Skytrain Theater

Sometimes I forget I'm not 'Supervisor of the World'...seriously.  Like this one time when I dropped Q off at Kindergarten and while we waited for the teacher to open the door, this (young) mom decided to kill some time by making out with her boyfriend.  I was this close to going up to them and telling their behaviour was not appropriate.  But then I talked myself out of it.  I just gave her the mother stare.  You know the one.  My mom had the greatest mother stare ever.  Whenever I got the stare, I stopped doing everything.  Sometimes I couldn't figure out what the stare was for, so the safest bet was to just stop doing everything...

Tonight was just like any other Friday night on the skytrain...crazy.  I had settled in nicely with my crossword when this guy starts pulling the backpack off one of my employees.  He starts yelling, "Hey Pedro, you want a lesson in etiquette?"  My employee just looked at him stunned.  This guy keeps pushing my employee and telling him how much he hates backpacks.  And he keeps calling him Pedro.  Which is hilarious.  My employee is middle eastern, but buddy thinks he's Mexican.  I think I shall call him Pedro from now on.

Within me wells this overwhelming need to 'supervise' the situation.   So.....I do. 

Side note:  I think I'm invincible when I'm in my supervisory uniform.  I don't know if it's the steel toed boots I wear or the thought that everyone respects a Canada Post supervisor.  Whatever the reason, I believe it.  And so far it's not been proven otherwise.  Ergo - Me = Invincible.  Woot woot!

I put down my crossword puzzle and, like the superhero I am, I jump in between the crazy backpack man and my employee.  "Listen, I am this man's supervisor, and part of my responsibility as his supervisor is to ensure his safety.  You will walk away now, or I will call the police.  Do you understand me?"

"F*** off, four eyes."  Replies backpack man.  (I am still laughing, hilarious.  You can't buy comedy like this!!)

"Dude,"  I say.  "Did you just call me four eyes?!?!?!?!"  This was sooooo funny for two reasons. Number one...I don't think I've been called four eyes since grade 3, and I will have you know I have very, very stylin' glasses.  Anne Klein glasses.  Just so you know.  The second reason this was sooooo funny to me was that he was wearing glasses. 

"F*** you."  He says again and wanders off to teach someone else a lesson in etiquette. 

It was only after I sat down that I realized what a stupid thing I had done.  What was I thinking?  What would I had done if he had decided to do something other than call me 'four eyes'.  Something like, oh I don't know...hit me, say....  Again, I do not supervise the world.  I should stick to my skytrain councilling sessions.

A few months back, I had the pleasure of meeting Jeanette.  A hilarious drunk young woman.  She was funny.  She walks up to this one girl and says, "I'm not gonna lie (she kept saying that, "I'm not gonna lie...") You look like Superwoman.  I'm diggin' it."  The funny thing was this girl did look like Superwoman.  Red dress, blue coat, and a yellow purse.  I almost laughed out loud.  Then Jeanette decides to talk to me.  "Do you love your job?"  "Nope."  I answer.  "I hate it."   She then decides to tell me how she hasn't 'found' herself and she doesn't know what she wants to do with her life.  I HATE talking to drunk people when I'm sober.  Especially drunk people who are pretending to be sober.  Especially when I've just been at work for 8 hours.  "Where do you work now?"  I ask.  "In a liquor store."  Did you know that the people who come into liquor stores are really cool?  Neither did I, until Jeanette told me.  Jeanette was really touchy feely too, and had no concept of personal space. 

What should she do, she wondered.  I'm not gonna lie.  I convinced this poor, drunk, space invading woman to stick it out at the liquor store.  "Maybe,"  I said "someone will walk in who just changes your life forever."   "Thank you."  She said, as she took my hand for the 10th time.  "I'm so glad I met you tonight.  You have just made me feel so good about my life.  I am where I'm supposed to be.  Thank you.  What's your name?"  Catherine, I tell her for the 10th time.  My name is Catherine....

Back to the crazy back pack man...at the next stop the transit cops pulled him off.  Again, hilarious.  As he was being escorted away, he yelled, "I HATE BACKPACKS!!!!!!!!"  

"Committed"

First and foremost, my apologies for being an absent blogger.  I know how you, my faithful thirteen followers,  hold your breath for each and every little gem of wisdom written by yours truly (haha)!!  While it's true I've packing, working full time, picking paint colours for the new home, volunteering in Q's school, and of course, parenting full time...I've also developed a ridiculous addiction to Webkinz.

Have you heard about Webkinz? 

