Monkey in the Middle

Being married to the middle son of three boys, I am a firm believer in a little thing called "Middle Child Syndrome." I have enjoyed teasing my husband about it over the years ("Oh you're such a middle child!") but in all reality, he is and it does exist.

A middle child is never the first and never the last. They aren't the first in the family to learn to tie their shoes, to ride a bike, to go to big-kid school. They also aren't the baby, the family's last chance to experience the baby stage, the last one learn to walk, to get on that school bus, to reap the benefits of the older siblings paving the way for them. They are forever in-between. They get the hand-me-down bikes and then pass that along to another sibling when the time comes; they don't get the same praise as the oldest child for countless milestones, as by now those things are merely expected, and they forever live in the shadow of their often more successful older sibling. The most important thing to remember about any middle child is this: you can never give them enough attention. At least, not in their mind.

So knowing all this, we were hesitant to bring another child into our family, thus making Owen - our already very needy, clingy and sensitive little boy - the middle man. In fact, this is a large reason why there are four years between he and Rhian. After many years of debate, we ultimately decided that as long as we were aware of the possible affects a younger sibling would have on him, we could deal with it. Basically, we felt the pros of having another sibling far out-weighed the cons of him being the middle child. I want to report that it has never been as issue, but that would be a lie. I do believe that him being the only boy among the three helps immensely; it is so much easier to single him out and to think of "Owen-only" activities to do with him. We have tried our best to give him the attention we know he craves, without taking anything away from his sisters, and to fulfill the lonely, 'left behind' feeling common to middle children. At the end of the day however, I must admit that it is impossible not to over look the middle child at least some of the time. I clearly remember Morgan at age 5, climbing the steps to that bus on her first day of Primary, me crying and her never looking back. I also very clearly remember my tiny 4 year old Rhian, my baby, running to the bus on her first day and me being lost and deeply saddened by my empty house. But with Owen....well God love him but I don't remember that day as clearly. He was ready, he was happy, and he wasn't the first. Or the last. See how that works?

So fast forward a few years and we find ourselves moving to a brand new province. Owen, like many middle children, is fairly even tempered and laid back. He wasn't as concerned to leave his friends as his older sister, nor was he as excited as his younger one. He just took it all as it came at him. Everything was going better than expected until the day they started school. It became immediately apparent that the school system here in Ontario is far more advanced than that of Nova Scotia (which is another rant for another day) and that poor Owen was going to be in the most trouble. As far as school work goes, Owen is not a good student. That is not to say he isn't smart, in fact the kid reads far above grade level and can do more with electronics and wires than most adults, but he just doesn't care enough. He doesn't try, he doesn't apply himself and he has always gotten away with just scraping by. Until now.

I have been thinking about this a lot and have come to the conclusion that what we at first perceived as a problem in the education of our eastern schools, is probably more a problem that started right here at home. Morgan is our brilliant student. That reeks of favoritism, spelled out in bold print like that, but it has always been a known fact in our house. She, like most first children, is a self-starter, an independent worker and has always found every grade she's been in far below her capability. She does not struggle with any area of school and has made this major move - at least in the education department - seamlessly. We knew early on that Owen had to be pushed, that he just couldn't seem to focus and didn't take his assignments seriously. So we accepted that. Over the years we allowed him (not without a struggle) to do the minimum and to get away with as little output as possible, always explaining it away as him not caring and his teacher not being firm enough with him. The day he came home from grade 4 here and we realized he was WAY behind in almost every subject, I seriously regretted moving at all. They were "reviewing" their multiplication tables, while Owen had no idea what they were. They had a "reminder quiz" on the capitals of all the provinces of Canada, poor Owen didn't even know a quarter of the provinces themselves. To top it off, the kids here have had core french every day since Pre K, while Owen didn't even know how to say hello in that language.

So we did the only thing we knew how to do: we printed out a chart of the times tables and had him spend an hour each day studying them. Steven created a dice game with him to make the quizzing fun and I showed him the tricks I always used to remember the names and locations of the provinces and their capitals. We both began speaking french to him and printing off lists of vocabulary words to ask him each day. And then a crazy thing happened: he learned. In a move no one expected, Owen rose to the occasion and began memorizing and understanding faster than we ever imagined he could. There were some bumps in the road, yes of course, and some tears, but the progress is remarkable. I realized the root issue when I asked him one day during his homework why he was crying. The answer wasn't "its too hard" or "I don't understand this", but instead, "this isn't fair." He truly believed that it was not fair that we expected him to work and I instantly knew how we had failed him: we had over looked the needs of our middle child. Again. We said we wouldn't, we knew he needed that extra push to get motivated, but it happened anyway.

