one is different for one simple reason.

I first started my degree in November 2002 as a result of reading the book Happiness by Will Ferguson. The protagonist of the book is an editor who - get this - gets paid to read books and tell his boss which ones are worth publishing. He also gets to make snarky comments about the ones that aren't. This sounded like a good job, and I figured an English degree was a good step towards getting a job like that. But as I couldn't afford to quit my job and do school full-time, distance learning via Athabasca University was the best solution.

Since 2002, a lot has happened in my life. I left my first husband and moved to a brand new city - that was the first time I took a break from school. I re-married, got pregnant, bought a house, had a miscarriage, got pregnant again, all while continuing to study. Somewhere in the midst of all this it became clear that a degree in English would probably not affect my work life in any way, so finishing the program became valuable merely for its own sake rather than as a means to an end. I took a year off both work and school when Gwen was born, and returned briefly to my studies in early 2009 - only to discover that trying to balance school, work, motherhood, volunteer duties, and the ever-elusive "having a life" didn't seem to work. School was the thing to go, and though I felt it was the wrong choice I didn't know how to correct it.

Now it's 2010, and I have 15 credits left to earn. FIFTEEN. That sounds like such a piddling little number, doesn't it? Full-time students could earn that in one term, maybe two. Alas, I am not a full-time student. I am a full-time employee, I am a full-time parent. It takes me about six months to finish one 3-credit course. That means that finishing up those last fifteen credits will take me about two and a half years.

Do you know what the date will be in two and a half years? November 2012. Exactly ten years since this ridiculous, amazing, misguided, inspired, brave and crazy dream began.

You guys, I'm going to do it.

That's why today feels different. This is the first time since I started my degree that there is an end in sight, a firm(ish) plan for when and how I will complete this program. It means that I will be studying non-stop for the next 2.5 years, and because I have already reached the maximum number of prep and junior-level courses, I won't be able (as Chris suggested) to take straightforward and easy stuff like Basket Weaving 101. All my courses have to be above the 300 level, so I'm taking stuff like Popular Culture and the Media, Psychology and Women, and Literature and Hypertext. No, it won't be easy. But the thought of finally being done, of having at last reached this lofty goal - and the poetry of having done it in some arbitrarily-defined time, like a decade - is immensely appealing. I'm going to do this.

I've contacted an advisor and confirmed that the degree requirements have not changed in the intervening decade (!), and that the courses I plan to take will fulfil them. I'm working on a study schedule and wistfully fantasizing about ways to take some time off work to get this done.

When I became a mother, I struggled with the feeling that spending money on my own education - which, as it seemed it would not genuinely affect my career, felt like a vanity project - ultimately took away from any money that could be spent on Gwen's future education. And who knows, maybe Gwen's education would actually be in the right area and at the right time and able to do her some genuine good, so how could I take away from that? It was my wonderful husband Chris who put me straight, pointing out what a great role model I would be for Gwen if I followed through on my plan and completed this goal. This new aggressive plan for completing my degree will mean sacrifices by all three of us, so it genuinely will be a family victory if - no, WHEN - it comes to completion.

Wish us luck.

The Curious Incident of the Spider in the Night-Time

On the weekend of Gwen’s actual birthday, Chris was out of town for a martial arts seminar. I actually didn’t mind at all, having my girl all to myself and enjoying a low-key weekend before the madness of the birthday party planning truly kicked into high gear. However, there was a moment on Saturday night when I minded very, very much that my husband was 450 kilometres away.

I walked into the downstairs half-bath to put something away, only to be stopped dead in my tracks by a medium-sized spider, staring at me from the opposite wall.

You might not know this, but spiders live for one purpose and one purpose only. The web-spinning and fly-catching business is merely a distraction from their true mission, which is: to jump on my face. Their every skitter move, their every spidery thought, their every single molecule is focused, at all times, on achieving this goal. Sure, a moment ago that spider was just hanging out on the bathroom wall. But now it has seen my face and so the primal imperative has kicked into action: it wants to jump on my face. RIGHT NOW.

(I don’t know how I know this. But I do. I also recognize in the spider’s single-mindedness an aspect of myself. No matter what I am doing, who I am with, or what is going on around me, at my core, there is one thought that never really leaves my mind: Why aren’t I eating chocolate right now?)

Well, I am not okay with a spider jumping on my face, so I quickly backed out of the room. I stood far enough away to be out of jumping distance, but close enough that I could keep a sideways eye on the ugly thing. And I pondered my options.

My first instinct was to close the door, walk away, and pretend I hadn’t seen it. I could go about my evening’s plans, which included a movie and some bonding with my new lappy, submerged in happy denial. Naturally, I would stay out of that room the entire next day as well, until Chris arrived home to resolve the issue. The flaw in this plan, of course, was that the spider was unlikely to stay in one place, especially now that it knew my face was nearby. It could easily crawl out from under the closed door, searching the house until it found me, planning its attack. Expert arachnophobes know that letting the spider out of your sight, even for a second, is a critical mistake. Those who, for some bizarre reason, are NOT terrified of spiders, would look back at the spot where the spider no longer resided and say, “Oh. Problem solved. Spider’s gone!” But in fact, that spider is not GONE. It is now EVERYWHERE, because it could be ANYWHERE. So no, I could not walk away.

Option two was to pack up Gwen and a few essentials, pile into the car, and go find a cheap hotel for the night, returning only once Chris had arrived home, performed a complete and thorough extermination, and ascertained that our home was once again safe. This was an appealing option, but it would be pricey. And furthermore, Gwen had just gone to sleep. I was loathe to wake her. No, I could not leave for a hotel.

There was only one option left. Kill the spider. This is, incidentally, the only course of action that ensures the spider will not jump on my face. However – how to perform the killing of the spider, without it jumping on my face during the procedure? This is why I usually leave the spider-killing up to other people. The spider doesn’t want to jump on Chris’s face, I am absolutely sure of it.

