Saturday, September 25, 2010

Jen Moves "Home"

For those who are not in the know, I made an emergency trip to Quebec to retrieve my daughter, Jen, who was experiencing a major episode of depression. She is also the birth mother of Kev, the toddler I so often speak of and am raising as my own son.

Jen moved to Quebec on January 12 of this year to live with her boyfriend and I found that it was quite liberating to be the only adult in the house and to be the sole parent in Kev's life.  When she first asked about coming home again to live with me, I balked at the prospect as I wanted to maintain my current status.  However, when the depression deepened, her need to come home superseded my need for solitude.

She is now comfortably living in my home, having made the "pink room" in the basement her home.  We refer to it as the "pink room" because of the hideous pink paint which literally sends out a glow into the surrounding basement when the door to the room is open.  Painting this room was on my list of things to do, but I doubt that I'll need to do that anytime soon, as she loves the color.

She's moved into the room with the panache and energy with which she does everything and I'm relieved to see that she is doing so.  Our tenative timeline for having her here is six months and that's a period that I can deal with.  If it turns out to be longer, so be it.  

Physically this house has room for all three of us: Jen, Kev, and myself.  Whether it is feasible on an emotional level remains to be seen.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Quebec to Toronto

My 19 year old daughter and I are midway between Quebec and Toronto, at an altitude of 36000 feet, a speed of 416 miles per hour, with an outside temperature of -72.6C.

Flying sure isn't what it used to be; instead of a huge movie screen in the front of the cabin, each seat has a screen built into the back of it. We can watch movies, tv, or news. I've been watching "A-Team," a movie based on a TV series I used to watch as a teen.

Jen is listening to music and watching the detailed map that illustrates our progress.

Juno is sleeping in her kennel by my feet. There was quite a kerfluffle actually getting her on the plane as her kennel was a half inch too large. It was a tense few minutes when an Air Canada supervisor physically took the kennel onto the actual aircraft to ensure that it would stow properly beneath the seat.

We've just begun out descent into Toronto where we will have a layover of about two hours; just long enough to take Juno out for a pee and poop, then find the right gate and do a bit of exploring on the airport.

I have not seen the inside of the Toronto airport since 1992 when I flew to Gagetown to see Kevin, my ex-husband. Chris and Jen stayed with my late sister, Marj for the four days and three nights that I was gone.

It's just a smidge more than five hours till Kev can give me a big sloppy hug and kiss.

Still too long!

Toronto to Winnipeg

At last! The final leg of our journey!

We are on an Airbus 320: three seats on either side of the aisle. Jen is in the center seat on one side of the aisle and I'm in the same seat on the opposite side. I've got Juno, she's got the handsome young seatmate.

Kev's schoolbus is in the sidepocket of my carry on so I've got quick and easy access to it when I first see him. He is the love of my life and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid of him preferring Jen over me. Perhaps on some level I'm afraid of losing him to her. She swears it will never happen, but it's impossible to not fall head over heels in love with the gremlin.

The two hour layover in Toronto was wonderful. We first spent ten to twenty minutes outside the terminal trying to make Juno pee or poop. She did nothing but attract attention by acting cute and adorable. She graciously allowed us to walk her up and down the sidewalk a few times but refused to do her business.

Getting back in through security was tense. The first guard had such a thick accent that I could not understand him, so I couldn't follow his instructions as expected. I suppose that made me appear ill at ease and he made a fuss about my hoodie and the fact that my boarding pass did not have mention of a pet on it. To top it off, I prematurely walked through the body scanner and he noisily waved me back through.

And, the second bag search ensued shortly after. This time they were privy to a two-day old pair of sock and two days worth of dirty underwear. Serves them right. I never did figure out the reason for this search.

In Winnipeg they were searching for my toothpaste, but here, who knows. Jen and I got Starbucks and sat down together. We shared a remarkably good time. The mother - daughter time that we so desperately needed. It was quit a civil interlude for both of us.

So, yeah, we're getting close to Winnipeg; less than an hour till our arrival. I'd imagine Carol, Mom and Kev are close by and waiting anxiously to see us.

Must stop blogging now. Am falling asleep intermittently.

Monday, September 20, 2010

Mixed Feelings

As I write this post I cruising along at a speed of 586 mph at an altitude of 41629. According to the map that shows up on the TV every few minutes, we are just north of one of the Great Lakes and the nose of the plane is right over the star that represents Montreal.

Kevin was not happy about being awoken at 0545 and carried to the already running car. Although his outlook on life changed as soon as I mentioned Timbits; he's a bit of a Timbit freak.

Christopher, on the other hand, didn't grumble at all when I called to ask if he was ready for our early morning date. Remarkably, I did not wait for him as I had become accustomed to during his late teen years.

He waited with me at the airport for 45 minutes or so and we discussed many topics ranging from cats to dogs to Jen.

Ah, we are beginning our descent into Montreal, an airport which I have seen twice, a city which I have never seen.

Mixed feelings seem to rule the day today. Excitement over the adventure I'm on, sadness for the reason for my adventure, and plain old excitement at the prospect of seeing my baby girl this afternoon. All that is mixed with loneliness for the gremlin child and gratitude for his truly wonderful sitter.