So what started out two weeks ago as a potentially stressful catch-up year for our son with hours and hours of homework every night, has quickly become a blessing in disguise. I feel like only now are we really seeing Owen's potential and appreciating just how intelligent he is. I feel like we have been trying so hard to not overlook Owen physically all these years, that we have over looked the details and have missed so much. I am very grateful that we are seeing this whole new side of our precious son, he has perked up so much in the past few weeks and I must say I will never tire of that look of pride he gets on his beautiful face when he realizes he has understood and remembered something new.

As for Owen, he is loving this. Not only is this opening up a whole new world for him, but this is the answer to his personal prayers. You guessed it: he has Mommy and Daddy all to himself for an hour of homework every night.

And let me tell you, it has quickly become my favorite hour of the day.

Farewell to Nova Scotia

A song I've been singing since grade school is now becoming my reality.

We've been hoping for this move, planning for this move - heck, we asked for this move. Then came the months of preparing, the waiting, the seemingly never ending stress. But through it all I overlooked one very important detail: we are leaving our home.

Although Steve and I both grew up - for the most part - in the Halifax area, this is actually not the home I feel we are now leaving behind. We have not called that area home in quite some time and have made certain over the years to keep in close touch with our family and dear friends from there. The place of our childhoods and the friends from our past are already tucked protectively in our hearts and will remain there always.

But now we must say goodbye to the town that is the childhood home of our children, the place that has become more of a home to us than we ever expected.

I tell the story often of how we moved to Greenwood almost seven years ago, not knowing a single person and feeling like outsiders. Steven made many friends almost immediately (partly due to his personality and partly because he worked with most of the community on the Base!) but it took me longer. I had two small children, another on the way, and felt totally and utterly alone. I was even beginning to have second thoughts about moving away from our familiar circle of friends, our family and our roots. Fast forward more than six years and now we find ourselves leaving this town full of "extended family", countless memories and many years of happiness.

No, I won't miss being late for work because I got stuck behind a tractor on the old highway (more times than is worth mentioning) and yes, it will no doubt be nice to have more choices than just Pizza Delight for a family restaurant. But there are so many things unique to the Annapolis Valley that I am certain we will never find anywhere else. In fact, I found it was a bit of a culture shock moving here from the city.

I remember the very first hardware store I ever shopped in in the Valley had a display of paint whose label read, "Red Barn Paint". I was floored and commented to Steve that I always knew barns were generally red, but had no idea they made special read paint for them! I remember saying, "Where have you moved me to??" It took some getting used to that the stores all closed here so early, even on weekends (although admittedly they have gotten much better over the years) and that we had to drive to the post office on Base for our daily mail. The doctor's office was appalled I would expect them to be open on Fridays or any evenings, the closest hospital was half the size of my high school in the city, and the municipality is so particular with their rules on waste disposal that they will routinely reject your garbage or green bin for the smallest infraction. We are not even allowed to throw out anything that isn't bagged garbage, which has led to the creation of two very special garbage collection weeks in our town called "Spring clean up" and "Fall cleanup" You laugh, but if you've ever lived here you know it is a great tradition here in our Valley and begins several weeks prior to the appointed day. People start lugging piles of boxes and unwanted toys, tools, appliances - you name it - to the curb for the perusal of the neighbors and passers by. Cars will slow down as they pass to inspect what you have left out and many will come by in trucks to unburden you of anything they may find a use for. Haha, oh how I will miss those clean up days and the hours of entertainment they provided.

Interestingly enough, it was one of those clean up days that led to my job at Annapolis Valley Health. Once Rhian got older we decided it was time to get rid of her old baby furniture and strollers. Steve was in the process of putting it all out by the street when a car stopped and asked him if he would hold it all until she could get home to get her truck. We were speechless at this, but did as she asked. It turns out she and her mother do this every Spring and Fall, clean things up and then re-sell them. The previous year they had taken their family to Disney World on their profits. She proceeded to tell Steven that she in fact had a great job, at Valley Regional Hospital, doing exactly what I did. So he told her that I had been trying to get hired there. She gave him her boss' name, instructed him to have me contact her and, long story short, I got a call a couple months later! Only in the Valley.

That job ended up being the best job I ever had. I met so many wonderful people, formed precious friendships, learned so much about myself and had many experiences I will never forget. It was a place I truly felt at home, with people I quickly considered family. Sometimes I would complain about having to work later in the day and then stop and think to myself, "hang on, I don't mind going to work at all!" How many people can say that? To be honest, I am a little frightened I will never find that again.

