Becoming Something

Poor United States of America

Guys, I don't know if you know this, but you are eating chocolate that is vastly inferior to not only European chocolate (you expected that, right?) but also to Canadian chocolate.

When an American friend sent me his favourite chocolate bar (Hershey's Crackle, I think it was) and I threw them out because they were so awful, I thought it was just American Hershey's that was different from Canadian Hershey's. (Sorry, Preston.) I figured it was a one-brand thing.

But tonight Sarah and I went to the video store (I have her saying "store" all the time now instead of "shoppe") and because the franchise is American, the candy and chocolate is from the US, in US packaging. Actually, that's not much of a reason. A lot of things come from the US. But they still have Canadian packaging, with French and English on the front and back. It took me while to figure out what was so weird about this packaging: No French on the front. It's not legal, you know. Sure there was Spanish, but it's only similar to French, not the same thing.

So we got in the van (or "people-carrier", as Sarah would say, and I will never stop making fun of that because how literal is that when they say "a curry" for all Indian food and "pudding" for all desserts... including pudding-- be vague or be specific, UK! OK?) and I popped some Raisinettes into my mouth and the raisins were covered in sweetened candle wax.

And the thing is, I can't eat much right now because the roof of my mouth is inflamed and raw and bloody... for no apparent reason. And so I was hungry. So I was really looking forward to those Raisinettes because they weren't sharp or acidic or salty. I could have saved my money and eaten the broken candle on my fireplace mantle.

I realised that the Turtles were not likely to be better. They were probably American Turtles because the packaging was different. My palette says they were. I didn't know there could be such a thing as a bad Turtle. The generic brand at Shopper's Drug Mart is better than the American Turtle brand.

So, I felt really... sad? confused? that people eat this stuff and like it. I guess it's just what you know.

I'm thinking of starting a Canadian chocolate exporting business. Put your order in with your comments. ;-)

And now we are in our people-container on our people-sleeper about to watch Up in the Air on our people-Internet-enabling-Apple-product.

(Make fun of two powerhouse nations in one bitty blog post... Check!) ;-P

Daily Gratitudes

1. Jude bought lots of elderflower pressé and it was good for my sick tummy today.
2. I spent the whole day in bed. I'm not sure how grateful I am about this as I had a headache and was nauseated and really tired all day. But at least I had the luxury of staying in bed.
3. Sarah made me gluten-free pizza and it was not so bad. I mean, it wasn't Pizza Hut and there was no gluten in it, not surprisingly. Otherwise, it was great.
4. Sarah was able to get Daisy from school when she threw up and she came to bed with me and didn't throw up in the bed.
5. Richard J.'s kind comments to me today.

Best restaurant moment of 2009

For two days I've been trying to think of a "best of 09" restaurant moment that does not involve Britain, just so I can stop writing about Britain already.  Geez, it's almost like I've never been anywhere interesting but Britain.  Oh wait.  That's actually entirely accurate. 

See, it doesn't matter that I've had a delish dish or two here in Canada because eating from a trash bin in a urine-saturated back alley in London would trump fine dining in say... Banff.  It may be squalor but it's British-- you love it for its squalor, for its skinny pants and pointy shoes, for its absence of Rs and Ts.  It may be gritty and grey but it just looks so damn good in a photograph.

And it's not really about the company being superior to my company du jour:  Jude.  He's a funny guy and I can talk to him about anything ad nauseum-- our children, periods, a magazine article I read, poop, whatever.  For someone with a lot of thoughts and a need to share them, Jude is a jackpot.  To boot, he's funny, cute, lets me order as much food as I want and he always foots the bill.  Then, later, he expects me to knows I will put out.  I never get to do that with other friends.

It's not that I prefer the company of my British friends.  It's definitely not that the food is better (although I only ate at good restaurants).  I'm sure that I don't have to explain to you that anyone you have to pay $1500 to see and any meal you have to fly 8 hours to eat becomes super desirable and stands out in your mind.  Marketers know all about this quirk of human psychology.

I'm all about novelty.  And luxury.  I'm also all about overused hipster-cool clichés.

So, here it is.  Best restaurant experience of 2009:

Newcastle Emlyn, Carmarthenshire, Wales. Photo by tomylees.  (Why have I never thought before to search Newcastle Emlyn on Flickr?)

I love that super-wide door, the stained-glass window, the tiled floor.  The support staff was also very gracious about shutting that door when the cigarette smoke from outside was shortening my life span.

Nice art;  good staff;  clean, crisp decor;  cozy;  food to cry over.  And the company didn't totally suck either.  Lots of laughs and leftovers.  My first time trying such a variety of Indian food.  I didn't know before that day that it's my favourite.  Now I do.