And I'd be flat out lying if I didn't mention the "oh my god I'm gonna be able to take such cool pictures" feeling that's come over me as I realized that I was seeing the St. Lawrence River!!

Bye bye! More tonight! Thanks for all the positive vibes and energy you've been sending our way; I can certainly feel it.

Love you all.

My Baby Girl

Its 0526 on Monday, September 20, 2010.  In twelve hours I'll see my daughter, who I haven't seen since January 12 of this year, which is the day I put her on a plane to Quebec.

I've got mixed feelings about the visit, as I had initially planned to visit her in October for her 20th birthday.  Then reality took over and there was no way I could wring enough money out of my budget for two tickets, or even one. 

Her first few months there were good; we both needed our time away from each other to gain some perspective on a complicated situation.  As time progressed, it became evident that, while she was content being there with Travis, her mood was declining.  She elected to not return to school for the second semester of French school and got a puppy instead so she could stay home and work on puppy training.

Phone calls from her became a rare thing as time went on; instead of phoning to simply talk about life and listen to Kev's toddler talk, she called when she needed something.  And since I had opted out of paying her exorbiant cell phone bills for her, her phone was no longer in service and I could not call her.  I had to wait for her to call me.

We chatted on Facebook occasionally, but even that ended in an argument and harsh words before too long. 

Yesterday I went for a walk and left my phone at home.  When I arrived home I had missed three phone calls.  The phone promptly rang again and I was pleased to hear Jen's voice on the other end of the line until I heard, "Mom, this isn't a happy phone call."

My first thought was that she was pregnant.  And in my mind I had already welcomed a new grandchild into the world until she told me that she needed help because she had overdosed.

To make a long story short, and because I have to leave for the airport soon, I called 911 from here.  They picked her up, along with the military police, because they live on a military base, and brought her to a hospital in Quebec City. 

I am hoping by the time I arrive in Quebec City, she will have been released into Travis's care, but something tells me I will have to get her from the hospital myself. 

I'm planning on spending a few days with her in Quebec and then flying back to Winnipeg with her and Juno the Puppy on Friday. 

Until then, please send all the positive energy you can spare to Jen to help her recover physically and emotionally.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

My Mom

Its not Mother's Day, I'm aware of that.  I just feel like writing a post about my Mom today; not sure why, but here goes anyway.

My Mom is 85, she was 43 when I was born.  She gave birth to six babies, raised four to adulthood, lost one to cancer in 1993, and has one daughter (me) and two sons, 19 grandchildren, and I've lost count of how many great-grandchildren.

She was married to the same man for 49 years, until he passed away ten years ago as a result of a car accident.  She's never been quite the same since the day of the accident.  Her hearing and her mental clarity seemed to begin a gradual decline since that time.

It was almost nine years ago that I noticed the first sign of the declining function when she asked questions that she should know the answer to.  For example, she asked me for directions on how to get home from a location that she had driven home from at least a thousand times (okay, I exagerrate).  

These little clues became more and more frequent, but I and my brothers and their wives just passed it off as old age.  When I became concerned that it had progressed beyond normal aging, my brothers hinted that I would fare no better when I became a senior citizen.  

Along with her mental clarity, her hearing has also gradually declined since the accident to the point where it is an exercise in frustration or humor, depending on how you look at it, to have a conversation with her.

Some of the misunderstandings have been just downright hilarious!  One day when I was helping her go through some of her belongings, I saw piles of magazines under a little bookshelf and said "Oh, there's more under there."  She immediately perked up and said, "Where's Marj?"  (Marj is my late sister). When I could manage a straight face, I repeated myself, "There's more under there."  Indignantly she pointed at them, and said "I am not hiding them!"

When she asked why I was laughing, I made an attempt at explaining what had just transpired in our conversation. Minimal success.  

Cautious and guilt-ridden people remind me that some day I'll be old, too, and my own children will laugh at me. That's funny, because they already laugh at me every chance they have! 

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Tupperware Party at My House

Since a few of you have asked how the Tupperware party went last night at my house, I'll give you my version of how it went down. 

I'm sure the Tupperware lady was horrified to learn that the amount of sales made at my house didn't really excite me much either way!  I told her, just like I've told everyone else, that I didn't have the party to make lots of sales, I just needed an excuse to have people over to my house.  Apparently I'm tired of not socializing.  Hey, stranger things have happened.

Before the Tupperware lady arrived, I had two guests; I wasn't even dressed in my party attire yet, which consisted of my infamous black and white Adidas track pants and a dirty t-shirt.  I pull out all the stops when it comes to entertaining! 

My darling sister-in-law was supposed to be here at 1630 to make her new dip recipe, but arrived after the first two guests and before the Tupperware lady.  She had my Mom with her, which totally made my day!

My niece was the next to arrive and I hardly recognized her!  I had seen her just a few days prior but then she was dressed in "work outside" clothing and now I think she may have been wearing makeup!  She's gorgeous!  Anyway, her husband sent her with strict orders to come home with MORE Tupperware!  Have you ever heard of a husband doing that?! 

