Tweed & Company Theatre

I sure hope they don't mind me stealing this.....

Don't give up... 'cause you have friends

Don't give up... you're not the only one

Don't give up... no reason to be ashamed

Don't give up... you still have us

Don't give up... we're proud of who you are

Don't give up... you know it's never been easy 

Don't give up ...

'Cause there's a place there's a place where we belong

Peter Gabriel

    A year ago I thought that perhaps I should be singing this song to The Iana Theatre.  Here was this group of amazingly talented twenty somethings, trying to make their mark in the world of theatre.  I still stand behind my statement that Alex Bell was truly one of the best plays that I have ever seen, and I have seen quite a few lavish productions in Toronto.  I felt so badly for them.  They had this wonderful dream of creating Canadian productions, something that is in short supply in this country.  It broke my heart to go to one of their productions and see empty seats.  I wanted to walk around and smack people and tell them to get their butts into that theatre, they didn't know what they were missing.  "Don't you know that this group of young people have amazing talent,  go on in try it, you'll like it!"

    It was a little over a year ago that Iana Theatre announced that they were taking a one year hiatus.  I thought this was the writing on the wall.  I felt like this group of talented and enthusiastic new comers were going to wave the white flag of surrender.  The theatre is a difficult life.  It involves travel and wearing your pride on your sleeve.  It involves rejection, who among us can deal with rejection?  For most of us rejection eats away at the soul.  I thought this was it, and it truly broke my heart.  It broke my heart because I felt like we as a community had let them down, we had not supported them, encouraged them.  We had destroyed their ambitious dreams.....

     Earlier this year I was delighted when I saw the notice that Iana had dissolved, but had metamorphasized into tweedandcompany.com .  YAY, those kids have moxi!  They licked their wounds, they regrouped and have come back ready to take a bite out of the world.

    Last night I had the pleasure of seeing "Tweed & Company's" first show... "All You Need Is Love".  That group have the most beautiful singing voices.  Their harmonies set the hair on the back of my neck up.  I am always so blown away by Tricia Black's pipes.  She comes up on that stage ready for comedy.  She puts on funny voices and does goofy characters, and then this huge voice comes out.  Tricia could easily be a recording artist.  I was delighted by the beautiful voice, and even more than that, I was delighted to see our community come out and support them.  It was almost a sold out house! Finally, maybe you don't really know what you've got 'til it's gone.

    Not only has this amazingly talented group come back, they have come back with a vengeance.

Stalkyard Hurts, one of their original productions has made it!  They performed at famed Lee's Palace in Toronto, and this July they are playing at the Toronto Fringe Festival.  What's the Fringe Festival?  It's this amazing opportunity in Toronto to see 150 shows in 12 days.  The tickets are maximum $12 for adults.  To put that into perspective for you, basically what you would pay for a movie theatre ticket.  $12 theatre tickets are pretty much unheard of.  In terms of volume, they sell over 60, 000 tickets in 12 days!  YEAH Tweed & Company!!!!  The masses are going to see and love, our Tweed & Company.  My only hope is that they don't love them so much that that talented group of twenty somethings forget where they came from.

fringetoronto.com

    What I am saying is that if you have the opportunity to see this play, go.  I'm including my original blog about this play for you to peak at.

http://themiddleagedwomanwholivedinashoe.blogspot.ca/2012/05/iana-theatre-company.html

    Incase you hadn't figured it out, I'm really proud of our little company that could.  I can't wait to see what amazing things their future holds.

Our First Aid Experience / PUSH for Life

    Many years ago when Christopher and I were still engaged we took a first aid class together.  It was very dry and very serious.  These were life saving measures and there was no fun to be had.  Although it was very dry, I have to say that I walked away from it feeling like I could handle a medical emergency until the ambulance arrived, should the situation ever arise.  It included learning emergency first aid and the heimlich maneuver, but no CPR.

    For the last 12 years I have been talking about wanting to take a CPR course.  I know 12 years, because that is the length of time it has been since my father had his massive heart attack.  It's one of those events that is vivid in my mind, no matter the passage of time.  Dad at that time was working shift work.  It was October 2 when I got a call from Mom, could I come over and take Dad to the hospital, he wasn't feeling well, it looked like the flu.  I was in pjs and pretty grungy.  Gracie was just just over a year.  I showered, changed, and then went to pick up mom and dad.  I was shocked when I saw Dad.  It rapidly became apparent that he did not have the flu, and I should have come right away instead of cleaning up.  He was grey.  We helped him to the car, basically we carried him to the car.  The whole while I'm suggesting that it would be better to go by ambulance, but he said he wouldn't go to the hospital by ambulance.  I don't recall ever driving so fast as I did that night.  Every so often Dad's head would feebly peek up from the back seat to tell me to slow down.... I ignored him.  That night in the sterile, white hospital we didn't know if Dad would make it through the night.  I'm not sure I have ever prayed so much in my life as I did that night.  Mom and I sat huddled and afraid in the waiting room, waiting until they could get him stabilized.  He lost most of the bottom of his heart.

