House of Virus, catching up, and a Maternity Manifesto

i’ll be writing this for as long as the kids play happily in playroom and den, so i may conclude rather abruptly. consider yourselves duly forewarned. I did, however, think it was time for a post, though i am rather loathe to catalogue the happenings of the last week, since there have been few highlights. In the main, we are sick with the flu, not the stomach flu, thankfully, but the fevery, mewling cough, stuffy, achy flu. jaegen succumbed first, and spent the end of last week shuffling from upstairs to down and back again, muttering in fevered sleep, and generally overcome by malaise. the kids and i have it now, and we are sort of coping, with no trips (yet) to emerg, thankfully.
There were a couple of bright spots, however. We were privileged to be a part of the Rigolo’s ConfirmationCelebration 2009, and we had an extended visit with dr. (dr.) miranda, who braved the house of illness to visit with us before jetting off to Thailand (lucky girl). if we’d been more well, this would be where i would insert photos of these happy events. instead you’ll have to imagine the laughter and subdued good times.
on another note, i have been composing a list of things that i want to declare to the world, since i have, of late, felt mildly (and sometimes, acutely) misunderstood. the beginning goes something like this:

I, Jennifer will

1. cease to apologize for having an untidy house, thereby implying that i think that cleanliness is a virtue of some kind, or that i secretly judge others for the states of their respective abodes.

2. proclaim that the things that i do, including, but not restricted to: cooking, baking, sewing, knitting, crafting, and hosting i do because I WANT TO DO THEM, and not because they are TRADITIONAL DOMESTIC PURSUITS that befit a mother. seriously. this means, therefore, that i do not hold in lower esteem any other woman/mother who does not like/pursue these same activities.

3. stop comparing myself, as much as possible, to my peers. nuff said.

4. try to accept that, though, motherhood most often FEELS like I am failing at a number of smallish tasks simultaneously, it doesn’t mean i am A FAILURE.

i’m still thinking on this topic, and therefore may subject you soon to more of these rather pompous pronouncements. i will attempt, however, to make them more pithy and witty.

Question o’ the day:
If you were to declare something to the world today, what would you declare? (like a facebook status, or a promise, or a clarification….) in capital letters, please

flotsam, jetsam, and tsunamis

it appears that most of life is made up of bits and pieces, small triumphs and hurts, routines and minor surprises.  certainly, my own existence feels like that most of the time.  Then i have these moments, maybe you do too, where I realize that bigger things are happening too, just behind the veneer of everyday life.  some of these bigger things are significant only because they have a personal effect; agatha appears to need glasses, for example.  kids need glasses all the time, but when it’s your kid who’s been walking around only mostly seeing things for perhaps years, it seems pretty important.

then, there are those other things, the ones that aren’t so everyday, for most people.  my neighbour’s dog was hit by a car this last week, right on our street, and a certain amount of mayhem ensued.  there was blood, and seizuring (in the dog), and that awful sound of keening, hysterical grief (the owner).  fortunately, it seems that a vet was able to stabilize the dog, and all of that craziness may only be an odd, off-kilter memory for everyone involved–a sort of big small event, if that makes sense.

then, there are those issues that dwarf all the others.   i’m reading “There is No Me Without You” for bookclub.  It’s about the HIV/AIDS crisis in Africa, specifically, in Ethiopia, and about a woman housing and caring for some of the thousands of orphans.  I think i’ve cried and raged and been struck dumb with grief and horror about every 20 pages, and i’m only just over half way through.  Don’t let that dissuade you from reading it.  Unpleasant as it is, i think we need to know what’s happening, and we need to decide our individual responses.  for far too long, i’ve let the enormity of the problem stupefy me into inaction.  now, i don’t know.  there’s got to be something that can be done for the 28 million (!) AIDS orphans (not counting hep, famine, war etc.).  it’s not about getting on the bandwagon, or decrying the horrors.  it’s not about issuing murderous imprecations against the heads of the major pharmaceuticals (though, i think right now i’d like to).  it’s about…it’s about…well, a lost generation.  millions of kids without moms and dads, without anyone to take care of them, or teach them how to care for themselves.  and we can’t even find homes for foster kids in our own province.

i’m not saying that this particular issue is the only one, either.  it’s just the one in the forefront of my mind right now, the one that seems to have burst through the sometimes numbing routine of domestic life.  it’s shaken me up, re-awakened the dormant activist in me, and dared me to write this uncharacteristically political/philosophical/polemical post.

question o’ the day:  what issue really gets to you?

More jenn than you ever expected

and probably more than you wanted…but give me a challenge, and i take it as an inescapable expectation.  so, for you vanessa, here are photos of me.  it is, as you might expect, virtually impossible to take a photo of oneself with one’s children (though i will try, later this week).  Everyone else, forgive this almost meglomaniacal narcissism, and choose one headshot that you think most epitomizes me.  i’m curious to hear why, especially if you haven’t actually met me in person.  if this post is too self-involved for you, SKIP IT.  Know that you are not likely to see another image of me for some months; i don’t make a regular habit of posting images of myself.  as for the photos themselves, they are, of course, limited by the fact that i am holding the camera.  also, i declare, honestly and promisely, that i have only removed one small blemish of dried skin from my face, and only messed with shadows and colour intensity.  nothing more.  this is me.  peruse the gallery below, IF YOU DARE.

