The Lenten Season

Sometimes it truly sucks to be able to discern the voice of the Lord.
Like, it totally sucks.

I have had it on my heart since about January to observe the Lenten season this year. And Lord knows I've tried to shake it off... But it keeps getting impressed upon my heart to observe it.

And no. I am not Catholic in any way, shape or form.

I'm what you would call a Christian. I am not too weird (at least to my brain I'm not weird), and I know some hymns. Don't remember the last time I sang hymns at church, but I know some at least.

So. Yes. Lent.

A period of reflection where you purposely die to self in order that you may gain spiritual riches.
A period of time where we give up trifling things in remembrance of the not-so-trifling things that Jesus gave up for us.
A period of 40 days where we spiritually echo Jesus' 40 days in the desert after being tempted by Satan.

And guess what God wants me to give up this year.

Facebook.

When I told my darling hubby what I was feeling the Lord tell me, he just laughed and laughed. Then he said, "Usually, if giving up one particular thing is what you're least wanting to do, then that's exactly what you should be doing. (but you knew that =P)"

Darn. Why is he SO right all the time ?????

So this is my journey of self-denial. I don't really have any high hopes for what God's going to say to me during this time. I'm not going to be all mystic-y or anything... I'm hoping that I can burn through my school course in the next 40 days and get that bad boy accomplished and DONE. It feels so good to put a little check mark next to a course....

Lent.

Sometimes to get a greater appreciation for a thing, it is good to take a break from it so that you rediscover it's beauty, magnificence and the value that it adds to your life.

Pets.

I have 2 cats who are sisters (they are orange tabbies) and I have a Gordon Setter dog.
My cats are named Bella & Toffee, and the dog's name is Katy.

Now, my kitties DEARLY love to play the game "Let's Attack Each Other And Try To Look Really Mean While We Do It And Then 10 Minutes Later We'll Groom Each Other's Ears Like Nothing Happened". So they pounce on each other and chase each other and seem to have a lot of fun.
But neither of them give the memo to Katy.
Which is where it gets funny.
So Bella & Toffee get to the part of the program where they are biting each other and mock clawing each other, and Katy stands a few feet away with the most concerned look on her face like, "What are you two crazy felines doing??? Where is the LOVE??? It's the season for family, not strife! Let's make up!!".
Then, when they are all done their playing, they saunter over to Katy as if to flaunt that while yes, they were fighting, they are okay now, and she worriedly smells them all over to make sure they don't have any undiagnosed owwies or any fur out of place.
So, she licks them as if to give them a benediction (a doggy benediction, LOL), and then the kitties retreat to some part of furniture to rearrange what damage Katy's tongue has wreaked.

And it's all over until tomorrow.

What a stress filled day....

Today I had to do something that I dreaded.

I had to go into the Polytechnique where I take my Distance Education course through, and I had to tour their library.

I was so nervous.

(I really wish I could draw cute little drawings right here... Just saying.)

So. I packed up my 5 year old, and all the snackies I could lay hands on for him, and I packed up his sister's Nintendo DS, and we drove into the Big City. (Which is no small thing... It took me about 40 minutes to get there)
We got to the school, and I was already stressing out... I could feel my heart pounding a mile a minute, and my feet and hands were blocks of ice. (I had the van heater directed AT MY FEET and they were still completely cold in my shoes, that's how nervous I was!)
So. We get to the school, and I'm driving to the parkade (I hate parkades. Big anxiety thing for me). I park, and we start walking. (Because hellloooo.... Parkades make me stressed, so I park where there's lots of parking. Which is normally at the back corner furthest from the exit.) We walk and walk, and then we walk up the parkade stairs and emerge into the sunlight of the outdoors.
Now, I wish I could say that there was this magical sniffy thing that waved a magic wand and poofed my fears away but I'd be totally lying. And while it's my perogative to write whatever the heck I want on here, I'd like to stay as close to the truth as possible.
So. As I was saying. Walked up into the open.

And looked around.

I couldn't find the Library.

That was the ONLY PLACE I NEEDED TO GO on that god-forsaken campus. The LIBRARY. How freaking hard is it to lose the Library, for heaven's sake????

Walked around. Looked like a complete and utter dork, I'm sure.

Finally, found the library.

Maybe God WAS smiling on me, after all!

Walk around and try not to look like a local yokel as I stare amazed at what the library looks like.