    Last year Dad received a defibrillator/ pacemaker.  It sits like a pack of gum under the skin of his chest.  It's a visible reminder of Dad's heart damage.  That visible reminder of Dad's weakened heart was the final push that sent me in the direction of CPR training.

    I am a member of my school's School Council (it's what we call our PTA, but I honestly like PTA better).  We as a school council decided to host four week First Aid / CPR sessions that anyone in the community could attend.  I was in charge of setting it up.  I surfed the internet and made several phone calls looking for he perfect person to teach our group.  I found that person in Corin Vail.  http://pushforlife.ca  Her credentials were amazing.  She was so easy to speak to, and so willing it fit into our schedules.

    I found myself looking forward to Monday nights.  Monday nights were Christopher and my date night / First Aid night.  We had a small group of 9 which was excellent.  Such a small group allowed us to be more interactive, and because we all knew each other it made it so much more comfortable.  It also made it a more fun night.   There were many a time I found myself howling with laughter (in fairness I have an extremely sick sense of humor and will find humor in pretty much everything.  It was really just nice that the group put up with me).  I especially went into hysterics over the head bandages, just look at the picture below and try not to smile.  I'm pretty sure that would not have been o.k. at the serious First Aid class I took all those years ago.

    So now it's over.  Christopher and I are both card carrying Red Cross First Aiders.  Please feel free to have a heart attack, choke or have a traumatic injury in our presence, we are ready!  All joking aside I am really glad that I finally took the class, it feels good to feel prepared for the worst.  The class was fun, Corin was an AMAZING teacher and put up with my stupidity.  I think that more people would take these classes if they knew that it could be so relaxed and affordable.  Because Corin is an independent teacher, she can come to your home and teach a group of you, and she can make the classes suite your schedule.  Just think how enjoyable learning first aid could be with wine and cheese.  Don't keep putting it off like I did, just do it.

http://pushforlife.ca

Home Made Crack a.k.a Boursin Cheese Spread

    There is a chance that my title and picture may be misleading.... but did I get your attention?  So I don't really suit up in haznet gear.  We do however call that delicious cheese crack.... here's the story.

    My friend Sheila is the world's greatest host.  I am pretty sure if there were awards for being a hostess, she would win them.  She makes it appear so effortless.  She is not only an amazing hostess, she is an amazing guest (don't tell Sheila I said nice things about her, she might begin to expect it).  We were having a get together, I can't even remember the particulars of it, but I'm pretty sure that Sheila was hosting.  All I know is that Sheila put out Boursin cheese.  As I may have already shared several thousand times, I am really not a keener on trying new things.  This evening however, everyone was raving about the cheese that Sheila had provided.  I don't like to try new things, but am conflicted because I also dislike being left out of things.  I tried said cheese with a cracker, WOW!  I wanted to growl at my friends as I saw them taking bites of what I considered to now be "my" cheese.  We were all going crazy for the stuff.  It was then that being the classy, classy lady that I am, I coined the name for it that has stuck...."Crack".

    The name "Crack" really stuck.  Soon we were all calling it "Crack" (due to the stuff's addictive nature).  One day I met up with my friend Theresa at the grocery store "Crack's on sale" she said excitedly.  I looked in her cart to see several different types.  We both got this slightly crazed look on our faces and started emptying the refrigerated shelf of the Boursin.  As I walked down the isle of the store, my cart full of cheese, I felt like I was on top of the world, high on cheese.  I then ran into my other friend Julie "CRACK'S ON SALE!  CRACK'S ON SALE!!!!"  I saw that same crazed look on her face as she ran to the back of the store, it was for the best that there were no elderly or invalids in our path's that day.  That became out hilarious story, and our other friends were jealous that we had found the deal, and then greedily wiped the store of it's contents.

    Not only were we all calling this delicious spreadable cheese "Crack", but our children followed suit.  I remember Grace coming home dejected "Makayla had Crack in her lunch today.  Why don't you give me Crack in my lunch?" My response was mother of the year quality, (if said mother of the year was that ugly little chap from Lord of the Rings who kept calling that stupid ring Precious) "You're just lucky I share any with you at all.  I love that cheese!" When you say that line in your head, you need to imagine it with a slightly crazed tone and quite crazed facial expression.

    You can only imagine my delight when I found this website, with a recipe for said cheese....

http://www.genaw.com/lowcarb/boursin_cheese_spread.html

     I began to call my friends and brag, I emailed them to brag.... I have a problem.  Never one to follow rules, I changed the recipe slightly.  Against my better judgement I am going to share that recipe with you (this is the part where you cower and kiss my feet and tell me that you are not worthy).

