Party Animal

Oh man, this is the second night in a row that I've been out until almost midnight. I don't think that my system can handle this sort of late night cavorting. It's not that midnight is sooo late, it's mainly that I don't know what kind of night I can expect... Last night I got to bed at 1 a.m. and the kids woke me up 4 times during the night and were both up for good around 8 a.m. Ack. So what did I do? I went out AGAIN tonight, with MORE sweet, loving girlfriends I don't get to spend nearly enough time with, and talked and talked, bared my soul etc. and have returned home, exhausted and my cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Now I will throw myself into bed and hope, PRAY that the children sleep through the night and I can get somewhere around 7 hours rest. 

But it was worth it. Thank you for always being there for me, Yaya's...

a blessing in my life

Let me tell you about two of my favourite friends. We see each other exactly twice a year. We met over 13 years ago at Brown's Cleaners, the drycleaner where we worked downtown. Jane was in high school, while Alison and I had just started university. To be perfectly honest, none of us really hit it off that well with each other. In fact, I think in the beginning we often arranged to work with other colleagues whom we preferred. Then something happened, I don't know when. We started hanging out. Talking a lot. We never talked on the phone everyday, but we would talk an 8-hour shift from start to finish. Of course, eventually we all graduated and moved on from our employ at Brown's. But somehow we remained in touch. All these years later I consider myself so lucky that we did.

On paper we are each as different as night and day. We hail from Uganda, England and Sarnia, Ontario. We are married, engaged, and opposed to the patriarchal institution of marriage. We are a lawyer, a mom, and recently unemployed. We have kids, we want kids, or we don't at all. Once upon a time we lived all on the same street, but since then we have lived in different homes, one down the street, one moved away but came back again, and one has still to return (guess who).

But here's what I love. I could tell these women anything. Anything at all. Twice a year we get together for a no-holds-barred gab-fest in which we really just let it all spill. As different as we are, there is no judgment at our table in Memories or Milestone's, just support and lots and lots of laughs. At dinner last night Alison (possibly the most outspoken of us 3) told the waitress immediately, 'we're here for a long time, and we're going to talk A LOT'. Sure enough, we didn't leave for another 4 hours.

Perhaps it's because we meet so infrequently, I don't know, but I really find these talks help me to really take stock of what's happened in my life since our last meeting together. I spend our time together alternately contemplative, amused and completely in the moment, listening and sharing our stories and lives. I mean, they have absolutely no use for my 'mommy-talk' but you would not believe how intently they listen to what I have to say about food allergies or preschools.

It really came to me last night, the joy I feel in how we appreciate each other's differences, when Alison finished telling an incredible story about a friend of hers who defied the odds of a terminal illness to outlive her prognosis and even have a child. As we looked at each other, we spoke simultaneously, as I said "it's a leap of faith," she said "it's all her determination". Two different takes on the same story, but we were both nodding at each other.

Thank you for an amazing friendship I truly treasure, you have both taught me such a lot... See you when it snows...

A stolen MEME

In one word answers... or sometimes two or three. I know it's supposed to be one word. I tried to be brief (but you know me).

1. Where is your mobile phone? Cancelled.
2. Relationship? Happy-married.
3. Your hair? Over-dyed.
4. Work? Um, huh?
5. Your sister(s)? Ya-Ya.
6. Your favourite thing? Madras bag (right now).
7. Your dream last night? Chicken-pox.
8. Your favourite drink? Chai.
9. Your dream car? Meh, walk.
10. The room you're in? Inlaw's kitchen.
11. Your shoes? Sketchers.
12. Your fears? Losing someone.
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Writer.
14. Who did you hang out with this weekend? Sherry :)
15. What are you not good at? Math.
16. Muffin? Chocolate banana.
17. Wish list item? Personal cook.
18. Where you grew up? Suburbs.
19. The last thing you did? Made kids sleep.
20. What are you wearing? White cardigan.
21. What are you not wearing? Socks.
22. Your pet? Hafsa "meow"s.
23. Your computer? Mac.
24. Your life? Great (alhamdulillah).
25. Your mood? Content.
26. Missing? Sleep.
27. What are you thinking about? Family.
28. Your car? Honda.
29. Your kitchen? Small.
30. Your summer? Away.
31. Your favourite colour? Blue.
32. Last time you laughed? All day.
33. Last time you cried? Last week.
34. School? Done.
35. Love? Got.

