loss and regrets

I just woke sweaty and filled with the sense of loss that only dreams can force you to relive after an event has occurred.
I was brought back to my childhood home by my father. I ran up the steps looking for my mom and crying because I was so elated to be 'home' again. When I found my mom, she wouldn't talk to me. I drove her to the hospital thinking there must be something wrong and worried that she didn't love me. I caught the bus back searching desperately to again find this home I have always loved the most. The place I have always associated with safety and security. I found one of my closest childhood friends on the bus, but this time, I couldn't talk. She thought I was ignoring her and vowed to never speak to me again. I arrived at a museum. A man implored me to never forget Albert Einstein. I swore I wouldn't as I hid in a closet of his clothes. A terrifying man searched for me as I hid in the back corner under a soft camel coloured wool coat. I escaped when he looked away and found Jeff's boat tied to a wharf close by. I climbed aboard sure that I would find him and everything would be okay. I would be safe. We would be happy. His boat was suddenly huge and there were so very many people there. I was trying to ask everyone if they had seen him. I searched the engine room. I looked for his sea bag to see if he had been there recently. I looked for his charts. I called out for him. I screamed for him. He didn't come. I had been too late. He was gone. I felt at fault. I started to cry.........I woke with tears rolling down my cheeks, sweat soaking the small of my back and with such a sense of loss that the tears flowed fresh. He was gone. I couldn't change it. I am helpless and I miss him so terribly that when I feel his loss so acutely, I wish I had gone too.

incubating!

We have a new incubator, just received some Jersey Giant, White Orpington and Auracana eggs in the mail and are just stabilizing the temperature and humidity in the bator. Finding a place that is safe from Fuckles, has stable temperature and won't be too enticing to the kids/me to peak inside constantly has been difficult.
But we are SO excited to start our next chicken hatching adventure. In the mean time, we found this hilarious little video on Youtube...

and a site that has enlightened me to the fact that there are other people out there who are as interested in their chicken's behaviour as I am. I have noticed that although I give the girls all sorts of yummy veggies and fruit, there favourites are grapes and bananas. My girls come when I call out "Chick! Chick!" They love to dig and have forced me to pile logs and rocks against the fence after finding them wandering the neighbour's yard twice. Sara loves to have her head rubbed and closes her eyes with pleasure as you do it. Stella does not enjoy a cuddle but the other two will hunker down and lower themselves to the ground when you reach to pick them up. See?! So interesting!


Wish us and the little eggs luck! We're going to need it!

alive and kicking

We have all recovered from one of the most revolting and unflattering bouts of the flu we have had. I have thought of posting often, but in all honesty, I am exhausted and am enjoying a bit of a hiatus.

I am attempting to keep the house more in order again. The rythmns of our home more intact. The jobs on the job list in a state of activity. I am finding that my sanity is more intact when I can see the floor. When I know which jobs I am actually going to be able to accomplish in one day and which ones are just plain ridiculous and setting myself up for self-loathing. The kids seem to prosper when we actually do what I say we will be doing and still to the plan rather than follow my poor distractable mind.

With these rediscovered gifts, I am enjoying time to sit with the kids on the floor and draw. Play playdough. Or look out the window at a new bird. I am relishing a moment with my kids. I am drawing deep breaths and calming down.

These last few days have been restful and sedate. I am hoping that this is a new leaf. I know that there are things that I probably 'should' be doing, but I am 'pleased at the moment to be pleased with the moment'.

So please forgive my sporadic posting, I am hopefully sitting with a little one in my lap, sipping a cup of tea and happily rocking to the sound of Bobs and Lolo...or attempting to take a 'normal' family portrait of the three of us....

buckets of illness

The stomach flu is yet again making its' rounds through our small household. Liv, evidently, has a stronger immune system than Briar and me since the duration of her illness was marked by hours, not days. Briar gets ill, bounces back, and then gets sick again. It is amazing to me how kids can do that. Act all normal and chipper until the bucket is actually under their nose and then run away laughing again afterward.
I, other the other hand, feel like shit. I am pleased that this most recent ailment (we seem to get sick far more often than the general population) didn't hit me full bore until the kids were on the mend (holding back someone else's hair whille ralphing in the same bucket is close to impossible). BUT feeling like you'd prefer death over the squeals and laughter as little ones jump on your bed while you lay prone and covered in your own filth is not a happy occurrance either.
My mom came over night and whisked the kids off to playgrounds, Tim Horton's, swimming and other sought after locales so I at least don't feel that they were neglected at all. In fact, Briar wanted to go home with her rather than stay here with me and my vomit receptacle.
But now, I am here to entertain, feed and stand mostly upright while fighting off the urge to close my eyes and long for one of those flashes of light and a quick replay of my life's events before being whisked off to some cloud-filled utopia.
I so fucking hate doing this alone.

