To my daughter.
I just dropped you off at your friends house. When I watched you get out of the car with all of the grace and beauty of a young woman, my heart stopped a little with the realization that my little girl is now almost grown up. In less than a year, you'll be driving a car (hopefully not mine) and bringing home your own pay cheque. It really seems like yesterday that you so very excitedly gave me a plunger, pink plastic barrettes and a Barbie doll for Mothers' Day. To this day I can't figure out the symbolism of the plunger, but you were so proud of yourself for making Daddy let you pick everything out on your own, that I still grin each time I have to pick up a plunger. Which is more often than I'd like to, since you keep forgetting we don't have a garbage disposal system.
When I think back on all of the years that you celebrated Mothers Day
with me, I can't help but be so very grateful that I was blessed with
you. For many years I couldn't imagine a life with a child in it, but now I can't imagine a life without you.
I was the least likely candidate for motherhood (ask anyone who knew me back
then), but from the moment I first held you, I knew what my true
purpose in life was. You gave me a reason to be, and still do, every
single day.
As most mothers and daughters do, we have our ugly moments. We've had the raised voices, Mexican stand-offs, slammed doors and more recently, swearing competitions (which I will ALWAYS win). We'll probably always have our disagreements, because we're two very different people and both entitled to our own thoughts and opinions. I will always be annoyed with you for stretching my shoes, "borrowing" my clothes and leaving dirty dishes on the counter. You will always be annoyed with me for being "weird", putting your things where you can't find them, and asking too many questions. Thankfully, we usually manage to forgive each other. You finally forgave me for the "marshmallow farm" incident, and I have finally forgotten about the blue food coloring incident. That's what mothers and daughters do.
Something else that mothers often do is give advice. I'm not great at advice, and I usually get it wrong, but there are a few things I would like you to try to remember as you grow up. The most important one is to be responsible for your own happiness. Don't depend on anyone else to make you happy - this is a surefire way to be disappointed. And don't ever try to be responsible for the happiness of anyone else - that's impossible to do and far too much pressure to place on yourself. Next, be independent but accept help when you need it. Don't be afraid to ask for help, you'll be surprised at how many people just might be willing to lend you a hand. Always let those you care about know how you feel, don't wait until you're at a point when your mind says "I wish I'd told **** how much I ****". When you fall in love (which you will, several times), don't love with all of your heart - save a little of it for yourself. Give other people a chance, but not so many that you become a doormat. When you get your heart broken, wallow for only a short time, then pick yourself up, hold your head high and move along. Never stay stuck with someone you don't belong with - if you're not happy, it's not meant to be. Don't stay somewhere because you're afraid to leave, and remember that "reasons to stay" are only excuses not to leave. When you make a mistake (again, you will do this many times), learn from it and do things differently the next time around. Finally, do what you love to do and never let anyone tell you that you can't.
You have asked me for "hints" as to what I would like for Mothers' Day. I already have the best gift of all, I have you. Love you to the moon and back Em, always.
Saturday, 10 May 2014
Tuesday, 25 February 2014
Just Watch Me
When my ex-spouse just came to pick up our daughter, I suddenly realized that it was one year ago today that I picked up the keys to my new home and began the task of building a new life. So very much has changed since then, yet it still doesn't really feel like it's been an entire year since I moved out.
I remember every detail of that day and every emotion that I felt. I recall the day starting out rather emotionally, with the somber realization that once I walked out the door of my marital home for the last time, I would be saying goodbye to the relationship that I had with someone whom I had spent the majority of my life with. As I packed my car with boxes and made several trips back and forth between houses, it seemed like every trip out of that driveway got a bit sadder. However, when the moving truck met me at my new home later in the day with all of the bigger items, the sadness gave way to excitement. It was starting to feel good at that point, and it was especially gratifying to a control freak such as myself to be making all of the decisions on my own for once in my life.
Halfway through the unloading of the truck though, my daughter and I saw "the chair". This disastrous piece of furniture was the ugliest thing that had graced my old home and I had in no uncertain terms made it clear that it wasn't coming with me. Imagine my surprise to see that thing being carried out of the back of the moving van. I broke speed records getting out the front door and putting a halt to all activity by the movers. It was then that the guys informed me that my "husband" had told them to put it on the truck, along with a dresser I didn't want, a water cooler that wasn't coming with me and a couple of other pieces that I had deemed unworthy to cross the threshold of "MY" house. Thus ended any of the sadness that I had felt earlier in the day. In the end, I managed to offload a couple of the pieces to the movers and threw the rest under the back stairs until I could either get a burn permit or a gypsy to get rid of it.
I was really getting into things when the furniture delivery guys came with my new dining room set. I couldn't wait to see it all set up. My excitement turned to near hysteria though when the delivery men brought in the huge and heavy box, set it down in the dining room and then proceeded to leave. I figured they were going out to the truck to get their tools so that they could get this thing assembled for me. Apparently that one particular store doesn't "assemble" anything. Ever. Not even for a fee. I tried to explain to them that the only furniture I'd ever put together in my life belonged to Barbie and Ken, but
to no avail. Tears didn't work either. Needless to say, I got my first taste of what being a single female homeowner really meant. The table assembly actually went well, and the chair leg attachments seemed okay too, until I realized that I had the front and back legs mixed up on all four chairs. I rectified that situation, but for some reason, no one else was willing to sit down on the chairs until they flipped them over to see whether it was safe or not. People can have such a lack of faith sometimes.