Daily Gratitudes

1. Laughing so hard with Sara on the phone that the bones in my skull, an inch from my ears, needed massaging after and my abs hurt.
2. Laughing so much with Rebecca that I'm still high on residual endorphins.
3. Making Jude laugh on the phone, telling him what Sara told me.
4. My new blog design.  I love it. 
5. Daisy saying, "Josie got a big piece of gingerbread house yesterday.  Everything is no fair in my life."  Bwahahaha.  Today is funny!

Falling upon the sexiness of frigid Canada

The lovely, earnest, sincere Gwen Bell has issued a blog challenge to do a year in review, writing each day in December.  The theme:  Best of 2009.  (You can click on the above link to see what my daily blog topics will be this month.)

Today:  Best trip of 2009.

Well. If you've been reading along for a while, you know already that in August I flew sans enfants to London-- England, not Ontario-- where I met up with My Burtons who drove me to their old stone mill-home in rural West Wales.  It was dreamy, waking up alone in a cushy captain's bed with the sound of a stream outside my window, waiting for lovely people with charming accents to bring me breakfast.  I didn't want to come home.  I was seriously bummed out by Canada for a good long while.  Specifically, until yesterday.  Okay, truth be told I'm still bummed out but I did have a small epiphany yesterday.

* * *

A sudden blizzard had turned our bare roads and blessed browny-green grass into 4 inches of fluff and it was still coming down hard.  In a rush to get to the post office, I drove with a small mountain of snow on the hood of my Standard Mom Vehicle to the full-serve Co-op gas station where the nice ladies, somewhat bewildered at my snow-besotted state, voluntarily swept me clean.  I sat upon my heated seat, giving them a thumbs up and a smile. 

I was happy, despite this attack upon my September soul because a package was wedged in the passenger seat beside me, a package assembled with love and destined for Spain, and I thought about how my expat Spanish friend has probably never had the pleasure of driving in a Canadian blizzard.  Sure, she's visited castles and ancient Roman ruins.  So the Spanish beaches are only an hour's drive away and on a whim she can decide to spend part of her day snapping photos of terribly old Gothic cathedrals.  But has she had to stop her van every ten minutes to manually brush the snow from her side windows so she can back up safely?   Has she experienced the rush of adrenaline that comes from not knowing whether the van will stop in time to not hit that oncoming car that has the right of way, as the van struggles to brake on the packed snow, despite its slow pace well in advance of the stop sign ahead?

I was happy because I imagined the package to her family beside me was really her, and I talked to her in my mind, touring her around my town.  It was exciting, this first big snowfall of the season.  We sat at the bar in Taco Time, looking out the window at the frozen diagonal downpour and waited for little Lulu to finish her "Mexifries".   Looking out on the white expanse only vaguely resembling a parking lot because of some white shapes vaguely resembling some vehicles parked randomly, I mused with pride at how cities in the US would declare a snow day over what is just business as usual for us soldiers.  We trudged through the snow back to the van, some of it getting into our boots, snowflakes pelleting our hair, making a thin crunchy helmet after sticking.  I brushed the windows again.  I scraped some snow that had melted on the previously warm windows that cooled to ice beads while Lulu took her time desecrating potato corks with plum sauce.  I gloated for my guest's nervousness as I twisted about slightly on the roads.   Noticing the flickering TCS light on the dashboard she asked what it meant. "Traction Control System", I answered with cool importance.  Glamorous stuff.

(What a tease I am.  Sorry.  This is an original Canada Moms Blog post and you'll have to click here to finish reading the rest of this post.  It gets better.  I'm not allowed to post the full piece here.)

#best09

Hippo swallows a dwarf and lots of death and fire

If the video is too small here to view such that you can read the text within, then just click on it and view the larger version.  My blog column here will cut off a larger video, only allowing for a 500 pixel width.

I am super proud of my newfound iMovie skillz.  It's pretty corny at the end on purpose.  This is the first time I've ever been able to put photos and music and sound effects in a movie.  And a watercolour-cartoon map!!  Brilliant!

(Incidentally, John can be found on Twitter as @cootsh and Louise is @sweetlouloux.)

(Also, the song at the end is 4am by Cherry Ghost.  I forgot to explain that at the end of the video.  I think it may have become our like, anthem song or something.)

Daily Gratitudes

1. Some lovely blog comments lately.
2. The kids are enjoying being back in school.
3. I have been able to stay away from anything with refined sugar in it since Sunday.  I did have some swigs of maple syrup once but I'm calling that good.  And the biggest reason I've been able to abstain is that I don't want to let down Louise.
4. Monday is a holiday.
5. The weather will get cooler this weekend.

Don't make a meal of the sea. Do find a soapy waterslide.

