G. Michael

Michael has gone back to Vancouver again for two weeks in order to put food on the table. He is a worker that one - a fine combination of Italian workhorse, Scottish determination and Little House on the Prairie work ethic. He makes me proud.

In an earlier post I mentioned that in between dream jobs Mike works as a mover. Aside from owning a business with yours truly, Mike's other dream job is acting and he does it very well. He dons the more prestigious moniker G. Michael Gray and has quite the resume to show for himself.

G. Michael in the Feature 'Silk Trees'

In fact at the beginning of next week he will be adding to said resume as he tucks a Guest Star on 'Psych' under his belt. After a dry spell that felt as though it would never end this is very exciting news. I adore seeing Mr. Gray up there on screen - it never gets old, but then again he has never had to film a roll in the hay!

Baby Jack and his Poppa on 'Supernatural'.

It is awesome that moving here to Rossland has not meant the end of Mike's auditioning and acting for film and television. I guess the only real obstacle to the whole thing is when and how we will be able to watch the shows he is in given that we have successfully avoided resuming our cable tv subscription thus far!

S*#T Faced Grin

Whoever said that girls were easier to potty train than boys simply didn't know what they were talking about. Just like anything regarding child rearing, everything depends on the individual child. Jack, for example, began potty training when he was 24 months. By the time he was 25 months he was finished (day and night). Isla was quite interested in the potty when she was 15 months - I thought SCORE!!! Nothing really came of that though and we really started training at 23 months. It took her until quite recently to stay dry through the night too. 

Tandem Potty Time! (Isla 15 months, Jack 2.5 years)

Two and a half years old is a perfectly reasonable age to be trained by, but I must confess because I listened to the sweeping generalizations about girls vs. the potty I thought she would have been finished earlier. And that was not fair to her. Conversely the same "they" who said a 15 month old Isla should be speaking in 2-3 word sentences would have been fairly shocked when she pulled her dummy from her mouth and confidently announced, "Jack, when we get out of this car, I'm gonna smash you right in the face.”. Not that we condone that sort of thing, I'm just saying is all. Kids all have their own rhythm. 

Isla (15 months) Multitasks at Potty Time

The tiny Bjorn Potty that Isla uses now I had purchased before Jack was even born. He never used it, preferring instead to climb onto the big toilet. Isla is the opposite. The two of them still enjoy pooping tandem though! Until today that is because the tiny potty has henceforth been banished.

This morning I walked into the washroom to find Isla standing beside her full potty and Velma devouring its contents. I lost it. I told Isla that that was the last time she would enjoy her tiny potty since it was now being donated. I cleaned the poop out of Velma's beard effectively wiping the S@*T faced grin off her puppy face and locked her in her kennel. I am so over everyone else's poop!

Things We Lost In The Move...

The unpacking has been slowly happening bit by bit. Michael has hung his guitars in just the right spot. We have fashioned an open concept style closet of sorts in the boudoir and the mess is receding. Huzzah!

Lost and Found:

one pink croc (found in Daddy's shoe box)
DVD/BluRay shelves (found in DVD box)
All 35 "Cars" cars (found stuffed into Isla's Kitchenette)
Piece for hanging Blackout blind (found on  Jack's shelf)
Camera Case with 4 2Gb Memory cards full of Family videos dating back to October 2009

The most important things that we lost in the move were by far and away the Memory cards. Looking back it was unwise to have kept 4 full cards in same the portable case. We now have no video of the kids for almost a whole year. I have cried and prayed and cried some more. It does not get any less painful and I can imagine it feels something akin to loosing priceless family photos in a fire. Michael is still optimistic that the case will reappear, that maybe I didn't loose it at the park but that the knee-highs possibly helped by "packing" it. We have left our name and number in various locations around North Vancouver as well as with the places we donated heaping boxes of household items in Burnaby.

I would have happily bought someone a stack of memory cards (or just given them the money) in exchange for seeing Isla on her 2nd birthday, my kids opening their presents from Santa, visiting their grandparents and Jack skiing down the slopes for the very first time on his own. The thought of someone deleting these invaluable images makes me physically ill. I am crying as I write this and I can't write anymore today.

I Need a Vacation from this Vacation...

Vacations are just not the same anymore. Seldom do I get a chance to kick back and relish a novel while basking in the sun...or rather from the shade of a large umbrella! Having two toddlers running amok, crazy high on their own vacation enjoyment significantly hinders my own.