Okay.  Briefly, I will explain the lure of the Webkinz world.  It all begins when you buy a cute little stuffed animal, and with this animal comes an online code that allows you to "adopt" the little guy in a surreal online world.  You make a house for the lil fella, complete with flushing toliets and blending blenders.  You can wall paper the walls, and tile the floors.   And they have these games to play that help you rack up the money so you can buy all these crazy things.  It's the games that have me (although, I have to admit, I've caught myself freaking out at Q for buying a certain fridge when he already had one.  Seriously, who needs two fridges?)  They're like online adult games only way easier because they're supposed to be for kids.  It's great!  I can (and do...) spend hours playing Pile 'Em Up Solitaire!!  Oh yes.  I said Solitaire!  The only problem I've encountered so far is explaining to Q why mommy is playing his games and spending his Kinzcash...

The other reason for my absence is that I was reading a book.  A really, really good book.  A year or so ago, I bought Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat, Pray, Love".  For the first six chapters I bawled.  Bawled.  Like a baby.  I could so identify with the anguish that filled those chapters.  I, too, found myself at one point in my life curled up in the middle of the night on the cold bathroom floor sobbing as my life fell apart around me.  I read as this amazing woman picked herself up and rebuilt her soul while travelling the world.  To be honest, my idea of hell is backpacking through India, Indonesia and Italy.  I often joke that my idea of 'roughing it' is a Motel 8 instead of a 5 star hotel.  Hostels are smelly, and the only things I think I would find in such a place are disgusting tropical bugs and cockroaches and rats (shudder).  But her journey of self discovery was fascinating, inspiring, and encouraging. 

So, you can imagine my pure delight when I found out that Ms. Gilbert had published another book, kind of a follow up to the first.  "Committed. A Skeptic Makes Peace with Marriage"  I will have you know I was in line buying that book the first day it was released.  Let me say this, the book does not disappoint.  I've never really had a problem with marriage myself...well, except for the fact that I've never been married, nor does it seem as though anyone wishes to marry me, but other than that I'm totally okay with marriage.  In fact ever since I was a little girl that is all I ever wanted to do - be married.  And be a mother.  To the extent that when ever anyone asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I'd make something up - like a teacher or a nurse.  In an era where women everywhere were fighting for the right to go to university and have careers (and get paid the same as their male counterparts...) it seemed so silly that all I wanted was to get married and be a wife and a mother.  But really, truly, that's all I wanted.  My career now, I've kind of fallen into and given the opportunity - when (and if) I grow up I still want to be a wife and a mother.

Ironically, reading how this skeptic made peace with  her impending marriage has helped me make peace with my ever looming singledom.  The book follows her trek through Southeast Asia where she bides her time speaking women from all walks of life about their views on marriage.  She's looking for a formula that will guarantee a happy marriage. In the smallest communities in Southeast Asia where divorce rates are next to nil, the secret to a happy marriage was this...creating a life filled with love.  Duh, right?  Here's the thing....not just the love of their husbands.  But their children, their own mothers, their aunts, their cousins, their nieces and nephews, their neighbours, their friends, their hobbies, their work, their homes.  And it hit me.  I've been waiting for the love of a man to complete my life, but when I look around me - my life is complete.  It is fabulously complete.  Falling in love isn't nearly as important as being loved.  Loved by my mother, my father, my child, my kindred spirits, my God .  Falling in love isn't nearly as important as loving those around me.  Loving my life, loving my career, my home and my child. 

I have to stop waiting.

Start living.  Really living.  Breathing in the sweet air right before the rain, watching the sunset, drinking in the smell of my child.  While I don't think I've ever really missed out on these experiences, I do know that I've never really looked at them as the complete story.  It just always seemed as though by being a wife they would be more special.  I look around me, and my life is complete.  I am content. 

Read the book.  Read them both, if you haven't read the first.  Enjoy the journey

"Me Do Myself"

My mom says I've been saying this since I was two, "Me do myself".  At bedtime, I also used to say, "No bbd!  No bbd!"  Wasn't I just the cutest thing ever?  Q, when he was three, and getting into trouble - would start to cry and say, "Mommy, you hurt my fault!"  Ahhhh, it is true - kids do say the darndest things!

Anyways, back to me.  I like to do things myself.  I'm a take charge kinda person.  It's really what's got me through a lot of tough times.  It's what got me through leaving my ex with $300.00 in my pocket.  It's what enables me to put furniture together with tools from the dollar store.  It's what I rely on when I have to fix the toliet without calling a plumber.  I like that things are done my way, on my time.   I like to do things myself (I know I've said this twice now, but it bears repeating.)

However...

Q and I have been living on our own for three years now.  I kinda thought that by now I would have married some rich, handsome man and spending my days getting manicures and picking up the kids from school.  But we all know that hasn't happened...yet.  And it's getting lonely.  Q is a great conversationalist when it comes to hockey and hot wheels and webkinz, and don't even get him started on Pokemon.  But he's sort of lacking in the adult conversation skills.  I can't even remember the last time he asked me about my day.