This delight to the taste buds begins with a brick of cream cheese, left at room temperature.  It also calls for 1/4 of butter, also at room temperature.  When these are both room temperature I throw them into my Kitchen Aid mixer.  I mix in 1 1/2 tsp of onion power, 1/4 tsp of garlic powder, 1 tsp rosemary,  1/4 tsp ground mustard powder, a generous amount of freshly ground pepper, a dash of salt and 1 tbsp of dill weed.  When you have this all blended it's time for the next step.

I line a small bowl with plastic wrap and spoon the delicious mixture into it.  I wrap the plastic over the top and put it in the fridge to set.  This is a really great method for when you are going to be serving it to other people.  It comes out really easily and looks quite impressive.  The much lazier method that I usually use is simply spoon it into little mason jars.  This would make for a really cute gift ... hint, hint mother's day.

One of the most delicious parts of this recipe is licking the bowl, or using crackers to clean it.  It honestly tastes even better (if that's even possible) at room temperature) I mean I don't want to be a dirty waster.  It's almost too easy to make this delicious treat.  The really nice thing about it, is the cost.  Basically for what I would pay for one small round of Boursin at the store, I can make three.

You're welcome!

Fighting Off Super Mom

     I've been doing this parenting thing for 20 years now.  When I say "parenting", I don't mean being a parent, I mean bringing children into adulthood.  I know that parenting does not end in your child's adulthood.  My first baby was born 20 years ago, and my last will be a "child" in our house for another 14 more years.  This is a total of 34 years in the parenting game.  If this was a paid job, then I would receive a watch or something, but I'm pretty sure I will receive grey hair with bald patches of hair that after having been pulled out, may not grow in again.

    We began this parenting adventure as young people, we were 24.  We had Elly when we were 38.  That is a pretty wide space.  When I first began the adventure I was naive.  I was young, and insecure.  I felt like my child had to be perfect.  He had to be the smartest, the best behaved, the best dressed.  Everything that he was reflected who I was.  I took my self worth, self esteem from him.  I realize now that is a pretty big thing to put upon an infant.  Poor Gabe was my guinea pig.  I needed to show everyone what an amazing mother I was.

     I would like to say that I was able to see the error of my ways early on, but sadly, no.  It is only recently that I have come to see my folly.  We are separate, my children and I.  My self worth, my self esteem has everything to do with me.  I want to be the best mother to them because I adore them, and they deserve the best that I can give them.  I am proud of the people that my children are, and yes much of who they are is reflected on the parents that we are, but much of it comes from the individuals that they are.

     So what has any of this to do with "Fighting Off Super Mom"?  The simple answer is EVERYTHING!  Being a super mom was all part of the feelings of inadequacy, you know fake it 'til you make it.  To be a good mother I had to do it all.  My self worth came from being an amazing mother.  Don't get me wrong, I still want to be an amazing mother, but because my kids deserve it, and I deserve to live a life without regrets.  My self worth no longer comes from the outside, but from the inside.  Why does self acceptance take so long?  I wish that I could travel back in time and tell that younger me to take a chill pill.  

    Back when Gabe was still young, and Gracie was just a baby, I was heavily involved in the school.  I was the one who volunteered for every class trip.  I volunteered in the classroom.  My friend Lisa Carter and I organized the fun fairs.  We gave time away from our families to raise money for new playground equipment for the school, I'm taking hundreds of hours.  We were Super Moms.  I said no to nothing.  Somehow by being "Super Mom", I felt that everyone would think that I was such an amazing mother.  Some of them may have, some of them may have thought I was a bit pathetic.  Now it kind of doesn't really matter.  The only people who I need to impress with my awesome Mothering skills are my children.

    So what this long and blabby story is really about is my new sense of identity.  I no longer "need" to be liked.  Don't get me wrong I still "want" everyone to like me and think I'm great, but I would like to think that I am not so pathetic about it.  Now I have learned the word NO.  I now volunteer for things that I want to do, because they will be enjoyable, as opposed to volunteering so that people will think I'm so great.  I'm pretty sure they didn't really think that I was so great, but rather such an easy mark.

    This year our school is having a Fun Fair.  The kids LOVE the Fun Fair.  I have never actually seen my children enjoy the Fun Fair.  I have planned, organized and worked the Fun Fair for 13 years now.  This year I decided to allow other parents the opportunity.  I let them take control.  I wanted to help, but instead offered to be a sounding block for things they may need help with.  I offered to put together a window display and wrap the Silent Auction baskets, because I like to creative projects.  This will be the first Fun Fair that I will enjoy with my children, I'm kind of looking forward to this new freedom!

    

Hell Did Not Freeze Over, But We Got a Trampoline Anyway

    I've said this many times, but I will say it again... I'm a bubble wrap parent.  If I could prevent my children from ever feeling pain I would.  I was most firm in feelings about trampolines, still am.  The Canadian and American Pediatric Societies have both strongly discouraged the purchase of home trampolines because of all the injuries they cause.  It seemed like every other family in the world had one, and we were the only jerks (ok specifically me) who said no.