During those first few weeks, I discovered broken closet hinges/lack of water pressure/tree branches that hit the cable and power lines/a leaking basement doorway and a perpetually barking dog somewhere on the street. The hinges were fixed with the help of YouTube, the water pressure solved by the removal of a tree and many dollars later. The tree branches were cut down by my ex-spouse in exchange for the use of my car (I've become very good at bartering) and the leaking door was solved with a bit of caulking. To clear up any misconception regarding the caulking, yes I fixed it myself. The only problem I had was figuring out how to get the caulking gun to work. When I finallt related it to how an icing decorating tool works, it all made sense to me (go ahead - roll your eyes, but the door doesn't leak anymore). Sadly, the one thing I can't fix is the barking dog. Not legally anyway.
If anyone had told me a few years ago that I would enjoy shopping at hardware stores collecting tools, I probably would have backed away slowly from them and assumed that they were off their medications. I spent most of my life avoiding hardware stores unless I needed lightbulbs or something similar. If they'd said that I would become proficient at using a power drill, I would have looked around to see who they were talking about, because they certainly couldn't have meant ME. I wouldn't have believed it if anyone had said I'd actually enjoy lawn mowing - the closest I'd come to a lawnmower was when I had to move it out of my way to get to something else in the shed. And I most definitely would not have believed it if I'd been told that my ex and I would ever forge any type of amicable friendship and become better co-parents than we ever were as spouses. Yet, all of this has happened and what I now can't believe is that I ever doubted that I could do any of it in the first place.
In the first few months of last year, my daughter would run for cover when she saw me coming with the toolbox or dragging out the lawnmower. My ex would take it upon himself to scoff at the idea of me painting a deck or digging up trees. They don't do that anymore. We've come a long way from the day when I spent an hour trying to replace an outdoor dryer flap, only to finish it and realize that I put it on upside down. Same with the garden hose hanger. And the filing cabinet drawer handles. When my daughter doubted my abilities in the beginning, my response to her telling me that I'd never be able to do it myself and maybe we should call someone, was always "just watch me". I may not have always done things right the first time, or the way others would have liked me to, but things always got done securely in the end and always "my" way. My goal wasn't solely to get the job done, but to also show my daughter that just because you've never done something before doesn't mean that you shouldn't try.
This past year has been a definite learning curve for both of us, but except for snow shoveling, I've discovered that I actually enjoy painting, fixing things, lawn mowing etc. My daughter enjoys decorating her bedroom (over and over) and her favorite thing to do is to keep changing her mind on paint color. I like learning how to improve on what is already in the house, but I draw the line at re-painting the same room in less than a year. Next week I will be "instructing" the painting and hopefully hear "just watch me" coming from my daughter's mouth.
We have had many challenges getting to where we are, but life is all about challenges and how we handle them. For the most part, I believe that she and I have handled things quite nicely as far as getting used to a new house goes. There are still other challenges being dealt with, but at least now we have the time to take it one challenge at a time and work through things together in our cozy little house. I hope that all of this has shown my daughter to not be afraid to change what doesn't work, and that if others doubt her ability to listen to her inner "just watch me" voice.
Wednesday, 15 January 2014
Endings and Beginnings
On New Year's Day my father lost his long battle with Alzheimer's. It was a very peaceful passing, and his wife, myself and my sister were by his side. He will no longer have to suffer the indignities of this cruel disease, or struggle to communicate with only his eyes and hands. There will be no more hospital stays, no more sudden infections and fevers. No more sitting day after day in the same spot, unable to move on his own. I am very grateful for that, for his sake, even though I am deeply saddened at the loss of one of the most important people in my life.
I will miss the hugs that Dad gave freely and frequently. Even when he could no longer walk or speak, he could still give a hug that was strong, tight, and full of love. I've always felt that those were the best kind of hugs ever, and can only hope that the hugs I give to others can provide the same wonderful feeling as the ones I received from my father for so many years. I will miss the kisses that he'd pucker up for, and the hand holding that he so loved to do. Affection was the only thing that Dad managed to keep within him, the disease took the rest.
It is very ironic that my father's life ended within the first hours of the new year. This is the one day of the year that normally brings the hope of new beginnings rather than endings, yet in some way it makes perfect sense. The first day of 2014 was the last day I will ever have to worry about my father. I can now go to sleep at night without the guilt of not being able to visit him more often due to the demands of other aspects of my life. I can now see his wife's phone number show up and not immediately panic that he is sick again. I won't be worrying after each visit if it was the last time I would see him.
Instead, I can begin to remember the man that he was without seeing the man that he became over the last few years. I can begin to look at photos of him now without sorrow and regret for all that Alzheimer's took from him. I can start to remember all of the great conversations I'd had with him, instead of trying to have a one-sided one, and ending up feeling miserable because I never knew how much of what I said to him was understood.