All this to say I am moving in with my mom.  I haven't lived with my mom since I was 17.   Of course, our relationship has evolved some in the past 15 years, so I'd like to think I'm not so much moving in with my mom, but moreso my equal.  We've found a wonderful house, with two fireplaces, a double garage, a huge backyard.  It's got enough room that we'll have our own space.  It's got a huge master suite with a jacuzzi tub large enough for 5!  (Not that I would ever, ever share it with 4 other people...I'm just saying...)  We can have pets!  A cat!  A dog!  A zoo!!!!!

I'm so excited about this move.  I'm excited for the companionship.  I'm excited for the change.  I'm excited for the home cooked meals every day, someone to do my laundry and clean up after me (hahahaha......just kidding, mom....really....)

I'm not so excited about packing.  Ugh, and then the moving of the furniture and boxes and blech.

Any volunteers?

Hello??

Is this thing on???

Meet the Teacher

E-harmony is a process.  I guess this is fair - any relationship you embark upon is a series of steps that lead to a friendship or an acquaintance or whatever.  E-harmony has just laid the steps out for you in point form so you can prepare for what is coming next.  Once you've completed the first 4 steps in "guided communication" you read a nice (albeit long) message from Dr. Warren.  Basically, it's a disclaimer...you know, the standard...we don't do background checks, follow your intuition, be extra cautious of anyone asks for money (er...there goes that idea...) and then you reach "open communication."  I'm not going to lie, this is a little intimidating.  For the past month or so, you've been guided thru the communication.  They give you a list of questions you can ask and then (these guys have thought of everything...) they give you answers to pick from.  You hardly have to think.  Plus, there's this build-up to the open communication.  This person liked the answers to your first questions, liked the answers to your second (long answer) questions, they've read the warning advice from Dr. Warren, and they still want to talk to you.  What do you talk about?  You know, besides the weather...no, seriously...what???

I've reached this step with one guy who's a high school teacher.  For this reason, I shall call him Mr. Kotter (Can you believe this is the only reference to a high school teacher I can think of?  And I've been thinking all day...this is all I've got.  I think it's important to mention, though, that it's really Mr. Kott-ah or Mr. Kot-tair...depending on your level of cool vs. geek.  I also think it's very important to point out that I have only watched this in re-runs...I think I was 2 when it first came out...)

Mr. Kotter is tall (6 feet)...this is good.  Mr. Kotter has a 6 year old daughter.  This is also good.   Very good.  Mr. Kotter is 36.  He likes to laugh (well that's a relief...) and is physically active.  He feels chemistry is very important and can tell within the first few dates if said chemistry is there.  If he could do anything with no consequences, no cost, and no one would ever find out he would 'paint the town red.'  Yup.  You know as much about Mr. Kotter as I do.  Almost a month of "guided" communication and I know that he likes to laugh.  Who - dare I ask - doesn't like to laugh? 

Sigh. 

So, he asked about my day, and I mentioned the unusually warm weather we're experiencing right now.  I'm waiting with bated breath for his response...

It's a start.  A beginning, really.  Who knows what may happen.  I'm trying to remain absolutely neutral, but I will say that in the little recesses of my mind I am hopeful.  What if it works out?  Wouldn't it be great to be a stepmom to a little girl only a year older than Q?  And he's a teacher.  That is so fabulous.  Not only is he inspiring young minds, but he can also help Q with his homework!  It's perfect, right?

And I'm only just a little planning our wedding in my head...

This Girl Just Couldn't Resist...

I had such a fabulous Christmas.  It was so relaxing.  I was spoiled rotten.  Q went shopping with my mom and picked out this beautiful butterfly necklace.  Q picked it all by himself.  My mom says that as soon as he found it, he just knew.  Even when the sales lady showed him other ones, he just knew that mommy would love the one he had chosen.  And I do.  I so do.  I got a beautiful cashmere sweater and suede boots (great for a soccer mom such as myself!!)

And it was peaceful.  Unlike millions of people who hate their family, I am fortunate enough to like mine!  I had my beautiful son, my lovely momma, and all was right with the world.  If my brother had been there, it would have been perfect. On Christmas Eve, Q fell asleep to "T'was The Night Before Christmas" and me singing him Christmas carols.  We left cookies out for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.  I love that innocence about Q.  The innocence of believing in Santa.  It's something I don't ever remember.  I remember pretending to believe when I was little.  But I don't ever remember believing.

My plan for Boxing day - of course - was to fight for the last of this, or the size 10 in that...shopping with the masses of people who didn't get what the wanted on Christmas.  Or maybe they did, but the lure of bargains and the desire for things got the better of them.  We woke up early in the morning, put on some coffee, made some scrambled eggs and decided that shopping was the absolute last way we wanted to spend the day.  The funny thing was, there was really nothing I could think of that I wanted.  I had everything that I needed.  Instead, I took Q to a movie.