“I can’t do it!” my emotional mind shrieked, and my rational mind insisted, “Look, we’ve gone through all the options. This is the only one left. You HAVE to do it!” “NOOOOOOOOOooooooooo!” my emotional mind howled, and my rational mind said, “Look. You are a strong, amazing woman. You have done a lot of things that you thought you couldn’t do. And you’re getting stronger and more amazing all the time! YOU CAN TOTALLY DO THIS.” And my emotional mind went into the corner to pout and my rational mind, aided by adrenaline and anger, grabbed my husband’s shoe and slammed it against the wall, killing the spider. Then I flung the shoe on the floor, slammed the bathroom door, and ran away flapping my arms and making extremely girly noises.

Oh, but first I took a picture of it for Facebook.

Stupid Tuesday

I guess it was Mardi Gras on Tuesday, aka “Fat Tuesday”. I celebrated in my own quiet way by renaming the holiday “Stupid Tuesday”. Here is what I did:

After work, I went and gave blood. This is something I very much enjoy and highly recommend to anyone who is able to do so. You get to lie on a bed and read for twenty minutes with no interruptions – they’ll even give you a BLANKET! – and they give you cookies afterwards. And everyone you encounter there will THANK YOU for enduring such hardship, and basically treat you like a rock star. It is the easiest way in the world to save a life. What’s not to like?

Well, if the preceding paragraph has persuaded you to join me in my phlebotomy-related philanthropy, I highly recommend that you take the story below as a great example of what NOT to do.

After donating, I went and ate a bunch of cookies, as is my wont. Then I had about 25 minutes until my belly dancing class, which was held at the same rec centre as the donor clinic. At this point, I could have done two intelligent things: I could have gone to the cafeteria and bought a bottle of water, and/or I could have eaten the leftover pizza I had with me in my lunch bag.

But I did neither of these things! Because I love the planet! And I was full of cookies and didn't feel the need for pizza! So instead I just sat and read my book. Then I went to belly dancing, where I made sure not to raise my arms too much. It was a fun class, and I had no problems. When class was over, I hurriedly changed back into my work clothes and rushed over to my church council meeting. I am the Vice-Chair of council and had been told the Chair was going to be away, so I was leading the meeting. I got there with a few minutes to spare, so I went upstairs to the kitchen to seek out a glass I could fill with water. There were only mugs. So I had a mug of water over the next 30 minutes or so.

I told everyone right off the bat that I had given blood earlier and might be a little light-headed. At 8:30 ... an hour into the meeting, and just as the heated debate was getting, um, heated ... I started to feel reeeeeeeally awful. I was very shaky, and couldn't focus very well. I think I was slurring my words a bit, and I was having a lot of difficulty FINDING the right words. It was a really uncomfortable way to feel, ESPECIALLY as one is trying to moderate an intense discussion.

I didn’t waste any energy trying to hide my wooziness, and in fact I apologized several times as I was sure I was not acting like myself. I kept hoping someone would offer to take over the meeting, but it didn't happen. As the discussion got more heated, the emotional reaction made things worse. My heart was absolutely racing. I started seeing spots, and more than once I wondered if I was going to vomit all over the table. (I didn’t, though.)

I didn't have the brain power to put it together then, but I realized later that I'd eaten nothing but sugar for over 8 hours. When the sugar crash happened, there was nothing to fall back on, and it about destroyed me. I honestly felt like I'd been drugged.

The meeting ended around 10 (Hallelujah!) and I asked another council member to follow me home as I couldn't figure out another way to feel somewhat safe - Chris couldn't leave Gwen to pick me up, and I needed my car the next day to go to work. As soon as I got in the car, I felt better ... I think because it was dark and there was so little stimulation. I got home fine, and told Chris what had happened, and he fed and watered me and put me to bed. He figured I was in a mild state of shock. We both agreed that I had been very, very stupid, but Chris was kind enough not to give me any “I-told-you-so”-related grief.

I was actually still kind of out of it yesterday – whenever I got the slightest bit emotional, my heart would start to race like I was having some kind of adrenaline reaction. I was also yawning all damn day.

So, two things to learn here: while cookies may fill you up, they do NOT substitute for an actual decent meal after having a pint of blood removed from your body. Also, ENOUGH WITH THE OVERSCHEDULING OMG SRSLY.

There are lots of people who, for perfectly legitimate reasons, cannot give blood. I can, and I think that it’s my responsibility to do so. But next time, I will head straight home for a healthy dinner and a night of putting my feet up. I hope you do, too!

Me Time

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to spend more time doing the things I want to do. I am rocking at this and it is improving my life immensely. A big part of this, of course, is spending less time doing things I don't want to do. One thing I don't want to do is use the computer as a time-killer. I love spending time online, of course: catching up on my blogroll, checking Facebook, goofing around with various other stuff. BUT there is a big difference between intentional computer time and the scenario I find myself in all too often, which is that I fall back on websurfing and email-refreshing for a couple of hours instead of finding something that would actually satisfy my need for mental stimulation. Walk away from the computer and go put on a movie, for Pete's sake.

Another thing I need to back off from is my volunteer work at the church. This is a challenge because the other members of Church Council have learned a dangerous fact about me: I am competent. As such, I am the one who gets called on to do all kinds of stuff. Just last week a fellow Council member, a very pushy one at that, called and asked me to take on a large task. Now, I agree that this task needs to be done. And I know I would be good at it. But as she described it, I also knew that I would find it entirely unpleasant, and that the methods she was suggesting for completing it would make me completely miserable. I was also struggling to think when I could possibly fit it in. And then it occurred to me! An idea so brilliant that I was almost blinded by its stunning radiance as it burst into my mind. I said, "No."