In the short two weeks since his death, I've ridden a roller coaster of emotions, yet have somehow ended up with a sense of peace that has taken me by surprise. Last week was the first time that I celebrated a birthday without my father in my life, and although I thought about him quite a bit that day, it wasn't the sad experience that I had expected it to be. Things were different this year because I knew he had been taken from me completely, instead of in bits and pieces. I spent most of that day surrounded by very special people before heading off to get an infinity heart tattoo to represent my love for my father and everyone else whom I hold close to my heart. I'm not sure whether he would have approved of the ink (actually, during the entire process I was envisioning the look that he would have given me), but at the very least, I know that he would have been proud of me for not passing out from the pain of the needle and for not hurting the tattoo artist.
I have never forgotten the song that my father and I danced to when I got married, yet I hadn't heard it in a great many years. My practical mind doesn't allow me to believe in the afterlife very much, but in the last two weeks I have twice heard that song played while I was thinking about what I'd most like to begin in 2014. I've always believed that with every ending comes a new beginning, and hearing that song while thinking of new beginnings led me to believe that my thought is on the right track. So, thanks Dad. I'll take that little sign and I will turn this ending into some wonderful new beginnings, I promise.
I will miss the hugs that Dad gave freely and frequently. Even when he could no longer walk or speak, he could still give a hug that was strong, tight, and full of love. I've always felt that those were the best kind of hugs ever, and can only hope that the hugs I give to others can provide the same wonderful feeling as the ones I received from my father for so many years. I will miss the kisses that he'd pucker up for, and the hand holding that he so loved to do. Affection was the only thing that Dad managed to keep within him, the disease took the rest.
It is very ironic that my father's life ended within the first hours of the new year. This is the one day of the year that normally brings the hope of new beginnings rather than endings, yet in some way it makes perfect sense. The first day of 2014 was the last day I will ever have to worry about my father. I can now go to sleep at night without the guilt of not being able to visit him more often due to the demands of other aspects of my life. I can now see his wife's phone number show up and not immediately panic that he is sick again. I won't be worrying after each visit if it was the last time I would see him.
Instead, I can begin to remember the man that he was without seeing the man that he became over the last few years. I can begin to look at photos of him now without sorrow and regret for all that Alzheimer's took from him. I can start to remember all of the great conversations I'd had with him, instead of trying to have a one-sided one, and ending up feeling miserable because I never knew how much of what I said to him was understood.
In the short two weeks since his death, I've ridden a roller coaster of emotions, yet have somehow ended up with a sense of peace that has taken me by surprise. Last week was the first time that I celebrated a birthday without my father in my life, and although I thought about him quite a bit that day, it wasn't the sad experience that I had expected it to be. Things were different this year because I knew he had been taken from me completely, instead of in bits and pieces. I spent most of that day surrounded by very special people before heading off to get an infinity heart tattoo to represent my love for my father and everyone else whom I hold close to my heart. I'm not sure whether he would have approved of the ink (actually, during the entire process I was envisioning the look that he would have given me), but at the very least, I know that he would have been proud of me for not passing out from the pain of the needle and for not hurting the tattoo artist.
I have never forgotten the song that my father and I danced to when I got married, yet I hadn't heard it in a great many years. My practical mind doesn't allow me to believe in the afterlife very much, but in the last two weeks I have twice heard that song played while I was thinking about what I'd most like to begin in 2014. I've always believed that with every ending comes a new beginning, and hearing that song while thinking of new beginnings led me to believe that my thought is on the right track. So, thanks Dad. I'll take that little sign and I will turn this ending into some wonderful new beginnings, I promise.
Saturday, 28 December 2013
Last Hope
It's funny how my intuition always lets me know before I pick up a ringing phone that the call is not going to be a lighthearted one. The news today was rather somber and not news that I had really wanted to hear, but have been expecting for a while now. My father, who suffers from Alzheimer's, has reached one of the very last stages of the disease. He has forgotten how to swallow, or is incapable of it. For several months his meals have consisted of pureed or gelled meals to prevent him from aspirating his food. Over the last couple of weeks, he has had trouble eating even these kinds of meals. At first it was thought by the physician that perhaps it was because he just wasn't feeling well due to a recent infection. I have to say that I didn't buy into that theory, but didn't want to voice my thoughts to my stepmother and sister.
While visiting my father on Christmas Eve, I knew that this would be the last Christmas with him. He has no idea who I am now, even though a few weeks ago he was well aware that I was someone he knew. I don't believe that he knows who anyone is, even his wife. There is no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, no admonishing looks when I say something inappropriate (as I usually do), no hugs or kisses or interaction of any kind. He sat with me on Christmas Eve and again Christmas Day and just stared at the floor. In order to get a photo with him, I had to cup his head in my hand to get him to look at me. This broke my heart a bit, because I know that if he knew that this is how he'd ended up, it would break his own heart.
Apparently, there is some kind of stimulating medication that can be administered to try to get his throat muscles to work a bit. There is also a sub-hydration injection that he can be given to keep his hydration levels up. I don't hold much stock in either of these options. Since Alzheimer's doesn't work in reverse, he is not going to remember how to swallow and sub-hydration will only keep him hydrated, it won't give him any of the sustenance that his body would need to live. I understood the meaning behind his wife's words when she said that nursing homes don't do feeding tubes for patients, but they would make him as comfortable as they could. Then again, I have spent the past year preparing myself for these words, so it didn't come as a shock.