In four years Michael and I have never even so much as hired a babysitter. Close friends or family have been called on occasion when we really let go! I am deeply afflicted and suffer terribly from a case of the "You will never be able to take care of my children as well as I can"s.

It might seem incredibly selfish and distrustful, and maybe it is overbearing and overprotective, but it turns out I have good reason. Last summer I indulged myself allowing my 3 year old to play under an other's "watchful" eye. Fully engrossed in my summer reading a strange gurgling sound caught my attention. I turned around to see Jack, his face a terrifying unbreathable inch below the waters surface, his hands helplessly grasping. The one who was watching him went for a dip and he followed. He had thought that he was wearing his life jacket. Since his father and I put it on him religiously, it was like a second skin he already took for granted, he didn't bat an eye as he waded into the deep. We pulled him from the water coughing, crying and scared. I can see it all as clearly as though it were happening now and a year later I am still having nightmares.

So who knows when family vacation is gonna stop feeling like the same laundry different beach?! Meals still need to be made, babies supervised, dishes washed, et cetera et cetera. Right now vacation feels like a bizarre summer time Christmas melee complete with every inch of what one dreads about the yuletide season. Ughhhh. I'd rather stab myself with a fork in the eye.

Swallowed

In the eaves of our new home are nested a family of Swallows. At first I thought that they were cute, helpful even. This is apparently the year of the mosquito here in Rossland having been so perfectly cold and wet for so long this spring/summer. The Swallows come out in full force dawn and dusk to eat their fill  which suits me fine.

Well their eggs must have hatched because these cute little beasties have quickly become vermin. The Swallows dive bomb the kids all day as they play outside around the house and they are pooping on everything. Including the hot tub lid. Which makes me anxious about being pooped on while taking a soak and then trying to figure out which chemicals eradicate bird droppings. Eww.

I began to inquire about how one disposes of a nest. I even fancied the notion I could be the one who evicted the over-stayed house guests, for a brief moment. Then I remembered who I am and blowing a nest full of Swallow-lings off my house with a hose to appease my sense of propriety is not something I could stomach. I resigned myself to a summer of sweeping shit off my deck.

Today I returned to the house and to what appeared to be a tiny swallow massacre. I am not entirely sure what went down, whether the chicks got too heavy or if a gale wind blew but the deck was littered with clumps of mud that were formerly a nest and three tiny featherless bodies laying still. They are so terribly sad looking I can't even bring myself to move them. Poor baby birds. I am so sad but thankful the slaughter was not at my hand.

Canada Day!!

Our Canada Day was wonderfully uneventful. I am not sure I would have been able to muster the gumption to take my family to yet another mystery meat BBQ and lack luster celebration. The kids love them, but then they go napless and I am forced to feign interest in a host of "earth friendly" activities which usually amount to wasted paper and seedlings, ahem, growing in non-recyclable containers. The only thing different would have been the change in locale. We packed for a week at the Lake instead.

This is not the first Canada Day since my step-father passed away, but I have spent a lot of time thinking about the last few Canada celebrations we spent with him and my mother before he passed. These were different from all the rest.
First of all they are in soft focus, and they take place at the Bar U Ranch in southern Alberta.

Anyhoo - these are some photos from the Canada Day celebrations that meant the most to me in my entire life. 2007 and 2008 (5 months before Glen went home)

2007

2007

2008

2008

2008

Run (in the) Forest, Run!

I've want to start running again. My running career both began and ended last summer. Before that I always fancied myself a non-runner. I hated it in school, indulging every cramp and stitch to get out of my gym class torture. I have no idea why since I have always considered myself an athlete, enjoying individual sports over team, loving rock climbing, skiing, mountain biking and hiking.

Last year for my 30th birthday my mother gifted me a Boot Camp. It was a wonderful kick start in the right direction. We did sprints and drills. To my surprise I quite enjoyed running. Over the summer I began running 7km each day. I felt better - I looked better. My new found strength lent itself to wonderful wakeboard/surfing sessions and the kids felt lighter too! Then my knee started to hurt. I wasn't stretching nearly enough, or warming up or cooling down so of course I suffered an injury. Apparently I pronate something terrible to top it off. The summer passed away and took with it my running routine.

July is back. I have a pair of new runners calling my name and some extra pounds yearning to get lost in the woods. I should have read about running more, or joined a clinic. Argh. It is go time, the perfect time to get some retrospective so I can get out and stay out.