Author Archives: writesome

About writesome

Unknown's avatar
I've been wanting to do this for a while. Now I can type instead of pen scratch in a journal. It's an experiment, but isn't life. I wish you joy and happiness. May life bless you and may you bless life.

Back to the old grind

That’s what my mother always says when vacation is over. Both of my kids are now in school. Justin did very well on his first and second day. He had a little meltdown on the third day, but we got through it. Broke my heart to see him, arms outstretched, crying for me while the teacher carried him in. She said he stopped crying at the classroom door but when my friend and I peaked in the window he still had quite the lip on during Oh Canada. He was fine when I picked him up though so he’s ok, no lasting trauma.

I got my credit card bill this week. I have got to curb my appetite for boosting our local economy, or get another job to support my spending habits. Anyone need a writer, web consultant, massage therapist, hairdresser, a psychologist perhaps? Oh, there are no limits to my talents.

Korey’s soccer party was last Saturday at our friends’ house. They live just behind us so it was convenient to travel back and forth to grab clean, dry clothes, feed Mandy and get their jammies. The party lasted 11 hours (1-midnight). The kids stayed up the whole time playing in the basement. The adults talked, played cards and even had a little sing-song with Jimmie. I now have six layers of calouses on my fingertips, but it was worth it.  

Almost the entire soccer team was there, plus siblings: fourteen boys and one girl. At one point she and Korey went upstairs alone to play with her brother’s trainset. That’s Korey. Always ready to make sure everyone feels included and special. She’s in Justin’s class but Korey and she have become good friends over the summer.

It was a great time with some wonderful people who know how to have a good time. I feel blessed to have them so close. I was nervous because our friends just moved into a new house and I’m famous for spilling, scratching, dropping or otherwise marking new abodes, but I came away clean this time. I’m not sure what the downstairs looked like. I did hear the kids were throwing things at the ceiling at one point. Maybe next week we’ll have a painting party.

Actually, being in a fresh hosue made me long for new digs. Not likely going to happen soon (see above). However, I did pickup a good tip:  Instead of changing the colour of your paint (if you still like it, of course) simply use the same colour and then you don’t really need to do all that cutting in that’s so time consuming. I’m syked about this, can’t wait to spruce things up around here. Fall fix-up will begin oh, maybe this weekend if I don’t go to the cottage or have a date. Do you think I would attract any men if I put up a profile on a dating site looking for someone who wants to help me paint? Free beer & wings, after the painting is complete, that is.

Yoga classes started again tonight. It’s nice to see new people in the class and watch their amazement at how they can move into asanas so effortlessly. It’s almost like experiencing it yourself all over again. And, I’m back to guitar lessons tomorrow. I’ll walk to work, Jimmie on my back, entertaining the smiles from passers-by. Often people will ask, “care to play a tune?” The dumbest question is always, “What’s that on your back?” I’ve stopped responding. 

Maybe I could busk for some extra cash!


Back to school

While back-to-school shopping with the kids last week, I saw a tall, attractive man browsing through the bins of kids’ clothes. We smiled at each other a couple of times and he was having a chuckle at my boys running around wanting EVERYTHING. I was intrigued. When we both reached the same bin, I decided it was time to strike up a conversation, you know, see if there was a spark. My boys had just ran to the toy aisle and the timing was perfect. So I say to him with a shy grin, “You’re very smart to come on your own without your kids, it’s much easier that way.”

What did he hear? 

“Manager to lane three for customer assistance. Manager to lane three for customer assistance.”

I think he took pity on my bad luck and very politely asked, “What did you say?”

I repeated my opener. He laughed, agreed with me and said he was on his lunch hour or something. We wished each other well and off I ran to find my kids.

I’m pretty sure he was behind us on the way home. Which meant he probably witnessed our typical parking lot exchange of:  “I said, GET out of the CART and GET in the CAR.”

Anyway, if you’re out there reading this, tall attractive guy, I thought you were nice. Drop me a comment.


Gratitude

The boys have left for a camping trip with their Dad for the week and I’m missing them. Next week is my turn to have their undivided attention and I’m looking forward to being “just a mom”.

Justin starts school in September and I’m weepy about this. When Korey started I was so proud, I cried. With Justin, I’m crying because my babies are growing up and no matter how much time you spend, how well you document it, or how together you think you have it, the speed at which children grow is crazy lightening fast and completely out of your control.

My kisses are always followed by, “Lipstick?”

My hugs are interrupted by, “that’s enough Mom.”

My songs are cut short with, “not that one.”

But there’s still lots of “I love yous” and “I have to poop. Call you when I’m done.” So I’m grateful.

The other night Justin was crying over a dog his Dad’s landlord had to put down. Joe was Justin’s favourite dog…next to Mandy of course. He asked me what heaven was like. I told him I didn’t know. Korey interjected, “we are all going to die someday.” I said that is true, but I hope we all die of old age. Justin went balistic, “You’re not supposed to hope we die, we’re your kids.” He then turned over and asked if when he did die and came back he could have the same parents. I let the discussion end and didn’t get into the whole reincaration explanation or how we choose our parents and our children. I was sweetened that he would still choose me for his Mom. 