(Addendum: jaegen says i have to leave this up, now that i’ve posted it.  but, you should know, it’s killing me.  all the initial feelings of satisfaction of having taken some decent photos of myself and edited them has ebbed away.  now, all that’s left is that raw exposed feeling of yech.)

when you can’t say anything nice…

seriously, i’ve thought about posting for a week now, and everytime i think about it, i feel totally whiny and snivelly and stressy and credgy and all these unhelpful, unfun feelings.  so, i’ve abstained from contaminating all of you with my crankiness.  most of it stems from the fact that my back continues to be an issue.  by the end of every day i’m Super Irritable Woman ™ and none of you want to experience that.  (just ask my poor husband and kiddles)

On a brighter note, i officially became an aunt (again) today.  very exciting!!!  I will post photos of the newest Milley as they become available.

Random shift in topic.

as is usual for me at this time of year, i’m rather obsessed with modes of escape from the dreary grey monotony that is winter.  so much so that i almost veered into a travel place today to have a look at their advertised disney deals.  i know.  we already did that.  i know.  we have a leak in our roof and other necessary home improvements to make.  i know.  i’m crazy.

but still.  i desire new sewing/craft/art projects,  an engrossing novel (i’ve been given one–thanks, mark–but i can’t read it until i’ve completed this month’s bookclub book)  an engrossing television program (it’s called “Lost in Austen”), a beachside vacation, etc. i get all grabby pants about all  of this too.  (another reason why i’ve slowed down the posting frequency).

Question o’ the day:  does anyone else get like this?  do you dream of various things to forget the sometimes overwhelming dreariness?  the drudgery of school/work/domestic life?  do you feel guilty for even thinking (as i do) that things are dreary or depressing?  is it possible to communicate BOTH thankfulness and frustration in a manner that doesn’t sound either smug or excessively whiny?  answering any or all of these questions, my wise friends, would be extremely helpful.

Comedy of Terrors

The day began innocuously enough.  Awoke to the CBC Morning Edition predicting more cold, snowy and tumultuous (for vancouver) weather, weather likely to relegate all social obligations and road trip plans to the “Question Mark” column in my already exhausted and overtaxed brain.  This alone was not enough to do any real emotional damage; it simply upgraded the pit in my stomach from walnut-sized to avocado stone.  but, this news, combined with jaegen’s fitful coughing beside me, was enough to propel me out of bed and upstairs to shower and dress.

once upstairs, i managed to surreptiously consume a couple of chocolate-covered almonds (can we say stress eating?) and a cup of coffee, and things continued in their regular rhythms until agatha ventured upstairs (far too early).  Anyone familiar with the expression, “looking for trouble”?  Well, agatha epitomized it this morning–the pacing, restless little body, alternately whining and refusing to find anything fun or productive to do.

flash forward to about 8:30 a.m.  Silly mommy makes the mistake of ordering said little person to dress herself, or, when this is met with near hysterics, to march herself back to bed until willing to do so without fussing.  Daddy escorts her downstairs, and it all ends in hysterical screaming.

exit dad.  a still screaming agatha returns upstairs, only to be escorted, shall we say reluctantly, back to her room.  told that she must stay there until the hysteria is over, she goes nuclear, the nadir of the exchange being a kick administered to mommy’s chest.  Excorcist Voice ™ and threats of old skool punishment from injured mummy ensue.

Left to scream for what turns out to be at least 40 min., mommy turns her attention to youngest Milley.  despite the lovely soundtrack of screaming, both mommy and son have a reasonable breakfast time, and sanity-saving chat with Gramma Samma on the phone. (my apologies to my more sensitive readers.  what follows is distinctly gross, but totally within the realities of parenting.) As mommy goes to say goodbye, however, escaped, potty-training young’un begins to excrete freely all over the hallway floor.  slamming phone to floor and whisking toddler onto toilet–wait for it–splatters evacuated matter onto surrounding walls and floor.

by this point, it had reached new heights of both disgusting and pathetically humourous, which is why i felt compelled to share it with all of you.  Fortunately, things have been on the upswing since this morning’s series of disasters, which is why i am not curled in the fetal position in the corner.  to prove that things have taken a slightly brighter turn, i attach phone-camera snapshots of a park playtime.

Before that, however, a question o’ the day:  what is your most solid coping strategy when things go sideways?  scream? laugh? eat? shop?

Ta da!