Have you ever done this? I swear, I was almost high afterwards. Chris was sitting right next to me and I bragged to him about it afterwards. "Did you hear me? I SAID NO! She asked me to do something that totally isn't my job, and I said no. IT CAN BE DONE!" I was just itching for someone else to ask for something so I could turn them down.

So, what have I been doing that I enjoy? A few things. I signed up for a Belly Dancing class. We've only had one session so far and it was pretty disappointing, primarily because the music was too loud and the teacher far too quiet for any of the students to hear a damn thing. I'm trying to keep an open mind for the second session tonight, though. I have also been spending some serious quality time (ha) in front of my TV, making my way through the boxed set of Kids in the Hall that I purchased with Christmas money in the Boxing Week sales. I'm really enjoying the show and the special features that give so much insight as to how the show was created - it's an icon of my youth, really.

Probably my biggest time expenditure at the moment, however, has been my foray into cardmaking. You may recall that last year I made Valentine's Day cards, ostensibly from Gwen, for her family members, and I decided to carry that tradition on this year. When I did it last year, I had no idea what I was doing, and no real plan, but I had hoped to improve for this year. A couple of weeks ago, I happened to hear on the radio (yay! Listening to the local station finally pays off!) that a rubber-stamping store was having a grand opening which included a make-and-take card workshop. I thought this would be a great opportunity to learn ... well, anything, since I had pretty much no knowledge to begin with.

I went to the workshop and did something that is very, very unusual for me. I asked questions, lots of them. I drew all kinds of attention to the fact that I am a total newbie and know NOTHING about cardmaking: techniques, materials, tools, lingo, and so on. I’m a blank slate! Usually I am so uncomfortable with the image of myself as ignorant that I fake it, not letting anyone know how clueless I am. I am most comfortable with skills I can pick up very quickly, i.e. in less time than it takes for my “fake it till you make it” routine to get discovered. But I really want to get good at cardmaking, so I decided to throw my ego to the wind and actually try to learn something.

The cardmaking workshop was very informative, even though every participant made the exact same card and thus there wasn’t really much creative process involved. Still, I learned things. And then I got the lady who was teaching the workshop to follow me around the store while I asked like a hundred more questions about everything that I saw on the shelves, how it would be used, and so on. IT WAS AWESOME. I came home all happy and full of knowledge. And no one made fun of me for not knowing everything to begin with. Weird.

I’ve said before that I’m pretty crafty but not really creative. I base that on the fact that I don’t actually create one-of-a-kind pieces, but instead follow patterns and end up with the same things that anyone else would if they followed those patterns. With cardmaking, I am forced out of that rut and have to come up with ideas. I have this great magazine full of beautiful cards, and I look through it and find an inspiration and then use that as a starting point for my own cards. I had a great time on Sunday just playing around, making several thank-you cards. There was no need to make them perfect – the point was to try different things and learn how they worked. It was very freeing. I also love that making a card takes an hour or so, while making an embroidery gift takes weeks or months.

This New Year's Resolution is panning out for me bigtime. I am feeling far less rushed and I am really enjoying most of my non-work hours. Chris and I even get to watch movies together sometimes - we don't have an easy time choosing movies that we both like, but that's another problem altogether. I'm really glad that my "free" time is being used more to feed my soul these days.

The Blogosphere is Taking Over!

On Friday night Chris and I watched Julie and Julia. Just in case you haven't seen or heard of this movie, it's about a young woman living in New York who decides to spend a year making every single one of Julia Child's recipes in the famed book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." I was excited to see this movie for many reasons. First, it has been getting good reviews and looked, from the trailer, to be funny and enjoyable. Secondly, it was well-cast with two brilliant actresses: Meryl Streep and Amy Adams. But even more than that, I was stoked because this movie is about a blogger. The movie was based on a book, which was in turn based on a blog. Written by a young woman living in New York who decides to spend a year making every single one of Julia Child's recipes in the famed book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." And blogging about it.

I am a blog addict. It's true. I am bigtime hooked on blogs, and in a very real (and mentally unbalanced) way these people are important to me. I shed real tears when one "my" bloggers experiences tragedy. I yell "YES!" at my computer screen when one of them takes a leap of faith. Posts about the daily lives of strangers - insightful, witty*, thought-provoking, inspiring, hilarious, envy-producing, empathy-creating, and so on - genuinely affect my mood and my day. Yes. I told you I was unbalanced.

*Not actually a stranger. Hi, Amber!

So you can imagine how much it blows my tiny mind when the blogosphere becomes more real somehow. I've read several books that are based on and/or written by my favourite bloggers: Cringe, Things I Learned From My Dad (in Therapy), Sleep is for the Weak, Schuyler's Monster, Why Girls are Weird, and of course, It Sucked and Then I Cried. I've read dozens more books that I first heard about through blogs, the same way other people might get book recommendations from, you know, actual real life people that they meet with on a regular basis to spend time socializing ... what do they call those people? Oh yeah, FRIENDS. Anyway, my point is that when a blogger writes a book, s/he comes to the attention of the (perhaps dwindling? we hope?) portion of the population that still thinks blogs are weird. Depending on how the book is written and marketed, these Mainstream Non-Internet-Addicted People may not even KNOW that they are reading a book based on a blog, a book that probably wouldn't even exist if not for that Weird Blogging Thing.

And this, finally, is my point: the movie Julie and Julia is not just about a young woman living in New York who decides to spend a year making every single one of Julia Child's recipes in the famed book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." It's about a young woman living in New York who decides to spend a year making every single one of Julia Child's recipes in the famed book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking and blogging about it. You can't miss the blogging: it's a major plot point of the movie, and there are several scenes that feature voiceovers that are word-for-word source (blog!) material. The film deftly draws parallels between Child's struggle to complete and publish her cookbook, and the young blogger's struggle to identify herself as a writer, essentially equating both types of authorship. That is a powerful message for the rest of us young bloggers, whether or not we dream of book deals. It's a powerful message for the rest of the world, too, those who wonder why we insist on documenting the fascinating minutiae of our lives and sharing it with perfect strangers.