Our kids all started school here and, despite the transient nature of our town, have pretty much kept the same friends for much of their lives so far. They have had several of the same teachers over the years, and I for one will miss the familiarity of those wonderful educators who have worked so hard to contribute to my childrens' futures. I mean, where else, after the first week of school when your 5 year old has forgotten three lunch boxes at school would you have a teacher who will bring them to your door on her way home? We live in a community so small that the teachers' children are on your kids' soccer team, your lawyer is their coach, their teammates are in their class and every Saturday you all get groceries at the same store so what should have been an hour long errand is actually a two and a half hour gossip session!

One of the most rewarding - and most difficult - things we got involved in in this community was the Soccer Club. Our family is very big into this particular sport, with all three kids playing and Steven playing for three different teams at various times of the year. We decided it was important to contribute to something that impacted our whole family and help out the community. Three years later we have many new friends from this venture and have had the priviledge to have made a difference in the lives of many children. We both have worked very hard to ensure that any child in the area who wanted to play made it onto the field, no matter what, and I leave here feeling very good about that.

Through so many ties in this very close-knit community, we are truly leaving a place we've made our home and so many people we care deeply about. I often joke and call us "the elders of the village," as it seems we've been here much longer than the average military family stays in one spot. Looking back on it all, I am glad we didn't leave before now. We've watched this town grow, we've given our kids a hometown they can be proud of and remember fondly, and we've created memories we can cherish forever.

As I am going about my last couple of weeks here, I am continually warmed by the people who have stopped by the house to say farewell and the people who see me in a store and take the time to ask about Steven, already in Ontario, and to offer any assistance I many need. I am really enjoying the opportunity to visit with people I don't always make time to see and am being careful to take the time to enjoy all that this town has to offer before we head out on our new adventure.

I am leaving with a heavy heart, but with my head held high and bursting with excitement. This was our first military posting, our learning ground and the place we discovered how wonderful it is to belong to such a fiercely patriotic community. We have friends who are still here, friends who have moved on before us and friends who are getting word they too are leaving soon. The revolving door of the military life never stops but as we go through it we collect valuable memories and take with us friendships we will never forget.

Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea bound coast....we'll be back.

Lady Luck

Once again it has been a while since I’ve sat down to blog – but this time it has nothing to do with my fear of being redundant, but rather my total lack of time to sit down at all. Everyone has heard the phrase “when it rains it pours”, but with Steve and I it is usually a monsoon. Why I ever thought this posting would be any different, I have no idea.

I could go on and on with the details of the last week and a half but lets be honest here: none of us have the time or the patience to endure that. Suffice it to say that after four long, highly stressful months of having our house on the market, it finally sold – the day before Steve moved to Ontario. It all seems like a blur now but that week was both the most stress-filled and joyous week of our adult lives, all at the same time. After a long, nerve wracking day of negotiations, when we finally had a signed agreement, everyone exclaimed, “Wow, you must be so relieved!” But to tell you the truth, I wasn’t. A month ago I would have been, even a month down the road. But to have that all happen when he was preparing to roll out of town, after having made all the arrangements and preparations to live apart for a while, we just ended up trading one set of stress and problems for another.

We had long since planned that I would drive up with Steve on his move and then fly home alone four days later. It was always a bittersweet trip in my mind; it would be so great to have four days alone road-tripping with my hunny (something we hadn’t done since our honeymoon almost 12 years ago) but at the end I would fly home and begin life alone and single-parenting for who knew how long. Then in just a few short hours that trip became an essential part of the process: a way to get me up there to find us a house ASAP. There were high points to the trip (the call on the road to tell us we had an offer for a PMQ, thus relieving some of the pressure to buy) and there were low points (when we saw the Q and realized it was not any place we would ever willingly make our kids live). We had the added stress of having the inspection done while we were gone, the hours to think about what could possibly go wrong and how we would deal with it over such a distance. But it was important to have all conditions met as soon as possible to enable us to purchase once we arrived at our destination. The nail biting was worth it though when we got the call in Fredericton that it was all good and the sale was final, making our evening out with old friends a much needed celebration as well as a wonderful reunion.

