Thankful

I should be trying to finish my Nano project, writing articles for the paper or housework but I am going to take a few moments to write about Thankfulness.

I just got off the phone with Ryan MacGrath, a young musician in Halifax who I am doing a feature article on this week, and before I could write one word I was overwhelmed with joy. My life could not possibly be better. I am doing the job I was made for; working at the paper, raising the family I always wanted and living in a town that makes me smile everyday. How I got so lucky I'll never know. Life has certainly not always been this easy.

Just three and a half short years ago I returned to North America with no money or prospects. I had one small child and was expecting another. I was living in my aunts front room. I had no idea how I was going to take care of my family.

Things have certainly turned themselves around. After one year in the US I was forced to return home to Canada, it was not a choice I would have made if I'd had my druthers. I came back to my home town and lived the first month at my fathers' house with a 6 week old baby and a 2 year old. What was going to happen next?

Little by little things started to get better. I got some money both from the government and from my childrens' father. I moved into my own apartment. In the fall I started to work for my cousin as a babysitter. After working as a teacher and journalist for 10 years overseas, this was a big adjustment. My self esteem and prospects were both feeling low. I had a Masters degree and this was my job. I thought I would leave Canada as soon as the kids were of an age to travel.

Things continued to get better but not before they got worse. The following September I had no job. Money was very tight and I was very worried about how to keep food and heat in the house. Then, the perfect job for me was advertised in the paper; a writer of community histories was wanted. I interviewed for the job. It went great. I didn't get the position. WTF.

Several weeks after I had lost the job that would have been perfect for me I got a call and was asked if I was still available. The person who had got the job had left it for an even better job. I was quick to say yes.

I worked all winter and got my contract extended into the spring. The job finally ended in June and I was sure of another position with them in the fall. It was a good summer- free of financial worries and time off with the kids. Or so I thought.

Out of the blue, I got a call from a nearby university asking me to teach a summer course to foreign students. It was a short contract but the pay was significant. Again, I said yes and went to work at 6:45 every morning to drop the kids at daycare and pick them up after 5, arriving home at 6 or 6:30. It was a tough 5 weeks but getting back into teaching was good for me.

Now I really was going to take a break. I had my hours and was about to become a EI bum for the first time in my life.

Except, there was a job posted on the EI website for a graphic designer at our local paper. I know nothing about graphic design but have done lots of jobs that I learned on the fly. I applied. I didn't get the job. Instead I got hired on as copy editor and reporter-the job I was really qualified to do.

And so, now I am working on stories, raising my kids and loving my hometown and the life we have here.

Regards,
A very thankful woman.

Sick Kids

Yesterday one of my friends posted this on facebook,
‎'Do you have kids?' A blank stare in return. 'Do you have kids?' I repeat. She smiles, 'No, but I have a niece, so I understand.'
How the mother had the reserve not to hit the woman or at least scream at her is beyond me. That's more self control than I would have. And my friend, is not only a mother, she is the mother of a sick kid.

I have several Facebook friends, people who I really only know as acquaintances in real life, who have sick kids. The ups and downs of their mothering lives are often laid bare on the computer screen. And we, mothers of healthy kids, will never know what it is like.

As mothers, we do know that when those new lives come into the world everything changes in ways you could never have predicted. The constant need for attention, the responsibility for another life that rest on your should every minute of every hour. It's a daunting role to choose in life.

Mothers with sick kids get way more than than they signed up for, including a self-taught medical degree. Lots of time away from home (in hospitals), and a crash course in patient advocacy.

If they have other children, they are spread even thinner. Their outlines become translucent.

Their inner lives, their past life, a distant memory. Forget about being an artist or developing a career; there is not time for you.

My mother had sick kids. My sister had kidney problems that resulted in numerous surgeries before she was 10 years old. I had Grand Mal epilepsy which subsided when I was seven but was replaced with recurrent bowl obstructions which have persisted into adulthood.

Mothers with sick kids are not living the same experience as other mothers and it wouldn't hurt to remember that.

TV deprived childhood

This morning I was struck by the thought that my kids will never know the bliss of Saturday morning cartoons. I do not own a TV, but I do admit that I have a guilty yet pleasurable relationship with several TV shows via the internet. My kids however do not have that option. It's my computer and I rule it's output. Occasionally they get to watch holiday specials that I download and a Disney movie circa 1960 or 70 but that is about it.

Are my kids deprived?
Not really, they get viewing time at the babysitters' and at every other house they visit; cousins, grandparents and friends. Instead, our Saturday and Sunday mornings may start with any variety of play things. This morning was puzzles and books and I must say that I am proud of my kids and their ability to entertain themselves effectively.

There are times when I wish for the parental release of the electronic tit, but they are few and far between. If I could mutilate their little minds with technicolor commercials I might get more done in the span of a day. But for their sakes I don't.

I think they will have fonder memories of morning playtime than I have of mornings tuned into Switchback on CBC. Long live the TV deprived childhood.

Boo!

Another year has past and that night where the rules are suspended has withered away with the coming dawn. Halloween, where kids are propelled by their parents into strangers arms and homes, accept candy from the unknown and go home to gorge themselves on sugar while we all bemoan the obesity epidemic, is over for another year. My kids go to sleep planning next years' costume.

I woke up early this morning ostensibly to write this blog post but found 45 minutes of chores to do before one word was written. It's been a slow news week and as of this moment I have had no stories to file for the paper. I have not written anything all week.

Last night, after my hooligans, hyped up on sugar, went to bed, I logged into an old e-mail account where I had stored many writing files. I was pleased to find my thesis in among the scribbled riff raff. I don't have a copy of it and thought it was lost to me forever. I read little bits and pieces and felt an urge to return to school. I am so much smarter when I am there.

I also dug through some old hard copy files that were fortunately returned from Thailand without rot or ruin. There I found what I consider my fictional masterpiece. I usually don't write fiction. My imagination has atrophied over the years and I only seem to be able to deal with the facts. But there, in two copies, was Blueberry Fields on Mars and Dr. Blood. I sat back and read through the 20 or so pages I had written and was amazed. I might start to write fiction again and perhaps even finish this story. It's got potential. I felt excited reading it and remembered the late nights I spent watching my baby sleep as I pounded it out on the laptop next to her crib.

Now, I just don't think I have a 3 a.m. writing jag in me. I would feel too guilty about how tired and cranky I would be with my children the next day. When I think about all these women who do write successfully and have kids I wonder where they draw the line between the selfishness of the solitary world of the writer and the needs of their children. I wonder if I am lazy or inept but quickly dismiss that idea.

It's almost time to wake the children for another day and the dog is crying to go outside. If I feed him another tootsie roll I can complete this post.
This is Little Red Ridding Hood signing off.