As mentioned above, the movie has been well-received by both audiences and critics, and I was deeply impressed with the humour, the performances, the writing, every last detail down to the sets and costumes. I adored the way Julie and Julia's stories were woven together, and naturally I drooled over the food. This film has even inspired me to at last forgive writer/director Nora Ephron for Sleepless in Seattle. (I will probably still rip into her another day, however, for her book "I Feel Bad About My Neck", anti-feminist tripe that it is.) But really, you can learn about all those aspects on many other sites (or even magazines, newspapers, and non-print media like television and FRIENDS!). Here at Blogging For Two, you'll hear about why this movie makes MY life better, because it's all about me. It makes my life better because it makes blogging a justifiable and valued pastime, hopefully clarifying to the masses why it is we do this thing we do. Making it more normal. Apparently sales of Child's book have surged since the movie's release ... I wonder if there has been a similar increase in blog usage?

As a footnote: Heather B. Armstrong, one of the "realest" bloggers out there, has become just a bit more real. Apparently spurred on by being featured as a Jeopardy! question, she has now decided to take over the world of television by signing a deal with HGTV. Holy shit, y'all. Blogger be UNSTOPPABLE.

Oh, AND? About six months ago, Intel decided to sponsor a blogger's life list. As in, that list of a hundred things you'd like to do before you die - now paid for in full, and all you have to do is write about it. Now THAT is real, my friend!

But most importantly - Annabelle. Welcome, sweet girl!

There are 27 links in this post. Amuse me and tell me how many of them you ended up clicking.

School

A few days after I sent out the emails directing people to the Christmas letter I wrote (which I've since taken down, since it is not really blog material, but it was the easiest way to combine text and pictures), I realized I'd forgotten to include one major detail about my life. And it irked me to no end, because part of the reason I wanted to do a Christmas letter in the first place was to inform people of all the various things we are doing, so that I don't get these uninformed questions after my Facebook status updates:

"Oh, you live in Nanaimo?"
"Oh, you go to church?"
"Oh, you have a daughter?"

I am exaggerating a tad, obviously. I don't think I've ever been asked any of those questions. But the one I get all the time is "Oh, you're going to school?" And guess what I forgot to mention in my Christmas letter? Yeah. Good work, wordygirl. *sigh*

This probably says something about mothers always considering themselves last and especially considering efforts that have little or nothing to do with Real Life last. But that's depressing so I'm not going to go there today.

Instead! I will tell you that YES, I have been going to school. For the past gazillion years (actually, about seven). I am trying to earn a Bachelor of Arts degree with a concentration in English, through distance learning at Athabasca University. Read: correspondence learning that does not require me to attend classes or quit my full time job. Are you starting to get a sense of why I've been working on it for seven years, and I'm not even close to finishing my "three-year" program?

Since starting school in November 2002, I have taken two extended breaks from it. One was several years ago when I left my (first) husband and my job and my hometown and moved to the Island to figure out how to stand on my own two feet. The second was in 2008 when I had Gwen. In spring of last year, I decided I was ready to start again, and registered for English 373 - Film & Literature.

This was a really dumb move on my part, because I registered for the course right before a whole lot of stuff changed. I went back to work, I was elected to Church Council and chosen for the Call Committee, I felt rushed all the time and no matter what I was doing I felt guilty for all the things I wasn't doing. There was no balance whatsoever and I spent the majority of 2009 feeling like I was doing a half-assed job at everything in my life. I hated it, and in the fall of 2009 I decided to put a stop to it. This has been a long process as I don't just quit things in the middle: I have been working hard to not say yes to any new things, to alter my involvement in various things to be more reasonable, and to walk away when a commitment finishes up. I promised myself I would continue Operation Commitment Reduction until it felt like there was some breathing room in my schedule.

One of my big commitments just finished up. On December 18th, I wrote my final exam for Film & Literature. I just heard yesterday that I got an A- on the exam and an A on the course as a whole. YAY!

I didn't register for another course, and I am struggling with this choice. If I chose to do another course at this time, something else I am already committed to would have to go. There are two possibilities: either I quit Church Council (after completing only one of my three years) or I quit going to fitness classes (I currently go to yoga and two Belly Fit classes a week). Neither of these appeal to me. The fitness classes are important because they are genuinely For Me and very enjoyable: school is For Me also, but not always enjoyable. Church Council is important because I gave my word and I would have difficulty living with myself if I quit.

At the same time, I feel frustrated that my schooling keeps getting sidetracked. I feel discouraged that Church Council, which I find unrewarding and disorganized, will continue being part of my life while schooling, which is very difficult but does hold some reward, as well as being arguably "useful" for me as an individual, will end. I do believe in being "of service": I think being a member of any volunteer organization or community (like a church) obligates you to take your turn doing the work of the group.

I feel like I am good at school - which is easy to say when I've just finished a course, but is also supported by the fact that I have a solid B average. I don't know if having a degree will ever lead me anywhere, career-wise, but even if it doesn't I still want to finish it. Preferably before Gwen gets one of her own.

It's clear some prioritizing is in order. Ideally I should be able to fit in all the elements: Free Time, Social Life, Self-Improvement, Family Time, etc. I tried doing it all and it made me miserable. Not sure where to go from here.

*If you'd like to comment with advice, feel free, but do me a favour: don't tell me what to do, tell me how to figure out what to do. I need to wrap my head around this.

Edited to Add: Commisseration entirely welcome! Thank you, Lindsey & Amber.

Good Deeds

I spent the weekend doing some good deeds. It was a balm for my spirits, as I came home from work on both Thursday and Friday feeling very undervalued and discouraged (for reasons I am not going to go into here).