House hunting proved to be an exercise in self control once we arrived and began working down the list of available houses. Some were ok, some were down right nasty, but the overall impression that became clear early on was that Steve and I were looking for very different houses and were not going to agree easily. That is why when we walked into 21 Selkirk Drive we were both stunned when we looked at each other not halfway through the tour and said at the same time, “I want this house.” We were elated, and then quickly deflated when we found out the house wasn’t available until October 30th. It would take me far too long to get into details but lets just say that after some very fancy footwork and an offer they could not refuse (I mean after all, what are the chances we would ever again find a house we BOTH loved?) we finally ended up with a signed offer. A mere hour before I jumped on a flight back home. STRESS! There were some hairy moments – viewings arriving while we were filling out the offer, approaching our buyers and asking them to change the closing date here that we’d already agreed on and signed for, some conditions they wanted that made me nervous but couldn’t really rightfully refuse – but in the end we all got what we wanted.

Phew.

Well of course it isn’t over yet: we still have to meet our conditions. Although we have no reason to expect any problems, I still find it hard to relax until it is finalized and the house is officially off the market. We could have met all requirements by week’s end but in order for me to fit in an “official” house hunting trip we had to extend it until Monday so I could travel on the weekend. The military will not pay for it if you have officially “secured accommodations”. That is the part that makes me nervous, its not definite yet. I would have turned my weekend adventure into a HHT but of course work simply would not give me these three evenings off. So I came home to work three 4 hour shifts and am flying back Saturday. See what I mean? Nothing is ever cut and dry with us.

Of course I have lots to say about the actual drive up and the great adventure we had together, but I don’t really have the time to get into my uncharacteristic fascination with the wildlife fences throughout New Brunswick or my opinion on the only redeeming quality of the drive through Quebec (the availability of beer in gas stations) so I’ll just say this: things seem to finally be falling into place and although I will likely never stop stressing over something, at least now it’s the positive kind of stress.

My dear friend said it best when she said, “Michelle just keeps pulling horseshoes out of her ass.” So here’s to a few more of those lucky charms and then a couple weeks of worry-free summer before we pack up all our worldly possessions and bid farewell to Nova Scotia.

In the meantime, perhaps I will go buy an lottery ticket...

Every Cloud..blah, blah, blah

Ok, I’m going to try something different. Instead of going on and on about how much it sucks to be left behind and focusing on the negative, I am going to start looking at some of the positive things of being alone. Surely there must be some good things about having the house to myself, right?

1. Less laundry. Much less laundry, actually. With sometimes two trips to the gym a day and then soccer practice every single night, Steven generates almost a family’s worth of laundry all by himself!

2. When I feel like watching a movie, it can be one I have wanted to see for a while but didn’t want to subject him to. Ok, who am I kidding, I don’t watch movies alone. But then, I will soon have no choice.

3. On a similar note, I can catch up on all the shows that I haven’t seen all season. We have a lot of shows we follow but never in their time slots, always downloaded. We then watch them whenever we get a half hour or hour together. Sometimes it can take us months to get through one week of shows, so we don’t follow many. Some, like Grey’s Anatomy – that only I like – have had to take a backseat to the ones we both really enjoy.

4. More options when eating out. This may sound strange, but he is a lot pickier when it comes to restaurants than I am. Its not fussiness that is the matter, it’s the healthy choices. I am far less particular about a menu (clearly,just look at us!) and I find it hard to resist the lure of someone else cooking and then cleaning it all up for me, so consequently we eat out more when he is gone.

5. People tend to visit/call and invite me out more when Steve is gone away. Its not that they have anything against him of course, its just that when he’s home we’re very busy and do a lot of things together. When he’s gone, good friends tend to be more present and always there to lend a helping hand. Its something we military families do for each other and since I have such great friends here I just know there’ll be no shortage of support.

6. Summer activities will be a little easier to plan, if a little more lonely for me. The only work schedule we will now have to work around is mine.

7. There are no mysteries surrounding school this coming Fall. I was actually looking forward to taking them out of the school here and into some place new, so it is not so much a positive for me as it is for the kids. They were looking forward to moving and are understandably disappointed in the change, but at the same time are happy to be going back to the familiar when it comes to school and friends.

8. When I put the butter and peanut butter away, it will stay put away. Haha, this is only going to be amusing to me, but suffice it to say that over the years it has been a constant struggle to keep those items where they belong!! (My hubby is infamous for his peanut butter toast in the evenings)

9. I get a trip to Ontario out of it. Its not the trip I was hoping and planning for, but the destination is the same and it will give us some much needed time alone together. Not to mention a bit of a break for me before single parenting kicks in. It will also be my only trip of any kind all summer.