I must be more careful with my words. They are at a very literal age. I remember being five and paralysed with fear of dieing or not having my parents. My nightime prays went something like:

Please God, keep us all safe. Don’t let anything happen to any of us or our possessions. Please don’t let any of us have meningitus, leukemia, any kind of cancer, AIDS (added in the 80s) or any other disease. Please let us all live for a long, long, long, long, long, long time and please God, let us all die of old age. 

If I didn’t say this every night, I thought I wouldn’t wake up or something bad would happen. The security of my family rested squarely on my nightly petition.

Now I send devine wisdom to my children when we are apart and see them in white protective light. But every now and then I sneek in a petition, just in case.


Prince Charming

What exactly am I waiting for? I was brought up in an environment where Dad earned the money and Mom ran the house, until of course Dad got home and then Dad ran Mom. Sounds dreadful to me but that was the nuclear family.

So I’m independent. I take care of myself and I do what I want. Of course, I’m plagued by fear of success and still hear my past whispering, “don’t do that, it will never work.” The trouble is I’m just a bit too lazy to fight it. Or maybe I haven’t found something worth fighting for. I play with my dreams, and simply dipping my toes in the water has been, until this point, ultimately satisfying. Now the wet piggies are a screaming reminder that I really haven’t jumped and relied solely on myself and my talents. 

Having two children is another excuse I use to stay in the safe zone and wait for someone to rescue me from this treadmill of lucidity—where I can see clearly the life I want, but lack the guts to move closer to it.

What would I do if I could do anything? I’d be more available to my children, teach yoga, write, speak, heal people, learn more of life’s ways—enjoy the connections of life and ponder their energy. I try to bring this to my everyday world now, and it’s gratifying to watch mainstream begin to accept what I’ve known for so long. It makes me hunger for more.

Of course, I want all of this and abundant prosperity. Perhaps it’s my attachment to money that’s holding me back. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t own a wide-screen, or TVO or even stainless steel appliances. I drive a seven year old car and only buy clothes on sale. So, it’s not like I live beyond my means or take pleasure in extravagence. I’m simply afraid to sacrifice what I have to obtain the life I want, without a backstop and someone to hold my hand.

Crazy hey?


Chillin’

Korey just woke from REM sleep crying that he needed to pee and saying something about Justin and that he couldn’t help it. I carried him to the bathroom and went back to check on Justin who was sleeping peacefully and, well, dry. I returned to Korey who was still sobbing and making strange noices. I stood with him while he slayed his demons. At one point he said very sternly, “Stop it.”

“What did I do?” I asked. “Not you,” he said and gestured in the other direction. Once he finished his business, he seemed happier, pain-free and the tears had stopped, but…

Whoa. That was weird and might I add, just a little terrifying.


Just writing

Random thoughts:

It’s 10:24 pm and I’m just starting this. I guess it will be another late night.

Getting up early when the kids are not here is virtually impossible.

I miss my kids.

Mitch is still in even though I forgot to vote last night. I guess one person didn’t make a difference this time.

I’m feeling blocked. Thus this mess of thoughts to break through the clutter.

I saw colour tonight at yoga. Maybe I’ll be seeing auras soon….oooh, creepy, I know.

I can do a headstand without hands.

I can finally do the scorpian against the wall.

The handstand I still need help with.

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts. Seriously, that was the song that just sailed through my mind. Written by Fred Heatherton in 1944 and made famous by Danny Kaye.

Wikipedia is by far the best thing since www.

Pokemon shall remain a mystery to anyone over the age of 20.

Chocolate and peppermint are an awesome combo.

This trail is leading no where fast.

Maybe I’ll simply go to bed.


Redirecting Anger

A while back I contacted a boy from the past and the response wasn’t quite what I was expecting. As it turns out though, all the right things he said in his response were just, well, words on my screen. He was dodging bullets, not stopping long enough to quantify his prose.  I’m still pissed off about it. Mostly at myself for letting it bug me so much and falling prey once again to someone who doesn’t seem to have the capacity to measure up. It would be nice if I were wrong about this. Time is the greatest tattle-tale. 

Just to punish myself further I left the door open for my nemesis to saunter back in briefly. I’m always so cool you know, taking life as it comes, not thinking of tomorrow so much, just enjoying the moment. But, as it always happens, what I truly want sits beside me, patiently tapping me on the shoulder. “Lock the door, seek further,” it coos. “You’ll find the right person to share this marvelous life with you.”

These are the best years of my life. My mother is alive, my children are young and I’m healthy with a bright future and lots to look forward to. Somewhere in my subconscious I’m listening to an old worn out record that would serve me much better as remolded vinyl. I do deserve the best. I offer it and expect it in return. Most importantly, I am ready to accept no less.


Favourite Song

I thought I would capture this for perpetuity, that is assuming Youtube and this blog never go away.


Look what she did

Hey, my friend Susan jumped out of a f***ing plane the other day…check it out.

I have a few other friends who have done this, but it wasn’t caught on camera. I can’t say it’s anything I ever wanted to do, but watching her makes it more exciting than scary. Definitely a life-altering experience.


The 5th Judge

My friend’s brother-in-law, Mitch MacDonald, is on Canadian Idol. Tonight was the results show and the boys watched with me. Half way through the group number, Justin turns to me and says,

“If you were on there Mommy, you would win.”

“Thank you,” I said, pride staining the carpet.

“There’s just one problem,” he continued.

“Oh, what’s that honey?”

“You wouldn’t look cool enough.”