That's me folks. I've decided when people ask me, "What are you?" (which, interestingly happens much more often in Canada than in the States. Actually, I don't think I was ever asked that in the States), my answer is going to be, "Canerican".
I've lived in Canada for 12 years this month. Crazy! As a small town American, who lived in the same town in Colorado for 21 years, I never thought I would be raising my family in Canada. I never imagined "eh" would be a word I used frequently, or that I would become a major hockey mom (although, I clearly remember when the Avs first came to Colorado, I thought hockey was so cool and I desperately wanted to become a hockey player. Maybe that was a sign?). I didn't know I would be using terms like "looney" and "tooney" to describe money, rather than a cartoon.
But here I am. About 1,800 miles (thats 2,896.82 kilometres for you Canadians), from "home". And that is where the discombobulation comes in. Home. I've been here long enough that now Canada is also home. There is a constant state of confusion inside me. I am always both homesick for Colorado, and very at home living in Canada. I miss the mountains, great blue skies, family and friends, Dos Hombres (I would kill for their chicken taco salad and a margarita), familiarity, and my history in Colorado. But I am so proud and thankful for the life, family, friends, and home that Droid and I have built here in Canada, and can't imagine living anywhere else.
It's weird. I see people that remind me of someone, and I can't place if they remind me of someone from "back home", or here. I am slowly getting the hang of the metric system. Okay, not really. I am actually just confused now, and can't remember how to properly measure anything. But I did catch myself calling the letter Z, "Zed" the other day, and I'm sure my American friends didn't even realize that Canadians did that! This summer I am going to embark on my first very Canadian tradition of "going to the cottage", which for my Colorado friends, that is the equivalent of "going to Lake Powell".
When I am in Canada, I am teased about being an American. But when I am in the US, I am teased about being a Canadian. It's funny to be on both sides of the fence, and see how neither of the stereotypes are completely true. Most of my American friends aren't loud jerk faces, and most of my Canadian friends don't live in igloos, wear plaid and say "eh" at the end of every sentence. And now that I've officially offended both of you, I will have to move somewhere else ; )
Sometimes, when it's been a little too long since I've been "back home", I start to worry that I am like a snake shedding skin, and feel too far away from the Colorado in me. But today, Owen and I were walking near a pond and two Canadian geese literally hissed at me. It reassured me that they could probably sense the American in me.
Regardless of where I am, I am beyond thankful for my friends and family on both sides of the border. I love you all! :)
Friday, May 27, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Top 9 things I just can't resist...
Heaven. Complete and total relaxation and bliss. I.can.not.tear.myself. away. Every night, I snuggle up, close my eyes, and use all of my senses to commit these moments to my long term memory. Our favourite game in this house is musical beds. We really need to just turn our master bedroom floor into a giant mattress. I know some people consider this the number one thing of naughty parenting, but for us, it feels right and fits us perfectly. There is just something so comforting and bonding about ending the day snuggled up close, in such a relaxed and peaceful place together. You could definitely say this is my "happy place".
2. Books, books, books...
I have been a book lover my whole life. One of my favourite things growing up, was when Boogie used to take me to the bookstore and let me pick whatever books I wanted, and the bookmarks to go with them. That often backfired on her though, during vacations, when my parents would be begging me to get my nose out of the books and enjoy the scenery. Even as an adult, on summer trips with the kids to my parents house, I admit to hiding under the desk to finish reading even though both my parents and my kids were calling for me. Once, I get engrossed in a book, it is neglect city for everything else. We are seriously lucky my kids survived when Scar Tissue by Anthony Kiedis came out. I barely looked up for a few days (lucky for them, I am a fast reader. Yes, I'm totally bragging about my skills. Droid is totally jealous).
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| One of my favourite Authors/books growing up |
I really love all kinds of books. Fiction, non-fiction, chapter books, picture books, biography, autobiography, reference, resource, poetry, classics, how-to books; you write it, I need it. There really is not enough time in a day.
3. Magazines
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| One of my fav. magazines They totally got me with one of my fav. actress- Buffy the Vampire Slayer, hello! |
4. Worst sweet tooth ever...
Again, I like it all. Maybe I just need to be more selective if I want to be able to resist things. All things sweet, I love. That's why I don't like dark chocolate. It is not sweet. It's nasty. Well, at least I can resist one thing.