Go to West Wales.  Go when it's cool and the sea sprays your face and God sends you three rainbows in two hours because you're you.  Tell yourself that's the reason because for how you feel that could very well be it.  Enjoy the thrill every time you drive down the roads barely wide enough for your vehicle, never sure if the next turn will be your last, as you watch yourself fly into the grill of another vehicle.  There will be no shoulders onto which you can veer and no grass and no field because almost every road is lined with hedges and trees that are maintained so they arch over the road like a haven for lovers. 

Tell the sheep I said hello and that I won't feel betrayed when they eat the grass from your hand instead of mine. Memorise the rolling fields of green, divided patchwork by braided hedges and have someone explain to you this old art, making it even harder for you to leave because those fields and those hedges just became a part of your soul and now your soul will be split and left partway around the world.

Feel the lack of ambition seep into your consciousness and don't complain at the lack of selection in shoppes because how many freakin' plasters (band-aids) does one store need, Canada? 

You will find that life there is smaller, more intimate, more slow, and less concerned about appearances.   Blackberries grow wild, as does holly, and I'm telling you, those maple trees grow some kind of crazy cahones.  The hydrangeas will really surprise you because it's not everyday you see a 4 foot by 5 foot purple cauliflower. 

Bring me back some elderflower presse and pour its bubbly down my throat as you describe the moist touch of fabric and the smell of the lush mustiness in the air. 

The people will talk with you easily if you engage them.  If you beg sweetly with a flirtatious twinkle in your eye, they will open their closed doors so you can go into their stores and pick up that one thing you need.  People may even be so beguiled by your sophisticated Canadian accent that you'll be able to have your way with them as is convenient.

Visit a castle.  Hike to it in the sun or in the rain.  Do it though your abs hurt from too much laughing.  Do it though the trek is muddy and the way is growing dark.  Go see the medieval murder- holes and the Queen's lair and climb the rocky jutted surface to strut your stuff.  Get yourself stuck because everyone should be stuck at the peak of a castle in Wales at least once in their lives. 

Please find somewhere soft to sleep where you can hear a running stream beneath an open window.  Eat lots of dairy because you will miss it.  If you don't normally like minced meat (hamburger), eat it in a pasta dish anyway because it will be the best tasting meat you've ever had. 

If you intend to go to the beach and you stop by Keith's you may get sucked into a giant waterslide competition on a big blue tarp with water and soap.  Don't go down on your feet thinking you will avoid getting wet so that you can still enjoy the beach in dry clothes.  I repeat: Do not go down on your feet.  You very likely will slip and throw your head back into the ground, garnering yourself a concussion.  Take the wet suit offered you, if you can get it over your wet skin, and give people rides down on your soapy body.

Don't feel self-conscious playing volleyball in your wet suit. You know they regard you with affection when they give your lousy serve a second chance because of the "Girls and Gays" rule.  If you're a girl, especially a blonde, you get an instant free pass.  If you are a guy who can't serve, they will matter-of-factly say with acceptance that you're gay and don't worry about it, you get to go again.

Then head to the sea and don't worry about the temperature.  It's not as cold as they say.  The water may taste briney fantastic at first but it gets very bitter.  Don't make a meal of it, okay?  Let the waves toss you about and toss the beach sand into the air with your toes.  You'll sink in beautifully because the sand is as perfect as sand gets, giving way to your every sand-related whim.

Marvel that houses are not numbered but named and the mail delivery person just has everyone's house name memorised.  This talented individual is revered and celebrated on national How Freeking Amazing is Your Mail-Delivery-Person-Brain? And Please Don't Die Because Then What? Day.  

Don't bother to ask the square footage of someone's house.  They don't know.  Yet another thing with which they don't concern themselves.  Slightly inconvenient when trying to shop for a home, but admirable as it reflects an entire philosophy of Good Enough.

Wales is not a place to enjoy like a to-do list.  Take your time and let it linger on your tongue.  Love it.  Or don't ever talk to me again.  ;-p

 

 

 

To see a few more photos from my trip, see my Flickr photostream.

North America, I'm just not that into you.

[WARNING:  This is surely the most disorganised, venty post I've ever written.  It's full of ideas that deserve further elaboration.  It's written without apologies and is sure to offend someone who feels threatened.  Prepare your expectations.  This is not an essay.  Would love to have you expound on some of my musings.]

I will post some photos and video and description of my trip soon.  I will.  I started writing something while in Wales and have been too tired to finish it, really, and I'm currently waiting on a video to be uploaded to YouTube (this entire process makes me feel so 1994-- get with the program YouTube and iMovie and the little elves who work inside the internet!) and every time I check on its progress, it says it's going to take an hour longer than it said the last time.  Well, that's just par for my life course, isn't it?

