Yesterday when I was setting out all of our Christmas stuff, I came across this craft Ben made for me last year in cubs. And it reminded me of the one I made years and years ago at the girl's club I went to for most of elementary school.
I was almost exactly Ben's age. I just realized that. It seems to me in my memories that I was older, but I wasn't. I might have even been younger. Little Becky. I know there's a picture of me with my log craft somewhere, Mom probably has it. I remember thinking it was beautiful and the smell of it. Mine was made from a birch tree, so it smelled really nice, and it had red candles.
I also remember the church I made it in. Little Becky's friends went to that church, and she'd asked Jesus into her heart at bible camp, so she thought she should go too. She went to girl's club there faithfully every week. Monday nights. At 6:30. Her mom and dad didn't go to church back then, but most Sundays little Becky would get up, and…
We went to our kids' student led conferences today. They are all doing peachy keen. They're happy, respectful, hard working, and successful students. It's nice not to have to worry about them at school, I know it's not the same for everyone. We're lucky.
And I laughed today when Hannah's gym teacher asked if she had been up late last night, or if she was getting sick because she cried in class when she couldn't do some kind of throw thing. Oh dear. I warned her regular classroom teacher, and her dance teachers, but I can't warn all of them. So much crying.
I remember crying a LOT in grade two. I thought my teacher hated me, and I'm sure I cried almost every day. I read my record card comments from that year, and it's so obvious she liked me, and I was way too sensitive. And that she didn't know why I cried all the time. Or what to do about it. Luckily, for Hannah and her teachers she has a mommy who has been there. And I can assure them th…
Before we do anything, I need to tell you about something I saw on the internet tonight. You can read the full post here,
but the short version is that some bored cat owner decided to make a
cat trap and take pictures of their cat in said trap.
Here's a picture:
That's the trap. Here's the cat:
Now, I thought it was funny. Stupid cat. (Cat's are seriously, SO stupid.) And that cat in particular, in that trap, really cracked me up. But then I saw this next picture, and after I was finished laughing at the expression on that cat's face:
I had to try it myself. (You knew this was coming.)
It worked about as well as I thought it would. I think I should have maybe used string or something more 3-dimensional. I forced the issue by sitting beside my trap and patting the carpet encouragingly.
I pulled out a tooth at school today. I made a class full of third graders crack up when I read them a fable about a fox and a crab. It wasn't that great of a story, but I really do the best voices. I got to watch a little girl have a light bulb moment after I explained fact families for the fifth or sixth time. (I wouldn't give up. Base ten blocks finally did the job.) I got to do some correcting. I love correcting. And even more, I love correcting the correcting. And I even had time to do some of that with the kids. A little girl left a note on the teacher's desk that said I was fun. And pretty.
It's easy to forget why I like teaching some days. But days like today are good reminders.
(And P.S. Don't think it was some perfect utopia. I also lost a student, like out of the school, no one knows where she is, we can't find her or her coat, for about 20 minutes. I yelled, seriously YELLED, at least three times because they were so loud they literally couldn'…
Everytime they say something like, "You're the best mom ever!" I cringe a little. Because I see so many, SO MANY, things I could do better. It hurts to hear them say things like that. I want to tell them they have no idea what a good mom is really like. All I can think is I don't deserve them. And I wish I could be what they think I am.
I suppose all of us moms feel like that. When I look around, I see moms who look like they're doing a better job than I am. I think, "I need to take my kids outside more often, I don't read enough stories to them, I watch to much TV, I play on my computer more than I should, I sleep in when I should be up with them, I get angry too easily, I'm too critical, I don't cook enough nice meals for them..." And on and on.
And worse than those things. I hurt them. I say things in frustration that puts looks on their faces that make me so ashamed. Sometimes they are scared of me. I hate that…
Now this is a story all about how, my life got flipped, turned upside down. I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I almost forgot to post because I was too busy watching (almost) an entire season of Dancing With The Stars in one day.
Yup. I just posted a picture of dip, so the next time I forget what kind it is all I have to do is a quick "dip" search on here and I'm set. (I've been looking and looking for it since summer. Finally today, Giant Tiger, for the win.
