The Dreaded Date on the Calendar; Or Happy Birthday to Me!

This week I turned 33.  It's a completely random age.  There's no special significance attached to it.  There was no big party planned.  Just a couple of little get-togethers with friends and lots of friendly and surprisingly affecting "Happy Birthday" messages on Facebook.

But for some reason this birthday has been bothering me more than most.

Usually I barely notice a birthday's approach.  I long ago stopped looking forward to birthdays but they don't fill me with dread like they do for some.  Ordinarily.  But this year...

Maybe dread is too strong a word.  But this year I was definitely watching the September days zoom past like a television spy watches the red numbers on a ticking bomb.  The calendar seemed determined to bring me ever closer to another birthday; another year of ageing; another year closer to the end of all my years.  Okay, maybe dread isn't too strong a word.

But I finally realized something yesterday.  The problem lies in what I said earlier.  "I long ago stopped looking forward to birthdays".  Why?  At what age did I decide that getting older wasn't something to celebrate?  When we are little, getting older is something to revel in; truly something to cheer about.

By the time we get to be "grown-ups" we have forgotten that every year of our life is a gift; something to take joy in and be thankful for.  Instead we see growing older as a curse, something that must be fought with unswerving dedication and more weapons than any military could boast.  The products in our arsenal sound vaguely magical; "anti-ageing serum"; "anti-wrinkle renewing cream".  They all promise to keep us looking not a day over 20, even after we're six years in the grave!  Magic indeed.

I've decided that I hate the term "anti-ageing".  (Almost, but not quite as much as I hate the word, "tween".  *shudder*)  "Anti-ageing" is really defined as "against ageing".  Why?  Why do we put SO much focus in our society on staying young?  What is it we are so afraid of losing?  Because the fact is when we age, we actually gain so much.  We gain wisdom and insight.  We gain a knowledge of ourselves and of others that was previously lacking.

I think what we really fear, is losing that zeal for life that the young possess.  After all, as adults we sometimes think we know ourselves so well that we are sure we could never do THIS scary thing, or take on THAT daunting challenge.  We sometimes "know what people are like" to the point of bitterness, positive that people will fulfil our worst suspicions about them.  So we long for the innocence of youth.  We yearn to be able to once again look at the world and see all the possibilities and adventures waiting for us.

Here's an idea.  What if we took pride in the wisdom we've gained from our previous years of experience while still managing to anticipate the coming year with the glee of a little kid?  If we could be proud of what we already know, but realize that there are still whole worlds waiting to be learnt, we may find a balance between youth and age, between insight and innocence.

Now if we could only manage to remain flexible enough to put our feet behind our heads, we'd be all set!

A Moment in a Park; Or How the World Can Sometimes Make You Gasp

As a mom, it is impossible not to be daily aware of the beauty surrounding us in the world in which we live.  There's nothing more gorgeous than my daughter's sleepy, morning smile; or her bright laughing eyes; or the fact that she giggles like mad over the word "fart". 

So, I am regularly reminded that the world is a beautiful place.  But sometimes, the sheer perfection of it can take my breath away. 

The other day my daughter and I visited the English Gardens at Assiniboine Park.  We were sitting on a bench.  It was a lovely bench with clean, flexible wood and a curve that fit my spine exactly.  Sitting on the bench, we were shaded by a big beautiful elm tree that was in full, green, leafy bloom.  The size and density of the tree made me think that surely it had stood in this spot since before my Great-Grandparents came to this land.

From within the protection of the cool shade, we could watch the sun sparkle merrily on a bright pond that was decorated with lovely purple water lilies.  Beyond the pond we could look out onto row upon row of multi-coloured flowers.  Flowers that were expertly cultivated to appear random and wild.  I knew that the flowers in the garden eventually gave way to the rolling green lawns and woodchip pathways that were a part of the giant greenspace that was ours to explore for free.

I was struck in that moment how TRULY blessed we are.  Here we live in this place of freedom; in this country that allows us to voice our opinion about everything from the mundane to the momentous without fear.  Here we live in this beautiful city that is home to so many cultures, proof positive that peace between differing peoples is possible.  And here I was, sitting in a place of truly astounding beauty, watching a bright blue butterfly dance elegantly and lazily amongst the flowers.