budding personalities

As my little ones grow, I see their likes and attitudes unfurling like a vibrant banner. Neither of them seem to do anything 'small'. They have inherited their father's larger than life aura. At 33 years old, I seem to be more 'who I will be when I grow up?' than they are. Their personalities seem so evident to me, however, they evolve.

Briar is a trickster and giggler. He loves dress-up and to copy anything his sister does. Recently, we were at a restaurant together with Briar confidently donning his crown and cape. A woman entered and asked Briar if he was a 'Power Ranger'. Briar stood with his back against my knees and gave her an amazing rendition of 'stink eye'. She then asked if he was 'Batman'. "No," he slowly says as if sizing her up, "I'm Bwio (Briar)." "A gladiator?", this persistent woman asked. Briar ceases to lean against me, thrusts out his little chest and announces, "NO. I'm a PWINCESS! (princess)"

This event smacked of his father so completely, I couldn't help but feel proud. I realize that to people who didn't know Jeff or some who may be concerned with their small child's activities portraying possible socially questionable gender roles, this may be shocking. But Jeff was different. He WAS a redneck....but an evolved redneck. He used to tell Liv that when he grew up, he wanted to be a fairy. She'd protest that he couldn't be since he was male. He'd declare that it was totally unfair that he, as a man, could not possess wings and live in a magical land. She'd then offer that he could not be a fairy because he was already grown up. He would tell her that this 'fact' was a matter of opinion.

Liv took a nervous little friend, Madeline, with her to a group Valentine party this week. They sat on the rug, Liv on one side of her shy pal and her very tall friend, Jaiden, on the other. Madeline's mommy expressed a wish that her little one feel comfortable soon. Overhearing this, Jaiden's mom speaks up, "Oh, she'll be just fine. She's got 'the size' on one side and 'the mouth' on the other!" I laughed hearing Liv described as 'the mouth' as it is such a fitting description.

Jeff was never one to keep quiet if he felt there was something to say. Never. I am glad that Liv possesses this gift. Although it could possibly cause her problems, I am glad that she will be able to protect herself, at least verbally, and have the balls to do it.

*Please excuse the blur of Briar's photo. The vast majority of pictures with my little man in them show him as a moving streak of colour.*

silence and vulnerability

The middle of the night is where I feel your void most intensely. I attempt to busy my brain with other less painful activities. I lay in our nightlight lit room listening to the drippy wet sounds of the aquarium down the hall, the monotonous whirr of the bathroom fan left on, the refrigerator starting up yet again. I attempt to make a mental list of activities that I'd like to do with the kids. A registry of people not yet called, thanked or contacted. A calendar of events that are upcoming.
But no matter what asinine or tedious thought temporarily enters my searching mind, it is constantly forced aside by thoughts of you.
I replay my walk down the aisle of the church...both on the day of our wedding and the day of your funeral. Both times, you waited for me near the altar.
On the day of our wedding, as I walked down that strip of red carpet, we smiled at each other, felt comfort in each other's presence and became the only two in the church. The day of your funeral, I clutched Liv's small hand and held Briar's little body close on my hip. I walked that same carpet with nervousness again, but this time not with nervous excitement. This time, it was terror and loss.
Although the tranquilizers administered to me by the doctor allowed me to stare out from my body with my mouth silent and closed, with my head erect, I felt far from 'tranquil'.
I saw the same faces staring at me from the front of the church as I saw on our wedding day. Their swollen and tear streaked faces a constant reminder of why we were there. But you were missing.
I saw your coffin. You were always the biggest in the room, the centre of attention, the one I looked to when unsure. Now you were a box. A big, wooden box. Liv asked if 'you' were in there. She thought she could hear your snoring. While I smiled at her, I could only imagine you, your shell, laying there, oblivious to the events that were taking place. Completely unknowing that today would be the last day that your body and mine shared the same space. Ignorant of the pain that all of us within that church felt without you there to sing out your laughter, grin your famous smile, make some completely looney joke or tell a far-fetched story.
Without you, without your presence, I felt lost. Adrift. Vulnerable. I still do. I long to hear you. But I shy away from listening to your still recorder answering machine messages. I wish I could feel the comfort of my hand enveloped by yours. But the thought of it reminds me that I will never feel them again no matter how I can remember the shape and the feeling of your immense hand. The touch of your mouth. The softness of your earlobe. The shape of your knees.
On our wedding day, there were the sorts of issues that cause stress at all marriage ceremonies. Seating. Flowers. It was...interesting. But you were there. You would NOT let anything ruin our day. And we were together. That was all that mattered. We were together. The day signified our 'togetherness'.
Your funeral conveyed the separation of you from all of us left behind. A ceremony to let all of us know that we would never again walk with you, work with you, laugh with you, hold you.
As I followed you from the church once again, I had tears of loss and fear slipping over my cheeks marking my coat with wet dots. Gone were the tears of laughter and joy that we shared the day we married.
Liv was with us both days. And this one fact reminds me of what I still need to live for. If only it is to see both of our little ones grown and happy, I must keep breathing until I can see you again. So I lay in this bed and listen to the appliances that surround me. I stare at the box beside our bed that contains your ashes in the orange glow of the nightlight and I miss you. God, how I miss you. And I wish only that first ceremony had happened. The second should not have happened....not yet.