After relaying the status of our father's condition to my sister, she said I didn't sound very hopeful. At least I could answer honestly when I said that yes, I did indeed hold out hope. I just didn't bother to tell her that I hold a different kind of hope than she does, because she may think it callous of me. You see, my hope is that this disease quickens it's pace and runs it course swiftly now. I hope that my father leaves this world soon and surrounded by those that love him, and I hope that there is no unnecessary suffering for him. I don't hope for this with any callousness intended, but because I feel he has suffered enough now and that letting go would be the best thing for him.
Had my father been the type to accept the fact that he was aging. or to let age slow him down in any way, then perhaps I wouldn't feel the way I do. My father however, was the kind of man that was always busy. If he had no project to work on, then he would make a new one or improve on a finished one. He was always physically active and had the sharpest mind of anyone I have ever known. He knew a little something about everything, whether he needed to or not. He could figure out a way to make just about anything work, and his creativity stayed with him until just before his diagnosis. He and his wife spent their twenty years together travelling the world, and he was up for any adventure with her. At the age of 80, he earned his black-belt in tai kwon do - not an easy feat at that age, but as far as he was concerned, age was just a number. A year before his diagnosis, I stopped by his house and found him meticulously planting trees along the edge of the property. By meticulously, I mean that each tree was evenly spaced, every hole was the exact same depth as the others and he was taking into account the future growth of the trees. I remember thinking that I couldn't be bothered to have to do that kind of planning for a few trees, and feeling a bit ashamed that he had much more energy for that sort of thing than I.
My dad would be devastated and mortified to see himself now. He would not want to be fed and bathed and confined to a wheelchair. He would want to be able to leave this world with a little dignity, and if this continues much longer, then any little bit of dignity that there still is to his life will be gone. I don't wish this for him, so I hope that things end sooner rather than later for him.
That's the kind of hope I hold on to, and the last good hope that I can have for the father who I have always loved with all of my heart and soul, and always will.
While visiting my father on Christmas Eve, I knew that this would be the last Christmas with him. He has no idea who I am now, even though a few weeks ago he was well aware that I was someone he knew. I don't believe that he knows who anyone is, even his wife. There is no glimmer of recognition in his eyes, no admonishing looks when I say something inappropriate (as I usually do), no hugs or kisses or interaction of any kind. He sat with me on Christmas Eve and again Christmas Day and just stared at the floor. In order to get a photo with him, I had to cup his head in my hand to get him to look at me. This broke my heart a bit, because I know that if he knew that this is how he'd ended up, it would break his own heart.
Apparently, there is some kind of stimulating medication that can be administered to try to get his throat muscles to work a bit. There is also a sub-hydration injection that he can be given to keep his hydration levels up. I don't hold much stock in either of these options. Since Alzheimer's doesn't work in reverse, he is not going to remember how to swallow and sub-hydration will only keep him hydrated, it won't give him any of the sustenance that his body would need to live. I understood the meaning behind his wife's words when she said that nursing homes don't do feeding tubes for patients, but they would make him as comfortable as they could. Then again, I have spent the past year preparing myself for these words, so it didn't come as a shock.
After relaying the status of our father's condition to my sister, she said I didn't sound very hopeful. At least I could answer honestly when I said that yes, I did indeed hold out hope. I just didn't bother to tell her that I hold a different kind of hope than she does, because she may think it callous of me. You see, my hope is that this disease quickens it's pace and runs it course swiftly now. I hope that my father leaves this world soon and surrounded by those that love him, and I hope that there is no unnecessary suffering for him. I don't hope for this with any callousness intended, but because I feel he has suffered enough now and that letting go would be the best thing for him.
Had my father been the type to accept the fact that he was aging. or to let age slow him down in any way, then perhaps I wouldn't feel the way I do. My father however, was the kind of man that was always busy. If he had no project to work on, then he would make a new one or improve on a finished one. He was always physically active and had the sharpest mind of anyone I have ever known. He knew a little something about everything, whether he needed to or not. He could figure out a way to make just about anything work, and his creativity stayed with him until just before his diagnosis. He and his wife spent their twenty years together travelling the world, and he was up for any adventure with her. At the age of 80, he earned his black-belt in tai kwon do - not an easy feat at that age, but as far as he was concerned, age was just a number. A year before his diagnosis, I stopped by his house and found him meticulously planting trees along the edge of the property. By meticulously, I mean that each tree was evenly spaced, every hole was the exact same depth as the others and he was taking into account the future growth of the trees. I remember thinking that I couldn't be bothered to have to do that kind of planning for a few trees, and feeling a bit ashamed that he had much more energy for that sort of thing than I.
My dad would be devastated and mortified to see himself now. He would not want to be fed and bathed and confined to a wheelchair. He would want to be able to leave this world with a little dignity, and if this continues much longer, then any little bit of dignity that there still is to his life will be gone. I don't wish this for him, so I hope that things end sooner rather than later for him.
That's the kind of hope I hold on to, and the last good hope that I can have for the father who I have always loved with all of my heart and soul, and always will.
Wednesday, 11 December 2013
Honestly, yes.