So, when the internet decides to evolve from 1553's reign of Bloody Mary to 2009's reign of Obama Salvation/Destruction (depending on to whom you're talking), and upload my video, I will post something about my vacation.

*deep breath*

Okay, so I know that I'm moody and this may very well be nothing and I should just wait for a northeasterly wind to pass through, carrying with it new whims, but I confess I'm panicking a little bit that this is a sign of something more pervasive and less whimsical.

I'm feeling a bit like an alien in my life again.  I went away and had the rest I sorely needed and had much time for reflection and I came home resolved.  So resolved, I tell you.  I came home with some measure of peace and a feeling of power, like I could change things that needed changing and accept things that needed accepting.

But I sit here right now feeling not so much resolved as... completely whackadoodle. 

Some people really love stability and sameness.  A woman from my church came to visit me last month and said how she grew up in one Southern Alberta town and she wanted to spend the rest of her life there with the same people and the same surroundings and the two times she's had to move it's been very difficult for her.  Another friend of mine is similar in wanting security.  She has little desire to travel and living in the same town for the past 10+ years really suits her.

I thought that was what I wanted, to settle down in a lovely home and raise my kids amongst a circle of friends and acquaintances I had accumulated carefully and stay there.

But when I reach into my gullet and pull out the thing that's choking me, it's clearly this carefully gift-wrapped pre-packaged life.

I've known for a while that I've been in a rut and I had no energy with which to pull myself out.  Before coming home from Wales I thought, Well, I can't move to Wales or to Russia or to Mars.  But I can change a few things and that's what I'll do.

Basically, I want to do and experience more.  I feel like we're letting life happen to us.  I hate schedules.  I hate having things imposed on my life by school and church.  I hate being told what I have to do and what my life has to resemble.  But... I can only change so much of that.

I feel intolerant of television, Twitter, Winter, blogging, apples and bananas, my wardrobe, and the people around me.  Basically, anything that's a part of my daily life as I know it.  So I thought about some changes I can make.

• We can read more.
• We can laugh more (although we do already make this a priority).
• We can say yes to more opportunities for fun and experience.  You're going hiking and want us to come?  Well, let's see what I had planned instead:  Laundry, grocery shopping, dog walking.  Ya, forget that.  We're going hiking.
• We can invite the kids into our world more and introduce them to things we enjoy instead of catering our schedule and lives to their playdates and their My Little Ponies and their "precaaaarious" development.

Problem is that if you're a Mormon, you are constantly made keenly aware of all your responsibilities.  Let's take a look, shall we?

• Be good.  (This encompasses a lot.)
• Have a responsibility ("calling") in the church and rock it like you're Britney Spears.
• Do your monthly home or visiting teaching. 
• Make sure your children attend Cubs/Scouts/Achievement Days (do I have that right?)/Young Men's/Young Women's/Seminary and
• Be on any councils necessary to make these programmes function
• Attend all your meetings, including leadership meetings you might have to drive a distance to attend
• Attend baptisms of people in your ward
• Attend social events in your ward
• Clean the chapel when it's your turn
• Hold Family Home Evening every Monday night

And let's take a look at what the school (and my kids) wants from me:

• Volunteer
• Attend parent council
• Sign off on books my kids have read every night
• Make or provide food for class parties
• Attend "portfolio reviews" where we look at what the kids have done so far in the year and ideally we don't bring our other kids (as freakin' if)
• Read through my kids' portfolios and ooh and ahh over the very basic and boring things they do and then fill out a form to say what I liked and what goals I have for them, etc.

I know I'm forgetting stuff.

Then, there are cultural expectations. 

• We will have a nice house and keep it and our yard presentable to make other people happy
• We will be attractive
• Our kids will do well in school, be involved in organised sports, learn a musical instrument, get a part-time job, go to university, know what they want to do with their lives, get married, have kids, stick with one well-to-do career and live the boring suburban life we've patterned for them, being allowed to be wild and fun (but only so much) once or twice a year while on vacation.

Again, I'm forgetting stuff.

The funny thing is that some of these expectations are merely cultural but here in North America we assume that this isn't just the good life, it's the Godly life. 

I've always known that America is the land of blind arrogance but I never realised how much Canada is like that too.  I felt something tangibly different when I was in the UK.  I felt a kind of relaxation of expectations and insecurity.  Maybe I'm making it up but I don't think so.

See, in North America we care very much about Being Responsible and about What Other People Think of Us.  We care about success and appearances.  We work ourselves to the bone and attribute our self-worth to how hard we've worked and all the tangible reflections of that work:  money, successful children, etc.