On Saturday, I spent the morning baking for Mary's family, who are soon to be home from the hospital and need their freezer stocked.) I wasn't confident about preparing meals, but when someone suggested baking, I was all over it. I made two loaves of bread, two batches of muffins (in both toddler and grown-up sizes), and an apple loaf. Gwen "helped" for some of it, as well. I am getting better at managing her in the kitchen. (Except for the part where I turned around and found her with a paring knife in her mouth. She was actually fine until my loud gasp and terrified face scared the crap out of her. She didn't cut herself, though. Also, GAHHH.)

In the evening I continued the theme of good deeds by donating money to two good causes: my cousin Sonia is participating in the Ride to Conquer Cancer, and a mommyfriend is doing the Weekend to End Women's Cancers, so I gave them both money. Some of you may not know that in 2005, I raised $5,500 for the Canadian Diabetes Association and did a marathon in Rome, so I have a soft spot in my heart (and wallet) for anyone who undertakes something similar.

The final good deed was to finish up the Advent Conspiracy this morning. Those who took home the giving cans were asked to either bring them back to church by today, or give them to another charity of their choice. Out of 36 cans I made, 15 of them came back, netting a total of just over $300. Along with the other monies donated, this gave us enough to build 2 wells in a developing nation. Once the money is tripled by CIDA, we'll be able to build six wells, which will provide clean drinking water for over 230 families! That's a lot of water. That's a lot of hope. That's a lot of love!

With that, it finally feels like Christmas is over around here. Chris finally took down the outside decorations - he wanted to wait for dry weather, and I feared this would mean our house would be festooned with half-lit reindeer until sometime in June, but the rain actually stopped long enough today for him to go out and disassemble the poor creatures. Glory Hallelujah.

This Weird Thing Happened on Christmas Day

(More on Christmas will come later ... for now, a quickie.)

Since I happened to be sitting next to Gwen while she opened her gifts Christmas morning, I ended up in a lot of the pictures.

In many of them, I am making incomprehensible faces.

In some of them, I am doing things with my hands that I simply cannot explain.

And in one of them, I appear to be boxing an invisible opponent.

But the weirdest thing is that after looking through all of these pictures, rotating them and editing them for redeye, after perusing my image over and over and over again ... in not one single picture do I look at myself and think, "Whoa, I am fat." Not one.

(I mentioned this to my best friend, who told me he has not ever seen a picture of me and thought I looked fat. "Try to see it from my perspective," I urged him. "EVERY picture I see of me, I think, ugh, I am so fat. To see a picture - let alone a whole GROUP of pictures - where I don't think that? It's almost disorienting.")

(Stay tuned for my New Year's Resolutions, which for the first time in EVER will not include the words "lose weight".)

Movie Announcement

Something that makes me really, really, really happy is when a director I absolutely adore ends up making a film out of one of my favourite books. This does not happen often, but it does happen. And it has happened this year!

Check it out!

If I had actually seen the trailer for this while in the theatre, and having had no idea it was in the works, I probably would have completely lost my mind with excitement. As it was, I think I read about it somewhere and had to go searching for the trailer, so the screaming Beatlemania glee was avoided, but I am still stoked. And the casting looks awesome.

Dancing, Crafting, Reading, and Babbling

Tonight I am going to do something CRAZY. I'm going to a dance fitness class at the Soul Sister Studio. (If you follow that link, please note that I am not going to any class where the word "pole" is involved. I'm crazy, but not THAT crazy.)

I have been feeling for a while like my fitness needs a kick in the pants. I think dancing would be fun; dancing is one of the very few things I miss about the SCA. Naturally, it being summer, there aren't a lot of options right now for dance classes - when the new Leisure Guide comes out in the fall, I might find something more suitable. But I'll try this for now. In the back of my head, I have this goal of auditioning for a musical in the fall, so having some dance/movement/co-ordination skills practice in the meantime may be helpful. One of the things I'm most looking forward to about the class I'm attending tonight is that it's a drop-in class, meaning the students won't be expected to get better as time goes on with an eventual goal of performance. I can just keep spazzing out, maybe learn something, have some fun, and hopefully lose a pound or two.

+++++++++++++++

I spent over 90 minutes last night working on Chris's birthday card. That is definitely a record for me. I really enjoyed the project and can see how papercrafting would be very rewarding. I'm going to keep working on it. Thanks to last night's efforts I have a list of supplies/tools I'd like to obtain over the next several months. Speaking of crafting, I also need to turn the giant pile of felt I bought in January into an Advent calendar at some point. Will I do it this fall, meaning Gwen could potentially "use" it this Christmas? Or will I wait till next fall (or the one after), meaning Gwen could potentially aid in its creation? Hmmm.

+++++++++++++++

I have an ad on Nanaimo Kijiji right now looking for casual babysitters for Gwen. So far we've had three respondents. And this Sunday at church I was introduced to a young woman I'd seen there a few times - it turns out she's a part-time nanny, and yes, she's interested in more work. I am pleased. It would be great to have a list of people to call on when I need to run toddler-free errands, or when we want an evening out. Especially since my in-laws are going to Europe in the fall and we are going to need some other options available!

Just knowing that I have care available, I have been able to schedule three appointments I'd been frustratingly forced to delay until now: my doctor, my financial planner, and my eye exam. My eyes are very, very tired from reading (whether page or screen) for 8-12 hours a day.

+++++++++++++++

Chris and I have been working our butts off to get ready for our upcoming trip to the family cabin in Powell River. It has been a huge amount of planning and preparation. Hopefully things will all come together and things will go smoothly while we're away - it's supposed to be a vacation, after all.

+++++++++++++++

I joined this incredible site called Goodreads.com and you should all join it too, and then friend me so we can share book recommendations.

Fehhhh .... the Blogging Lethargy has got me

Last June, I was at home with a newborn. She was six weeks old and spent all her time (ALL her time) either sleeping, nursing, or crying. Last June, I made 25 entries in this blog.