The moment was so perfect and so brilliant that I felt suddenly afraid of losing it, in that peculiarly human way we have.  But it was a silly fear, for here it is nearly a week later and my mind and heart can recall the moment with perfect clarity. 

And I feel brightened and blessed by it once more.

More Poetry and Ramblings; Or Why Emily Dickinson's Legacy is Probably Safe...

Just some more random rambling thoughts.  Brought on, no doubt, by the still magical world of trees, sunshine and wind that reminds us of all things primal.



If I were a tree...

- if I were tall and strong - if my roots were sunk so deep in the soil that rain and storm and howling winds could not move me from my purpose - if I knew how to bend and dance when the wind tried to knock me down - if I knew that I could create greener more abundant life after scorching flames tried to destroy me - if I sought out the sun - if I knew that living in the light was nourishment and not just a way to highlight cracks and flaws - if I knew the ageless beauty of myself -

...if I were a tree how bravely could I live my life.


Will You Dance Tonight?


The wind howls its low keening rage.

The trees are skeleton silhouettes against the purple black; their fingers bending and grasping to catch the pelting snow.

It is a night when wise people stay inside and shutter the windows; cuddle up to loved ones, say a prayer and hope to wake to sunshine.

But the unwise are called to dance. They leave their warmth and chase down the ghosts who waltz in the cold.  The frozen air can numb even ancient wounds.

Will you dance tonight? Will you shiver in the breeze with the trees?

Or will you stay covered and hidden? Will you keep yourself veiled away in safety and slumber, pretending the wind does not wail a warning?


In the Heat and Wind


There are worlds that exist just around the edges of our own.

They live just a half second outside of our own time; just a fingernail’s breadth past our dimension.

Sometimes you see them glimmer in the wavy air of a blisteringly hot day, or you may hear the voices of their people on the wind, because the wind never did learn about boundaries.

And, of course, we visit them in our dreams.

Santa, The Easter Bunny and The Tooth Fairy; Or The Happy Lies We Tell Our Children

I VOWED when I became a mother that I would NEVER lie to my daughter.

If I want her to trust me enough to confide in me about anything and everything, then I need to be completely honest with her, always. How can I expect her to learn truthfulness, if I don't practice it myself?

I was prepared to be gentle and age-appropriate when answering sex questions, but, had no intention in pretending that babies come from the stork. I knew that I would have no problem telling her the truth about body parts and bodily functions. The phrases "down there" or "going tinkle" were not in my vocabulary. She would know the proper names for body parts and, really, the phrase "going tinkle" should just be eliminated from the global vocabulary.

I was ready to tell her the truth about drugs. ("No, marijuana will not give you 'reefer madness', but don't become stoner with no short term memory; and yes, heroin and cocaine will ruin your life.")

I knew that when she began asking questions about her absent father I would answer her simply, directly and with lots of reassurance and love.  In short, there would be no subject that was taboo or off limits and everything would be answered with the truth as I know it.

Except. I forgot about Santa.

I hadn't really considered that when telling her all about Santa (how awesome he is; how he would bring her gifts on Christmas Eve; how he flies all over the world in a single night; how he uses reindeer to fly his sleigh; how elves make the toys he brings; how he would happily gobble up her cookies and milk; and every other part of the Santa Story) I was telling her about 20 lies in one fell swoop. Oops. Heck, I even sent her a fake video Christmas card from "Santa".

And don't even get me started with the "Easter Bunny Deception"!  ("Yes, honey...a giant rabbit really does hop around the world the night before Easter and hide chocolates inside everyone's house.  Um...sure...I guess he comes down the chimney too...")  *sigh*

So, my very noble plan of telling my beautiful little girl the absolute truth at all times has fallen to pieces. However, when she finally cottons on to the secret around age 7 or 8, I have my defence all planned. Here's what I've got; tell me what you think:

"You see, sweetie, your innocence was just too beautiful to miss. Unfortunately, this world can be pretty tough. Sometimes people are mean and sometimes bad things happen. But there you were, so gorgeous with your big brown eyes and toothy grin; excited by all you were hearing about this magical man. A man who is so full of generosity and kindness that he spends all his time trying to make children happy. I couldn't bear to miss out on the chance to vicariously return to a time when magic was a real, tangible possiblity.