But I have this theory that actually, North America, (yes, including you, USA) has a giant insecurity complex.  We want to think we're happy and that we're more righteous than the rest of the world, but really, we're so deeply unhappy that we're obsessed with entertainment, sex, and fantasies of fame and wealth.  We have an incessant need for MORE.  Larger portion sizes, more choices, bigger vehicles, bigger and nicer homes, more shoes, fuller schedules.  And everything is a competition because if the Joneses seem happier than us, then that must mean we're UNhappy.

North America?  I'm just not that into you.  You suck.  You think you have things figured out, but you don't.

And then Mormons, because the Church of Jesus Christ was reorganised on the earth in America, think that the American way of life must be God's way. 

I just can't shake this feeling that these people will one day be surprised to know just how much possibility God was willing to allow us and that there isn't a right or wrong way of doing EVERYTHING.  Some Mormons might think that because beards and dresses on men are discouraged that it's because God hates beards and dresses on men when of course it's entirely cultural.  We have a standard of dress not because of God per se but because of cultural norms and all that they imply.  So, if the church had been organised in Africa instead of the US, the standard of dress for men might very well be a dress-type outfit.  And if the world was more global instead of so Americanised, church members around the world would dress far more differently than they do now and that would be okay.

I feel stifled.  Not so much by my religion as by my culture.  I could better handle the religious expectations if I didn't feel so stifled by the expectations of everyone else who's not God.  I've felt this way for as long as I can remember.  When I was 13, my favourite song was What a Good Boy by Barenaked Ladies:

"When I was born, they looked at me and said,
what a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy.
And when you were born, they looked at you and said,
what a good girl, what a what a smart girl, what a pretty girl.

We've got these chains hanging 'round our necks
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same,
When temptation calls, we just look away.

This name is the hair shirt I wear
And this hair shirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
Bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me, be with me tonight,
I know that it isn't right, but be with me tonight.

I go to school, I write exams,
If I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
Does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they'll soon forget cause it won't take much for me
To show my life ain't over yet.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange.
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange
And everything around me stays the same."

You know what?  That song still rings true for me.  

* * *

When I was in Wales I wrote Jude an email.  I marveled at how different our lives are from John and Louise's.  John studies romantic poetry for a living, finishing his PhD this year.  Louise recently received a BA with honours, majoring in photography.  They have eleven children.

When I mentioned this to a friend she laughed and at first I thought it was a laugh that said, "Wow, that's fantastic!  Good for them!"  Then I realised it was most likely a laugh of derision.  Like, what the heck do these irresponsible people expect to do with a PhD in poetry and a degree in photography with eleven children to care for?

Well, they're open to everything and they don't worry.  They're open to living anywhere and when you're open to life instead of fearful and doubtful, someone offers you a teaching position in Spain and every single thing falls into place so that you get to move your family to a new life with so much promise.  It's brilliant and I'm thrilled for them and admire them all the way to my toenails.

And I think Jude does too.  Because while we were off discussing philosophy and love and life and beauty, he was dealing with a 2-year-old with gonorrhea and a criminal who had burned a body.  His job sucks.  No amount of prestige or money makes what he does worth it, from my perspective.  It just sucks royally and there should be some kind of government reward for people who do what he does, wherein they only have to do it for 15 years and then they get moved to some cushy position or they get paid a helluva a lot more so that they can retire early more easily.  I don't know.  Something.   Yes, what he does is important and yes, he's great at it, but it's also really depressing and emotionally trying and he's too beautiful and sensitive to be doing this.

So, here I am, a (sort of) artist and writer, hanging out and musing with a (real) artist and writer and Jude is submersed in all the worst works of Satan.  And he said has thought, I shovel crap for a living.   Who could blame him?  Who would want to talk to sexually abused kids for a living when they could take photos for a living?

So, I wonder what is more admirable:  Jude staying with his career, sticking it out, fruitlessly striving to save society, earning his early pension, ensuring our benefits and iMac purchases, etc.  OR  Jude giving it all up so that we can live a life with more beauty and less degradation, with less money but less responsibility, and more joy?

You might say that's a pipe dream but people do it.  People sell everything off to travel Europe for 7 years, homeschooling their kids along the way.  Imagine what an education that would be.

What you consider more admirable depends upon your culture, I think.  America thinks that most of the world wants to live in America but it becomes abundantly clear while IN Europe that America is considered a bit of a joke abroad.  Europe is very happy with their own way of living, thankyouverymuch.  People assumed that I was better off being Canadian and in some respects I think I am but Canada is still too much like the US for me to be really proud of it.  It's just not my cup of tea.

Maybe this life of work and responsibility IS God's way for us.  But God's way for us is also to grow up with two parents who love us and an education and all sorts of things that not everyone is privileged enough to have and so because we have so many variations of upbringings and circumstances we have people with different needs for different lives.  That makes sense, right? 