I spent the day subbing. A little girl told me I looked very gorgeous. (I think she liked my hair. She kept touching it.) A little boy told me I was mean and lay upside down in his desk crying for around ten minutes until he realized I really didn't care. (I make kids cry all the time.)Then I spent the rest of the day/evening online shopping with my cousin Melanie. Here are some of the highlights:
That's the dress that started it all. (Sort of. There was some apline sweater stuff that happened first, but it's not really important.) Mel bought baby Emma one just like it. So we looked and looked to find something to match it for big sister Bella. And we found this dress. An exact match! Hurrah! Only then Mel stopped and thought for a second and figured she should at least try on Bella's dress from last year. And it still fits! And isn't it so pretty?
And Bella looks like a sparkly angel girl in it. The hunt was on for a gold dress…
I often make meals for people. When they're sick. Or they have a miscarriage. Or they lose a loved one. Or they break their foot. Or I just know they're having a rough go of things. I do it because I remember when I had my babies, and ladies from the church took turns bringing us supper. I remember when Dad was sick, and how it felt when anyone did anything nice. (And how it felt when no one did anything nice at all.)
There is just something about someone doing something, anything at all, that says "I'm with you. I care. I can't fix it, but I can do this one thing for you, and maybe it will help." At least, that's what I'm saying when I send a meal, or flowers, or whatever.
So when someone sends you a meal like this one...
When someone takes the time to ask your kids at church (while she's teaching children's church for you) what you like to eat, and what your kids like to eat, and then makes all of it. (Seriously, ALL OF IT. Lasagna and Kraft…
(I don't think I'm going to make it. I seriously have NOTHING to say.)
Here's are some pictures of cats I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant to get, but know I totally shouldn't. But look at them. I especially like the second one. She's like a scraggly version of Fizz. They found her living with a feral cat colony. She was going blind. I think she must be a bad ass like Jynx was. Sooooooooooo tempting.
I miss this house. I miss coming home to it every day. And decorating it for Christmas. I miss putting perfect meals on the table. I miss cleaning the bathroom with a click, and changing outfits, and my orange fridge. Too soon. It was taken from me too soon.
Your presence I miss, Your memories I treasure. Loving you always, Forgetting you never.
So, I think, the medication I'm taking is giving me the shakes. And possibly making me sicker. Today, after waking up this afternoon feeling even worse than yesterday, I re-read the side effects and discovered I'm taking an immunosuppressant. Actually, what prompted the re-read was my shaking hands. "May cause tremors." So, not only are these stupid drugs possibly letting whatever virus I have run wild, but they're making me sooooooo shakey. Typing this paragraph has taken a lot of backspacing.
So that's it. I'm done for today. This counts.
(Back to the doctor Monday. Because this is DUMB.)
I'm not in the mood to write a post. I still feel like crap, I'm still finishing off antibiotics that didn't do me any good, and now I lose two hours a day sitting with this dumb nebulizer that so far isn't doing any good. And they aren't even a fun two hours. First of all, I can't hear anything over the machine, and second of all I have to keep my eyes closed so the mist doesn't get in my eyes because apparently that's bad. So I can't even read. If I could at least read I would be happy to be forced to sit around doing (almost) nothing. But real, actual nothing is lame. Plus it makes me cough. Isn't it supposed to make me not cough?
Oh hey! I just thought of another way to make a blog super boring! Number Six: The "Oh My Back!" or What Are All The Things I Could Possibly Complain About?
Don't do that. No one wants to hear the boring details of how sick you are. I can do that here because almost no one is reading this, and I know …
(Before I get started I just need to say that I think this is definitely my lamest Nablopomo EVER, and I'm sorry to be putting all four of you through this just because I'm too stubborn to miss one.)
Let's talk about another show I loooooooooooooooooove. I'm rewatching all of the episodes because it's going to be forever until I get to watch new ones, and I just miss it so badly. If you haven't watched it, don't start. DON'T DO IT! Not until you have a solid week or so of vacation time to burn through. Because you WILL burn.
Oh, yes. Moriarty. I don't think there are enough o's in the world to say how much I looooooooooooove him. He has to be my favourite villain of all time. I could watch that whole pool scene over and over and over and over and over and over and over...
I'd show you more amazing Sherlock scenes, but... in the words of someone else I looooooooooove, "Spoilers!"