And I didn't want you to miss out on it either. Because, regretably, we all have but a few short years of complete innocence and I wouldn't have robbed you of that for anything. Not even for something as wonderful and important as the truth."

What do you think? Think she'll still trust me about the stork?

No Drama; Or Why Sometimes it's Good to Go it Alone

Not completely alone, of course.  I'd be lost without my circle of friends and family.  But I'm a single parent.  Completely single.  As in, there's no one but me.  For reasons which will not be discussed here (and honestly are pretty much incomprehensible to me, anyway) my daughter's father isn't a part of her life.  So, it's just her and I.  Just me and my Beth.  And it's awesome! 

And in some ways, it's hard.

For one thing, it means being in parent mode 24/7.  It means not being a part of a tag team; not being able to say, "Okay, parenting partner, you're up."  But as I said, I have a fantastic network of people I can rely on, so I can't complain about this too much.

More difficult, is not having someone there on a daily basis to share in the wonder of my baby girl.  Not having that other person to laugh with when she's being her super adorable, hilarious self.  Or another person to sigh and gaze in amazement at the transcendent perfection of her face as she sleeps.  Again, though, I turn to my group of marvelous friends and family whom I torture with endless stories, detailing her every waking minute.  (Actually, I'm pretty sure they don't consider it torture.)  So, I can't complain too much about this either.

Of course, there are also more financial things to worry about when it's just you earning the cash.  From what I understand; though, even dual-income households are hurting these days.  In the end then, there's only one true concern I have about being a "completely on my own" single parent; the worry about how my daughter will feel about her father as she grows up.

Overall, though, because of the amazing support of my friends and family, being a "completely on my own" single parent is doable.  Which brings me to the point of this post.  I'm sure I'll have A LOT of people who disagree with me but in some ways, I think things are easier with only one parent. 

This is not to say that I think one parent is better than two.  There is no doubt in my mind that having two happy, well-adjusted, loving parents who get along is the best possible option for a child.  Even if the parents aren't together as a couple anymore, if they are those things - happy - well-adjusted - loving - then a child stands a great shot at staying out of therapy.

But if you have parents who are divorced and can't stand each other or who are still married despite the fact that they can't stand each other, then a child is in trouble.  And so are the parents.  Think about how much more stress you have to deal with if the other person in your parenting partnership is your enemy.  No matter where the blame lies (and it's usually at both pairs of feet) constant arguing and competition and frustration is going to get exhausting really quick.

So, in a lot of ways, I'm lucky.  I don't have to deal with the daily torment of an angry ex-partner.  Or the helplessness of dealing with a parenting partner who doesn't think they have to include me in parenting decisions.  Or the frustration of seeing a person I really don't like anymore raising my child.  There is a sense of peace in that.  And most of all, NO drama!

With all that being said, at some point in my daughter's life, I'm going to have to try to convince her that her father not being here has NOTHING to do with her.  I'm hoping that the lack of parental drama in her childhood will make up for any anxieties she has to deal with as a result.  Well, a lack of drama and a lot of hugs.  I'm hoping that's the secret combination.

Bus Etiquette; Or The Bus Is Ridden By Lots of People, Not Just You!

So, I don't know how to drive.  That's right, I'm a 31 year old woman who doesn't know how to drive a car.  When you can't afford to buy one, learning how to drive one tends to end up at the bottom of your to-do list. 

As a result, I've spent nearly 17 years riding the bus in Winnipeg.  Well not, you know, just riding buses.  I mean, I've done other things in those 17 years.  But I have ridden on a bus an average of 4 out of every 7 days for the last 17 years.  That's A LOT of transit time.

My point is that I think I can fairly be considered an expert on bus riding etiquette.  And there is an etiquette.  Anytime you share a space with other people there are certain things that you all expect from each other.  The following is, I think, a fairly exhaustive list.  But if you think of one that I've left off, feel free to add it in the comments below.  ;-)

1.  Get up out of the handicap seats.
This rule doesn't just apply to moving for people in wheelchairs.  If you are able bodied and healthy please stand up and move for the following people: 
- the elderly
- people using crutches, canes, walkers or any other mobility assistance device
- very young children, like 1-4 years (little, uncoordinated legs have a hard time standing on a moving bus)
- strollers (I'll talk more about strollers later.)
- pregnant women (a caveat here - make sure the woman is either, A - OBVIOUSLY pregnant, as in she's skinny, skinny, skinny every where except her lower abdomen or, B - Says, "I'm pregnant, please let me sit down."  If you think a woman might be pregnant, but you're not sure, offer her the seat anyway and just don't tell her why.  She'll appreciate your kindness either way.)