There are many ways to live life and this is just not my kind of life.  I don't want this.  I don't want this suburban idea of perfection.  I don't care if you think my grass is overgrown.  I don't care if you want to leave me a message on my voice machine and can't.  I don't care if my kids' clothes don't match.  I don't care if you need someone to make cookies for the school bake sale.  I don't care that you want me to buy you a Christmas present.  I don't care if you think my kids should all know how to swim and ride a two-wheeler by age four.  Maybe YOU need to adjust YOUR expectations of me.  Maybe it's not my purpose on earth to make your life easier for you or to reflect back to you the rightness of your choices.

As well, maybe it's not my purpose in life to serve my children to such a degree that where we go on holidays and what games we play and what we eat for supper is catered to their likes and dislikes.  Hmmm?  Maybe this child-centric culture is entirely screwed up and is responsible for the depression of so many mothers like me as well as the depression of children.

ALL THAT SAID, I can't really expect Jude to quit his career, everything he's worked for in 20 years, and move to Wales to work at the nearest Tesco.  I can't be noncommittal with everything.  I can't spend all day painting and surfing iTunes Genius. 

So, I have been trying to find a balance in my mind.  What CAN I change to be happier in these choices I've made?  I can't live in new countries every couple of years.  But there are changes I plan to make and if anyone not in my immediate family doesn't like it, they'll just have to suffer their indignation that doubles as fodder for superiority over me.  Happy to be of service.

One thing I'm excited about is being more relaxed with the kids.  I need to have fewer goals for them to reach by NOW and have more goals for them to reach by ADULTHOOD.  I need to stop thinking of them as delicate Ming vases that I've screwed up irreparably.  I should invite them more into my life and stop trying to force myself to enjoy their kid lives so much.  In the morning, we're not going to watch cartoons.  We're going to listen to my music.  And when Wondering Where the Lions Are comes on CBC Radio Two, Jude and I are going to dance as is our tradition (they seem to like playing that in the morning) and the kids are going to shut up so that Jude is ONLY dancing with me and not talking with them.  And maybe we should just tell them when they're banging on our door and asking to come in that we're having sex and leave us alone.  Maybe we should just put a sign on the door so that they don't even have to knock the first time and kill my mojo.  Maybe we should be more honest with kids and stop sheltering them so much.  Maybe I should cook whatever gourmet thing I want and if they don't like it they can make their own suppers.

I feel like I've been living my life not because it's how I want to live it but because it's the "right" way, so I'm told.  I feel like I just haven't been daring enough to make the choices I actually want to make. 

And the carpiest part is that I still don't know if I'm really daring enough.  I feel like I have all this momentum to change but winter and status quo and whining from my children and other people around me will drag me back down to feeling trapped again.  

DOES ANYONE ELSE FEEL THIS WAY?  How do you get by?  How do you find the balance?

Daily Gratitudes

1. School has resumed.
2. My kids are able to learn in French.  They need the challenge and I feel like I've done this great thing by giving them the opportunity to be bilingual.  No matter what I do from hereon out, I will know that I made a really awesome decision for the welfare of my kids and I could have chosen not to.
3. I have a generous husband who strives to understand and love me and who knows that I really needed that vacation and doesn't begrudge me it.
4. Montana has gone back to school with no anxiety.
5. The smell of Wales is still just a little bit left in my pillow.

Why?

Why the H-E-double-hockey-sticks do I live in Canada, again?

 

 

 

(Just a few unedited photos that I can put up right now because they're flipped in the right direction.  I swear the woman with the camera was taking a photo of me. It looked like she was looking right up there.  I told you: I'm famous in Britain.)

Daily Gratitudes

1. John's sweet and gentle disposition.
2. Pretty much everything about Louise.
3. Beautiful, perfectly cool weather.
4. Adorable children that almost make you want to have more.  Almost.
5. I like being in this time zone.  I feel like a trend-setter.  First I will wake up, then you will!  First I will eat breakfast and lunch and then you'll be like, "THAT is the best idea ever, Natasha.  You should be Prime Minister."  Except that some of you would say "president" because you're Ameri-centric and don't even know that my country's leader is called a prime minister.  It's okay.  I still love you.

See ya!