painting with water

One of the things that I am finding that can always entertain ALL the kids no matter what their age is painting. We have tried so many types of paints over Liv's life as a creative little being. We've used acrylics - don't wash out of clothing when dry. Tempera - kind of messy and they go mouldy in their containers. Cheap watercolours - lumpy, non homogenized colour. Then, for Christmas, Liv received some Stockmar paints. Only the red, blue and yellow.

These paints are awesome. BEAUTIFUL, continuous colour. Concentrated making it able to add as much or as little water to create whichever intensity you'd like. I admit, they are pricey at $8 for each 20 ml bottle but I am now a true believer that they are worth it.
We mix the colours to create green, orange, purple, brown in a muffin tin and fly at it. SO. MUCH. FUN. We've been creating hearts for one our seasonal tree. It has gone bare for the Winter long enough, I figure.

>
Liv has been creating art for the Artist Trading Cards Swap. She's been having a great time working with various media to get what she believes is her best work for the project. I can't wait to send them off and she can't wait to receive some in the mail form other budding artists! Like a chain letter that is more creative! (Although I do hope that she gets a few in the mail - I never did receive replies for any chain letters. Did you?)

I'll take some photos of the new updated tree in the light of day and add them to the post tomorrow.....

up and running

I've been so worried about how I will provide for my children by myself. Not just worrying about how I will provide for them on a single income but how I will manage this while staying home with them AND homeschooling Liv.
This week, I've begun my journey towards accomplishing this goal without having to be in constant fear of making ends meet....at least, this is the hope.
I've started doing daycare. I've been doing this one day a week for my sister's twins but I am now doing it five days a week.
It's pretty fabulous to be able to care for my children as well as others from my home AND, hopefully, make a living. So far, one of the best things has been that all the kids are children that my little ones regularly play with! This makes it like a regular playdate!
Days are busy, but really fun and I actually find that it is helping me to return to many of my formerly organized habits. I have a plan of things I hope to do with the kids each day. I make sure we have food for meals before hand. I am trying to hoping to ensure that toys from one activity are tidied up before we pull out new ones as this is the source of some of my panic and impatience as of late. I feel much calmer when the house is not resembling a bombsite. I am constantly thinking of activities that all the children will enjoy and will help Liv with her homeschooling interests.
Wish me luck!

25 random things

I have received this in my facebook mailbox more times than I can count. I have yet to do it or anysort of 'meme', so I thought I'd do it for fun here on the blog.....*staring at the screen unsure of any points of interest in my life*

1. If I could eat only one food for the rest of my life, it would be yogourt and granola, my standard breakfast fare.

2. We have a beaver in our backyard. Just weeks before Jeff died, he had informed me of this. I hadn't seen it in the months since his death and had actually began to think that it was one of those jokes he LOVED to play on my poor gullible mind. (While working on gear in a harbour, he once told me that the sound of the howling wind past the buildings was actually the sound of whales stuck in the harbour from the storm. I believed him. I'm not 'stupid', I just always think that people are telling the truth. He adored playing these tricks on me.) Suddenly this week, Liv excitedly announced to me that there was a beaver lounging in the sun on the other side of the back fence. She was right! It's silly, but I was so pleased to know that it was there. I felt a connection to Jeff and the last bit of time before he was taken. I love my beaver. *snicker* (The above picture is of the beaver through the bushes...Hard to see but there....)