5. A cup of joe...
Stupid coffee. Why do I have to love you so? The problem is not so much the coffee, but, because of # 4, I like it super sweet. So I take a pound of sugar with it. Ugh. Sometimes I try to resist this one, and while I always feel better when I am just drinking green tea instead...it's just not the same. Droid is trying to get me to at least drink decaff, but I'm not gonna lie, I like a little caffeine with my sugar.
6. Anything funny....
If you make me laugh, I will love you forever. The same goes for if you laugh at me. And again, I love all kinds of humour. I don't get offended and I can find humour in everything. And I am one of those people who laughs at horribly inappropriate times. It's just an automatic response. Funny people, funny books, funny shows, anything and everything funny. Some of my favourite funny people- Conan O'Brian, Will Ferrell, Jenny McCarthy, Sarah Silverman, Ellen, Tina Fey, and oh so many more that I know I am going to want to keep adding to this list! 7. School and office supplies...
This is probably why I am a teacher. I walk into Staples and my heart starts pounding with excitement. Notebooks, pens, binders, sticky notes, agendas....dude. I wish it was September so I had a sort of reason to go buy a bunch.
8. Organizing and rearranging things...
I love to "go-through" stuff. I am constantly rearranging my house. Especially the kid's rooms. Droid and Boogie just roll their eyes and say "oh no," when I say what I am doing. I am constantly wanting to organize things, and get things, to organize things. I don't know why this brings me such joy, but it does. I am constantly like a nesting preggers lady. Granted, these days most of it happens in my head. I need Boogie to come and be me for a week so I can get in a good dose of organizing. (Let's just say Owen likes to unorganize as much as I like to organize, so he's not the best teammate for that. Hence the need for a Boogie intervention.)
9. Blogging...
Enough said.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Murpheous, the God of Parenting
I've always been intrigued by Greek Mythology, but currently I am starting to believe there may be some truth to it. Most specifically, I'm pretty sure there is a God of Parenting, and that dude has one sick sense of humour.
Thursday afternoon I came home from work. I had worked the full school day, so Droid picked up the kids from school. Everyone was good, but Aidan was just on the couch, being kind of low key. My momma senses started to tingle, and immediately I was asking if he was okay. He said he was, no word from him or Daddy on anything happening at school.
He continued to seem off, so I spent some time cuddling him, asking if he was okay. Eventually he said his hand was hurting because a kid at school had accidentally kicked a ball into it at recess. It looked swollen, so I got him some ice and Advil, and continued to hang out with him on the couch.
Friday morning he was still in pain and swollen, but was able to move his hand and fingers, so I figured if we continued to do the ice/elevate/Advil/rest routine, he would be okay. We let him stay home from school, set him up on the couch, and he took it easy for the day.
Saturday morning he seemed about the same. So I'm keeping my eye on him and continuing to make him rest, but still thinking if we just keep doing what we're doing it will get better. Around 2:30 pm, the swelling and the pain seem to be worse, so I decide to call the doctor. For some reason, their answering system keeps looping me back to the main menu so I can't get through to them. They closed at 3 pm.
So I called Tele-health, (for my American friends, that's a number you can call to speak to a registered nurse to get advice on what your next steps should be for any health concern). They advised me to take him to emergency. Which they really actually do quite often. At least for the things I've called on, but that's okay, because I would rather be safe than sorry. Even if this story doesn't make it sound like that is my philosophy.
So, first I cut his fingernails, because they looked like claws and I didn't want to give the hospital a reason to question if I was the one to break his wrist. Next, we got dressed (for the same reason), because we were still in our pyjamas. Then we set off for the hospital.
We got through rather quickly, and everyone in the hospital was fantastic. After a few rounds of x-rays and examinations, we find that Aidan fractured his wrist. They put on the cast and we are on our way, with instructions to come back to the fracture clinic in about a week.
Now, here is the part where (Andrew is awesome) (No, he isn't but I had him preview this and he typed that in himself), I finally tie into my opening statements. The God of Parenting- Murpheous, because its obviously where the idea of Murphy's Law stemmed from.
In the past, Aidan developed petechiae spots that could indicate things like leukaemia or blood poisoning, we rush to emerg- PYSCH! All is good, go home, thanks for coming.