    I kind of had visions of the Simpson's trampoline episode.....

    For many, many years now I have denied my children the joy of jumping and breaking bones... I know I suck.  Here's the thing that I know that you may not, it only takes a second for your entire world to crumble.  I never in a million years thought that I who gave birth to strong, healthy children could have one healthy, robust child die.  It happened on such an ordinary day.  I know that life is unexpected, and I feel as if it's my job to protect them... and to protect me from heartache.  

    You may wonder why when I have denied my children what they feel is a basic human right to a trampoline, do you see happy little faces bouncing on said toy?  The reason is simply I gave it some thought.  

    As a child my sister and I would climb to the top of our barn and jump into the straw below.  There could have been any number of horrid things in that straw, and yet we survived.  I honestly cringe thinking about the things that my sister and I did.  We grew up in the 70's.  It was a time when children explored, and were allowed to explore.  We built forts with nails and old bits of wood.  "When" not "if" we stood on a nail or smashed our fingers with a hammer we went for our tetanus shot, just that simple.  We walked off injuries.  I shudder honestly to think of the things that we did (crawling through culverts, ect, ect).  If it seemed like a good idea, we did it.  We never checked with our parents to see if we could, we just did.... I have a few scars to prove it, but I survived.  I survived, and that ability to explore helped to make me who I am.  I learned through trial and error.  Now I am not for even half a second suggesting that I would ever in a million, trillion years allow my children to jump off the roof of a barn into sketchy straw.... but I need to let them explore.

    Right now I am working on letting them have some freedom.  It sounds funny to say it, but honestly it is really tough.  I have to quiet that voice in the back of my head that screams "Life is fragile, hold your babies tight".  We lost our Gabe, it was a car accident.  There was black ice, there was a deer, there were other people driving just too fast... it was an accident.  I was taking my two children to see a movie, that is not a risky activity.  Bad things happen to good people.  It's up to the good people to decide how they will deal with it.

    For a long time I held my babies in close, suffocatingly close.  The pain of loosing my child was so real, so new, so raw.  I was afraid to let them out of my sight.  Over the years I have allowed my iron grip to loosen a little bit each year.  No matter how hard I want it, no matter how hard I try,  I do not have the control over life and death.  I cannot prevent my children being hurt, I can lesson the odds, but in the end it is outside of my control.  What is in my control is to allow them the freedom to make choices and maybe get hurt.  If they are hurt it's my job to hold them, and make them feel my love, and encourage them to make more choices, some of which might imply getting hurt.

Rowan opted to wear Pj's all day

  

    So here I sit, the owner of a trampoline, against my better judgement.  They might get hurt, oh who am I kidding they are my kids, they will get hurt.  Sometimes life is filled with bumps and bruises, that's just part of it.  I need to let them get hurt.  I can control some of it.  We have a one at a time rule.  We bought a trampoline that came with a safety enclosure.  We have a rule that there has to be someone out watching.  It's the best that I can do.  I need to let them take risks, safe risks.  I need to let them get hurt, have scars (and cool or goofy stories to go along with those scars).  Life is about taking risks and reaping the rewards or learning from it.
    In the end, bad things happen to good people.  We do not know what lies around the corner for ourselves or for those we love, this I know.  What I do know is that we should live in the now, squeeze every single bit of joy out of it and store it for a time when we need it.  Bask in the good, and realize that the bad just shows us how good the good is, because without the bad, we cannot appreciate the good.  Taking risks and learning from them is an important part of life.
    The trampoline has brought a lot of joy so far.  I love the looks on their faces, that unimpeded, absolute joy. It's great exercise and it keeps the kids away from the electronics and in the fresh air.  They might get hurt, but then they might get hurt doing anything, life is uncertain.  I need to remember that and let them have their childhood.

A Letter to Stupid Soccer Parents

    We are headed into soccer season.  This means that my husband will become obsessed and talk only of soccer until the end of June.  It also means that I will have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from flipping out on the other children's parents.  There are so many things that I would like these idiots to know.... but alas unless they are avid readers of this my little blog these words will remain unsaid (unless they get me really angry, or I finally bite through my tongue).  So here is what I would tell them if I did not dislike conflict so much....