3. I've never had a cavity. This is good because of number 6. I once locked myself in the bathroom and then told the dentist I would bite him if he came any closer when he was going to remove my wisdom teeth. In my defence, I was only 12.
4. My first car was a white '68 Volkswagen bug. I painted green paisleys on the exterior and handprints and footprints on the interior. It had no floor. My grandfather and I built one out of plywood. I feel that Bugs are the ultimate vehicle. They can honestly be fixed with safety pins and elastic bands. I learned a lot about mechanics from that car. I installed an emergency brake, clutch and two generators (yes, generators. not alternators). I had so many adventures with that car including having it as my place of residence for a time with a former boyfriend.

5. I have let fear of trying, fear of the unknown, fear of judgement dictate too many things in my life. I am reaching an age or stage that fear no longer inhibits my desire to try something. Childcare is the largest hindrance at this stage. One day, I'll be the most adventurous and able seventy year old I know. Fuck fear!
Speaking of fear, spiders, snakes and heights do not scare me. But I am terrified of needles. There was a time in my life that the sight of a syringe could cause me to faint in seconds....The idea that the universe goes on forever kind of freaks me out too. Not sure why. It's one of those things that I don't like to think about.
6. I'd prefer to go out in public with a child's rendition of an orange cat painted on my face than something stuck in my teeth or a boogie stuck in my nose. Maybe it's because I know the creation is adorning my face or maybe I just dislike exhibiting normal bodily functions. Who knows?
7. I love chickens. You all know this. But I thought I'd state the obvious again. Chickens are awesome pets. Chickens rock.

8. When I first met Jeff, I hated him. I thought he was loud and obnoxious. I was right. BUT he was also kind, funny, loving and generous.

9. My favourite stress release is chopping wood. I love swinging the ax hard, splitting the one piece into two and having it stick into the chopping block. Success. Strength. Control. Destruction. Fabulous relief.

10. I respect people who tell the truth. I have great difficulty associating with people who do not recognize honesty as one of the most important virtues. I am ridiculously gullible and will believe most of what is told to me. When I find out that I was deceived, I find it confusing and upsetting. (Unless it was a joke in good fun.)

11. I am a procrastinator with a short attention span. This makes it extremely difficult to finish any project that I have set up for myself in this remarkably small window of time. I recently read my grade two report card in which it was reported that I had a hard time staying 'on task'. It is interesting to me that I have had this issue for most, if not all, my life. (I haven't worked much on this cross-stitch in weeks....I am trying to stay focused but....)

12. I love to read. As a 'tween', I would read everything and anything I could get my hands on. This would get me into trouble because I wouldn't do my homework...I was too busy reading. It was not unheard of for me to go through a 300 page book in one day.
13. While playing house as a little one, my husband was always 'Ponch' from CHiPS. My friend, Lila's husband was always Jon from CHiPS as well. I secretly thought she was getting the raw deal.
14. I'm named after my grandfather. So is Briar. His middle name is Jack. Grandpa and I called each other 'Bub'. 15. I have a terrible memory. Fighting it drives me insane. I've decided that I need to look ahead and to not worry so much about what I forgot that was behind me. People may think I'm insane and have forgotten key moments but I'll be mentally peaceful. Now if I can remember to remember my decision.

16. I don't like raisins. I can eat them 'raw'. But when they are plump and cooked in food, they make me feel nauseous.

17. I love to create. Crafting, drawing and sewing are when I am at my happiest. I feel complete. I feel able and passionate. This shows in my craft area. It regularly is cleaned and organized only to be in complete turmoil the next day as some new project overtakes me.
18. I have always lived on the island. My children are actually fifth generation islanders. This is rare to those of you who have never been here. I have travelled to many countries and have enjoyed myself immensely but I love home the best. Although, if I had to pick another country to live in, I'd chose Scotland....or Norway.

19. I'm left handed. Did you know that a higher percentage of the prison population is left handed than within outside society? These hands are almost always cold. So are my feet and my nose. I always say that these are the things that are farthest from the warmth of my body.