Tonight I had a phone call from a very old friend whom I haven't spoken with in a few years. Needless to say, there was a lot of catching up to do. When she asked me if I was happy, I didn't have to stop and think about my answer. The word "yes" came naturally to me. It's been a very long time since I could answer that question with a resounding "yes". Longer than I can remember, actually.
It's been a challenging year to say the least, and there were a lot of times when I couldn't have answered that question in the affirmative. However, I've finally come to the point where I've realized that I have an abundance of good things in my life. That realization didn't come quickly or easily, but it did make it's way into my head finally, and I'm better for it.
The past year, if nothing else, has shown me what I am capable of. There were so many things that I'd never done in my life, mainly because I never had to. Buying a home on my own; leaving someone that I spent 26 years with; learning how to maintain a house by myself; learning to be physically alone for days on end. None of these are insurmountable things, but they were all things I never thought I would have to do. When push came to shove, I suddenly had no choice but to begin a new life for myself. I have always had a very determined nature, and I believe that's the one trait that allowed me to forge ahead, consequences be damned. Sometimes it's best to just start the ball rolling without thinking too much about what could go wrong. Makes it easier to get to the goal that way.
When I look back now at the chaos of the past year, I still don't know how I'm still in one piece. I did reach the goal, but not without some serious consequences that I hadn't expected. I should have had a sherpa to help carry the amount of stress that I dragged around with me. I have no idea how I stumbled through my days, having suffered with insomnia for almost eleven straight months. There are whole chunks of last year that I really don't even remember due to the stress and sleep deprivation. There are 35 pounds missing from my body now (although I must confess that shopping for new clothes isn't something that I consider a hardship). Inevitably, my fighting spirit finally broke at the end of it all, and it broke in a huge way, but it also helped to repair a lot of the damage that was done beforehand.
When I finally made peace with the fact that I didn't do this "to" my life and family, but rather "for" my life and family , the happiness started to slowly make it's way back to me. Not all at once, not by a long shot, but slowly and steadily. I had to learn not only what I am capable of, but also what my limits are and what I truly want from this life. I had to remember that it's better to be alone than to feel lonely when with someone. I had to lose the person I'd become over the years and get back to being the person I truly am. And I had to learn to be content with my own company - very important when you live alone. Only then was there finally enough room in my life to allow the happiness to reappear.
There are still challenges, and there always will be. Being alone after so many years isn't really what I expected it to be, but I'm all right with it for the most part. Sometimes I have to stop and adjust my expectations a little and just let things happen as they should. I have wide circle of very good friends now who help keep the boredom at bay, and they each bring something positive to my life on a daily basis. I have a daughter who loves me unconditionally, yet doesn't hesitate to give me a reality check when needed. I have a home that, although small, belongs solely to me and has become my haven, and I have my family who remind me of who I am and where I come from.
So yes, I can now say that I'm happy when asked. Honestly.
It's been a challenging year to say the least, and there were a lot of times when I couldn't have answered that question in the affirmative. However, I've finally come to the point where I've realized that I have an abundance of good things in my life. That realization didn't come quickly or easily, but it did make it's way into my head finally, and I'm better for it.
The past year, if nothing else, has shown me what I am capable of. There were so many things that I'd never done in my life, mainly because I never had to. Buying a home on my own; leaving someone that I spent 26 years with; learning how to maintain a house by myself; learning to be physically alone for days on end. None of these are insurmountable things, but they were all things I never thought I would have to do. When push came to shove, I suddenly had no choice but to begin a new life for myself. I have always had a very determined nature, and I believe that's the one trait that allowed me to forge ahead, consequences be damned. Sometimes it's best to just start the ball rolling without thinking too much about what could go wrong. Makes it easier to get to the goal that way.
When I look back now at the chaos of the past year, I still don't know how I'm still in one piece. I did reach the goal, but not without some serious consequences that I hadn't expected. I should have had a sherpa to help carry the amount of stress that I dragged around with me. I have no idea how I stumbled through my days, having suffered with insomnia for almost eleven straight months. There are whole chunks of last year that I really don't even remember due to the stress and sleep deprivation. There are 35 pounds missing from my body now (although I must confess that shopping for new clothes isn't something that I consider a hardship). Inevitably, my fighting spirit finally broke at the end of it all, and it broke in a huge way, but it also helped to repair a lot of the damage that was done beforehand.
When I finally made peace with the fact that I didn't do this "to" my life and family, but rather "for" my life and family , the happiness started to slowly make it's way back to me. Not all at once, not by a long shot, but slowly and steadily. I had to learn not only what I am capable of, but also what my limits are and what I truly want from this life. I had to remember that it's better to be alone than to feel lonely when with someone. I had to lose the person I'd become over the years and get back to being the person I truly am. And I had to learn to be content with my own company - very important when you live alone. Only then was there finally enough room in my life to allow the happiness to reappear.
There are still challenges, and there always will be. Being alone after so many years isn't really what I expected it to be, but I'm all right with it for the most part. Sometimes I have to stop and adjust my expectations a little and just let things happen as they should. I have wide circle of very good friends now who help keep the boredom at bay, and they each bring something positive to my life on a daily basis. I have a daughter who loves me unconditionally, yet doesn't hesitate to give me a reality check when needed. I have a home that, although small, belongs solely to me and has become my haven, and I have my family who remind me of who I am and where I come from.