In the Works

Just a brief note, carefully planned to make life look cheerful and the children well, neither of these being in fact true.  nevertheless, i perservere, making frothy garments that my child is certain to be underwhelmed by.  alas.   enough with the self-pity, here is my latest design:

clearly, it needs finishing, but i think you can get the general idea.  i did, earlier this morning, threaten to give it to someone else’s child.  oh, what a great and sensitive mommy i can be sometimes.  I apologize for the somewhat jaundiced tone of this little epistle to all of you; there has been a lot of illness in our house over the past few months (with all the attendant sleep deprivation and worry), and it does wear on me sometimes.  agatha is currently sporting “Fifth’s disease” or “slapped-cheek”, characterised by a charming raspberry migrating rash and general malaise.   and, edmund’s little cheeks are looking mighty rosy now as well.  the good news is, however, that the appearance of the rash means that the child is no longer contagious.  therefore, the unsightly rash is more socially leprous than medically dangerous.

Question o’ the day:  What do you do when cooped up in the house for long periods of time?  how do you keep sane?  note the distinctly leading tone here

p.s. i am fine.  honestly.  i’m just attempting to make exhaustion and illness humourous, rather than defeating, as they sometimes feel.

Crafting Flashbacks

Did anyone else have something like this when they were little?  Mine wasn’t so cool, but i do remember spending HOURS knitting a little rug for my dolls.  I picked this up from Dressew this morning, ostensibly for agatha, but it might be a bit beyond her ability, so i guess i’ll just have to use it for now

Speaking of Dressew, i got in trouble there this morning.  I’m such a pathetically fragile person, i nearly cried.  one of the ladies (not one of our regular dressew ladies) found me in the very narrow flannel aisle and told me i had to keep my kids with me at all times.  She didn’t ask, she told.  She did say that they were well-behaved (completely within earshot, ps by the way), but was a bit on the brusque side for my liking.  We booted out of the store so i could re-group.  anyhoo, i still had to go back in to purchase the items i’d come all the way downtown on the bus for, but i was still pretty upset about it all.

Bring on the Grey…

This morning, as the ever-darkening rain clouds spit forth their aqueous offering, i am sitting here in a cozy sweater, listening to the sounds of my children play companionably in the playroom (let’s see how long it lasts).  I am missing tyler and emma, who today attended the coronation of the 5th dragon king of Bhutan. for real.  i don’t know about you, but i have less glamorous aspirations for my day: photocopying for my class, perhaps a solo trip to dressew, a bike-on-the-trainer ride, agatha’s parent-teacher conference.  the usual.

nevertheless, as the weather seems to have, with finality, turned to its mucky vancouver winter vestments, i am thinking of warm and cozy things:  a winter open house, making christmas presents, eggnog lattes, poetry writing, maybe even a painting or two.  i am likewise grateful on a day like today for the warm (and mostly dry) house i live in.  i often disparage its somewhat dilapidated appearance, but i am truly thankful for its presence.

none of this little post is particularly exciting or noteworthy, but it fulfills the need to connect with those of you near and far.  Question o’ the day:  What are your winter plans?  Jetting off somewhere warm?  staying in with a stack of books?  hunkering down with full-spectrum lights to wait it out?  i, as always, await your answers.

Sloth, thy name is Jennifer.

It is perhaps telling that sloths are, in fact, my favourite members of the animal kingdom.  despite my at times frenetic energy, secretly i yearn to spend some 20+ hours a day sleeping.  Right now, for instance.  instead of washing my floors on hands and knees or prepping dinner for a guest right now, i am typing this.  wasting valuable “Mr. Rogers Time,”  i sit here transfixed and completely reluctant to move, knowing full well that the less i do now, the more i have to accomplish later.  alas.  it is one of the pitfalls of being ‘in charge’; somedays i need SOMEONE ELSE to administer the swift kick that would send me into gear.  any takers?

How about all of you?  finding yourselves in need of a little hibernation?  harried and harrassed by unfeeling superiors/co-workers/small people?  consider this my question o’ the day.

for now, i guess i’ll go back to washing floors and cleaning bathrooms, instead of waiting for pollster.com to load.  oh, and my american reader(s):  good luck to you today.  may your 330 million turn out in force.

I am not a hater of all things Monday

Really, i’m not.  whether it’s just because i like to maintain the illusion of being different from the herd, or whether i do, in fact, like a return to routine, i nevertheless don’t usually mind the MondayMorningFeeling.  but today, sitting here with a sore throat and staring out into the twilight zone of vancouver weather (gloomy grey overcast that foretells of aught but wind and driving rain), i’m not so keen on this Monday in particular. (apparently i’m keen, however, on would-be run on sentences.  and i’m lovin’ that “aught”. ps btw)

howze about youze?  what are you up to this monday morning?  anything so fun and exciting that it overcomes the monday morning blahs?  or, should we just agree to stay in, surf the interwebs and drink copious amounts of hot liquid?  sounds like a plan.  consider these my questions o’ the day, and consider me just too tired to rewrite them as questions.

And now, a spectacularly lame monday haiku:

grey drizzle fog mist

too much work to do today?

stay in.  eat chocolate.

please rewrite this last offering….I LOVE ME THE HAIKUS.  (and jaason, i’m talking to you too, my friend.  btw, your last one was so fantastic, it kept others from writing their own, feeling that you’d summed it all up.  what economy of usage, my brother.)