From then until the end of the party, guests came and went.  Some stayed a while, some bounced in and bounced right out again.  Neighbors from down the street walked over; it was awesome!  I loved every minute of it. 

My two nieces were here with their girls, Kev's babysitter was here with her girls, and so on. 

No tale of a party would be complete without the menu, would it?  Snickerdoodles, Chocolate Snickerdoodles, and Chocolate Chip Cookies.  Made by yours truly, of course.  Interestingly enough, it was the Chocolate Chip Cookies that kept on disappearing, while enough remained of the others to bring to my son's today.  Those Chocolate Chip Cookies are always a hit, no matter how they look, no matter how crisp or chewy they are.  Every time I make them, they just disappear as if by magic.

I had planned on making Dad's Oatmeal Cookies, too, but sort of ran out of time in my day because the Snickerdoodles had an unfortunate mishap that required fixing in order to be edible.  They blended together in the pan into one large cookie, something I've never had a problem with before.  Rather than start all over, I used a heart-shaped cookie cutter and cut the dough into heart shapes.  They were still as delicious as only
Snickerdoodles can be, but they likely looked a little bit suspect to the guests. 

Luanna made a chip dip of refried beans, sour cream, guacomole, lettuce, and cheese.  It was absolutely divine! Its only downfall was that there were olives on it.  I accidentally ate one and thought I might die from the taste of it.  Yes, I'm exagerrating, but only a little.

All in all, the evening couldn't have been any better than the way it was as it was absolutely perfect. There will be more parties at my house in the near future.  Epicure, Pampered Chef, Passion Party, Norwex, etc. 

For those of you in the area, just come on down and join me. 

"How to Make a Living Without a Job"

This is a book I bought way back in December 2009, read it once, packed it for moving, and just read it again this week.  This book gives me hope that it is possible to be a SAHM for Kev sometime before he starts school.

As much as I love my chosen field of work, I have found something that I love even more than being at work, and that is being with my sunshine. 

Far from suggesting that people should all be born rich and not have to work, this book suggests that we all have our own talents and niches and that being our own bosses provides happiness in ways that working for corporations cannot. 

It also suggests that one can have multiple different ventures going on consecutively to provide variety.  Sounds like that idea might work for someone with ADD!

Usually its the activity in life that makes us feel the most alive that is the one that we could be financially successful at.  

I'm not quitting my job tomorrow, in case any of you are concerned about that.  Not nearly; I'm actually flat broke right now. No danger of me tapering down to casual employment until I've got some backup income coming in. 

Before that happens I need to brainstorm all the things that I enjoy doing, and then try to devise a way to make money from one of those activities.  Wow.  That's no small order. 

If any of you are "joyfully jobless" as the author refers to those who follow her advice, please tell me how you did it and what you do.

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Clutter

It’s 2010, what could anyone possibly be doing with a 1991 Sears catalogue? Or three identical seminar textbooks from 1984? A two foot high stack of church periodicals? A bagful of mismatched gloves and mitts?

This particular home has long held an oppressive energy for me every time I walked through the front door, and now I know the reason. In every nook and cranny there are “treasures” from another era, piled haphazardly or stuffed into plastic bags, strung together by cobwebs put in place years ago..

This type of clutter makes me sad, because the person in question is very dear to me and I was not truly aware of the issue until yesterday.

The air in this residence is heavy and stale and somewhat musty. While doing some heavy duty cleaning yesterday, with several windows open and a fan on, I found mold on the walls and areas where moisture had made the drywall bow out in a convex fashion.

If its true that the state of one’s residence mirrors that of their mind, this is a very sad reflection; the owner of this home has dementia and has likely had it for longer than we suspect.

Taking matters into my own hands I entered her home and told her I was there to help her clean. “Oh?”

I emptied the contents of two closets onto the floor and witnessed her discomfort rise with each item that hit the floor. “I can’t give that away!” “I got that from someone special but I can’t remember who.” Many times I reassured her that I was going to put everything back when I had washed the walls and the floors of the closets; it was not my intention to throw out anything without her consent. Its possible I repeated these words ten or eleven times in the first hour alone.

As we progressed in our (it did become a team effort) sorting through of items, surprisingly many were thrown onto the thrift store pile. Every time she asked “What should I do with this?” I pointed to that pile. When she came across an item that needed to be kept, she didn’t ask. When she found something she wanted to share with her sons, she didn’t ask. Perhaps she needed permission to part with items or perhaps she needed direction, I don’t know which.

Nearing the end of my time there yesterday, I could sense her rising anxiety level, and cut my efforts somewhat short. Together we drove to the thrift store to empty my car of her donated belongings, and then to a recycling depot.

Through heated discussions on our drive I have begun to catch a glimpse of her bewilderment and sense of betrayal, perhaps even abandonment.

My heart truly goes out to her as she feels everyone in her world is against her. There are many negatives in her mind, and very little positive. The woman that was once there is merely a shadow, her essence having been replaced by the clutter in her mind.