10. And last but not least (this is for you Karyn): BIG LOVE!! Haha

Although it feels like a betrayal of all the considerations we make for each other by putting them under the microscope and making them into positive reasons to be apart, as the weeks go by and I sink further and further into negativity, it becomes necessary. I never wanted to look at what is “good” about being in separate households, because that in itself is wrong. People say “find a silver lining”, but I find no silver lining in living apart from my husband. As it stands though, perhaps a little “me time” will be a good thing and show me once again that I am able to stand on my own two feet. I never have any trouble being alone – and I really hope everyone understands that that is not what is upsetting me here. Being alone is never this issue, watching him move away and leaving me to take care of everything, including a house I hate, is the issue. In fact, its causing me an unfamiliar bitterness and resentment that I am having trouble dealing with. But as with everything, it is my duty as a military wife and one I will have to accept. I am hoping this will help solidify some self confidence in my abilities to take on anything that comes at me, even when I am making all the decisions alone. Hey look at me, being positive! Ok barely, but it still counts.

The Dark Side of the Moon

I have been avoiding blogging the last couple weeks. I am not in a good place and therefore reluctant to continue my tales of woe, as I am fairly certain everyone is tired of hearing it by now. I know I am.

I have never been prone to depression, never felt before like the universe is doing everything in its power to break me, like my world was getting darker and darker. Not like now. I stress a lot, but I’ve come to learn that is my way of working through a problem and finding its solution. These days, no amount of stressing, planning, organizing or ranting is getting me any nearer to my goal and as the time draws closer to Steven’s departure, I am sinking further and further.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I feel like I’m a kid having a temper tantrum. I am obviously old enough to know by now that things don’t always go my way; I am generally very easy-going and take life as it comes at me, but for some reason I am having real trouble with this. It seems as if every time I get my hopes up and it appears there is a possibility for a positive outcome, something unforeseen happens – like rules suddenly changing – and we’re back to square one again. At this point, I am having trouble getting excited about anything related to this posting anymore. This, of course, is very unfair to Steven. He asked for this move, we both wanted it, and despite the issues we are having with the house, he is very excited for this change. As he should be. This new position is one he has coveted for long while, in a unit he has longed to work with. I feel like I am sucking the fun out of it for him, but honestly somedays it is all I can do to muster a smile when he talks about it.

This week brought news that a four bedroom PMQ was finally available on Base, after being on the waiting list for months, but we had two days to accept or decline. With no sale imminent, we had no choice but to say no thank you. On that same day we had a viewing booked; I commented that it was either perfect timing or the universe playing a cruel joke. Looks like someone finds this whole thing very amusing.

I cannot sign off without first mentioning the fabulous week I had last week, for our nation’s birthday and my friend’s homecoming. On Wednesday my best friend showed up in my driveway a day early to surprise me – during the five minutes I had had to run money over to the soccer field. I drove up to find the family scratching their heads wondering where I could be, I guess the surprise was on them! We had a wonderful evening of catching up, baby cuddling, present opening, and of course hot tubbing. The next day brought another 25 or so of our closest friends to our house for a fun-filled Canada Day BBQ, after which we all trucked down to the field for an awesome fireworks display. Friday we all packed in our respective vehicles and headed for Halifax, Jen and family to their parents’ houses, us to the Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo. I had been hoping that would be a fitting “Nova Scotia” thing to do as we prepared to leave the province, and boy was I right. We were all immensely impressed – and the kids were thrilled when we took them out for ice cream at midnight! Saturday was a day of shopping and then an evening full of drinks, a boat ride on the Harbor, dancing at one of our favorite clubs and then a late night/early morning snack at the famous Pizza Corner. Crawling in at 4am did nothing for my Sunday morning disposition, but wonders for my spirit.

I had been really hoping Jen’s visit would awaken the free spirit in me, and I was not wrong. Now I am trying to take the great experiences I had and keep them in the forefront of my mind during weeks like these, when it seems everything is going wrong and nothing is going my way.

Waahhh…

Overload

Oh the stress. I thought I was stressed last month, when the house needed painting. I thought I was stressed after that, getting ready for the open house, and then even more so when that hit a dead end. But none of that compares to the stress I felt this past week.

Maybe its the fact that its crunch time: in about three weeks Steve will be getting ready to leave and I will be left behind. I am trying to wrap my head around the fact that this move, this big change - this whole posting, is not turning out at all like I always thought it would. For years I've watched many, many friends pack up their houses, pile into their mini vans and head out on their family trips to their new homes. It is the ultimate family vacation: you get to stay in hotels, visit new places and at the end you drive into a new town to a new house and begin to build a home there. I have looked forward to this kind of adventure for years now, and thought finally - FINALLY - it was our turn. As soon as the message came in I begin immediately to mentally plan our trip. I daydreamed about it, I made mental notes and lists and I began counting down until July. That was my first mistake: making unrealistic and premature plans.