Aidan has intense chest pains- rush to emerg-PYSCH! All is good, go home, thanks for coming.
But, Aidan gets hit in the hand with a ball, AND HIS WRIST IS BROKEN?! And I made him sit like that since Thursday?! Way to make me feel like a jerk, Murpheous, God of Parenting.
There are so many moments like that in parenting! Oh, you don't have to get up early for work this morning? You have a chance to sleep-in for the first time in 8 years? Guess what, baby is up early! BAM! Murpheous at work.
What's that? You just told your friend how great your baby is sleeping? BAM! Baby is up all night! Murpheous at work.
And I could go on, and on, and on. But I won't, because this probably only makes sense in my head. But the God of Parenting is what I was thinking about as I drove Aidan to the hospital.
P.S. Speaking of a sick sense of humour: the boy who kicked the ball into Aidan's hand is named Michael. When Michael asks Aidan what happened, he plans on responding with "YOU happened!"
That's my boy :)
Thursday afternoon I came home from work. I had worked the full school day, so Droid picked up the kids from school. Everyone was good, but Aidan was just on the couch, being kind of low key. My momma senses started to tingle, and immediately I was asking if he was okay. He said he was, no word from him or Daddy on anything happening at school.
He continued to seem off, so I spent some time cuddling him, asking if he was okay. Eventually he said his hand was hurting because a kid at school had accidentally kicked a ball into it at recess. It looked swollen, so I got him some ice and Advil, and continued to hang out with him on the couch.
Friday morning he was still in pain and swollen, but was able to move his hand and fingers, so I figured if we continued to do the ice/elevate/Advil/rest routine, he would be okay. We let him stay home from school, set him up on the couch, and he took it easy for the day.
Saturday morning he seemed about the same. So I'm keeping my eye on him and continuing to make him rest, but still thinking if we just keep doing what we're doing it will get better. Around 2:30 pm, the swelling and the pain seem to be worse, so I decide to call the doctor. For some reason, their answering system keeps looping me back to the main menu so I can't get through to them. They closed at 3 pm.
So I called Tele-health, (for my American friends, that's a number you can call to speak to a registered nurse to get advice on what your next steps should be for any health concern). They advised me to take him to emergency. Which they really actually do quite often. At least for the things I've called on, but that's okay, because I would rather be safe than sorry. Even if this story doesn't make it sound like that is my philosophy.
So, first I cut his fingernails, because they looked like claws and I didn't want to give the hospital a reason to question if I was the one to break his wrist. Next, we got dressed (for the same reason), because we were still in our pyjamas. Then we set off for the hospital.
We got through rather quickly, and everyone in the hospital was fantastic. After a few rounds of x-rays and examinations, we find that Aidan fractured his wrist. They put on the cast and we are on our way, with instructions to come back to the fracture clinic in about a week.
Now, here is the part where (Andrew is awesome) (No, he isn't but I had him preview this and he typed that in himself), I finally tie into my opening statements. The God of Parenting- Murpheous, because its obviously where the idea of Murphy's Law stemmed from.
In the past, Aidan developed petechiae spots that could indicate things like leukaemia or blood poisoning, we rush to emerg- PYSCH! All is good, go home, thanks for coming.
Aidan has intense chest pains- rush to emerg-PYSCH! All is good, go home, thanks for coming.
But, Aidan gets hit in the hand with a ball, AND HIS WRIST IS BROKEN?! And I made him sit like that since Thursday?! Way to make me feel like a jerk, Murpheous, God of Parenting.
There are so many moments like that in parenting! Oh, you don't have to get up early for work this morning? You have a chance to sleep-in for the first time in 8 years? Guess what, baby is up early! BAM! Murpheous at work.
What's that? You just told your friend how great your baby is sleeping? BAM! Baby is up all night! Murpheous at work.
And I could go on, and on, and on. But I won't, because this probably only makes sense in my head. But the God of Parenting is what I was thinking about as I drove Aidan to the hospital.
P.S. Speaking of a sick sense of humour: the boy who kicked the ball into Aidan's hand is named Michael. When Michael asks Aidan what happened, he plans on responding with "YOU happened!"
That's my boy :)
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