Open Letters to a few celebs of choice

I enjoy the occasional trashy magazine as most of you know (see "Dear People Magazine"). It's a dirty little habit, and while I honestly do not care what happens to the likes of most of these men and women (who live a life that frankly I don't even want because they seem so completely and utterly miserable anyway) I feel that perhaps they are surrounded by a posse of "yes" people. You know the types, "assistants" who will tell them anything they want to hear (just so long as the perks keep coming) and therefore are slowly leading the said celebrity completely out of the realm of reality. So I am here to do 3 of our culture's biggest tabloid princesses a favour with some heartfelt advice...


Dear Lindsay Lohan,

I saw you in a few movies a few years ago and I was pretty sure then that you had talent as an actress. You are now, however, letting your personal life and alternating hair colours overshadow any and all talent that you may possess. You are in one word: OVEREXPOSED. You have been overdone in so many unfortunate ways. I saw you on Letterman once and you were wearing so much make-up and your lips looked all collagen-y. Why? You are only 21. Let your pores breathe. Please take a year off and come back a nicer, less trashy Lindsay.

Toodles!
Jen


Dear Paris Hilton,

OMG! You broke the law and you have gone to jail. And then you were out of jail. And then went back in. I'm sorry for whatever undue stress all of this may have caused you. HOWEVER, your maximum sentence was only ever 45 days! A human being can endure almost ANYTHING for a month and a half (well, not childbirth, but you know what I mean). You should have just taken a deep breath and taken your sentence with pride like a true Hilton (not that that means anything anymore, but whatever). The pictures of you crying were very unfortunate, though I imagine your tracksuit costs more than my car, so really you have one up on me. Good luck in prison, I'm sure that you will find a way to rise above it all... I think you will find true comfort in the fact that you'll be able to capitalize on your 'trauma' for months and months after your release (have you already signed for a book deal?) If I'm being honest we could really all use the month off from the excessive media bombardment that is YOU. See you in July, enjoy the baked beans and mash!

Luv,
Jen


Dear Britney Spears,

Please please please. I am concerned that you seem to have no true friends at all because if you did they would tell you to stop wearing those ripped fishnets and those cut-off jeans with the pockets hanging out. Maybe the trucker hats and flip-flops were amusing for a while, but now really, it's not funny and it's not flattering. Please find an outfit that covers all your private parts and at least part of your legs, I'm really begging you. People out here are rooting for you in a strange kind of way, for you to find your way back to some sort of less hooker-like decency. Please start with a knee length skirt (and don't go into the restaurant bathroom and come out wearing it as a dress, you sneaky girl!!) and we can go from there.

Good luck! (try H&M!)
Jen

Back where he belongs

Babies

Just got back from the hospital, from visiting a friend who just had a baby boy yesterday. He is so small, so tiny, so sweet. He was crying, but then quickly fell off to sleep with a bit of swaddling and some swing-hop-swaying action from his aunt Jen. I guess I still have the knack for it.

I was surprised, even though I still consider my own daughter 'new' enough, at how small newborns are and how light they are to hold. I don't know how to explain how it made me feel... wistful... but not sad... pensive... nostalgic... To the surface come so many memories of becoming a mother for the first time, then the second time. It's hard, this baby thing. And the sleepless nights. But now I know that the difficult times don't last forever...

Ozayr's Swedish aunt once told me, completely out of the blue, "these are the best years of your life, when your kids are young, like this."

I was struggling down her driveway with a diaper bag hanging off one arm and a baby on my other hip, steering Maymuna to the car as I went. She had called to me from her front door. An after-thought I guess, an observation that couldn't be contained. I turned around and looked at her. She's right.