2.  Remember that we're listening.
Whether you are talking to the person right next to you, a couple seats over, or you're on a cell phone, please remember that the other passengers can hear your conversation.  So, at least try to limit the cursing and inappropriate (ie, racist, sexist,) remarks.  We also don't necessarily need to know the intimate details of the hot date you had last night.  Your sex life doesn't interest us.  I'm sorry, but it's true.  And I'd rather my child got her sex education from me as opposed to some weird stranger on a bus.  I don't want to hear the words, "Mommy, what does, "smokin' hot ass mean?" Thank you very much.

3.  Control, or at least try your hardest to control, your kids.
Being a parent is, at times, a little like being an animal wrangler.  I understand this.  And I know, from experience, that it can be tough to keep your kids seated, calm, and happy.  You know what, I'd settle for seated.  It's so dangerous for little kids to be running around on a moving bus.  I once saw a little boy go flying forward and smash his forehead into one of the poles.  The blood everywhere was not a sight I'd like to see again.  Plus, if your little one is up and running around he's a lot more likely to end up tripping someone else.  Also, don't completely ignore your child while he or she is auditioning for their role in Cirque de Soleil by hanging upside down from the hand straps.

4.  Strollers may be necessary, but have some common courtesy.
As I've mentioned already, I don't drive.  So I have always taken my daughter on the bus.  When your children are babies trying to carry them around, along with all their gear is impossible.  A stroller is an absolute necessity and if busing is your only option, the stroller must come on the bus.  I totally get that.  But don't leave them in the aisle!  Or mostly in the aisle.  Or, crammed in between seats.  The front seats flip up for just that reason.  If someone is sitting there, politely ask them to move.  If they won't (I've seen this happen) engage the driver's assistance in making them move.  The front seats on the bus are supposed to be earmarked for people with mobility issues and parents with strollers.  There are signs and everything.  So, don't take no for an answer.  If I'm on the bus with you, I'll take your side, I promise.

5.  If your kid is in school, they don't need to be in a stroller.
Closely related to number four, this is kind of a general parenting pet peeve of mine, but it pertains to bus etiquette too.  If your child is old enough to be in nursery school (3 or 4 years old) they should be able to walk for long enough that you can leave the stroller at home.  If you REALLY  feel like your child is going to need a stroller because you're going on some kind of marathon walk after you get off the bus, the child can still be out of it while you're on the bus.  Fold it up so that it takes up less room.  Your 4 year old can sit on the seat.  Oh, and try to make it an umbrella stroller instead of one of those gigantic strollers they make for twins and triplets!

6.  Say, "Thank you" to the bus driver. 
This isn't a big thing, just a bit of politeness, really.  (I mean, come on - if you're Canadian, it should be in your DNA!)  The driver works hard dealing with the public all day (customers can be real jerks sometimes).  He or she deserves a polite thank you when you're getting off the bus.  They've done you a service after all.

So, if you follow these guidelines everyone's ride will go a lot smoother.  Except if it's a scorching summer day and there's no air-conditioning.  Then, nothing helps.  ;-)

Enjoy the ride!

The freedom of choice; Or why I'd like to thank Elizabeth Cady Stanton

Woman will always be dependent until she holds a purse of her own.
- Elizabeth Cady Stanton






"The Home or Street Corner for Woman? Vote No on Woman Suffrage." Tom Fleming, 1915
(Rare Book Division, The New York Public Library)

 

 
 
 
 
 
I wish someone would have told me that, just because I'm a girl, I don't have to get married. ~Marlo Thomas









  We've come a long way...

 

 "Something which we think is impossible now is not impossible in another decade."

— Constance Baker Motley 

First Black Woman in the U.S. to become a Federal Judge

 

But still have a way to go.

 [Feminism is] a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians. 
~Pat Robertson