Generation Exhausted

Four years is not long enough

I don't know how many years passed after 1941 before they made a movie about Pearl Harbour, and I don't know how long after 1963 it was before someone first dramatized Kennedy's assassination. I don't know how much time the collective psyche needs before they can feel a sense of detached distance as they watch a tragedy re-created on the big screen. I don't know if the profusion of "reality" TV shows or 24-hour news coverage has brought us to expect, and even accept, that sense of "right here, right now" as events unfold.

But having seen United 93 this evening, I can tell you this about the horror of September 11, 2001 - four and half years is not long enough. Not for me, anyway.

Supposedly, I, like many millions of others, have become somewhat numb after viewing days, weeks and months of TV footage and newspaper photos from 9/11. Add to that the fact that I am A) not American, and B) connected in no way "personally" to the tragedies that occurred that day. The video footage of the second plane hitting the towers - how many times have I seen it? A dozen? A hundred? Probably more. I watched it, then, and since, again and again, each time with a sense of dumbfounded yet detached horror. A feeling of "this can't be happening, but it is, and it did."

Tonight, that exact same footage - the exact same - was like a blow to the head. Tears came to my eyes, I gulped for breath, and ultimately, had to leave the theatre for a moment, it was so unsettling.

That alone makes me say the movie was well done.

Like The Passion of the Christ, this isn't the type of movie that I think you can call "good" or "bad." It was horrifying. Overwhelming. Intense. But this isn't your standard disaster movie, or even, in my opinion, a glamourous, romanticized re-creation. It is chaotic, and bloody, and tragic. There are no stars, but they are all heroes - doomed, yet successful in their mission. It couldn't have been anything else.

So well done, that yes, I was on the edge of my seat at times, knowing the ending was inevitable, yet hoping, somehow, some way, this would end differently. You want this to be another Towering Inferno, or Poseidon, or even Pearl Harbour, where someone, even just one of the good guys, emerges from the ashes at the end.

9/11, on most days, for me, seems like yesterday and yet a lifetime ago. I haven't seen a blue sky since that I've felt a complete sense of peace and predictability.  But I've flown since, too, and not felt afraid. Watching United 93 tonight helped me to realize that though it all seems a long time ago, it hasn't been nearly as long as it usually feels.

Certainly not long enough.

Only 600 more cars to go

That's how many we'll have to wash at five bucks apiece to have met our fundraising goal. Back at it tomorrow. Go go go!

Meanwhile, as departure day looms (less than a month to go!) my thoughts are gradually turning to our destination - Iowa. In the last few years, my small world has expanded, and I've discovered that "the States" (which is what we call y'all) consists of more than just "over the river" (that's Detroit) and Disney World. Last year's trip to Colarado offered breathtaking scenery, interesting locales and now, when I watch Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman, I can say, "hey, that's Colarado! I've been to Colarado!"

So. Iowa. What do I know about Iowa? I know it's over there in the middle somewhere - past Chicago, which I visited as a child, but not so far over as Boulder. They grow corn. And sheep. And future captains of the USS Enterprise. And they decide presidential nominations. I think.

And they have mumps.

So what else do I want to know? Well, what's the weather like? What's the landscape like? Any "must see" destinations, or at least "might as well as long as you're here" type things?

Also, now's the time to send reading recommendations; I have a 12-hour bus ride each way, and the beautiful thing about travelling with teens is that as long as they have headphones and a portable DVD player, they're unlikely to pester me with "are we there yet?" So what would you bring to read?

Oh, what a night!

Two posts in two days - I just may make a habit of this. Keep stopping by and see if it happens!

You know you're a mother when...one of your kids starts puking, and your first (or nearly first) thought is "Oh god, don't let the rest of them catch it!"

Little Daughter started with the chucking up just before dinner last night, and didn't stop until 3 this morning. Oddly enough, the occasion of a puking child brings to light just what a great team the hubby and I are. At the first sounds of retching, we'd both leap to our feet and one of us would hold her hair back and the other would race for the disinfectant. We'd take turns. Cold washcloths, ginger ale, clean jammies. Laundry. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I went to bed around two and let him take the night shift. At 8, I came back on duty, but all was on the way to well. Except when I called to cancel hubby's dr. appointment in London, which we were supposed to be on our way to, they put me on hold, and I fell asleep. On hold.

So far, everyone else is okay, but I'm still waving the can of Lysol around. Knock on wood!