Dear Stupid Parents;

    I am writing this letter to you because my husband is too nice to tell you what I am about to share with you.  My husband is a good man.  He is a kind man with a big heart.  Every year for the last 14 years (that's right 14 consecutive years) he has coached your children or someone else's children.  It is not uncommon to hear "HI COACH" on our travels, from kids as old as 20.   He has done this coaching out of the goodness of his heart, there is no financial retribution, and honestly most years there is no gratitude from the majority of the parents.  He has never received any acolytes,  as a matter of fact I'm not even sure that the soccer association has any idea he has put in this many years because none of them has been with the association that long.  He has never received any kind of recognition from the soccer association, because he quietly goes about changing and inspiring children.  He is giving up time off, of which he often has very little.  He is a funeral Director by trade and works for a small family company.  He is on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  Death knows no schedule and so when someone passes away, he is one of the first responders.  His time is very valuable to us his family, and yet he donates it to you.
    Every year we pay a fee to the soccer association, just like the rest of you.  Did you know that your fee goes to pay insurance, equipment and referees?  Did you know that not one single penny of that goes to my husband, as I told you before he is a "volunteer".  So many of you seem to think that since you paid money you are entitled to be a jerk.  You feel entitled to award winning coaching, and feel that your child should be put on for every shift and should also be entitled to hog the ball every game (even though soccer is a team sport) because you paid $30.  So many of you feel that you would be so much better of a coach, and have something to say about my husband's coaching style, and yet every year it is him shouting for your children, cheering them on, and you might make one or two games.  I feel at this point I should remind you that this is "House League Soccer".  That means it is for fun and exercise.  If you want your child in a pre- olympics type of situation, may I make this suggestion to you ... take them else where.
   Did you know that my husband lies awake at night and worries about your child?  He thinks about every child's strengths and weaknesses.  He tries to find ways to help each child to be their very best, much as we do with own children.  He carries scars with him of what he considers to be his past failures.  The one he beats himself up for the most wasn't even him.  There was a quiet mild mannered father who came to all of his son's games.  When this little boy took the field, the mild mannered father disappeared like Jekylle to Hyde.  He would scream, berate, basically destroy this little boy's self worth. It was the last game,  and there was a shoot out.  Being a new coach, and thinking a coach's job was to win, Christopher put this little boy out there to take the penalty kick.  This little guy was an amazing player, and so to Christopher, he was the best choice.  He took his shot, all breath was held, and he missed.  It was at this point the father was bright red in the face, and the little guy crumbled.  He literally crumbled, he collapsed like he had been shot and became hysterical.  Christopher still tortures himself about it.  " I should never have put that boy in that position.  I knew what the father was like, I knew it was too much stress".  That incident was over 10 years ago, and he still carries it.
    I feel like I should wrap this letter up here.  To you parents who don't have time, or feel inclined to volunteer your own time to help the children of your community, but feel like you are privileged enough to be a negative influence, please stay home, or keep your mouth shut.  Your positive input is welcomed.  If you want to say thank you, hand my husband a coffee with cream, or offer to bring next weeks treats, your input is welcome.  There are parents who request to have Christopher as their child's coach, because they see the value in their children having fun and getting exercise.  These are the amazing parents who ask if they can bring treats, who offer to help when help is needed.  These are the parents who take the time to learn all the team member's names and cheer for them all.  These are the parents who make a point of going up to other people's children to tell them what a good job they did.  These are the parents who know what this soccer game is about.  It's about making your child's childhood positive, providing them opportunities.
    This is supposed to be a fun game, a time to get exercise, meet new people, learn team skills but most importantly it is about FUN.  If you scream at your child's coach, if you scream at the ref, most importantly if you scream negativity at your child, you are missing the point.  Not only are you missing the point, in my opinion your are damaging your child, so STOP.  Remember why you are there.  This is house league, it's supposed to be fun, how about you remember this.  If you want to be competitive, join your own sport.  This is about your child, not you living through them.

    Thank you for your time, I hope that as the new soccer season approaches you will keep in mind what I am saying.  Please remember that your child's coach is most likely a volunteer, and they should be treated the way you would like to be treated!

Sincerely;

The Coach's Wife

The Spread of "Hate" words

    This morning I sat listening to my girls talk about swearing at school.  This may seem like bad parenting, but hey I never professed to be perfect (especially when you read further), there is a rule that I have at our house, the big kids are allowed to swear as long as I don't hear them, not in front of any little people, and no other adult hears them, and if they get in trouble for swearing at school they are on their own.  Lets face it ... swearing is a lot of fun, and does come in handy when you smash your toe.. it's so expressive.  Having said all of this I don't swear in front of my kids, well again I can't pretend to be perfect.  In cases of pain, the F-bomb has fallen from my mouth, but always under great duress.  

    This morning the two big girls were talking about classmates who swear a lot at school.  Gracie said that one girl in her class calls people the "N" word.  I was shocked to my core that anyone in this day and age would still say "THAT" word.  It is such an ugly word, why when the world is full of so many wonderful descriptive words would anyone choose to use that ugly word?  It was at this point that it felt like I was smashed in the back of the head by a horrid realization, words have more weight than I have ever given them credit for!

    Growing up I was never allowed to use the "N" word, even when all the other kids would use the "Eenie Meenie Minie Moe catch an "N" word by the toe", instead we used "tiger" by the toe.  We were not allowed to call anyone "a retard".  We were not allowed to call anyone "gay" or a "queer", or "homo".   I felt like I was being denied something magical that everyone else at school had.  It turns out my mother was right (please don't tell her that I said that).  I was being denied the right to the use of hate words.