20. I can knit a straight line. This makes it possible to knit scarves. Doll blankets. Hats if knitting with circular needles. BUT I am envious of people who can knit socks. I SO WANT to knit socks for my eternally cold feet but my issues with procrastination, inability to stay 'on task' and terrible memory make it impossible.
21. I love nothing better than to lay with my little ones bodies cosy in the crook of my arm and snuggle down for a warm nap on a wintry afternoon after reading a book. Heaven.


22. I struggle with patience. I believe that I was more able to keep cool and calm before Jeff died. I don't completely know if this is an accurate perception but I do feel that I have a MUCH shorter fuse than before. I am less able to remember that they are little ones who need me to show them by actions rather than by telling by words all the time. I don't think I'm as good a mother as I was before. My mothering was a source of pride before. Now I worry that I am not great for this job. I worry that they will bear mental scars not just from witnessing the death of their daddy but scars from the impatience and sadness of their mother. I am NOT the mother I had planned to be. I should really start saving for therapy for them now.

23. My feet, at size 10 and now 11, seem to have grown to even larger proportions in the last few years. Jeff called them 'flipper-like feet'.

24. I dislike tiny purses. It makes proportions just strange.

25. I am a boring eater. I find one thing I like and stick to it. This includes the fare at restaurants. If I've eaten it before and enjoyed it, I never veer from ordering it again. I can't handle spicy foods. Calamari and equally questionable looking foods scare me. I can't watch as others eat them. This was especially interesting having Jeff as a husband. He was an adventurous eater. He would eat extremely questionable foods and implore me to try them too. I would stick with my regular foods and be quite happy.

real life

I was inspired when I found a post about what our homes are 'really' like and was so pleased to see that there is even a flickr group of photos depicting what the inside of our homes are like most often. I know when I am scouting around in the 'blogosphere' I am often dismayed to see that these people's homes are immaculate and that they manage to finish the crafts that are started with their children.

I am happy to see that I am not alone in my imperfections. It is wonderful that there are others out there who just use their forearm to clear off the kitchen table in order to take a photograph or realize after they've taken a picture of their beautiful little angels that there is a great green slime sliding down their upper lip.

So in the spirit of being human, here is a normal day at our house...

It actually gets difficult to enter/exit the house often with all the shoes, bags and coats that litter the floor in this location.
This is Briar and my bedroom. It is a minor miracle that my bed is made.
Liv's room. I often just shut the door.
The counters are completely filled and cleaned off multiple times a day. Where does all this 'stuff' come from?! And, yup, Liv is skipping in the kitchen and that is still one of the Christmas decorations hanging above the table.
Bloody Tinker Toys. Everywhere. We haven't gotten into the small lego yet and I am sure that it is the only toy that rivals these bits the extremely painful feeling when trod on. Briar is going through a phase where he can't just get toys out that he'd like to play with - he must empty the ENTIRE container onto the floor. As I tidy, I keep trying to assure myself that the physical activity of the action outweighs the annoyance I have for needing to pick up for the fifth time in one day.

What I should have done is take a photo of my craft table. THAT is a mess. An ever evolving mess!

gung hey fat choy

Liv and Briar went to the Chinese New Year celebrations with my mom. I met them in China town to pick them up and for some delicious food!

There is nothing better in the world than looking up to see someone so happy to see you. I wish the pictures would have come out more clearly. I am so very lucky to have such amazing little ones.



I love China town. There are so many opportunities to photograph things from a different culture...also, there is so much RED! I love red. I used to think that if I had a favourite colour, it was blue....but I actually think in many cases, it's red. So cheery and bright!

Did you know that 'Gung Hey Fat Choy' doesn't actually mean 'Happy New Year'? I had no idea that it means "Wishing you prosperity and wealth"....Maybe everyone else does know that, but these things are truly one of the joys of homeschooling. Liv asks questions and we learn the answers. She flourishes with this type of learning. Hands-on. What she herself is interested in. Immersed in 'real' life. I am sure most homeschooling mothers, like me, have moments of self-doubt. But then there are the glorious moments when you see that they are learning, they are soaking it all in and they are truly excited to learn.
Briar was completely intrigued by the 'dragons' (which we also found out are actually dancing lions). It's hard to not ask him repeatedly to reenact the 'dragon dance' and watch his little body wiggle back and forth in jerking spasms with an expectant grin on his little face. It's one of those moments that I can just imagine Jeff laughing his belly laugh with joy and pride....So sweet and a bit tinged with sadness and loss as everything seems these days.

These little 'bombs' were a hit. Throw them down and hear the ensuing *bang*! I have to admit, I enjoyed them as much as they did.