The antibiotics aren't working. I've been taking them for nothing. Sigh. I'm still sick. And not very excited to be subbing tomorrow. My ribs hurt from coughing. I'm so tired. I don't have anything interesting to say. I really don't.
Number Five: Workouts, or Look At Me! I'm Better Than You!
It's not that I'm not super happy that you're working out. It's not even that I don't want to know what it is that you're doing that's tranforming you right in front of my eyes. But let's be honest, I pretty much do know. We all know. It's not like exercise and eating right is some big secret. So it's boring to read about.
And sometimes it comes across braggy. And you deserve to brag about it. Every now and then when you've really done something amazing you should go for it. But I don't want to hear about every single workout. I think this is more of a facebook thing these days, like everything else. I have some friends that almost never post anything other than a status about their run that day, or how many reps they did at the gym, or their run that day to the gym... Yawn. Is that the only interesting thing in your life?
I'd write an example of one of these posts, but I…
This is where you talk about something a good portion (that's you Melissa) of your readers have no knowledge of, and so can't enjoy reading. But you don't care, so you ramble on and on and bore the socks off of at least half (you again Melissa) of the people reading. (Becky is the other half. And she'll be on board. On board the Tardis! Allons-y!)
Doctor Who and Donna? Has there ever been anything better on TV than this
moment when they meet again? I don't think there has. Don't get me
wrong. I love Rose. LOVE Rose. And Amy. But Donna is my favourite. And
now that I'm watching them all over again, I just love her even more.
been interesting watching them all a second time. I didn't really have
many super strong feelings about any of the episodes the first time. I
just kind of liked everything. And if something sad happened, I just
kind of felt sad. The second time though, it's all so…
I can't think of anything boring to post about tonight. And since I'm pretty sure Melissa and the other Becky are the only people reading this, I don't even feel that bad about it.
So, since I've seen links to Jimmy Kimmel's annual Halloween prank all over facebook, and it's bringing back fond memories, I'm going to repost the video that I took of the boys the day after Halloween last year.
And then, since I was on youtube anyways, I ended up watching this video again. It just always makes me happy.
Oh man. I can't breath. Literally. When I laugh I choke. And the sight of Doft and Carolyn at the end of that video always cracks me up.
Here's another boring blog post that's actually more of a facebook thing nowadays.
Number Three: The Menu, Or What I Ate Today
These types of posts are usually accompanied by a unappetizing photo of something totally ordinary that the cook seems to be (inexplicably) proud of and wants everyone to see and comment on. "Wow! That looks amazing! You're sensational!"
This is not to say that this type of post doesn't have the potential to be very un-boring. There are a lot of very famous food blogs out there. But let's face it, most of us regular folks should not be posting pictures of what we ate that day. Like this:
It's not that it's gross... Well, except for the part where I burnt the ham. But it's not worth a photo. I don't understand this obsession with everyone knowing what you had for supper. Or lunch. Or snack. Yay you, you made a healthy smoothy, took a picture, posted it and tagged it #foodasfuel. Big deal. I made one yesterday too. N…
Continuing on our mind-numbing journey through the most boring types of blog posts today I give you:
Number Two: The Ditto , or Why Not Talk About the Same Thing Again?
So today I woke up feeling terrible again. Actually, possibly worse. I feel like I'm choking, and Ben's inhaler isn't helping as much as it used to. And the wheezing hasn't gone away. It's the wheezing that has me worried. So this morning I called my doctor's office again, to make an appointment to see him. Last week I discovered that he is no longer taking same day appoinments, and that if I wanted to see him I'd have to wait a week, or I could see some unknown bozo. In Yorkton, we have a lot of bozo doctors, and I have one of the few good ones. Last week I just hung up, and figured I'd just go to the walkin if I got bad enough because a walkin bozo is about the same as an unknown bozo. In the end I never got around to going to the walkin, mostly because it seems totally pointless. Anywa…
I think this might be my worst NaBloPoMo ever. Not only do I have nothing interesting to say, which is common, but I don't have the energy to try and come up with something. So, instead of fighting it, I'm gonna roll with it. This week we're going to explore, in no particular order, the most boring types of blog posts. If you find yourself doing these things, trust me, you're boring. (Like meeeeeeee!) Number 1: The Diary, Or What I Did Today
Last night Ben was up all night puking. It was bound to happen. Sam was sick on Thursday/Friday. And Hannah was sick the week before. We were doomed. It's been extra awesome because I am super sick with a brutal cough that just might kill me. Seriously. Sometimes when I'm coughing at night and close to passing out I imagine scrawling a goodbye message on a post-it note and leaving it for my family to find stuck to my cold, dead body... Where was I? Oh yeah. Ben was up puking. Till 7am. Hannah started at 10am. I slept through…
Well, this poor blog must get pretty lonely sometimes, but not in November baby! I wonder if some year I'll just decide it's okay to break with tradition and skip Nablopomo? I can't even imagine.