     When I grew up and was out from under the oppressive "no hate words" ban of home,  I threw around "retard" and "queer", although the "N" word has always been off limits.  I'm going to be honest here, up until this morning I did.  I never used them as "hate" words, but rather descriptive words.  I would never ever call a mentally challenged person a "retard", nor would I ever call a homosexual person a "Gay".  I did not use them in a hateful context, but rather a descriptive context such as "that is such a retarded dvd player".  I felt like because I did not use them to spread hate, or put people down they were acceptable to use.  They were just words and could only be hurtful if that was the way they were intended.

    I personally know mothers who have mentally challenged children and they have long pushed to remove "retard" from our vocabulary.  There have been public service announcements about it.  I cannot imagine how difficult the role of a parent with a disabled child is, I would never pretend to even imagine.  I say this, but thought that their objections were hypersensitivity.  After all I told myself, I never say it in a hurtful or mean way.  I would never ever in a million years ever call a mentally challenged person "a retard",  I'm not a monster.

    This morning in my outrage that someone in this day and age would ever use the "N" word when they know that it represents hate, I was struck with my own hypocrisy.  I was judging this child and her parents for using a word that represents hatred, and yet I felt comfortable using almost equally hateful words.  It occurred to me that there is never ever an acceptable time to use the "N" word, so why would I tell myself that to use "retard" or "gay" was ever acceptable, even if not meant in a cruel way.  Those too are hate words.  They are used to put people down and keep them down.   I sit here and feel ashamed that it has taken me this long to realize that.

   So there is my big moment, my smack to the back of the head by the universe.  I who pride myself in my kindness and generosity have been using words that would suggest I am anything but.  I have never used these words to put down the people they are intended for, but I have used them as descriptive words.  Words have power.  We... no I need to remember that words have power.  They have the power to make someone feel less than.  If I would never intentionally hurt anyone, why would I use words in my everyday language that would?  

    From this moment on I will remove "hate" words from my vocabulary.  I will remember the power of words, and even if a cruelty is not intended, by using those words I am a contributer.  Now that I have clarity, and knowledge (it only took me into my middle age to figure this one out) not only will I not allow myself to use them, I will not allow my children to use those words.  The world is full of so many beautiful and descriptive words, why would I choose words that are anything but?

The Lovely Bones - Living with the Death of a Child

    Do you ever read a book that changes the way you look at the world, or as you read a book you think "Man, that author really gets me, it's like he/ she peeked into my head".   I have had both experiences, The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold was the latter experience for me.

    The lovely Bones came to my book collection through the Tweed Public Library's semi- annual book sale.  I picked it up more on a whim.  A few years ago Christopher and I had rented the movie, and I would not rank it among my favourites.  I knew that it was a disturbing concept, the story of a girl who had been violently murdered, told by the dead girl.  I'm going to be honest the way it was envisioned for the film, I just didn't get it.  I'm not sure why I picked the book up.
    First let me share that the subject of the book is difficult to read, there are parts that as a mother and as a woman made me shudder.  To me the book wasn't about her gristly murder, it was about how her family dealt with her murder / death and how she dealt with it in "her heaven".  I am pretty sure that Ms. Sebold knows about the loss of a child.  Her words rang true to me.  It was as if she had snuck back into my history 10 years ago and wrote down everything that I was thinking, feeling.
    This was not the most beautifully written book I have ever read, but it really struck me, burrowed into my consciousness.  It was honest.  It brought so many things back for me, and not in a terrible way.  Alice Sebold spoke about the town members giving the family "that look".  I remember "that look".  I remember my community rallied around our family to give us meals, give us their love, but then a few weeks later many felt uncomfortable.  Many times people I knew saw me and walked across the street pretending they had not seen me.  I'm not sure if they thought that losing a child was contagious, or that I would see them and begin to scream in despair.  The truth was I became a bit of a recluse after we lost Gabe.  I did not want to look at little boys his age and feel that terrible feeling of "why do they get to live, but my child didn't".  I did not want to deal with the ghoulish people who would stop me and ask "Aren't you that woman who lost her child?"  They would then begin to ask awful questions about our accident.
    The Lovely Bones gave me a feeling of being seen.  That sounds like a crazy thing to say of a work of fiction, and particularly of a book.  The thing is, losing a child is a club that no one wants to be a part of.  Many of us locally have connected to give comfort and support to each other, but even so you still feel alone.  Parents who have never shared our horrific pain or loss may think they have an idea what we live with, but they don't.  This book, put my thoughts and feelings into words.  It spoke of my grief of my healing.  It suggested a heaven that I had never thought of, but was alright with.  When I say that the book made me feel "seen", what I mean by this is, is that it's words mirrored my experience, allowing me to remember that I am not alone (even after 10 years).
    