The One In The Middle Just Might Be A Green Kangaroo

Middle Daughter was born four days late according to my OB's calculations, and three weeks late according to mine. (yes, I did get a mite cranky. I finally just showed up at the hospital and told them I wasn't leaving until I wasn't pregnant anymore)

She didn't take her first step until after her first birthday, her teeth came in slowly, she was still nearly bald on her first birthday. She took so long to talk that we had her assessed by a speech therapist twice. She had a soother until we registered for Junior Kindergarten. She was six before she stopped calling the Oldest "Sissy". She didn't lose all of her baby teeth until the last ones were finally pulled when she was 13.

It seems fitting, then, that I blog about her 14th birthday a full week after the fact.

What can I say about this amazing, wonderous child? This one, the one that never got to be “first” or “only”, the one that was only rescued from being the “the baby” by the arrival of her younger sister. True story: When I took her to register for Junior Kindergarten, she was just about four years old. As we walked toward the building, she popped her soother out of her mouth and said, “You can put me down now Mom. I’m big enough to walk in there by myself.”

If middle children are supposed to march to a different beat, then she has fulfilled that prophecy. But she’s never faded into the crowd of our family, never been in danger of being forgotten in the shuffle. This is because HER particular beat has been impossible to ignore.

When she was eleven and a half months old – not yet walking alone – she climbed the ladder up to the garage roof because she wanted to see what Daddy was doing up there.

When she was four, she took ten years off my life by disappearing off the front porch and being missing for 20 minutes. (she was down the street eating a cookie on someone else’s front porch)

When she was five, I helped co-ordinate an activity day for 250 Sparks, Brownies and Guides at the local camp. There was a 1:5 adult-child ratio. Guess which kid got lost?

When she was nine, I was called to the school because she got injured when she wandered into the line of fire when one kid threw something at another kid.

When she was 12, she took her new goldfish to Scouts for Show ‘n’ Tell. In a cereal bowl. In December. On foot.

The same year, she made three separate trips to the emergency room after experiencing adventurous activities like taking out the garbage and getting her baseball glove down off the shelf.

Her birthday has always been shared with something – Easter, her sister’s confirmation, her own confirmation, OM fundraising events. Or overshadowed by something – the Waco tragedy, the Oklahoma City bombing.

While she seemed to do everything else slowly, (Queen of the 40 Minute Showers, that’s her!) her mind moved faster than most. She learned to read when she was three. I have no idea how that happened. She completed fourth and fifth grade in one year.

She still doesn’t know whether she wants to be an astronaut, a pharmacist, or a used-car salesman. She’s toyed with learning to play the guitar, learning to sketch, and learning to sew. She has nine pictures of herself displayed in her bedroom and counts how many compliments she gets on her hair on any given day.

She takes three times as long to walk home from anywhere as her sisters do, but has a surprising knack for baseball. There are weeks where I wonder if she’s eaten anything but macaroni and cheese.

If my oldest taught me everything I know about parenting, then this middle girl of mine taught me everything I don’t know. I haven’t come across a parenting book yet that has been of any use at all in raising this child. She’s been the reminder and the proof that there is no “formula” to child-rearing.

Like all my girls, she is kind, and generous, and generally enthusiastic. But she harbours a zen-like approach to life that is by turns awesome and frightening. If she’s ever worried about anything, I’ve never noticed.

She is our family’s “glue”, the one that can always find the silver lining, the one that mastered dry wit at six, the one that alternately frustrates and amazes us. And I suppose that’s the perfect place to find the glue – right in the middle, holding us all together.

Happy Birthday Baby!

Regrouping

There's some kind of irony that Linda and Kim want to know when I'm going to blog -they have a tendency toward sporadic blogging themselves, at times.

However, since enquiring minds want to know, I am going to blog soon - I promise. Stay tuned for scenes from a birthday party, the early bird getting the worm, and much more.

Back soon!

Why can't a story be just a story?

It's great to be grateful: Today I am thankful that I live in the Land of Universal Health Care. Amidst the scurrying to pay for summer camp, baseball, Odyssey of the Mind, dental visits, Easter basket fillers, and the soon-to-be-14's birthday present, I will NOT have to pay for the Mumps booster it looks like I'm going to need.