Since I'm still sick with this darn cough, and now a bit of a wheezing problem, and tired, and my ankle is throbbing from all that walking last night reminding me that today is the three year anniversary of breaking the crap out of it... I'm feeling like a bit of a baby today, and so I'm going to kick off this wild month of blogging with this picture from last night that most of you have probably already seen on facebook...
I wish I could post the video of Ang and Ben and me in the haunted yard. We had a pretty great Halloween together.
It's been five years and an eternity since we said goodbye... Since I sat beside you and held your warm hand. Five years since I watched my brother crumple to the floor... Since I looked across your bed at my sister holding your other hand and saw my pain alive in her eyes. Five years since I whispered, "It's okay, it's okay. Oh Dad, it's okay..." while you took your last breath.
And look. Look how five years and an eternity can feel like five minutes ago.
Time and memories are strange things. Sometimes I feel like you were here only yesterday. I feel you so close that I could almost reach out and touch you, I could look over beside me and you'd be on my couch tickling one of the boys.
Other times you are so far away it seems unbelievable that you were ever here at all. It seems like eternity since we were that lucky. That happy. That sure that we had our whole lives to hug you, and tell you about our days, and buy you pres…
It's been rough for me, the last few weeks. I'm not exactly sure why.
Maybe it was the play we were involved in. It was incredibly emotional for everyone, even us costuming people couldn't hear "Jesus" suffering, we couldn't see his "blood" and wipe it from his face without being touched by it. And I've gotten really good at supressing my emotions. But I couldn't surpress what I was feeling as I painted a crying Jesus on the cross.
I find now, that when I let some feelings out, all of them tend to come crowding behind, like they've been waiting. When they see the door's open, they push forward to try to make it through too.
It takes me by surprise. I couldn't understand that,
when I used to hear people say that, how suddenly the pain could come
and take your breath away out of nowhere. Maybe because it was so fresh
then, and it hurt almost all the time. I couldn't push the pain aside for long enough to be surprised by its …
Little Ben. My little guy. I took him to Walmart tonight and we spent almost a half hour in the deodorant aisle. When I first caught a wiff of him after school I checked myself. I hadn't thought my day of subbing had been strenuous enough to cause a stench like that, but stranger things have happened. It wasn't me though.
It was my little guy.
Of course, it was all very embarrassing to him. He's a sensitive little soul. I hope by the time he reads this he's okay with the knowledge that men are stinky. I hope he can get a glimpse of how much I love watching him grow up, but oh... I long for him to stay little.
The pre-puberty talk we had about stinky armpits and hair that will follow behind in the not-too-distant future came way WAY too fast for me. Didn't he just put his first lost tooth under his pillow yesterday? I only put him on the school bus for the first time a year or so ago. We took him to his very first movie with a Lightning McQueen clutched in one hand, …
We got a package in the mail today. It's from Christine and Dave. I don't want to open it.
pretty sure it's Christmas presents for the kids. It bothers me a lot
that that's good enough for her, that as long as she sends the
obligatory Christmas present, she's done her grandma job. That would
never have been okay with Dad. I know it with everything inside of me.
If he hadn't seen Ben and Sam and Hannah for six months, he wouldn't
have been satisfied to just throw their presents in a box, likely the
same presents she bought for all of Dave's grandchildren. They have to
It might not be Christmas presents at all. A few months
ago she sent the kids birthday presents along with a necklace Ang and I
had given her the first Valentine's Day she was without Dad. She was so
upset and depressed and missed "her sweetheart" so much. We felt so bad
for her, we found the prettiest, most expensive locket and put Dad's