This June, I was a working mom with a toddler. I don't know how my daughter spends all her time, because I'm not there for most of it. Sometimes, I see her for five or ten minutes in the morning. I almost always get to see her for a couple of hours between work and bedtime. And on the weekends, of course, sometimes slotted in between Social Obligations and Travel and Chores and Grocery Shopping and Yoga Class and all the other things one has to get done on weekends. This June, I made 11 entries in this blog.

Even typing out the above two paragraphs has given me a bit of perspective as to what's happening life-wise. June 2008 was all about how Gwen spent her time, because I had *nothing* going on that wasn't centred on her. June 2009 was all about how I spent my time, because the majority of that time is spent on non-Gwen-related pursuits. Is it any wonder the blogging has ground to a halt?

I started this blog as my inner voice, when I first found out I was pregnant. I didn't tell anyone about it, not even my best friend or my husband, for a couple of months. I wanted to chronicle the pregnancy in a semi-anonymous way; I wanted those who read it to do so because they found the writings interesting or relevant to themselves (i.e., they were also pregnant or hoping to be), not because they were my friends and felt obligated to read. Eventually I spilled the secret and invited my friends to read if they wished. Shortly after Gwen was born, my parents found the blog. They showed it to other family members. Now I even export my posts to Facebook.

It's a weird paradox, this bloggy thing. I don't consciously write posts with my family and friends in mind, thinking "I'd better make a post so Grannie can see these adorable pictures!", but at the same time the fact that they do read is always in the back of my mind. Knowing that the majority of my readers are people I know, I take shortcuts. I don't work as hard as I could on my posts; don't explain background information to ensure that each story stands on its own. At its worst, this blog is little more than a substitute for a mass email. At its best ... well, I don't know. I think that's what I need to figure out. What do I want from this little space on the web I have claimed as mine, and my daughter's?

1. A chronicle of Gwen's life and times - that was always the goal, and I think I am accomplishing that fairly well.
2. A place to reach out to other parents - I think that if ever people stumbled across this blog, it would do adequately at this task. I probably need to work harder at getting people to stumble over here, though.
3. A place where I can improve my writing skills - this doesn't work if I don't write.

I tend to get kind of lethargic and unmotivated whenever I see other blogs that are highly entertaining and/or moving. I think, "I can't write like that (because of this flimsy excuse here), so I just shouldn't bother." Sometimes I feel like I've painted myself into a corner by making this so definitively a mommy blog. Many of the bloggers I most admire - Emily, Linda, Heather, Amy - were bloggers before they became mommies, and continue to write about subjects as rich and varied as life is: work, relationships, home renovation, fitness goals, personal ambitions, experiences with the medical profession, ridiculously funny critiques of what's on television these days, and, you know, the hidden life of deodorant, to name a few. I write about Gwen, and as great as that is, it's only a piece of my life - for better or worse, not even the biggest piece, these days - so when there's no Gwen-blogging, there's no blogging at all. And while I don't know exactly what I do want, I know I don't want that.

It seems clear to me that in order to improve this blog, I need to write more. And in order to write more, I need to expand my horizons and flesh this blog out a little more. How to do that, I'm not entirely sure. Hopefully it will be at least somewhat amusing for all of us as I work on figuring it out.

Finnegan

Sally is an amazing woman that I know in a few different capacities. She attended Gwen's birth as a friend and as a birth doula. She knitted Gwen's first article of clothing, the "Sally hat," as I always called it. She stayed here for a week after Gwen's birth to help me figure out how to care for this tiny person, and support me through all the ups and downs of post-partum. She was there when the Norovirus plague hit the house, and it hit her too.

During the week that she stayed here, dividing her time between working on schoolwork and cuddling a newborn, she talked a lot about getting a puppy. She even went so far as to start surfing Craigslist and other online classifieds looking for a furry companion for herself and her partner, Dean.

Shortly after she went home, they adopted Finnegan, an adorable little fuzzface who, being part miniature pinscher, was never going to get very much bigger. He was just under four pounds when they brought him home.

When Sally and I had the opportunity to chat, in person or via email, we often compared notes on mothering a puppy and mothering a newborn. They are actually shockingly similar: both keep you up at night; both significantly alter your social lives; both are terribly dependent on you for their safety, shelter, and food; both prevent Quality Couple Time (if y'know what I mean, and I THINK YOU DO).

Last July, we got our our first opportunity to meet Finnegan when Sally came to visit. We really enjoyed it. Gwen was very interested in the fuzzy baby, though not entirely sure what to make of him. Finnegan didn't care too much about Gwen, either way (she hadn't started eating solid foods yet, so there was no benefit to sticking close by). This past May, though, Sally and Finnegan stopped by again for a brief visit, and this time the two kids - furry and non-furry - got along great. Gwen "barked" at Finnegan until he returned the favour with a shrill yip: Gwen jumped a little, then cocked her head to the side and started trying to imitate the sound. She shared her food, he shared her toys, and Sally and I continued our dialogue about the joys and difficulties of parenthood.

Last night, Finnegan passed away suddenly. Sally wrote, "He had a congenital diaphragmatic hernia, which we didn't know about until around midnight. He was meant to have surgery this morning to repair it, but didn't make it through the night as his intestines were pressing on his chest cavity causing trauma.

"He had been fine earlier in the day, frolicking and playing with our families ... He was only sick for a few hours."

I've never had a dog before, and have never really been in the position of grieving for a pet, but I'm a lot sadder than I would have expected about this. It seems especially unfair that it happened so quickly, and that Finnegan was so young. After some thought, I realized that because Sally adopted Finnegan so soon after Gwen's birth, I strongly associate those two events. In a way, Sally and I became mothers at the same time, and shared those experiences with each other. So today, I am grieving as one mother for another. I know how heartbroken she and Dean must feel, and I feel so sad for them both.