Main attraction:

Mean Teacher has a wonderful post up about the Lion, The With and The Wardrobe movie, and coincidentally, we bought the DVD last week and sat down to watch it again. Middle and hubby had not seen it at all, and Youngest and Myself had viewed it in the company of 200 fourth graders on a field trip, so watching it in the comfort of the living room was a nice change.

The appeal that the Chronicles held for me as a child was exactly as Mean Teacher describes; my fascination lay with the possibility inside the books. There was an old wooden wardrobe in my grandmother's basement - it's still here-  and I can't count the number of times I would reach inside and try, in vain, to find the magic door into somewhere else. I was bullied in school - I spent a lot of time, as a child, wishing I could get to Anywhere But Here. In the Silver Chair, I think it is, Jill and Eustace, running from schoolyard bullies, find the door to Somewhere Else magically opens at exactly the time they need it to.

How many times did I hope, desperately, for a door to Somewhere Else to open up exactly when I needed it to? Too many times to count.

For all the good that it did me, high school English and then University took something away from reading for me. Learning to understand the themes and messages in what I read lessened my ability to lose myself in the story. Much like life in general, reading as a child was easier, less demanding. I read what I read simply because turning the pages of a book let me live someone else's life for a while.

But I digress. The movie was good - more than good. It was EXACTLY as I had imagined Somewhere Else would be. And even though I've learned to experience and enjoy being exactly where I am, I'm glad the stories are still around. For all the kids, like, me, who need to get away for a while.

What next, locusts?

So, the Odyssey of the Mind World Finals is being held in Iowa, right? And the odyssey to get there just keep getting curiouser and curiouser.

Setting aside, for the moment, the fact that every bus in the Northern Hemisphere appears to already be booked for that time period...

We're trying like mad to raise the money to make the trip. And today, the first day that I actually begin to RELAX and not worry so much about it, the first day that things seem not only possible, but PROBABLE, comes the news...

Iowa is hit by tornadoes. Oh yeah, the Midwest. Tornado Alley in tornado season. But okay, we can deal - it's not like there's a tornado every day. Relax.

And then another headline...

Health Canada is warning travellers to the Midwest about an outbreak of mumps. 515 cases reported in Iowa in the last four months, compared to an average of 4 cases a year for the last ten.

Jaysus. Any day now, I expect there to be news about frogs and grasshoppers.

That's not the way it's always been done

Attitude of Gratitude: Today, I am grateful for sunny skies and warm weather. Having the windows in the minivan rolled down for the first time in six months has brought me face to face with the reality that my next haircut is long, LONG overdue. I was just about blinded by my bangs this afternoon. (I almost typed morning, but then thought, who am I kidding? On a GOOD day, I don't leave the house before 11)

Attention Exhausted Readers: Apparently, this blog has a theme for April, and the theme is....getting where you need to be by going a different way. Who knew?

So, continuing on with the detour theme - my new router slash modem is successfully installed, and once again my Dear Family can all access the Internet from their computers. The old router died last week, leaving only me connected through the old modem. So my ISP, as part of their plan to monopolize telecommunications in this country, convinced me that this new router slash modem was the way to go. It's so easy to order things on the phone when they say "Oh, we'll just send it to you, and put it on your regular bill."

I've now got only one little box on my shelf instead of two, leaving a great big empty space waiting for me to clutter it up. Bonus! Plus, if I ever decide to fully enter this century and go wireless, (as if) I'm equipped.

Linda was blogging about towels earlier this week, and it reminded me of the single greatest change I ever made in my life that saved my sanity. Through conversations with other people I realize that I'm not the only woman who ever suffered from the madness, so maybe sharing my Top Secret Solution To Sanity will help someone else.

For a very long time it was very important to me that the bathroom towels be folded a specific way. VERY important. The husband would fold towels and I would come along and re-fold them the right way. The children would fold the towels and I would come along and do it over. And then everyone would stop folding towels and I would silently fume at how it would be nice to have a little help with the laundry around here.

Oh, I had my reasons. They fit better in the cupboard my way. They stacked more neatly my way. MY way was the RIGHT way.

I'm amazed at how many women are like this about towels. Their way may be different from my way, but their way is as important and VITAL to them as my way was to me.

And then, about five or six years ago, I realized that this "thing" I had about the towels was making me nutty. So I let it go.

It was hard. For a long time, I had to sit on my hands and bite my tongue to stop from refolding all the towels every time I opened the cupboard. But you know what? The sun hasn't fallen from the sky, the earth hasn't stopped turning, and Martha hasn't swept in to arrest me because my towels aren't folded a certain way. And the whole family folds laundry, mostly without moaning and whining about it.

