I hate summer

I am not the biggest fan of summer. What? The Arthritic doesn’t like the dry hot weather? No. No I don’t, and it’s not about the weather. It’s challenging as a physically disabled parent all 365 days of the year. However during the summer months there is no school, no alone time for me to just sit and relax, pondering life if I want to. There is a lot of “Mom can we go bowling?” “Mom, can you play Barbie’s with me?” “I’m bored.” During summer months I go back to the pre school days of entertaining an only child. She has lost her routine, her socializing, her sports, and her dancing! I can’t criticize her for wanting to spend her whole day with me... it’s my own fault for not wanting to schedule play dates with other kids. Other kids, means other parents and I haven't found an adult socializing class yet!

Boring old me

I’m boring! I’ve come to this conclusion after the last week or so. Our beautiful city of Port Moody turned 100 and while the rest of the city partook in Centennial celebrations, we sat at home and did some gardening saying to ourselves... “Ehh, Golden Spike Days are coming up, we’ll go to that instead.” We did no research on when it was happening; we just knew it was in the summer. Low and behold it was on the Canada Day long weekend. There were events all over the city and then the festivities closed up with the Canada Day fireworks on Monday night. We didn’t go to a damn thing! Not one.

Where the hell did this lazy attitude come from? I used to love going to parades and city events. If this is what happens with 1 kid... we may never leave the house if we have another!

The Outcast and the Butterfly

Clearly Isabella isn’t the outcast, so that leaves me to fill in that role. I don’t have a whole lot in common with most moms my age. Most of them are into a completely different parenting role and we just aren’t compatible as close friends. Today (other than Johnny) it’s one of the guys from the office that I’ve had the most real and engaging conversations with, yet when I go for lunch with a group of them, I keep my mouth shut and am just the awkward one who just sits there eating quietly. I really feel like I haven’t got much to contribute the conversation and my fear of saying stupid comes out. I know this is probably counter-productive as I really do want those close friends; I’m just not sure how to make that happen. 

Do they have socialization classes for adults? I’d throw money at that in a heartbeat! 

10 ways you know you're the mom of a girl.

1. You can change Barbie's clothes with a blind fold on.
2. You have an unhealthy attraction to animated princes.
3. You aren't the only one screaming because there is a bee in the house.
4. There is a random Barbie accessory in your purse right now.
5. You have a preference on pretend tea party attendees.
6. You are commonly referred to as the queen or the wicked step-mother.
7. You can watch "Dance moms" and say to yourself: I get that.
8. You've uttered the words "Get that dress off the dog."
9. You find yourself hoping she grows faster so you have someone to watch chick flicks with.
10. Right from the moment you laid eyes on her you knew you had a princess.

Disappointment

I walked into Bells room the other day and found a lovely spot on the wall where she peeled off the paint. There is now a random white circle about the size of a soccer ball beside her bed. I was furious, livid, enraged, you name it. I didn’t yell, I didn’t scream, and I didn’t spank, I just got sad. I was sad. We spent a lot of time on her room and bought a random oops paint from the store. It took us a few weeks to get it all painted, trimmed, and set up. I was hurt that she would think that was a good idea and disappointed that she tried to hide it. I let her know how I felt and she cried and cried, and then she apologized to me. That was the end of it. She understood the feelings behind it, not just a time out and me yelling.

 

Odd Man Out

I tried today, I really tried, and failed miserably. I see these same PAC moms every day. For nearly 9 months we have been sitting at the school’s entrance together. Me... Them... we’re just sort of impartial, not avoiding each other nor going out of our way to talk either. But today I did it; I worked up the courage to jump into a conversation. You want to know what I learned. I learned that making friends is way harder than when you’re 5. I learned that rejection hurts... a lot. I learned that I’m nothing like most of the parents out there. Their kids all ran up to them, threw their backpacks at them and ran off. They were cold, sullen, and un-friendly kids.

I know my parenting style isn’t for everyone, but it works for me, and I would rather have no school mom friends than have my kid act like that!

"That" call

I’m sitting at home right now waiting for a phone call. A bad phone call, the kind you don’t get excited for when the phone buzzes across the table. I’m waiting to hear an update on my oldest uncle; he’s gone to spend his last few weeks at home in Calgary instead of a hospital. You may remember me posting about our drive to Calgary last May for the funeral of my Cousin Chad, this is his dad. He has Cancer and sadly he won’t be with us for much longer. When that phone rings I hope it’s not heartbreaking although it’s expected. My only hope is that my Aunt and 2 cousins can somehow find peace amidst all the loss.

(Uncle John is the second from the left at the back; this is my mom and all her siblings together at Chad’s funeral) 

The Kracken!