Instead of 'wealth and prosperity', I wish you all happiness and calm this year....although I am sure wealth and prosperity would not be unwelcome.

warmth

There are few things that can't be eased by the feeling of warm water on your body. Whether it is a cup of tea, a bubble bath, a hot water bottle or even warm water with which to wash your hands, it helps to soothe the body and somehow, the soul.

Is it just me?

quiet/busy time

The kidlets are going to my mom's for the night. Just the fact that they are going to be spending the night elsewhere says a lot about my head space these last couple of days. I have to say that I thought that I was coping quite...civilized-like regarding the death of my grandfather. I am not as messed up as when I lost Jeff. But grandpa has definitely been my 'go-to' guy for matters of the heart, my life, mechanical workings of the truck, house maintenance, history, etc. I used to tell him when I was a child that I wanted to marry someone just like him. I did. Now they are both gone and it is so very strange to not be able to contact either of them. I want to call them and tell them what is going on. Ask them both for their opinion.

I think I need a rest. A slight break in the monotony of all of this. I keep making a mental list of the things that I want to accomplish while Liv and Briar aren't here. Sleep. Clean out broken toys. Sew. Watch a movie with lots of swearing and possibly even sexual references.

I'm wondering how I'll sleep without tiny pointed elbows shoved in my nostrils and little finger nails exfoliating my ribs in the night. Maybe I'll empty the contents of one of the toy boxes onto my bed to simulate the feeling of soft, yet hard and pokey little people in the bed beside/on me while I sleep.

I am looking forward to staring up at the stucco on the ceiling and trying to form shapes and pictures in the patterns. I know, it sounds remarkable dull. I think in Jeff's absence I am finding that I am not nearly as exciting as I thought I was. We used to have such fun together, whether the kids were with us or not. He'd sit in a lawn chair and laugh at my inability to quietly remove an aluminum ladder from beneath the deck as I'd try to prove a point about how burglars could use it to break into the house. We'd make a bet about who could lose a preset amount of weight in a determined amount of time. The loser was to wear a gold coloured g-string all day while having to entertain company out on the back deck....My weight stayed the same. Jeff gained some. I got sick that day and didn't care that he wouldn't wear the thong. We set off expired flares in the backyard (a big no-no....) and they flew across the marsh into an elderly couple's backyard lighting up their bedroom for five mintues with an intense red glow. We worried that they'd die of fright, but laughed until tears rolled down our faces at the same time. When I was huge and pregnant, he'd chase me around the house as I'd try to quickly waddle away and cram as much icing into my mouth from the bowl as I could before he managed to get it from me. When we'd disagree, he'd jokingly threaten to drag me around on the lawn by my ankles. One day during a mock argument, he did. I screamed my laughter as I got a wet and grass stained bum. We wondered later what the neighbours must have thought.

I miss hanging out with him. I miss his laughter. I miss being funny and interesting to someone. I miss my best friend.

So, I'll go stare at the stucco and remember the fun we did have...and try to get some of things on my list done.

a great loss

My grandfather died early this morning. It is a truly strange sensation to know that he does not share the same world with me and I cannot call him for one of our often daily chats.
His death is bitter sweet. I am so saddened for the loss of him and his guidance. But that sense of loss is for me and for those left behind...a selfish loss. I am happy, however, that his suffering is over, that his loss of dignity brought by the cancer is through and that he has peace.
I need to try to understand why this feels so truly different than the loss of Jeff when both of these men were so huge in my life. Is it that with my grandfather's death there is no 'trauma'? That we had the opportunity to say our good-byes and there were no unsaid words between us at the end? Is it because I have lost my fear of death? Is it because I am numb? Is it because he had expressed his feelings of fatigue and his readiness to move on? I feel a 'peace'. A gentleness. A calm. Not the fear or anguish. Is it just me or is it all of us?
I will miss him so terribly...but I also knew him. I don't feel that there was anything left to do. I know that he loved me and he knew that I loved him.
My grandmother and I hugged in the hospital and she said that when he passed, we'd know that he and Jeff would be together sharing a good laugh.....

single vs sole

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the labels that are created to define each of us within this society. Since Jeff's death, one of the labels that has been thrust upon me is that of 'single mother'. While I understand the reasoning behind this title, I don't feel that I properly fit this definition.