Tour around - upstairs and downstairs and peruse the collection. (I've only ever used the online library before as I tend to do my schoolwork in my pajamas or at the very least, fluffy wool socks, yoga pants and a hideous sweatshirt I stole from my mother-in-law)

Go upstairs again, and sit down, and start doing some of my assignment. Get 5 year old son all situated with a video game, and start writing.
Realize that I have no idea how many staff work at this library.

Try to look it up on the computers, but guess what? Still nervous and forgot ALL my passwords for school. Argh.

Look over and voila! Like a beacon of goodness - a librarian is sitting at the Information Desk.

I think to myself , "The girls I work with are nice. I bet this lady is nice too! I bet I could ask her my question!".
Get son all packed up, and go over to the Information Desk.

I put on a nice smile, and ask, "Excuse me... Are the number of staff members that work here included on the website?"

That was my question. Pretty benign, no?

She looks at me and says all snarkily, "Well, shouldn't YOU have made an appointment to find out information like this???"

I stammer back that I'm a Distance Education student and I just have to tour around the library and that I had to come from out of town to do so.
She looks haughtily at me, "Well, I'm not sure you NEED that information...."

I ask again, "Is that kind of information on the website just so I can be extra anal?"

She ignores me and tries to kiss up to my 5 year old. 'Hi! Did you check out a book from the children's section downstairs?"
To which I say, "I'm not going to borrow a book from here... It's a pain in the rear to return it to here! Besides, we have tons of books from our local library at our house...."

She looked at me and said, "Just get them to return it by an InterLibrary Loan."

In my head, I am saying that there's no way in HELL that I'm going to make my local library incur the fees to send something back like that.
But outwardly, I smile, and say "Thank you for your time."

As I walk out of there with my 5 year old clutching onto my hand, I inwardly call her a bitch.
I wish I would have had the chutzpah to call her on her rudeness right to her face. I COULD have just done a virtual tour of the library, but I wanted to go "that extra mile" and do it in person even though it made me nervous to the extent that I was concerned I was going to have an anxiety attack again.

So thank you, Random Librarian Bitch. Thanks for ruining what could have been an awesome experience. You took a shitty time and made it shittier. I hope you get trampled by elephants with poo on their feet.
And I hope your coworkers give you Midol for Christmas, because you CERTAINLY need it!

And don't kiss up to a kid when you've just been a bitch to the mom. So not classy.

I hate ironing. With a passion.

I'm sure that every person in the world has ONE job that they absolutely hate.

Some people - it's picking up dog poo.
Or cleaning up puke.
Or shoveling the snow off the driveway in wintertime.
Or cleaning bathrooms.

You get my point.

My least favourite thing to do on the planet is ironing.
Yes.
You read that correctly.
I. Hate. Ironing.

I'm sure most irons and ironing boards are quite nice and effective.
I just can't get through a shirt (or God forbid a pair of pants!) without uttering some choice four letter words on how I'd like to send all irons to the deepest part of the ocean, and I'd toss in all things that need to be ironed after them.
I kid you not.
I shop according to the care label that is sewn underneath the label. If it says "Iron on medium heat" I don't buy it. I've even really LIKED shirts that I've tried on, but if it has to be ironed, it's an automatic candidate for the "NO WAY IN HELL AM I EVER BUYING THIS" pile.

My mother used to moan and berate me for my non-ironing ways. "What do you think you're going to do when you're an adult? You can't just wear jeans and tee shirts to work, Cindy!", she'd say.
Of course, I totally bested her in that. At my job, I DO wear jeans and cotton shirts! Ha! I won, Mom!

And when I fell in love, I fell in love with this great guy who was super sensitive, outspoken, and tidy. Who ironed all his stuff, including his jeans. Who never owned a dresser that he actually put CLOTHES in - he hung all of his stuff up in the closet.

Fast forward 13 years. I just finished ironing HIS WORK OUTFITS. I drew the line at using the lint brush, because honestly, if I had to lint brush his clothes on top of ironing them, I'm pretty sure I would have either a) burnt all his clothes on purpose or b) gone stark raving mad.
My blood pressure was already quite high to begin with. I could feel throbbing in my forehead (which is never a good sign).

I ironed all of his clothes.

Hubby was super appreciative but leery of me as I was finishing up. (Not sure what tipped him off.... Maybe the steam/smoke coming out of my ears was a good clue) He tried to make a joke, and to make me laugh, and I skewered him with a Death Glare that we females are famous for.