So yes, I can now say that I'm happy when asked. Honestly.
Saturday, 23 November 2013
Oh Christmas Tree
Although it's a bit early, today seemed like a good day to put up our Christmas tree and decorate it. Normally I would wait until the first week in December, but it felt like everyone needed just a little bit of fun today. I didn't realize just how heavy a 6 1/2 ft boxed tree was. It came into the house and down to the basement quite easily. Getting it back upstairs was an entirely different matter. In the end, I had to bring it up in stages without the box. That was the first obstacle.
Never having set up a tree before (that was the ex husbands' task), I rather foolishly was under the assumption that it couldn't be that difficult - mostly because of the fact that my ex-husband managed it every year. I should know better than to assume anything. When the tree stand had me momentarily baffled, I should have had an inkling of how this was going to go, but I didn't. Once I managed to put the stand together, I proceeded to start placing the tree into it. There were only three pieces, so I figured we'd be done in no time. At this point I should clarify that I did have a 15 year old assistant, although not the one that lives here. Once the first piece was in, with all of the branches fluffed and the attached lights sorted out, I noticed that the bottom branches were touching the floor. I commented on this, and my "assistant" then asked (actually it was more like a sigh) whether I had put the right piece in. Well, of course I did!!! There was a plug at the end of the lights, so it had to be the bottom part, didn't it? Again, there was another sigh from the other side of the tree.
Taking a closer look, I realized that I had indeed put the wrong piece in first. Enter disassemby mode.
After a bit of time and more effort than I had actually anticipated, all three pieces were in. It was then that I noticed the three screws lying on the floor. The screws that were supposed to be anchored into the stand once the first piece of the tree was put in. By this time, my assistant was highly disgusted. I could feel the Christmas spirit starting to trickle out of her with each passing second. When she realized that it would be her job to crawl under the tree and put the screws into the stand since I couldn't see a thing under there, the trickle became full fledged oozing. I was losing her, and fast. The only thing that saved me was the chocolate chip cookies that she could smell baking in the oven. I may not know much about tree assembly, but I do know enough to have some kind of bribery in place when working with teenagers.
By the time the cookies were out of the oven, the teen that actually belongs to me decided to crawl out from her cave and grace us with her presence. She usually tends to show up after the dirty work is done, so no one was expecting to see her until it was time to put ornaments on anyway. To her dismay however, the ornaments were still downstairs in a box too heavy for me to bring up alone. Her friend was clearly finished assisting by this time, so it was up to her to help me. I'm sure that I would have gotten the same reaction had I asked her to run 5K in a snowstorm, naked. After a half hour or so, she finally caved and half-heartedly helped drag the box upstairs, with me wincing at every bump from her end since there were very fragile items in that box.
I assumed (again) that this would be the easy part. It should have been, and it would have been except for the fact that I gave my old package of ornament hooks to my ex-spouse the other day. Had I known that my new hooks wouldn't work with most of my ornaments, I wouldn't have been so kind and generous. Of course, it's my own fault because I just HAD to buy the pretty and fancy looking ones last week. Being a couple of creative girls though, we found solutions and managed to get the job done.
We reminisced while decorating about the kinds of things I used to do to my daughter in jest when she was younger. She remembered the "candy cane" chalkboard that I had on the fridge. December started with the chalkboard full of candy canes that I had drawn. Whenever she misbehaved, the "elves" would come and erase some of them. She knew that if she got down to less than five candy canes on that board, Christmas would be a wash. Worked like a charm. And she has finally stopped being mad at me about the "marshmallow farms". That started hen she was three and we had driven past a farm with bales of hay wrapped in white plastic. My daughter asked what they were and I told her that it was a marshmallow farm, and those were marshmallows waiting to be cut up and bagged. A year or so later, we passed another farm and the bales were wrapped in black plastic. I told her they were the burnt ones. Unfortunately, at that stage of her life she believed everything that I told her. All was fine until she visited a farm with her grade one class. I knew I was in trouble when I saw her stomping up the driveway after school with steam coming from her ears. She has only just recently let this go and can now laugh about it. And laugh we did tonight.
All of the little annoyances and set-backs were worth every minute. The laughter and giggles that rang through our home tonight was such a very welcome sound. There was happiness and a nice easy and relaxed atmosphere that confirmed that everything is it should be. It's the way that our Christmases used to be until a few years ago, and the way that they will be from now on.
And I've marked the bottom part of the tree for next year. Just in case.
Never having set up a tree before (that was the ex husbands' task), I rather foolishly was under the assumption that it couldn't be that difficult - mostly because of the fact that my ex-husband managed it every year. I should know better than to assume anything. When the tree stand had me momentarily baffled, I should have had an inkling of how this was going to go, but I didn't. Once I managed to put the stand together, I proceeded to start placing the tree into it. There were only three pieces, so I figured we'd be done in no time. At this point I should clarify that I did have a 15 year old assistant, although not the one that lives here. Once the first piece was in, with all of the branches fluffed and the attached lights sorted out, I noticed that the bottom branches were touching the floor. I commented on this, and my "assistant" then asked (actually it was more like a sigh) whether I had put the right piece in. Well, of course I did!!! There was a plug at the end of the lights, so it had to be the bottom part, didn't it? Again, there was another sigh from the other side of the tree.