The Library Book Sale / I'm a Book Hoarder

    I love books!  I love the way they feel in my hands.  I love the books with the thick, elegant pages.  I love the way new books smell (old ones, not so much).  I love their weight in my hands as I snuggle into the covers on a cold night, fighting the heaviness of my tired eyes.  Did I mention that I love books?

    My husband is not a reader, he looks at me with my perpetual evening book in my hands with a mixture of envy and distain.  The envy is because he can manage about two pages before he either losses interest or falls asleep.  The distain is because books take up a lot of space in my tiny house.  Each of the kids has their own personal book collection.  I have three totes of books in the upstairs hall way, they are homeless poor little loves.  I have books on the small ledge of my upstairs landing.  I have a book case in the living room filled to overflowing.  In my bedroom I have a bookshelf of the books I have either just read or plan to read.  I feel a slight panic as my pile of "to be read" books begin to dwindle.  As I write this, I realize there is a really good possibility that I am a book hoarder.

    Traditionally I have a genre I read.  I really like historical fiction.  My favourite author is Bernard Cornwell http://www.bernardcornwell.net/.  I find his writing to be mesmerizing.  His books are raw and violent and the way I imagine the times that he writes of to be.  When I read his books I feel like I have fallen through the proverbial rabbit hole and am a part of the story I am reading.  When I finish his books (which sadly I tend to read in a day or so) I feel both a sense of loss because I am finished reading, and also feel smarter.

    Recently one of my friends on facebook posted a book quiz.  It was something like "How literate are you?"  The gist of it was how many of the books labeled as "The Classics" have you read"?  I love books, how could I not ace this quiz... I didn't.  It turns out that the only "classics" that I have read were those I read more than two decades ago in high school.  I was completely taken a back.  From that moment on I began my quest.  I would read books outside of my interests.  I would re-read, and  the classics by my own free will!

    Lucky for me I have an AMAZING public library.  Our "Friends of Tweed Public Library" board put together two AMAZING, HUGE book sales every year, one in the summer and one just before Christmas.  The meeting room is filled to overflowing with beautiful, almost new books.  My girls and I nearly skipped through the hoards of people, gathering heavy armfuls of beautiful books.  I collected books that I would not normally read.  I gathered critically acclaimed books to read.  I gathered books to do me the six months between book sales.  It turns out I liked many of the critically acclaimed books.

    The feel good end of this story is that I could now ace that quiz if I took it today (of course I can't find that stupid quiz now that I'm so literate).  I have now read many critically acclaimed books, and can now sound like a smartie pants when I speak to people.  I now have a huge supply of books to read, and I helped support my AMAZING public library, yup I'm a hero.

The Not So Great Attraction in Niagara Falls

    It is my goal through this blog to share with you.  I want to confide in you like I do my girlfriends.  I want to share the tricks that I have learned that save money or that create wonderful memories with my children.  The goal is to be positive.  I do not pretend that all of my blogs are positive and uplifting, oh heck let's be honest some of them aren't really even that good.  My point is, I try not to spread negativity.  The world is full of negativity and negative people, I'm a glass half full kind of a girl, and I look for that in the world around me.  I have had several people ask me to write a blog about their store, or them, and unless I have something that is positive to say, I just can't do it.  I don't like to hurt people's feelings, but more than that I don't want to lie to you.  How can I possible ask you to continue to read my blogs if they are full of lies... do you see where I am coming from?  

    Now that is all out of the way, here is my story about a not so money saving trip (hint there's a picture of it up top).

    Over the past two days I have shared with you what an amazing experience we had at The Great Wolf Lodge.  It was not an inexpensive trip, but honestly it was worth every single penny, and I can't think of to many places I could say that of.  We went to the Great Wolf Lodge in Niagara Falls.  The weather forecast was not terribly favourable for driving on the Thursday we were to travel.  My husband came to the rescue by finding us an incredible deal through WagJag for a hotel in Niagara Falls for the Wednesday night.  This would allow us to make it to Niagara Falls before the storm, and add a little time to our mini vacation.  To top it all off, we got the room for.... get ready for this... $45.00 for the night!!!!!  Now ordinarily I would be a little wary of this kind of a deal.  I am a little like a princess when it comes to hotels.  I am not a great housekeeper (this is code for I am slovenly), BUT and this is a big BUT, it's our dirt.  I will not pay to stay somewhere that is not nicer than my own home.  Christopher and I have nearly gotten divorced when traveling when it comes to hotels.  There have been many times I have walked into the hotel that he has spent half an hour arranging, and then told him to get his money back because we aren't staying.  Luckily, we had stayed at this particular hotel before and it had my stamp of approval (which means that it was really nice and spotlessly clean).  