I have my own car now (The Kracken) and I have to say that I'm really enjoying the freedom. When I was diagnosed with RA at age 9 driving in the future was definitely a concern. I'm finding though that I'm not having any issues at all. In fact I'm feeling better driving. Maybe it's because I can just pick up and go to the mall to grab something, or run to the store and pick up a missing ingredient for dinner without having to wait for Johnny. No more getting soaked walking at a bus stop. No more freezing as the 97 runs late. It has really taken a lot of stress off me and I'm generally feeling better, mentally and physically.

10 Things Never Said

10 Things Isabella never says:

10 - I think I have enough toys.

9 - I love what you're cooking for dinner.

8 - I've made quite the mess, I should clean up.

7 - I am an only child, I probably shouldn't lie about who did this.

6 - Wow it's getting late, I should be in bed.

5 - I value your privacy mom, I will let you pee alone.

4 - I woke up 6 this morning, I'll play quietly by myself.

3 - This outfit is perfect and I'm going to stay in it all day.

2 - I trust your reasoning and won't argue.

1 - You're sore and just sat down, now is the perfect time to ask for a drink and snack.

Big Baby

Am I the only one who tears up when my kid does?

Not every time, but when she has those sad eyes and you know the waterworks aren’t far behind I can’t help but follow along. Like when Sassy and Chance ran home and Shadow wasn’t right behind them, or when Santa Paws didn’t have anywhere to go. I just can’t that sad little face and uncontrollable emotions. Come to think of it her emotional breakdowns are directly related to animals.

Oh, Dear God. I’ve created a mini-me.

I recall Gram telling a story of a dog who was hit and killed by a car and they never found the owners. I broke down and was hysterical thinking of some poor child waiting by the window for Skippy to come home.

What a baby! 

Tug-of-war

How many other moms out there have string all over their floors? Show of hands.

Why oh why do we insist on spending money on rope toys for the dogs? They’ll play tug-of-war and then just as soon as it starts, it stops. Tucker runs off with the rope and rips it into tiny shreds that are scattered all over the house. I will admit right now that it’s Sunday afternoon while I’m writing this and there is still string on the floor from Friday. I’m not ashamed of being lazy. I have 2 part-time jobs, 2 home businesses, 1 kid, 2 dogs. 

The carpet can wait. 

Just don’t show up unannounced, or I will be mortified.

No Sympathy

I have spent the last 20 years in pain, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. I think this why I have little to no sympathy for other people, even my own kid. He other day at school she pulled the classroom play kitchen over onto herself and the school called to let me know. When I got to the school at 3 to pick her up her teacher made it sound quite serious and I just said “okay.” The teacher looked a little puzzled.

Should I have raced over to her and scooped her in my arms and kissed her head better?

She seemed okay to me so no need to make a big deal out of it right?

Am I harming her by not exaggerating every scrape into a monumental “Mom will make it all better” moment?

Ahhhh... I doubt it.

Talent

Isabella is a singer... all the time.

Every... painful... moment.

I want to encourage her, I really do but somewhere in here I have to stop it and let my headache go away. We are always listening to music, in the car, on her stereo in her room, or on the tv. The problem is that she sings like she talks: repeating the same thing over and over, and then over again. I can’t take it. After a few minutes I have to walk away or ask her to stop. And then it's quiet, and peaceful  This only lasts a minute or two before she starts back up again. “I got lipstick on my eyes, stockings ripped all up the side... I got lipstick on my eyes, stockings ripped all up the side... I got lip...” You get the idea. I love my daughter but maybe we should push the dance classes a little more?

Jealousy

I am certainly not one of those people who had to be the best. I didn’t care about competitions when I was in school and even after that for that matter. When it comes to Isabella I find that I’m quite competitive and even jealous. Not of other kids because let’s be honest Isabella is the shit. I am jealous of Johnny. Isabella is the spitting image of him. When she was really little their infant pictures were indistinguishable. I am quite pale with dirty blond hair, always had blotchy skin, and blue eyes. Isabella doesn’t look a single thing like me. I can’t help but feel that I’ve lost some sort of gene race. People always ask if I’m her babysitter and respond with a puzzled glance when I say she’s my daughter. What if the next one is all me and we have to have to keep reassuring them that neither are adopted?

Letter to Isabella

Your future is limitless. I am, and always will be here for you, to encourage you, to support you, and to love you. I will teach you that the smart girls get further in life than the slutty ones. I will show you that it’s okay to spend your Friday night at home reading a good book. I will teach you about douche bags and how to avoid them at all cost. I will encourage you to learn what a doormat is and to let yourself become one, you are more valuable than you will ever know. I will show you to accept, and embrace the hand that you have been dealt. I will encourage you to talk and never hide your feelings away. I will teach you early on about bullies and show why they are unacceptable. You have a right to be happy and your dad and I will do everything in our power to make sure you always are.