I don't feel single. I still love my husband and if he were alive, we would definitely be together. My status as a singleton parent was not my choice whatsoever. Neither of us chose to desert the other. Neither of us would have left the other's side if we could have helped it.

Often as a single parent (although I realize that this is not always the case), the children still have the benefit of contact with both their parents. The children still have two parents who love them, watch soccer games, rejoice in their accomplishments and hopefully, accept and support their difficulties and learning experiences. My children have me. Only me. Yes, they have grandparents and friends, but I, maybe mistakenly, feel that it is different than the truly unconditional love of a parent.

The single parent usually has a break every so often when they send their children to the other parent and they know that there children are with someone who loves them and has a vested interest in their survival. Again, I know that not all single parents feel safe sending their children to their ex and are quite justified in this feeling. If I need a break, I feel the need to carry it as long as I can before I am unable to hold on any longer. Then I must ask someone who has no obligations to my children or to me. I feel guilty as this imposition that I am thrusting upon others. I feel guilt for needing time away from my children when all they have is me.



Many times, there is anamosity between divorced parents. There is anger. Hurt. Sadness. Fear. As the child of divorced parents, I feel that I get this somewhat. But (please correct me if you feel that I am wrong here) I feel that at one point you loved this person, you cared for and wanted to be around this person. Most of the time, you didn't wish for their death. Now that you have chosen to seperate your life from theirs, and possibly you 'hate' them, you still know they are there. Breathing. Living. Their 'being' may irk you, but once you loved them, they loved you and they love your children. It may not seem like it, (and you may hate me for saying this) but the ability to share the world with them and still hate them is a luxury. You may have gone through hell with them or because of them, but you created children with them. Your children are here because of them. You have learned so very much because of your experiences with them. You are, hopefully, a better person because of this learning.

I hate that Jeff is gone. I am bereft and lonely. I am angry. I am terrified. But I am learning. I am picking one foot up and walking. I am a better person. I am more empathetic. More caring. More understanding. But I am alone. I am not trying to imply that one is harder than the other. I am merely saying that they are different and I don't feel that I fit the mold properly. Maybe I just need time to get used to this title. I don't know.

I am completely alone as a parent. I am a sole parent. I can't hate Jeff. I can't express my love to him. I can't ask for his help. I can't ask him how he feels about certain issues involving the kids. I can remember what we thought was right for our family before and follow this path. But things have changed and I have to sometimes make a new path and carry the kids along alone hoping that what I am doing is right for us now. It's scary and, fuck, I wish he was here even if we weren't together. So the kids could have the support and love of their other parent and I could know that someone else out their cared about their lives and would speak up if they could think of some thing that might make their lives easier or better....and actually know these little people as well as I do.

So instead of a single parent, I am declaring a new title. Sole parent.

P.S. I realize that I have over simplified many of the issues involving divorce in order to make my case for a new title. I apologize to any of you that feel offended or slighted by my definitions or assumptions. I absolutely meant no harm and I am so very sure that divorce is a truly hard and difficult road. I can imagine the fear, also, of sending your children to the home of a parent that does not share you feelings or ideologies and having this imposed upon your children. It must be terrifying to send your little ones to the home of an ex who is violent or bitter. I am blessed that I have not have to experience this as a parent. And I feel terrible for those of you who have.

playsilk dyeing

Krista and I ordered some silks from Dharma Trading before Christmas with the intent to dye them with the kids. While they are beautiful and a lovely product, we had to pay exorbitant duties from customs into Canada. BUT we were still very excited.

I have been hoping to use natural dyes but seem to lack the energy to collect the needed supplies at the moment. So, we used the ever-useful Kool-Aid. The kids had a great time stirring and immersing their silks. We only used small amounts cold water and Kool-Aid. It was interesting to see that the silks sucked all the dye out of the water leaving only the slightest tinge of colour in the remaining water.

Also, the blue Kool-Aid caused some strange reaction to the kid's skin making it sore and itchy...makes me wonder what it does to one's innards. They turned out beautiful and BRIGHT. When Krista added the red to the green, the resulting colour was more of a natural brown than an intense synthetic colour.

We dyed the remainder of our silks on Friday. My sister's twins helped and seemed to LOVE the crafty experience.

At this point, I had read some tutorials on how to dye playsilks with Kool-Aid in a different manner to ensure colour-fastness. But, unfortunately/fortunately, we don't have a microwave in our house due to my neurotic fears involving this small appliance, radiation and an event resulting in explosive microwaved eggyolk dangling from everyone's eyelashes at the breakfast table as a child. Anyhow.....Our silks turned out great without the microwave or the vinegar. We did not rinse them but haven't had any trouble with colour transfer.