Sure, if I'm the folder, I fold them my way. But otherwise, I leave them alone. And it's amazing how much mental energy my letting go of the towels has been freed up to focus on other, more important things.

Like how to get them to fold their underwear right. Although, with the advent of thongs, that too has become mostly a non-issue.

So - is there something little and essentially unimportant that you get all nutty about? What's the worst that can happen if you let it go? You might be surprised at how it turns out - who knew that the road to peace of mind went right through the bathroom cupboard?

Detours

Attitude of gratitude: Today I am grateful that even though my router is, apparently, dead, my modem still works. And by the end of the week, the rest of my dear family will be back online too, since a new router is on its way.

Main attraction:

On the street where I live, very few of the houses have driveways - a natural occurence in an area where the houses were built before every average Joe had a car. Yep, even in the Motor City, as late as the 1920s, neighbourhoods were not designed with the horseless carriage in mind. Parallel streets are divided by alleys, (allies? nope, alleys) usually paved, and those properties that have garages, the garages face the alley. Most of the garages are too narrow to hold today's standard automobile. (face it, my garage is so full of "stuff" I'm hard pressed to find room for the lawnmower)

In the absence of driveways, many homeowners have turned a chunk of their backyards into driveways off the alley, but the bulk of the parking is still on the street. The parking stays on one side from November through March, and switches from side to side every month during the rest of the year.

Took me long enough to get to my point, didn't it?

Anywho, April heralds the first parking switch in five months. My block is almost, but not quite, a dead end. It's accessible at one end by an alley which runs parallel to the train tracks, and at the other end by a side street. At the side street end, my block dead ends less than 100 feet later, at what used to be another set of tracks but is now simply a guardrail with a pretty cul-de-sac on the other side.

One street to the east and two streets to the west, are thru-streets. Get the picture? My block gets very little traffic that isn't local, and we must use those thru-streets to get anywhere.

Late last summer, the City, in all its infinite wisdom, began a construction project on the nearest thru street that saw traffic on our block increase dramatically as drivers attempted to find a way past the construction. Then, suddenly, once the street was all torn up, the project ceased, unfinished. They just patched up the holes, packed up their backhoes and went home for the winter. So, with the arrival of construction season, they're back at it, having torn up and blocked off the thru-street once again. And once again I find myself waiting to turn into and out of that end alley (which is only wide enough for one car).

For those of us who are set in their ways, it's very disturbing. My mother lives seven blocks away and it now takes me twice as long to get there because of the detour. This coupled with the parking switch has me all kerfuffled, with the end result that, after turning onto our block today, I was treated to this comment from my teenager:

"Geez Mom, eleven days into April and you STILL can't remember what side the parking's on?"

I suppose I have it better than WilsonWorld. She's on the other side of the guardrail, and we find it alternately annoying and entertaining to sit on her porch and watch the sudden influx of cars. They go zooming by, hit the dead end (though not, thank God, literally) turn around, and come zooming back, trying like heck to find their way out of this residential maze.

It's going to be a long summer. Though with gas hitting $1.05 a litre today, I wouldn't be surprised if everyone - including me - just decided to walk instead.

First, we had to chip the layer of ice off the top of the pail

First: Hey, hey, AGK, hope you get lots of hits today!

Second: Today, yesterday, and even the day before, I am glad my mother always chose words like "determined" and "persistent" to describe me, instead of more negative terms like "stubborn" or "pig-headed". It helps me keep going when I'm reaching for something.

And now, for the main attraction...

For anyone who's under the impression that today's teenagers are a lazy bunch, you will be happy to know that more than a dozen of them were out bright and early yesterday washing cars for a good cause. In spite of the fact that the temps were hovering just above freezing. Only in Canada would you see kids washing cars while wearing toques. And they stayed right 'til the end. What they may have lacked in skill, they made up for in enthusiasm, and I was very proud of them.

And it wasn't just the OM team - obviously, they had some incentive for making sure the day went well. It was also several of their friends, who could just have easily slept in and then headed for a Saturday afternoon at the mall. Instead, they donned winter coats and picked up a sponge.

Total raised yesterday: $323. Only several thousand more to go, and 18 days to get there!

And today, my muscles are screaming. I'm SO out of shape.