He quickly fell silent.

I then finished the last sleeve that I was working on, and told him that I loathed ironing.
He seemed to nod, like he understood it. But I could tell that he didn't.
Then I said something that shocked him.
"I would rather have a Pap Test than iron."
He looked at me, agast.
"Seriously? You hate it THAT much?"

I looked at him and said "What did you think when I said that I hated ironing? I would rather get braces put on my teeth again than iron clothing."

I think he finally got that I hate ironing.

Let's hope I never have to do THAT again.

I am the best dayhome provider EVER!!!!

Not that I would ever toot my own horn or anything, but man!!! I am a GOOD dayhome provider.

What's that??

You'd like proof, you say?
I can totally accommodate you with that.

Exhibit #1.
I made breakfast for my dayhome kids. Tonight. The night before. (Yeah, I normally make them breakfast, but I went WAY above and beyond the call of duty tonight)

I made homemade pancakes with a wee touch of homemade Pumpkin Pie Spice in them.

*drool, drool*

And, if that's not yummy enough, I made bacon for them too.

Those kids are soooooooooo gosh darned lucky.
They don't even know how good they are going to have it in the morning.

C.

The Hour When We Reappear...

When it's late at night, and everyone is in bed and the house is silent except for the dog snoring and the cats running around pretending like they are "valiant hunters" *snicker*, I find that I rediscover Me.
It's quiet.
I plug in my iPod (God bless Apple!).
I hit "shuffle songs".
And somehow, magically, I come back to myself.
The cares of the day/week/month/year peel off slowly, like a winter coat and all of it's trappings.
Somehow, I find myself doing something mindless in the kitchen (like cleaning out the plastics cupboard) and like a mist that rolls in slowly, there I am. I see Me.
Not the Me who is a mummy.
Or a wife.
Or a daughter dealing with a difficult parent.
Or a daughter-in-law who constantly has to turn the other cheek and forgive.
Or a sister who has to appease all sides.
Or a friend who "has all the spiritual answers".
Or even a dayhome provider who loves kids who aren't her own.

I see Me.
The Me who used to listen to her Sony Walkman and would WALK for hours (or until my batteries wore out) all over the city where I grew up.
I remember walking late at night, with barely enough light to see where I was walking.
I remember walking down prairie roads that yawned endlessly, with the stars twinkling overhead.
I remember walking away from home so I wouldn't say something that I would later regret.
I remember walking to school.
I remember feeling like some artists peeked into MY life to write their songs - like Sarah McLachlan, and Jann Arden.
I remember thinking that I wanted to strive to have the life that inspired songs like what Harry Connick Jr was singing about.

The Me who was so afraid all the time about the future and things that were out of my control. The Me who would get so stressed out around the holidays that I would end up with cold sores from the stress.
The Me who was so conflicted about what kind of a person did I want to be when I grew up?
The Me who was convinced that a simple matter as choosing Keds over Converse high top sneakers was a PIVOTAL moment in my development.
The Me who didn't know what kind of a woman I wanted to be. (Because all the women around me weren't too impressive of role models...)
The Me who was positive that no one would want to marry me, and I'd end up alone with just my cat for company.
The Me who dared to be different, to be an individual, who was not a cookie cutter teen.
The Me who didn't do things like everyone else.
The Me who worked her arse off in high school so I could afford to go to Germany on a 3 month student exchange trip.
The Me who was the percussionist/drummer.
The Me who was passionate (albeit completely misguided) about her faith/religion.

It's a brief flash of myself in the mirror of time, but it's enough to make me nostalgic and foolish enough to stay up way later than I ought to, just to try to catch one more elusive glimpse of myself.

But it makes me think - would 15 year old Me like 33 year old Me? Maybe, maybe not. 15 year old Me might think that I had copped out by marrying early and having kids and relinquishing My freedom.
33 year old Me would see the insecurity and unloved mantle that 15 year old Me carried belligerently as a defense mechanism from all those years of being rejected, cast aside and made to feel less than important.
33 year old Me would probably weep for 15 year old Me.
How far I've come.
From unloved to loved.
From almost crippled by fear to being completely ruled by anxiety and fear, to living a freer life.
From depressed to joyful.
From alone to surrounded by loved ones (sometimes loudly surrounded too!).
From thinking that marriage was a compromise where no one is ever happy to finding the love of my life and my best friend all rolled into one person.
From feeling misunderstood to someone finishing my sentences for me.
From feeling ugly all the time to saying "I look pretty cute today.".