It's 4:13 am.  I've been up for over an hour.  I have no idea what to do with myself when the rest of the family is sleeping.  When it's midnight I feel comfortable moving about as usual because the kids are solidly asleep but when I get up for the day at this time I feel like they're closer to getting up too if I don't tip toe about.  I should just put a load of laundry in so I can have my black sweater to wear in case I get the projected low of 16 º C in London instead of the projected high of 25.  But I'm afraid of waking anyone.  Just moments ago Lulu woke up crying and crying.  Jude and I tried to soothe her, telling her to wake up, that it was just a dream.  Finally she blurted, "Montana was bothering me!"  Cute.  So, anyway, I don't want to rouse the dog or Lulu or more likely Josie, so I just sit here online with nothing to do because who do you think is available to talk to at 3am?  No one.  Except Richard Cook, whoever he is.  And I can't even put paragraphs into this because I'm trying out Opera 10 Beta 3 and apparently it has different keyboard codes for different actions and the Enter key does nothing for me.  STUPID.  Why do that, Opera?  "I know! Let's make a better, faster browser and then take all those common actions that people do without any conscious thought whatsoever, put them all in a tumbler, shake them up, pour them out and whatever comes out comes out, and then to make a new paragraph they'll have to push the number 3 while holding Control and singing Home, Home on the Range but instead of 'where the deer and the antelope lay', they have to sing in Elvish!"  Brilliant, Opera.  Just brilliant.  Anyway.  I'm off to London today.  I may or may not update my blog while I'm gone.  No idea.  I'll probably just stick to Facebook updates.  Take care!

On my way to London and Wales... ALONE

I will likely be blogging later this week and the week following from Wales, after landing in London and spending a day there with friends John and Louise Burton.  I will be staying with them, using their Macs so I can journal the funny stories, etc.

I've been preoccupied with anxiety about the plane ride there and my first day (only one spent in London) because there's a seven hour time difference.  I'll be arriving at 4:30 am my time and will then be expected to walk around London cheerfully with both eyes open, presumably.  Yes, I'll be taking caffeine pills.

I thought I'd be really clever and try to get the jet lag largely over with from home but if I can't fall asleep on the plane, this will have backfired, meaning that when I land I will have not have slept for... 24 hours.  So, I've been waking up at 4 am and my next sleep I'll be waking at 2 or 3 am, in the hopes that I'll be such a zombie when I get on the plane that I will sleep for at least some of the 8 hour flight.  I'm not good at sleeping in a non-prone position.  Also, I got stuck with an aisle seat so I have nothing to lean on unless there is an accommodating stranger.  I tell ya, if I'm sitting next to a man who seems to dig me even a smidgen, I'll be milking that for all it's worth, my pillow leaning against him.  Yes, it will.  Priorities, people.  It's London.  I can't be a sleep drunk zombie.  And if he wants to play with my hair so I can fall asleep, I'll allow it this one time.  Just kidding.  Mostly.

I'm so excited that it's almost an out-of-body experience. Here's why:

1. I have never been outside of Canada aside from brief jaunts into Michigan and Minnesota.  No offense to the M states but big deal. *eyeroll*
2. I have never been away from my kids for more than two nights and that was only once.  Even after birth, I was there with them the whole time. So, I need a break.
3. I have been aching to visit London, and Britain in general, for years.  I have often wished I could live there.  Why can't I live in a tumbling stone cottage on a lush green property with a 100-year-old garden like in The Secret Garden, hmm?  Why can't *I* own sheep?  Life isn't fair.
4. I'll get to cook for adults who will appreciate it and likely gush and tell me how wonderful and talented I am.  Especially now that they're aware of my expectations. Ha.
5. For nine full days my only responsibilities will be laughing, reading, writing, site-seeing, watching movies, playing games, bathing, sleeping.  I will have some packing and helping-around-the-house to do but that's a choice, not a responsibility.
6. I will be meeting and enjoying sparkling conversation with new blog commenter Vince and Naomi, John and Louise's close friends and family members by extension of marriage between Naomi's and John's siblings.  Cool/weird fact:  When Louise was telling Vince about how she and John were chatting with and getting to know me, Vince said something to the effect of, "Does she write a blog called BecomingSomething?"  HE ALREADY KNEW OF ME.  How eerie is that?  I tell you, I am famous in Britain.  First Jude Law, now Vince, which is almost the same thing.  ;-)
7. I'm sure to come home with a new British lilt to my conversation.  After even a brief time with British people, it's almost impossible to not change the lilt of your questions.  I'm sure I'll still pronounce my Rs, though. Pronouncing ALL the letters of the alphabet is a hard habit to break. Hee hee.
8. I'll get to meet John and Louise's charming eleven children.  That little one who says "eeoo" instead of "hello" might get eaten, though, before the week is through.  There's nothing cuter than a 5-year-old with a strong British accent.  Think of those little girls who played Jude Law's daughters in The Holiday, only cuter.
9. John and Louise have become like family.  I wouldn't exactly know because as you may know, I don't know what it's like to have normal family.  All I know is that we have become as close as I can imagine people becoming who aren't married to each other or related by parentage.  That's weird you say?  Because we've never "met"?  Well, think about it:  We're all LDS, so right off the bat we don't need to talk about life philosophies and values and we largely live the same daily culture.  Then think of what it's like when you meet a new person with whom you think you might mesh.  You start off with small talk... you wait until you run into them again then you might ask them more personal questions... you might invite them for dinner and your conversation gets interrupted by your kids....  It can take a while to really get to know new people well enough when in person.  There's an intimacy to email and instant chat conversations.  Formalities are done away with because reservations largely go out the window-- if it's awkward or if you get rejected, these virtual people are easy to avoid.  Video chatting almost replaces face-to-face interactions. Then, I'm not exactly a private person; anyone can read my blog and feel like they know me very well.