Things obviously didn't go the way I had planned, and so now here I am, closing in on the big day with no house sold, no trip planned and facing the very real possibility of having to be left behind. I am doing a lot of feeling sorry for myself, I know. I am very slowly coming to terms with this new reality but I am going down fighting. As much as it burns me, I have by now made childcare arrangements for when I am "single parenting", have made an appointment to have the van serviced so it won't quit on me when I'm alone with the kids (which seems to always happen when hubby is out of town) and have made sure my kids are still registered in their school for the Fall. I am beginning to talk about it as if it is already commonplace knowledge, anything to take the sting out of it. I'm not sure how I'm going to handle watching him pack up his belongings to move away (not to be confused with the feelings of watching him pack to simply "go away", that is totally different in my mind) but for the present I need to find a place that allows me to function and to sleep at night.

On a positive note: I am really looking forward to this week. My best friend is coming home to Nova Scotia after a year of her being far too far away. She brings home a whole new member of her family whom I cannot wait to meet and snuggle, and in her I know I will find much understanding and endless comfort. This is also the week of the last day of school - finally - not to mention my big movie date with my very own Twi-hard. I scored tickets for the movie's opening day, making me mother of the year (for this week anyway) and I am really looking forward to the excitement that day will bring. Then it will be Canada Day, our annual backyard BBQ - complete with my best girl and her family - along with the much loved fireworks that always give me such a thrill. Friday brings us to Halifax to see the Royal Nova Scotia International Tattoo and then Saturday will be our big, much anticipated night out on the town.

So much fun I will forget my woes for a little while, right? Here's hoping....

Be careful what you wish for

Lately I have been having many small moments of panic: brief moments of clarity when I momentarily realize just how drastic our lives are going to change once we move and that perhaps I am not as confident as I once thought I was about the whole thing. I generally recover myself rather quickly of course, once I remind myself of all the reasons we are doing this, and continue on until the next moment stops me in my tracks.

Last night I had a moment I am still trying to recover from.

In our world - one of multiple relocations and a high turn over rate in friendships - it is rare to find a family where both couples and their children genuinely like one another for reasons beyond similar circumstance and places of employment. We have been so fortunate to have met some very wonderful people here in this town and I've always known the hardest part of all this would be the farewells. I was not expecting to have to face it quite so soon.

We have many friends here, and many we've seen come and go, but one particular couple and their son have really become family to us. Over the years we have shared many meals, from ordinary week day suppers and weekend BBQ's to Thanksgiving dinners and birthday celebrations. We have countless precious memories, hundreds of photos, and many, many shared experiences that make up a friendship we'd be hard pressed to find anywhere else. We've known for a long time that the military member of that family was slated to go over seas this summer to take his turn in the Sand Box, but between his date being moved up and our whirlwind spring - the date has arrived all too quickly. We planned to play host to our dear friends last night as a farewell send off, but as usual, with a busy weekend, I didn't think much about it until just before they arrived. All of a sudden, while cutting potatoes in the kitchen and seeing their truck driving down the street toward our house - such a common occurance as to be almost mundane - I was struck with the realization that this will be the last time we'll have this family, all together, at this house for dinner. Theoretically, if all goes according to plan, we will not longer be living in this province when he returns from his tour.

I felt like someone had punched the wind out of me. Before I knew it I was standing in front of them and it was all I could do not to burst out in tears. I am not a person who cries easily, but the entire evening for me became one of constant restraint. As fond as we all are of these friends, Rhian is probably the best example of how much this man will be missed. She has known him from a very early age and has always thought of him as a member of our family. As I watched them laughing and joking around last night, as is usual, I realized that as young as she is, the next time she sees him she won't be that comfortable around him anymore. I tried to explain to her that this goodbye was for a long time, that he will be away and we'll be gone when he comes home, but she has no concept whatsoever of what that means; she still thinks when we come back to visit she can sleep in her old room. All she'll know is that this much-loved family friend came over for supper one night, as he has countless times before, and she never saw him again. She will of course see him, but not as she does now; none of us remember things as we knew them at five years old. It nearly killed me to watch Steve say goodbye as well - this friend has been a huge support in all the training and major decisions Steve has made over the past year. He has a unique understanding of the world we are entering, making his support and advice invaluable.