    We picked the kids up from school Wednesday night and headed for the Falls.  The kids were giddy with excitement.  The weather was great, the sun was shining, the roads clear.  We had made a very smart decision.  Not only would we avoid unpleasant weather by going up a day early, we could check into the Great Wolf Lodge earlier, and let the kids see Niagara Falls.  It occurred to Christopher and I that Elly had never seen the falls.  I'm going to be honest on this one, I felt a little like a bad parent when I realized this.  That night before we checked into the hotel we drove past the falls at night. The kids ooohhhed and awwwed.  It was breathtakingly beautiful.  The spray from the falls had frozen onto everything that it touched creating natural sculptures and looked like something from Elly's favourite movie Frozen.  The lights bounced off of the majesty of the frozen falls, pushing through the ice.  The kids hopped back into the car flush with excitement.  You cannot see Niagara Falls and not feel amazed by it's size, it's beauty and it's majesty. 

    That night as we lay in our spotless, cozy, cheap hotel room I listened to the rhythmic hum of my children's breath as they slept.  I lay with an almost spiritual smile.  We were good parents.  That beautiful feeling of being a "good parent" is rare in my parenting world.  More often I lay awake at night beating myself up for what I didn't do, what I should have done, what I need to improve (sound familiar).  I lay there wrapped in a bubble of peace.  I turned over to Christopher and quietly asked what he thought of taking the kids to see one of the Niagara Falls attractions.  He gave me that scared look that says he is afraid to actually say what he is thinking.  "You know they are all kind of a waste of money, right honey?"  I was in my bubble of bliss, and so I smiled at my stupid husband, knowing that he was really thick.  "Oh I know honey"( said this to humor him.  I knew he was thick, but I didn't have to hurt him by pointing it out).  "The thing is, you know it's a waste of money because you've seen it, I've seen it.  I feel like we would be depriving them of an opportunity if we didn't take them to see at least one" (yup I said 'deprived', like Great Wolf Lodge was not quite enough).  He gave me that look, that look that said he though I was thick, but he knew better than to voice this thought.  "It's a big waste of money .... but if you really think the kids would like it ......" all of this he said in that tone that said, "this is what I am supposed to say so that you don't take that extra comfy pillow from the bed and hold it over my face whilst I am sleeping, but I think you are slow witted".

    The next morning we got up and headed for the tourist trap, I mean entertainment district of Niagara Falls.  Christopher and I had decided that maybe we should take them to the Guinness World Records Museum.  When I was a child and had come to Niagara Falls with my Grandparents we had gone to Ripley's.  It was full of side show type displays, two headed goats in bottles of fluid, wax figures with gross things, I was not sure I could take that again.

    I walked up to the little dirty window with the lone attendant.  "Do you have any specials for admission today?" I asked feeling hopeful.  "Sorry Mam, not today" (I sure hate being called Mam).  I paid the $70.00 and we walked in, not before noticing the eye roll from my husband and the "I told you so look".  The kids raced in.  We were the only people in the whole museum.  This would be great I thought.  We could look around at our leisure and the kids could have some freedom to explore without me worrying that some pervert might abduct them.

    We walked into the first room, only to discover that was the best that the museum had to offer.  There was the statue of the tallest man in the world.  At that point I still thought we were in for a treat.  I got Christopher, the tallest man I know (he's 6'4) to stand beside the statue of the worlds tallest man.  He was dwarfed in comparison, a sight I have never seen before.  At this point I was still all smiles, feeling like the best mother in the world, prepared to rub Christopher's face in the fact that I was so right and he was sooooo wrong.  The kids ran to the funny mirror that made them look distorted.  I looked at the sign that said "More upstairs".  In my head I was feeling very grateful for that sign because the one lame room was beginning to make it look like I would be the one having my face rubbed in it.

    We walked up the endless flight of red carpeted stairs.  On the wall was a huge sign that said you could have a "repeat same day visit for only $5".  We got to the top of the stairs and the walls were lined with framed articles.  We would have saved money if I had just bought a "Guinness Book of World Records book".  The kids still raced around excitedly.  I was determined to read every single stupid, boring fact from those stupid, boring framed articles... I WOULD GET MY MONEY'S WORTH!  It was shortly after we had gone upstairs that I wondered what idiot would pay $5 to see this crap again.  It turns out that the most exciting parts of the museum were the bright and colourful statues outside of the museum that you could get your picture taken with for free, yup they saw me coming.

    So, it does not feel great to be at the receiving end of an "I told you so", this I now know.  Christopher was gracious enough (that is code for smart enough) not to actually say "I Told You So", but he didn't have to give it words, his face said it for him.  I totally wasted $70.00, I have been trying to tell myself it wasn't a waste of money because now the kids can say that they have been to one of the Niagara Falls attractions, but we both know that's my pride talking.

     My parting advice to you .... see the falls for free, they are majestic and beautiful.  I have found the best time to come to Niagara Falls is in January and February.  The cold weather seems to keep the thousands of tourists away.  Go take funny pictures with the bright and colourful statues outside of The Guinness World Record Museum.  Stand beside the statue of the world's tallest man and his giant chair.  Giggle as you put your face through the spot for the world's fattest man.  Take your pictures, but keep your money in your purse... You're welcome.