After we had finished, we hung the silks out on the line to dry. It was wonderful to watch these colourful, light fabrics flutter around in the cold, dull backyard. I am so looking forward to sheets on the line again one day and fresh Spring green.

I am hoping to either find a source for more playsilks within Canada in an attempt to not have to pay these duties or to make some from silk from the bolt. I am wondering if the rolled hems would pose a difficulty. Also, I'd LOVE to attempt to do the natural dyes and see if we can produce some more natural occurring colours....Although, I still love the silks we have dyed this time too.

*I am realizing that this post is a bit of 'non-information' but I am leaving it up due to the pretty pictures.

10 months

Yesterday, it was the ten month date since your death. I am still stuck in the anguish of losing you. I still expect you home. I am still reminded of you with every item in the house, every look on our little one's faces, every memory of our ten years together as a couple. I still think of you as my best friend. I still feel married to you. I am still in love with you. I still need you. When I am eighty years old, I will still miss you, feel the absence of you and wonder how life would have been if you had grown old with me.

Life is so different now. I worry that I will forget the happiness I had. I fear the kids will lose their memories of their wonderful father....

Briar, however, surprised me yesterday when a friend was helping him with his coat. I had thought that most of Briar's memories and thoughts of his daddy had come from Liv and my references of you. I wish I had had more faith in the love of a little boy for his daddy. He said to our friend, "My daddy would say, "Stop squirmin'!" It was purely Briar. It was his memory. His thought. I was amazed and brought to tears that his daddy is still held in his heart and remembered.

Grandpa is not doing well. I feel an anger that you are not here with me while I deal with this. That I have to feel the loss of this kind and supportive man without you. I can only hope that although you are not here by my side, that if there is any way, you are with him, helping him and laughing with him.

I love you. Your Bean and your little Bear love you too. We always will. The whole pie.

i know someone....

Hey, Matt is in People Magazine. So odd. I never thought I'd know someone in a major magazine.

internal dialogue

I'm always striving to learn and grow. Since Jeff has died, I have found that my education of the world around me and those that I share it with has been excelerated. Some of these lessons have been harder than others and some of them have been downright unwelcome. But many of them have been extremely 'eye-opening' when I apply them to past occurrances in my life.

One of the lessons that I am repeatedly been taught is that I am only in 'control' of myself. I cannot dictate how others will react, how they feel or how they perceive me or my actions. I can, however, live with honesty and integrity. I can try my utmost to do what I feel is the 'right' thing to do and this, ultimately, helps me to sleep at night and to live with my myself in my body.

Although, at times it is a struggle, I try my hardest to look at those around me with empathy. I try to understand what has brought us all to whichever place it is that we are at in our lives and our hearts. I do not want to cause anyone pain. I strive to act in a way which does not cause others pain and if possible to somewhat relieve strife if I can. But here again, I come to that lesson that is recurring in the education of 'me'. Although I try to ensure that my actions come from a 'good' and pure place, I can NOT ensure that others will understand my actions as such and that they even understand my motives.

I want to be seen as a kind person. A thoughtful and peace-filled person. An understanding person. But only I know what goes on in my mind, just as others only know their own minds. Others can guess at the motives behind my actions, but unless I am asked, they do not know. The best I can do, is my best. The worst I can do is to not keep trying to make the most of my time here and to not continue on a path toward learning all I can.

I don't want to be an angry, bitter person who ultimately creates my own version of personal hell by viewing the world with eyes of my most feared things. Who attempts to twist others actions and motives into something that I can see as a slight or an injury. This to me, would be a ruination of life. A right-off as I create my own pain by perceiving the world as a place that is 'out to get me'. In fact, this view is rather egocentric. A view that every action is caused by a reaction to 'me'.

I saw a billboard yesterday that said, "Image is what others think you are. Integrity is who you really are." Enough said.

she's climbing the walls

Liv had expressed a desire to rock climb many times after climbing a portable rock climbing wall. This weekend, she started lessons. She LOVED it. Immediately after, she was asking when her next lesson was. It was awesome watching her climb and smiling from ear to ear. She looked so tiny on those walls. My only regret is that I can't go out there with her. Briar is too young to climb yet but I think it'll be a stellar activity for the three of us to do when he is a bit older...