I know part of why this is especially difficult for me is for the simple reason that it is the first of many. Its not like this is even the first time we've faced this kind of thing; last year one of my closest friends moved to the other side of the country and I felt like she took my right arm with her, I was so lost. But being left behind is different than being the one leaving. Thats where the panic comes in. I was perfectly content to deal with the stresses of selling this house, buying a new one and organizing a move to Ontario - and to leave the emotional part of it for later. I hadn't even truly considered how I would handle the good-byes, as they were down the road, something I could always worry about later on. All of a sudden I get hit with the reality that it is not easy to look at a person you've come to care about and send them off without any idea of when you might see them again. In fact, its damn hard. I am so thankful I still have a couple months - at least - to spend with the rest of their family and to prepare myself for the other good-byes we will have to face. I will not lose sight again of how important it is to cherish the moments we have with our "military family", and I look forward to the many memories we have yet to make before we leave.

As for our most recent military member to make the trip "over there", I just want to say this: take care my friend. Stay safe, keep in touch and we will take very good care of your wonderful wife and son while we can. You will be missed.

The Winds of Change

I have always been a person who craves change. There are some very important constants in my life of course: family and friends, my job and most of my long time preferences and goals. But things like houses, furniture, wall color, clothes - I like to switch it up from time to time. I was always famous as a child for changing my room around and to this day Steven teases me about it. In our current, very small and oddly shaped house, there is only one way our furniture fits and it has bothered me for years.

So now I have this wonderful blog. I get to say what I want, share my feelings in any manner I want and most importantly - I get to change the decor whenever the mood takes me!

I felt it was time for a change, pink is not usually my color but this felt right to me today.

Enjoy!

Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...

Ok its official: I am freaking out. Don’t pretend you didn’t know this was coming, I may have fooled myself into thinking I would get through this with a minimal amount of stress and anxiety, but I don’t think I fooled many others.

I couldn’t say exactly what brought on this sudden wave of panic, other than to say it occurred to me yesterday that I really don’t want to “stay behind until the house sells” like I always said I would. I suppose deep down I didn’t believe it would actually come to the point where that would be a reality so I simply didn’t dwell on it. Now that we’ve entered the time period where it has moved from “possible” to “probable”, I am getting nervous.

Recently we started exploring our options to see if perhaps there is another way, some alternative that will allow me and the children to make the move this summer as well, without having to wait for the sale of our house. It seems, however that our hands are tied; every avenue we have explored has ended before it really began. We considered leaving the house and living in a PMQ while keeping the house active in the market, but it turned out the military has changed their rules – just last Friday, no less – on paying for the expenses on a vacant house for posted members. Now they will only pay if the house is listed below “assessed value”, which is done by their assessors and in our case is $15,000 below our very fair asking price. There are also no PMQ’s currently available in Petawawa so we were put on a waiting list, with no guarantee we would even secure one this summer. Dropping the price drastically may attract a buyer but without the equity we have in our home there will be no down payment to purchase the next one. We are also being cautioned that the market is not moving at all between $120,000 and $175,000 so it would do us no good to make such a bold move at this point. We could always rent the house out, but that would mean taking it off the market in the middle of posting season – never a smart move – and dealing with renters from two provinces away (and that is only if a Q opens up there).

So it looks like I am back to square one and waiting it out. Only this time it won’t be because I’ve made the responsible, adult decision to do so, but rather because I have absolutely no choice in the matter. I feel like I am a child having a temper tantrum. I don’t like the “unknown” at the best of times but this one takes the cake. I don’t know what to tell the kids when they ask when we’re moving, have no way of giving work any kind of notice, I haven’t signed the kids up for anything this summer other than soccer and still don’t know if they are going to spend their vacation here or not. Everyone says we still have plenty of time but to be honest, 8 weeks is not a long time to complete an offer, do a house hunting trip, give work my notice and plan our trip to Ontario. Most of it is out of our control so the sooner it happens, the better.

And that brings me to my next biggest stressor: I am currently in week 7 of my self imposed “12 week program” but haven’t seen the inside of the gym since week 4. My excuses are legitimate: I have been working more shifts than usual lately, soccer registration has been out of control busy these past couple weeks, we’ve put a rush on our house renos recently and now that soccer has started the kids are barely in the door when we head back out again. However, the fact remains that I haven’t made it a priority. When I first started this my ultimate goal was to fit back into my summer clothes from last year and to learn how to eat a healthy, regular, metabolism-friendly diet. As the early weeks passed I began noticing changes immediately; I was suddenly hungry all the time and almost as soon as I started needing a belt for my “fat capris”, I found I fit better in the clothes two sizes down. Still not my regular size, but much closer. I must admit that this small amount of progress took the “fire” out of me and my plans. I was happy where I was and couldn’t find it in me to push myself that little bit more to achieve the original goal I had set for myself. I am still eating much better (although I MAY have forgotten breakfast a morning or two) and despite my slackened attitude, feel that I’ve made some important progress.