In retrospect, it seems silly to have buried the news that GWEN CAN SIT way at the bottom of the post

Holy crap. I've been busy as hell, obviously, and haven't had any time to update. Weirdly, not much of what I've been up to has to do with Gwen.

On Thursday night, I went to WordStorm. I was invited by a mommyfriend, Adrienne, whose adorable son Lucas was born the same day as Gwen. She and I have thus seen each other at many baby-related events and gradually got to know one another. A few weeks ago, I gave her my contact card, primarily so she could find me on Facebook. The card also has this blog's address on it, and the next time she saw me she told me she'd found the blog, read some archives, and was blown away by my writing and ALSO super gratified to read that I'd had a hard time with many of the stages she'd had a hard time with. That made me feel really good because that is EXACTLY why I write: so someone out there will feel less alone. Also, she happens to be a Journalism and Women's Studies major, so this marks the first time someone who Knows Of What They Speak has complimented my blog writing. Wow. That made my day!

Anyway, Adrienne brought me along to WordStorm, which is a spoken word event held once a month in Nanaimo. It's kind of like an open mic for writers, and they even compete for cash prizes. I had SO much fun. I have always believed that I disliked poetry, but it turns out that I like poetry when it's read out loud to me by the person who wrote it. And Adrienne introduced me to one of her friends as "a writer". OMG.

Then on Friday, I went out to a Girls' Night with some of my mommyfriends. It was glorious. We had a spa party: soaked our feet, dabbed on facial cream, and ate way too many Nanaimo bars. And talked talked talked talked talked. I love my friends so much: sometimes it almost feels like I am closer to them than I am to my husband right now. I guess because ultimately, my day-to-day life is a lot more like theirs than it is like his.

On Saturday evening we all went out to a local SCA event where I got to juggle the fun of sitting at the head table with a baby and Royalty. It was about as challenging as you'd expect, but I did manage to enjoy myself. Chris took Gwen home near the end of the feast, but because I am president of our local SCA group I had to stay to the bitter end (which was 1am).

If you're following along you will notice right about now that I was out three nights in a row without Gwen, while Chris was on full-time Dad duty. Impressive, yes?

Sunday was jam-packed with shopping and prepping and cooking for Operation Feed Mah Baby and, simultaneously, The Buechler Initiative (eating healthy meals, together, at a reasonable hour). I don't think I got a moment to myself until 4pm that afternoon. And then that evening, I got a call from my church asking if I would let my name stand for church council. After talking it over with Chris, I've decided to say yes. Our much-beloved pastor is leaving, and I can see no better way to ensure that things don't fall apart during the transition than to help be part of the solution. I help out a lot at church already so in a way this is a recognition of that. I'm a little nervous about the length of the term - three years - but I know if it's impossible I will be able to resign early.

Other news (in bullet form, since this post is getting lengthy):
- Gwen is starting to sit. I've even seen her get into the sitting position on her own a couple of times. YAY.
- She can also do virasana, aka W-sitting.
- I have started talking to my boss about returning to work. The news is better than I'd expected. I still have fears about how I am going to fit everything in, but I know that millions of other women have figured this out and I will too. This week's plan is to confirm daycare (wish me luck).
- Gwen's Uncle Mikey, my best friend, bought us "No!" for Christmas. The songs are awesome - way better than The Wiggles - but they are still stuck in my head all. The. Time. (Robot parade ... robot parade... AAHHHHH!!!)
- Gwen and I went to Strong Start yesterday, which was great fun. I think we will be going again, often. I only didn't go today because I thought I'd look like a loser with no life if I showed up two days in a row.
- The weather is improving, THANK GOD. The past two days, I have been able to get out for walks with Gwen. I even saw a robin yesterday. Spring WILL come again!

Hey, Check Me Out!

One of my favourite bloggers has started a new site, Bodies in Motivation. And guess who's on there?

Social Me

In a weird way, becoming a mom has made me *more* social instead of less. How odd is that?

Gwen and I went to a playdate this afternoon, which aside from being great fun, was the place of various discussions about future social plans. A Christmas party was suggested, as was a group trip to see Santa for the babies' pictures; an evening of scrapbooking; and a Wii/Rock Band/Singstar party. While some of these include the babies or are centered on the babies, the latter is an adults-only activity and is thus a real departure. Getting together just to socialize? For fun? Because we enjoy each others' company? Woohoo!

Similarly, this evening I went out to a birthday dinner at one of Nanaimo's fancier restaurants for a woman I know through various mommy groups. That is to say, we know each other only because we are mommies. It's really interesting to be part of real friendships being formed out of the mere coincidence of our babies' ages. It's slow going, because at any gathering of moms it's all too easy to just fall back on talking about the kids; in fact, it can be a real challenge to talk about anything else. But it's rewarding when it happens, as you get to know the real person behind the baby bit by bit.

I think I am more social now because I have to be. I have to get out to playdates and story time and so on, not only for Gwen's entertainment and socialization, but because if I just stayed home with her all day every day I WOULD GO CRAZY. The fact that I am consistently seeing the same moms a few times a week, and that we always have a conversation starter ("So, how is ____ sleeping?") makes the social aspect of these outings far less intimidating.

Tonight was a different sort of event and I was worried about it at first. The other moms I knew weren't going, and the only person I knew was the birthday girl. But I fit in, and I had a great time, and everything was totally fine. I think that the past few months of taking Gwen to various outings has been good for me. I guess I'm getting socialized too.

Success!

(My weekly "life outside motherhood" post.)


Lisa and I shortly after crossing the finish line at the 2008 Royal Victoria Marathon, where we walked 21 kilometres.


My support team and biggest fans.

Lisa and I finished the half-marathon in just under 4 hours (3:49:39 to be exact), which I was thrilled with as I felt anything under five hours was just golden. It was a great race, the opposite of the Rome Marathon in many, many important ways.