I am jealous of my friend, in a way, a gentle way. She's just beginning on this journey, those "best" years. So many of them have slipped past me already.

And my heart breaks for another friend, one who lost her little boy who was supposed to be here this summer, with us. I can't help but think of them now, whenever I see a baby. You have not truly contemplated faith, nor strength of character, until you have witnessed loss of this magnitude. They have taught me far more than I ever expected. For what it is worth, I hope you knew when you stood on that hill alone, when your family followed you, that flock of unruly children: you are loved.

meme. me. me me?

Here's some cyber talk for ya. I got 'tagged' to do a 'meme'.

A 'meme' is defined as a unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another.

Still not clarified really is it?

Meme's appear to be like chain letters for blogs. You pass them onto people and they pass them on again... and again... You get the idea.

Meme's are like the blog version of those emails you get that ask you (among other useless questions):

"do you like sunsets or sunrises?"

"if you could meet anyone living or dead who would it be?"

"shampoo or 2-in-1?"

"paper or plastic?"

Here is the meme I was tagged to do...

Rules:
1. Each player starts with 8 random facts about themselves.
2. People who are tagged write a blog post about their 8 random things and post the rules.
3. At the end of your post you need to tag 8 people and post their names.
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment and tell them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

While most of the readers of this blog are close friends and family members, I seriously doubt I could include a single random fact about myself that you don't already know, but I'll give it a try. Who knows, maybe I'll surprise you. Alright, so here we go.

1. I can't stand high-minded film makers whose movies aim to make you feel uncomfortable, or who try to pass off gratuitous, gory violence as some sort of commentary or as "ironic". Kevin Smith, Wes Anderson, Quentin Tarratino, I'm talking about you. Didn't get the appeal of Pulp Fiction. Slept through the Royal Tannenbaums. I know you're supposed to be the geniuses of my generation, but sorry. I just don't get it.

2. I am wired to write. I started writing in a journal at 10 years old, when my dog Zeta died. I write all the time. I write lists. I write notes. I write letters. I write something everyday. Always have. In storage there are dozens of journals, and there are more stacked up in our house. I have a little moleskin notebook around with me. In a pinch if I'm trapped in a car with nothing to do (while the kids are sleeping for instance) I will write a letter on anything I can find - maps, car service receipts.

3. If I could have a super-power, or any skill I wanted, granted to me I would ask to be able to sing and have perfect pitch. I grew up wailing along to the Carpenters in the car with my mom and sang a lot in my childhood. I still do sing, when I'm alone in the car or cleaning the house... the trick is to turn up the volume loud so you can't hear yourself.

4. Probably related to my previous fact, I am hereby confessing to one of my greatest secrets. I love talents shows. Especially singing shows. I am cringing as I type this... American Idol. Ack! It's true! I watch. I obsess over song choice and pitch. I... love Simon Cowell. I know!! This is devastating. I may not actually publish this post.

5. I've read War & Peace. It took me a year. I love Tolstoy. He has such a rich, melancholic tone. Anna Karenina was better than W&P though (which I read, like, ten years before Oprah did, by the way).

6. As someone pointed out today, I'm not entirely comfortable in the outdoors. Isn't that strange? I know! People like to eat outside... I don't really. People like to camp... I like the screened-in porch at the cottage. Outdoors is nice for a while, but so big and open... I like cozy spaces. I don't really like dirt or bugs.

7. I thought I would live in Ottawa all my life. I never really thought we would leave our hometown, in fact, I had no urge to at all. But when the opportunity came somehow my intuition told me that it was the right thing to do (even though my heart was screaming out no! no!)

8. I don't read forwards and I don't believe in "charmed" emails. "Forward this to 5 great women today and make a wish that will come true in the next week!!" I mean, I'll read a forward with a nice message or an interesting hook, but I'm not convinced that if I don't forward it to ten people in ten minutes that ten bad things are going to happen to me. *DELETE*

So here's the part about chain letters that I never liked, the passing-on part. I'm not going to 'tag' anyone, but here are a few friends that I would like to see do this meme...