But more on this family thing because I feel like bemoaning for a few minutes:

Yesterday our family went for lunch at the home of the Day family and their sister and brother were also there with their seven kids.  (Okay, this is weird/cool:   Sister Day's sister married Brother Day's brother.  So, their collective 14 kids are double cousins.)  Brother Day has 12 siblings-- all handsome people.  Sister Day has five siblings, also very attractive.  When their oldest son was baptised a couple of years ago there were about a bazillion (approximately) gorgeous people present, all related and close-knit.  When it was all done, our family went to the grocery store and Mika was playing on our CD player.  It was new to me then and Happy Ending came on.  It overwhelmed me with its power.  I sent my family in, stayed in the van, listened to Happy Ending, and bawled.  Especially when the violins and other voices came in, there was a great crescendo and all this emotion came out of me.  I was intensely envious of their family.  THIRTEEN FREEKIN' KIDS! And I'm an only child born to a family who hates each other with a gusto.  It's so not fair.  They were raised in the LDS church all normal-like and I was raised in the white welfare ghetto with drug parties, disillusionment and sodden sexuality. They have all these people they love and who are kind of forced to love them back by virtue of DNA ties and temple sealings.  I have... Jude and my kids.  Not nothing, for sure.  But it can be lonely sometimes.  The kids are too young to be my friends yet and Jude is too different from me to meet all my needs for companionship. 

I thought I was over my bitterness and such until two years ago (ish) when I realised that I have a few psychological problems which are directly related to my upbringing. I've been a little bit pissed off ever since. 

So, we go to the Day's and while I wasn't emotional like when I was first barraged with their family, I left feeling sad and envious again.  Sister Day is who I thought I would be:  seven kids, homeschools, slim with gorgeous skin and lots of adorable freckles.  She's one of the most adorable people on the planet because, 1. she's an easy laugh-- she laughs at everything I say, even when I'm not trying to be funny; 2. when she talks she either sounds a) very coy, or b) excited.  And her nose scrunches up when she laughs.  How cute is that?  My nose looks super ugly when it's scrunched up.

My point is this:  People with happy families and especially large happy families might not understand why people would have any desire to spend time chatting with strangers online.  From my perspective, people are people and whether or not they're born to you or are strangers is pure chance.  I'm just as likely to bond with someone I'm not related to as someone who shares my blood, except that given the circumstances of my family, it's even MORE likely that I'll bond with a stranger.  Given that the only family members I even speak with are two aunts (and only one of them regularly), my mom (and that's a recent development and often strained), and my half-adopted(sorta) sister, I have TONS OF ROOM in my life for new people.  Not only do I have a lot of room in my life and heart, I have a need.  I often imagine what I'd do if Jude and the kids died in a car crash or something.  I'd have no one but my friends and they're all spread out.

So, if you're especially charming, bright, fun, funny, open-minded, non-judgemental, able to laugh at yourself, generous, happy, loving, creative, and especially if we have similar values, I so have room for you and I will earnestly love you more than you can imagine unconditionally and forever.  Drop me a line. Ha. ;-)

[Buy fun London illustration at this Etsy shoppe.]
[Buy English cottage print at this Etsy shoppe.]
[Buy Alone in London print at this Etsy shoppe.]
[Buy London Love print (which I bought for John & Lou) at this Etsy shoppe.]

Daily Gratitudes

1. I'm so glad I don't have to transfer planes on the way there.  I just have to get on and concentrate on trying to fall asleep.  I've even thought of looking for white noise mp3s on iTunes to put on repeat.  Clever, huh?
2. I'm almost done organising babysitting for my kids.  I hope they'll be happy.
3. iTunes Genius.  Finding all sorts of good music to get me through travel and to enjoy on my trip.
4. John's brother has a whole house on their property (right next door, I think) that I get to myself.  I'm assured it's posh and that I'll love it.  It could be a jail cell and I'd love it. 
5. Jude is staying home and he's the best man I could probably ever hope to be married to.  So loving and accommodating.