Then I read that my long time friend Melanie has worked very hard to lose 50lbs since January and that Jenn is over in her corner of the world getting so motivated and doing so well with her healthy lifestyle - and I feel like I’m really slipping. We are all in this together ladies, we may have different end goals but we have the same motivation and I am going to use your successes to kick start myself once again. As I promised Jenn on her blog earlier today: I will get up tomorrow, eat a breakfast with enough calories to get the old metabolism going, and head out for a run. You never know, maybe I will find running to be a great stress reliever.

Well, one can always hope.

Relay for Life 2010

As I am sure anyone who would be reading this knows by now, our daughter Morgan participated in the Middleton Relay for Life this year. She, along with 7 of her friends, came up with the idea to create a team all on their own and with very little aid from any of their parents, raised just over $1,800.00.

Heading into the event, which was held last night at Rotary Park in Middleton, NS, we were bursting with pride and excitedly awaiting the recognition they were to receive for being the youngest and the most successful youth team at that Relay. In fact, they were in 6th place overall for fundraising out of 72 teams. A very impressive accomplishment. We also knew that one of the girls on the team, whose hair was quite long, planned to have her ponytail cut off to be donated to a charity that makes wigs for kids with cancer. Once she got up on stage, however, talk turned to shaving her head in order to get more. Egged on by her friends and cheered by the crowd she readily agreed and before her head was halfway completed the rest of the team wanted to do the same. Unfortunately for them the only way to have enough hair to donate was in fact to shave it all off, but not one of them blinked. In the end, five out of the eight team members and two of their siblings sacrificed their locks to a very worthy cause, including our Morgan. In doing this they earned another $135 for their team and the utmost respect of all those present.

Needless to say, Steve and I are very proud of our girl - but not just for the decision she made on that stage, rash as it was. There is a certain type of mob mentality when it comes to things like this: one does it and the rest are quick to follow. It was a brave, courageous and extremely thoughtful thing to do, but it sure comes with some heavy consequences. After a long, emotional and very satisfying 12 hours, Morgan returned home (with a logo painted on her bald head just for me!) exhausted and ready to crash. We made her have a shower first and it was in there while preparing to shampoo her hair that she had a moment of panic and the tears began. At first, when she was sobbing and mumbling incoherently I panicked myself, wondering if we'd made the wrong decision allowing her to do this. But when all she complained about was the strange feeling and the lack of need for her favorite shampoo I realized she was simply over tired. So often I lose sight of the fact that she is still a child after all. We sent her off to bed and hoped for the best.

This is when the real bravery surfaced. She woke up several hours later in a fantastic mood, chatting excitedly about how in a few months time another child would have the opportunity to have a wig because of the hair collected from her and her friends. She talked about the feeling of pride she had in her friends and how good it feels to think of others. She mentioned one of the girls was concerned the boy she liked at school may not like her anymore now that her long blond hair was gone, and that she told her if the boy didn't appreciate the sacrifice she'd made than he wasn't worth her time. I stood there listening to her ramble on, watching her explore her bald head with a sense of awe and knew right then we had done well by letting her make this choice. What an incredible lesson. The fact is: it sucks to lose your hair. For any reason. But I told her she was lucky to be getting ready to sleep off a long night spent with friends and not getting ready to have chemo. She did this willingly, not because she knew her hair would eventually fall out in clumps. She is now a little closer to understanding how it feels to be in those shoes, without actually having to hear the diagnosis. Her sadness was a good thing, and although short lived, taught her once again how lucky she is to have her health, how important it is to do all we can to prevent cancer and how satisfying it can be do good for others. And as Steven said, its better for her to learn about quick decisions and their consequences from shaving her head than from something more permanent like getting a tattoo!

Later in the day I took Morgan and two of the other girls to the mall for some retail therapy. I felt they would now like some new trendy hats and bandanas to make the transition easier and to put a positive spin on the fact that despite the good they have done - they were now all bald. I watched them in their favorite store, trying on different hats and giving each other a fashion show - oblivious to the stares and tentative smiles from other customers. Each time someone stole a glance at them they returned it with a wide smile and didn't miss a beat. Instead of being embarrassed they were proud. Despite the full bags they carried, each one of them walked out of the mall with bare heads.

In my humble (and admittedly somewhat biased) opinion, I believe there are many adults who could learn from these girls. They each ran for a member of their family who had suffered from cancer and in the end they touched many more hearts than they'd meant to. They helped several unknown children, taught us all the true power of the young and showed a confidence few could match.

Well done girls.