Elli (like you have anything else to do ;)
Kathleen (I challenge you to find 8 things I don't already know (or suspect) about you)
Hadeel (you are funny and eloquent and seem to enjoy blogging, I think you'd like this)
Noha (you write just like you talk and I would love to learn 8 new things about you)
Dan (I dare you to actually blog on your blog)

Okay! That was surprisingly fun! I look forward to reading some more!! Someone tag me again!!

Jetlag is kicking my butt

I have always maintained that the time difference going from Canada to England was the worst. You board your flight in the evening (Canadian time) and when you get to Heathrow aiport it's first thing in the morning (UK time). Whatever sleep you got in the plane in between IS your night's sleep. So let's say you are traveling with a 3 year old and a 1 year old. That's... let's see... do the calculations... NO SLEEP on the way there. Essentially you've completely missed a night and at best your 3 and 1 year old got a couple of hours, SO THEY ARE CRANKY TOO. But of course everyone in the whole United Kingdom is perky and happy because they slept that night, even your Uncle Paul who has a right to be grumpy because he had to get up at 5 a.m. to come and pick you up like the saint he is, is happy too.

The rest of the day I am pretty much delirious. I don't do well without sleep. My mother used to not let me go to sleepovers as a child because I would be completely insufferable for days afterwards before I caught up on my sleep. Cranky is me. So the immediate tiredness factor is high going to the UK, and it's not pleasant in the least, but after you survive the first day smiling pathetically at your relatives even though their voices sound soooooo faaaaaaar awaaaaaay, you crash and are pretty much normal the next day.

In the past, the trip back from the UK hasn't been that difficult for me. These were the days before my children sleep-trained me. I used to be able to sleep in late in the mornings and my internal clock would not register the difference between 6 a.m., 9 a.m. or even noon. However, the last, say, 3 and a half years or so, I have been waking up between 6:30 and 7:30 just about every day (yes, I know this will act as contraception for many couples out there. For some of you it's too late, I'm sorry). I don't think I could sleep past 8 o'clock if I tried, and this is what's contributing to the continued sleep deprivation around here.

The flight back to Ottawa was an afternoon one, so even though we were tired, we weren't DESTROYED. And we got back to my parents' house in time to put the kids to bed around the usual Canadian bedtime, 8:30 p.m. which of course felt like 1:30 a.m. to us. As exhausted as I was, PING! I was awake at 2:30 a.m. the next morning. Because my body thinks it's 7:30. Time to get up, toast to be made, tea to drink, children to clothe and care for!! Get up! it screams. I resist, lying in bed, insisting that it obey me and go back to sleep. At 4:30 a.m. I give up and get up for the cup of tea that I am craving.

4:30 seems to be my magic number because it's the time I've been waking at ever since. It's not pretty because I don't want to nap and it doesn't seem to matter what time I go to bed... I wake up far too early.

So maybe you were supposed to meet me and I didn't show, or I was supposed to call but didn't, or you saw me somewhere I shouldn't be at all (like driving the wrong way down the highway), or you saw me and I was just too dazed to respond... Forgive me... my mind thinks that it's 3 in the morning and that this is all a dream...

not home, but welcome back...

Where I have been...

The people I saw...

The weather was...

....variable.

Maymuna took some "pictures" while sightseeing...

Then I gave her my camera and she took this one...

Not bad, eh?

There's a lot introspection going on somewhere in my brain. Really deep thoughts about going back to one of the most significant places of my childhood... of finding it different... of seeing myself in unexpected places... or not finding myself in the most expected ones... seeing my place as different all together. There are profound thoughts about returning to meet the grown-ups in my life as a grown-up, bringing my own children to those rituals, those hills, those ducks. There are lots of feelings about these people and these places... and how I see myself now, in the light of them seeing me.

But not tonight. Tonight there is only sleep.