It was a beautiful day and the route was gorgeous: the fall foliage was so rich and the spectators were cheerful and many in number. There were hundreds of volunteers keeping us fed, hydrated, safe, and on course, not to mention motivated as they cheered us on. What I appreciated best of all was the organization of the event. Half-Marathoners started an hour earlier than Full Marathoners, and at a certain point the routes divided which meant the Half-Marathoners did a smallish loop while the Full Marathoners did a larger loop. Then the routes rejoined again later. This resulted in runners and walkers, fullers and halfers all being on the same course together for much of the race, which in turn made those of us walking feel like we were actually part of an event, not just stragglers stumbling in hours after the race was over. We watched the top ten marathoners race by us during our last hour of walking, aware that we were witnessing the race's winners: how often do you get to say that?





The finish line was fantastic, with hundreds of people cheering and shouting as we jogged down the final stretch. Volunteers took good care of us from then on, removing our timing chips, giving us medals, and directing us towards a giant food tent with fruit, carbs, and drinks. The only blip in my day was that Chris and the others didn't make it downtown in time to watch me cross the finish line. Still, it was an incredible day and I would definitely do this race again. I'm pondering alternating between Thanksgiving-with-my-family, Thanksgiving-with-Chris's-family, and doing-the-half-marathon. Which would mean racing every three years. Sounds about right!

And now for something completely different!

Hey, how about I just take a week off from posting? Oh wait, I just did that. Huh. What do you know.

Oops.

The thing is, I have these posts kind of working their way through my brain, but they are all Big Deep Thought kind of posts, not the sort of thing I can just dash off in the 20 minutes or so I usually have for blogging. So the posts remain unwritten, the topics jotted on a piece of notepaper right next to my lappy where I can look at them every day and feel vaguely guilty.

Anyway, none of those posts are going to be written tonight, either. Tonight I'm going to write abut something that has nothing whatsoever to do with motherhood.

I went out to a "Moms' Night Out" last night at a pub with a couple women I've met at various mom groups. We had a FANTASTIC time. However, we found it nearly impossible to talk about anything other than our babies. Every time we started a conversation on another topic ("What do you do?") it quickly devolved ("It was a great job to have when I was pregnant because I wasn't on my feet"). As a result, I still know very little about these women other than the fact that they are mommies. I know many, many little facts about their kids - birth weight, birth stories, whether he/she had colic, sleep habits, eating habits, and so on - but it's hard to get to know the woman behind the mother.

So I think once a week I will try to post something *not* relating to Gwen or motherhood. Which is sort of the opposite of what I had in mind with "Blogging for Two", but too bad. I'll try it out and see how it works. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed that incredibly wordy introduction, because NOW I'm going to start the post proper.

Today, I walked 16 kilometres!

You see, in 2005 I walked a marathon. That was awesome. Last year I decided that I wanted to walk the half-marathon at the Royal Victoria Marathon, which happens to be next weekend. I wanted to think about something, plan something, have a goal that wasn't all about the pregnancy/the baby/impending motherhood. So I registered for the event, and for the past few months I've been training in earnest.

Sundays are the days when the training schedule prescribes a long walk. And 16km is definitely a long walk - it took me 3.5 hours, made even longer and more monotonous by the fact that my mp3 player died about half an hour after I started (boo!). I reminisced on the fact that in 2005 when I went to Rome for my first marathon, my mp3 player (which had cost me over $100) was one of the most valuable things I had, and I was terrified of losing it. Nowadays, with iPods and nanos and so on, my silly little mp3 player is gruesomely obsolete, and probably worth about 50cents, yet I keep using it. I'm either cheap, or stubborn, or woefully ignorant about new technology ... or all three.

So I walked on, music-less, thinking about all manner of things, and thinking sometimes about nothing at all. I was walking around Westwood Lake, a local lake that is 6km in perimeter. There was obviously a storm there in the last couple of days, because there was a lot of debris on the ground, and even a tree across the path at one point. For the most part, though, the path was carpeted with richly coloured leaves and foliage: reds, oranges, green, deep browns. You could hardly even see the dirt beneath.

Even though today was a gloomy, gray day, the lake trail was quite busy. I probably greeted over a hundred people on my journey. Some had kids, some had strollers, some had dogs, some had bikes. Some were couples, some were families, some were lone joggers panting so hard they could barely return my "good morning". Almost all were faster than I was, and I tried not to care about that.

The lake was still and silent, but for a few fishermen in boats floating on the surface. I also spotted a duck and a few Canadian geese. I've seen heron there before, but not today.

I did a lot of training at this lake for my first marathon, and I've done a fair bit there this time around as well. I've walked there with many friends, and I reflected on those walks and the conversations I'd had. Edd and Mogg; Mike and Zoe; Lisa and Janice; even Chris, a few rare times. I also thought about the future, about how I want physical exercise to be a habit for my daughter (see how hard it is to leave her entirely out of the equation?). I thought about creating a Sunday routine where we would go to church, then out for a walk.

Today was my last long training walk. The half-marathon is next Sunday, and between now and then I have only short walks (30 minutes or less). It's likely I will not be back to the lake until next Spring. Knowing this kept me motivated to complete the walk, despite boredom and a growing fatigue. "It's my last lake walk, I might as well complete it." The scenery looked so dull to me, as I've seen it so many times, but I tried to see it with new eyes, to imagine how I would describe it here, and to remember it through the winter.

The race, as I said, is next Sunday. I'll be walking 21km, and I will have a time limit of six hours to do so. I'll also have my friend Lisa by my side to keep me company and stave off the boredom. And after the race, I get to have Thanksgiving dinner with my best friend and his family - a fitting reward. One week from tonight, I'll be stuffing my face with delicious food and bragging about my shiny new medal. Wish me luck!