Taking a closer look, I realized that I had indeed put the wrong piece in first. Enter disassemby mode.
After a bit of time and more effort than I had actually anticipated, all three pieces were in. It was then that I noticed the three screws lying on the floor. The screws that were supposed to be anchored into the stand once the first piece of the tree was put in. By this time, my assistant was highly disgusted. I could feel the Christmas spirit starting to trickle out of her with each passing second. When she realized that it would be her job to crawl under the tree and put the screws into the stand since I couldn't see a thing under there, the trickle became full fledged oozing. I was losing her, and fast. The only thing that saved me was the chocolate chip cookies that she could smell baking in the oven. I may not know much about tree assembly, but I do know enough to have some kind of bribery in place when working with teenagers.
By the time the cookies were out of the oven, the teen that actually belongs to me decided to crawl out from her cave and grace us with her presence. She usually tends to show up after the dirty work is done, so no one was expecting to see her until it was time to put ornaments on anyway. To her dismay however, the ornaments were still downstairs in a box too heavy for me to bring up alone. Her friend was clearly finished assisting by this time, so it was up to her to help me. I'm sure that I would have gotten the same reaction had I asked her to run 5K in a snowstorm, naked. After a half hour or so, she finally caved and half-heartedly helped drag the box upstairs, with me wincing at every bump from her end since there were very fragile items in that box.
I assumed (again) that this would be the easy part. It should have been, and it would have been except for the fact that I gave my old package of ornament hooks to my ex-spouse the other day. Had I known that my new hooks wouldn't work with most of my ornaments, I wouldn't have been so kind and generous. Of course, it's my own fault because I just HAD to buy the pretty and fancy looking ones last week. Being a couple of creative girls though, we found solutions and managed to get the job done.
We reminisced while decorating about the kinds of things I used to do to my daughter in jest when she was younger. She remembered the "candy cane" chalkboard that I had on the fridge. December started with the chalkboard full of candy canes that I had drawn. Whenever she misbehaved, the "elves" would come and erase some of them. She knew that if she got down to less than five candy canes on that board, Christmas would be a wash. Worked like a charm. And she has finally stopped being mad at me about the "marshmallow farms". That started hen she was three and we had driven past a farm with bales of hay wrapped in white plastic. My daughter asked what they were and I told her that it was a marshmallow farm, and those were marshmallows waiting to be cut up and bagged. A year or so later, we passed another farm and the bales were wrapped in black plastic. I told her they were the burnt ones. Unfortunately, at that stage of her life she believed everything that I told her. All was fine until she visited a farm with her grade one class. I knew I was in trouble when I saw her stomping up the driveway after school with steam coming from her ears. She has only just recently let this go and can now laugh about it. And laugh we did tonight.
All of the little annoyances and set-backs were worth every minute. The laughter and giggles that rang through our home tonight was such a very welcome sound. There was happiness and a nice easy and relaxed atmosphere that confirmed that everything is it should be. It's the way that our Christmases used to be until a few years ago, and the way that they will be from now on.
And I've marked the bottom part of the tree for next year. Just in case.
Friday, 15 November 2013
Sifting and Sorting
I hadn't intended to write blogs weekly, but it seems like every week there is something new on my mind.
This week, it's the thought of Christmas, still many weeks away.
I thought it would be a good idea to sort through the boxes and bins of Christmas decorations tonight. Since my former spouse and I had already planned to separate by last December, I had rather hastily packed up all of the ornaments etc., shortly after that last Christmas. They sat in our shed until the day I moved last February, when they were again rather hastily stored away in my new home. Therefore, I really had no idea of what I had thrown away last year, what I had possibly left behind and what I had brought with me. Being one of those annoying type A personalities, I really felt I needed to get at those boxes now so that I would know what was missing before it was time to decorate for Christmas.
I didn't foresee this task to be as difficult as it turned out to be. Apparently, I brought everything with me that was in any way related to the holidays. Everything except the tree and lights. I thought I had brought a few boxes to my new home, I certainly didn't remember bringing more than a dozen large plastic tote bins. But then again, I don't really remember much about the packing I did last winter, there was far too much else to deal with.
As soon as I opened the first box, I knew this wasn't going to be an easy job to get through. The first thing I picked up was a tree ornament that said "Our First Christmas 1987". I sat there holding this ornament that at one time meant so much, but now I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it. I certainly don't want it on my Christmas tree anymore, but it felt wrong somehow to just throw it away. I really didn't think my ex-husband would want it either. After a few moments, I put it aside and continued sifting through the rest of the box. There was the "#1 Wife" ornament; one that said "World's Best Husband"; an ornament that commemorated our first home, and some from different places we had visited together many years ago when we were both very different people. In the end, I re-packed all of these things into a box marked "Christmas Memories", and put it back in the storage room. Way in the back.
The next challenge was the small box that held nothing but Eeyore tree ornaments. Twenty of them. Eeyore has always been my very favorite Disney character, and every Christmas for twenty years, without fail, my husband would get me a new ornament add to my collection. Since I have bought my own Christmas gifts for years, this was usually the only thing he got me on his own. There would have been twenty-five of them, had he bought one every year that we were married, but the last one he gave me was five years ago. I guess the writing was on the wall. Holding this little box of glass Eeyore's was like reading a fairy tale that didn't have the "happily ever after" ending.