And slowly.... The mist recedes as I realize the lateness of the hour, and scramble to assume my responsible, adult side again. There's laundry to be folded, dishes to be done, breakfast to be prepped....

And I hope that I get another glimpse of Me again soon.

I really should blog more often....

Well, hellloooo there! Long time, no see!

Wow. My last post was Feb 20th. Wow. Lotsa sh!t has gone on since then.... Shall I fill you in???
*deep breath*

Since February 16th we've had
-Hubby get laid off from his job
- our dishwasher quit working and we had to replace it
- Hubby's grandmother passed away
- my great-aunt passed away
- an old friend of the family passed away.... ALL within a week of each other! Sheesh!
- we've been broken into (over the Easter long weekend) and Hubby's rims and tires were stolen
- Hubby was diagnosed with follicitis and is now on AT LEAST a 1 month long regimen of an antifungal oral med and a topical antifungal cream. (Cha-ching!)
- Oldest son broke his glasses and needed new ones
-I chipped a CONTACT somehow, so out came an old one for me to wear....
-Hubby went to Vegas
-Hubby and oldest son went to Grande Prairie for a Tae Kwon Do tournament
-Oldest son won his first gold at said tournament
-Hubby and oldest son went camping for a long weekend with Hubby's friend and son
-I ended up with a sinus infection
-I got a Pandora bracelet for Mother's day! (Yippee!)
- I have decided to go back to school to get my Library Information Technician Diploma from SAIT in Calgary. I have a face-to-face meeting with the dep't head to discuss my online schooling options.
-Youngest son is SIGNED up for Kindergarten in the fall!


Just writing that out made me tired. *wearily rubs face*

So yeah. Lots of changes going on. Hubby hasn't found a new job yet. I keep on hoping and praying that TODAY would be the day that the Lord provides a job for him, but to no avail. :(
To be honest, I'm so tired of hoping. I really am. I'm just tired of being worried all the time.

But yeah. Me going back to school is pretty exciting/nerve-wracking/freaking me out. It looks like I will be able to use some of our RRSP money to pay for school (I just have to pay it back within 10 years) which should be do-able. I'm excited to actually use my brain again. (I wonder if it's still there after all these years of preschool television??? Maybe the Teletubbies DID rot my brain out!! Eeeps!) And it looks like I should be able to do the vast majority of the diploma online, so I can balance out my school with my family and all that jazz. Because honestly. With 4 kids in school in the fall, there is NO WAY on God's green earth that I will be able to drop my kids off at school in the morning, drive 45 minutes into Calgary, take my 2 hours of classes and then nip back into Okotoks to pick up Youngest Son from Kindergarten and still stay on track to graduate in 2 years. Not going to happen, I can guarantee you.
But maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to take a few classes online and do them while Youngest Son is at Kindy and in the afternoons while he's napping/resting/watching tv/destroying the house.
Just maybe.
And it looks like I won't be the only one going back to school... It looks like Hubby is going back to school too to get a degree!
I still have to see how THAT'S going to pan out for life/work/school balance. And he needs a job. He's starting to get bored of me which is bad news.

Other than that, there's been some changes - I've really eased up on the online bulletin board stuff that I used to read on Babycenter.com. I think I'm over that part of my life. Even Farmville on Facebook I'm getting tired of. (Really? There's no more levels after level 70? Really???)

But spring is sort of here to the Foothills of Alberta. They are calling for snow tomorrow night possibly. I just keep on trying to remind myself that snow is better than venomous snakes and Gargantuan Bugs That Attack People. And hurricanes. And tsunamis. I'll just freeze to death here in Canada, thankyouverymuch.

And I've really been jonesing for a tattoo....
I'm thinking something like a scottish thistle. I did have a great design, but someone removed the photo from the Intertubes! Argh!!!!
Anyhow - every time I watch "The History Of Scotland" I get all patriotic for my heritage (my grandfather emigrated from Scotland to Canada) and I want a tattoo. But with me going to school it might be difficult to come up with the extra cash. (Seems somewhat foolish to get a tat when there's so many other things going on financially... Know what I mean?)

Anyways. Now you're pretty up to speed. I know you missed my wonderful happy presence on the tubes (yeah, right! LOL).