Peace.  That's what I'm talking about.

Nothing...I didn't need a thing...

And...

...then I went on e-bay.

Turns out, I needed a new messenger bag for work (it's super cute), perfume (Ralph Lauren Romance, my favourite scent ever), and a Coach bag. I kinda feel really very guilty about the last purchase, because when all was said and done it was $175.00.  And I really don't need it...but, it's pink.  And it's Coach...Coach!!  Really, it's more of an investment.  Pieces like this are classic, you have them for years and years.  And c'mon - pink...how ME is that?

Holy Crap.  I just spent $175.00 on a purse. 

Merry Christmas!

Tomorrow I am going to begin my Christmas shopping.  Okay, I guess technically it's later on today, but it's still tomorrow to me.  I mean seriously, Christmas shopping on Christmas Day is soooo Alex P. Keaton.  Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve, however, is unfortunately just like me.  In my defence, I've been so busy at work, exhausted all the time, and I had to wait for pay day which just happened to fall on Christmas Eve (oh the joy of single motherhood!!) 

This is how I am going to approach shopping tomorrow (erm...today)  I am, first and foremost, making a pitstop at Starbies for a fabulous Creme Brule Latte.  I think I'll even spring for a Grande!  I am going to park far, far away from the mall and walk in so I don't have to fight with 15 different cars for the same coveted close parking spot.  I have a list in my head that I have been going over and over (and over and over....) so I know exactly what I'm looking for, exactly where to find it, and exactly what it will cost.  I am planning to spend at least an hour in a line up, who knows...maybe even two line ups.  I figure if I plan for a large line up, nothing will get to me.  Thirty people in front of me?  No problem.  The person behind me has one item?  Of course you can go in front of me.  The person in front of me is paying with rolled coins and is short fifty two cents?  I will have fifty two cents in my pocket to give them.  I will hum Christmas carols as I shop.  I will wish every one a Merry Christmas because, dammit, this is MY holiday, and I am going to celebrate it.  If you're offended, well suck it Mister.  And Merry Christmas to you, too!  I will be complete Zen.  I will be the epitomy of Christmas spirit and joy. 

My Christmas wish for you is peace this holiday season.  Genuine peace.  That on Christmas Day, amidst the chaos of presents and family and food, you will feel a moment of peaceful bliss.  That you will have a moment where you realize how fortunate for everything and everyone that surrounds you.  And that you will say a quiet prayer of thanks. 

Merry Christmas, my blogger friends. 

Careful What You Wish For

Like father, like son

My relationship with my ex is volatile, to say the least.  Usually when I describe him, the first word that comes to mind starts with an 'a' and ends with an 'ss'.  There are two things about him that drive me absolutely insane.  The first is the fact that he does not possess any common sense what-so-ever.  Like none.  At all.  The second is his inability to have normal relationships, in part because he is the most selfish person I have ever met.  Many an argument has been started due to his stupidity or selfishness. 

I've often wished that he would just disappear (haha, that is soooo putting it mildly!)  Here's the little life lesson for today:  Be Careful What You Wish For.  After facing the 3rd layoff in as many years, he has decided to look overseas for work.  And I feel sick.  Not for me, of course...the further he is from me, the greater chance I have at sanity.  I feel sick for my little boy.  Sick because one day last week as Q was falling asleep he said quietly, "I don't think Daddy loves me anymore."  Sick because I don't want my son to grow up without a father figure, no matter how annoying I find him. 

Mr. Ex grew up without a mother and a distant father (who, coincidentally was overseas...)  He grew up in boarding schools.  His relationship with his father is next to non-existant, and his relationship with people in general sucks. 

I know I can carry Q on my own.  I know that I can raise him to be a strong, carrying man.  I know that I have the patience to be a full-time mommy.  Unfortunately, I  cannot be a father.  I can't be an example of what a good father is.  I can't take away those fears of not being good enough or those feelings of abandonment.  It makes me sick.  As a mother, I want to shield him from those feelings for as long as possible.   And I don't want his father to be the one who wounds this perfect little being.  I don't want him to grow up like his father. 

An example of no common sense:  The guy wants to sign the house over to me, so he won't have to pay taxes in Canada.  He says he'll pay the mortgage while I'm living there.  Uh....hello...you sign the house over to me...I'm selling it, taking the money, and running.  Okay, just joking, but why would I want to live there?  It has sooooo many horrible memories for me from when we were together.  And it has his stuff.  Everywhere.  Can you even imagine, bringing my new boyfriend over?  Oh, wait...it's not about me.  It's about what's most convenient for him.  What an ass.