Digging deeper, I found more of these Disney holiday-themed ornaments that my father had also given me over the years. At first, I wanted to sort through and divide the pile into the ones my father gave me and the ones my husband gave to me, so that I'd know which ones to place on my tree this year. Then, upon a few more moments of thought, I came to the realization that those twenty ornaments had been given to me during more peaceful times and do not hold bitter memories, but memories that I should honor.
That small realization made sorting and sifting through the rest of the boxes much easier. I was then able to look at other decorations and remember the many good Christmases that our family had over the years. I was no longer melancholy about the fact that my days of hosting Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner for a houseful of my family have come to an end. I'm no longer upset about the fact that I don't have a large home to deck out, or that there will be no longer be visitors to entertain over the Christmas holidays. I'm not dreading spending Christmas Eve alone this year, but I am definitely thinking that having my ex-spouse at my home Christmas morning to open gifts with our daughter will be the most awkward experience ever thrust upon me. There will be booze in the coffee that morning.
By the time the last box was sorted, I was emotionally exhausted but at the same time looking forward to starting new Christmas traditions with my daughter. I am proud of my ex-husband and I for getting to the point where we can plan to spend Christmas morning together so that our daughter can at least have that tradition remain unchanged. I am excited about putting up my own tree and using my creativity to transform this pitifully small little house into something beautiful and comforting during what used to be, and will be again, my favorite holiday.
I guess it wasn't only the boxes that got sifted through and sorted out tonight.
This week, it's the thought of Christmas, still many weeks away.
I thought it would be a good idea to sort through the boxes and bins of Christmas decorations tonight. Since my former spouse and I had already planned to separate by last December, I had rather hastily packed up all of the ornaments etc., shortly after that last Christmas. They sat in our shed until the day I moved last February, when they were again rather hastily stored away in my new home. Therefore, I really had no idea of what I had thrown away last year, what I had possibly left behind and what I had brought with me. Being one of those annoying type A personalities, I really felt I needed to get at those boxes now so that I would know what was missing before it was time to decorate for Christmas.
I didn't foresee this task to be as difficult as it turned out to be. Apparently, I brought everything with me that was in any way related to the holidays. Everything except the tree and lights. I thought I had brought a few boxes to my new home, I certainly didn't remember bringing more than a dozen large plastic tote bins. But then again, I don't really remember much about the packing I did last winter, there was far too much else to deal with.
As soon as I opened the first box, I knew this wasn't going to be an easy job to get through. The first thing I picked up was a tree ornament that said "Our First Christmas 1987". I sat there holding this ornament that at one time meant so much, but now I didn't know what I was supposed to do with it. I certainly don't want it on my Christmas tree anymore, but it felt wrong somehow to just throw it away. I really didn't think my ex-husband would want it either. After a few moments, I put it aside and continued sifting through the rest of the box. There was the "#1 Wife" ornament; one that said "World's Best Husband"; an ornament that commemorated our first home, and some from different places we had visited together many years ago when we were both very different people. In the end, I re-packed all of these things into a box marked "Christmas Memories", and put it back in the storage room. Way in the back.
The next challenge was the small box that held nothing but Eeyore tree ornaments. Twenty of them. Eeyore has always been my very favorite Disney character, and every Christmas for twenty years, without fail, my husband would get me a new ornament add to my collection. Since I have bought my own Christmas gifts for years, this was usually the only thing he got me on his own. There would have been twenty-five of them, had he bought one every year that we were married, but the last one he gave me was five years ago. I guess the writing was on the wall. Holding this little box of glass Eeyore's was like reading a fairy tale that didn't have the "happily ever after" ending.
Digging deeper, I found more of these Disney holiday-themed ornaments that my father had also given me over the years. At first, I wanted to sort through and divide the pile into the ones my father gave me and the ones my husband gave to me, so that I'd know which ones to place on my tree this year. Then, upon a few more moments of thought, I came to the realization that those twenty ornaments had been given to me during more peaceful times and do not hold bitter memories, but memories that I should honor.
That small realization made sorting and sifting through the rest of the boxes much easier. I was then able to look at other decorations and remember the many good Christmases that our family had over the years. I was no longer melancholy about the fact that my days of hosting Christmas Eve and Christmas dinner for a houseful of my family have come to an end. I'm no longer upset about the fact that I don't have a large home to deck out, or that there will be no longer be visitors to entertain over the Christmas holidays. I'm not dreading spending Christmas Eve alone this year, but I am definitely thinking that having my ex-spouse at my home Christmas morning to open gifts with our daughter will be the most awkward experience ever thrust upon me. There will be booze in the coffee that morning.
By the time the last box was sorted, I was emotionally exhausted but at the same time looking forward to starting new Christmas traditions with my daughter. I am proud of my ex-husband and I for getting to the point where we can plan to spend Christmas morning together so that our daughter can at least have that tradition remain unchanged. I am excited about putting up my own tree and using my creativity to transform this pitifully small little house into something beautiful and comforting during what used to be, and will be again, my favorite holiday.
I guess it wasn't only the boxes that got sifted through and sorted out tonight.
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