Locus on the Continuum

I like to think that my position on the spectrum of open-mindedness is at least firm within ‘open’, instead of ‘closed’ or ‘judgemental’. Really. Sure, my son plays with firetrucks and pretends that everything is a space shuttle, gun, or a vehicle that drops bombs. Even more, it’s often a space shuttle with guns and it drops bombs.  In many ways he’s a stereotypical little boy. But he also wraps his blanket around his middle and declares it his princess dress, loves to ‘do his makeup’ alongside me, and makes gardens for daisies out of lego. This is all okay.

 

Tonight we had a lovely girl spend the evening with us – Kate, Leif’s daughter. She’s five, and is ever so sweet. Leif was out playing hockey, his first game since injuring himself in the summer. Anyway, Kate begged me to paint her nails, and since I know Leif’s done her nails before (have I mentioned how awesome he is? How many dads do this?), I figured no harm and pulled out my nail polish collection. It’s a little on the sparse side, as during a purge I recently tossed all the purples and blues, even I think green and orange nail polish that my toes once sported. Now, there are around five shades of pink (I’m cutting myself off) and one dark burgundy red. Kate went for an opalescent pink.

 

Cameron went for the red. It matches his PJs beautifully.

 

And my tummy twists up in knots at this sight, and I scoot way conservative on that scale of open-mindedness. It’s coming off before Daycare on Monday, and I can tell myself all I like that it’s because I know the other older crew will tease him mercilessly. But I know the truth. It’s because it just looks WRONG.

Sick Again, Happiness Time

Ooohh, it’s a night for a happiness post. I have nothing at all to be unhappy about, and everything to be spinny-happy-blissful about, but I’m feeling rather spun around and dizzy, like I’m one of the orange maple leaves outside being tossed in the wind.  So I just need a happiness post to ground myself.

Most of what’s going on can be summed up with one phrase: hormones are not my friend. ‘nuff said.

The other part of it is asthma. Yay, it’s cold season, and I’m sick. This has me rather sulky, but also,  I’m sucking away on my puffer like it’s candy. Until I’m used to it again, Ventolin’s effect is a little distressing. I feel shaky, twitchy, weak, and a little dizzy. I feel like I did something positively horrendously awful and am just about to get caught. I feel like I’m walking through dense, dark jungle, and I know I’m being stalked by something with big teeth and razor-sharp claws. I know it’s going to pounce, but I don’t know when or from what direction. Lots of fun. Since this is so close to how I felt, constantly, when I was with A … well … there’s a wee part of my brain that’s not dealing so well. So on the one hand I have irrational freaking out going on … and on the other hand I’m aware of its nature and hey, I can walk up a flight of stairs without losing my breath.

Both of these things will pass. It just takes time. Not even a lot of time. A couple more days and I’ll be down to my normal levels of (in)sanity. So I’m taking lots of deep breaths.

And I’m remembering happinesses.

Flowers on my windowsill. It’s been a week, I think, and they’re still vibrant and cheerful.

Leif’s smile. Particularly when it’s directed at me. A whisper in my ear. A wink from across the room. An email in the middle of the day.

Moving. Okay, I treated a couple of friends to a bit of an irrational panic session this afternoon. But it’ll be a good thing. Really. Yes, the actual moving of stuff will be stressful, but then it’ll be over.

Watching Cameron make a huge multi-conceptual leap is wonderful and amazing. He drew a tiger and a lion for me. Okay, they look a little bit like daphnia, but he drew objects with legs and tails, and their identity remained constant. COOL! He made a long ‘slide’ out of lego blocks, with two supports … then adjusted the top to make a horse. That looked like a horse.  He found his Kumon letter-writing activity book, and said sadly, “I’m not very good at that stuff.” When I responded that of course he isn’t, he’s just learning how, that when I try new things I’m not very good at them either and that it takes time, he thought about it a minute. Then he picked up a pen and gave it a try. Then this morning on the bus he started picking words and telling me what letter they start with, with pretty decent accuracy. He’d get mixed up between starts with and ends with, but hey.

The wind on the walk home had a bite to it, and Cameron didn’t have his sweater on under his rain coat, or pants under his rain pants. The poor boy was freezing! So I zipped my jacket around him. Yes, his firefighter rain coat is adorable, but seeing him trot along beside me bundled up in my fleece was heartwarming. I froze, though.

Ghouls, Spiders, and a Severed Foot

If there’s one thing my neighbourhood does ‘right’, it’s Hallowe’en. Summer parties, easter egg hunts, Christmas caroling, they do it all – but Hallowe’en is the big one. This is the neighbourhood where 130+ kids come trick or treating before 7:30 (my first year here I ran out of treats by then). Where people not only dress up their kids, but themselves and their houses and their cars. Even their motorbikes. Corpses crawl out of gardens, hang from eves, eyes peer out of upstairs windows.  We had an eight-foot tarantula prowling the streets (I’m guessing at the height). Some people own their own fog machines, others rent them … a year in advance. Sadly, the family that used to project old, silent, scary movies on a giant screen hanging from their house has moved on. The streets get packed, clusters form around corners where residents set off fireworks, and there’s an air of a festival.

 

Maite and Phil next door got in on the action this year – Maite swore they would after experiencing last year. Our block is a little ‘off’ of the main action, but if more people did what they did this year, things would change. Their veranda became a spider’s nest, complete with webbing, giant spider hanging down, wee ones scrambling up banisters and railings.

 

This year marked a big change in Cameron. Now, granted, he’s not feeling great and is likely a little more apt to be spooked. Last year he didn’t bat an eyelash at the ghouls, corpses, disturbed gravesites, and monsters. The word ‘why’ wasn’t yet firmly established in his vocabulary perhaps. It was all about the festivities, about shaking his little monkey tail in the streets, and the discovery of candy … at people’s houses! And they give it to you!

 

This year?

 

Mommy? Why is that foot not attached to its person? Uh … where do I begin with that one. Well you see, kiddo, there’ve been seven feet washed up on shore here in BC and so it’s kind of funny in a macabre sort of way. Perhaps not. Well, it’s not attached because something gnawed it off, from the looks of things. Also not the best explanation. Because it’s sort of scary to look at, isn’t it? That’s part of Hallowe’en my love, getting a little bit scared but knowing it’s not real. That foot isn’t real, see? Yeah, it’s a real shoe, but the foot isn’t. Here, touch. See? Plastic. Not skin.

 

Maybe a little more disturbing, given that he’s just three and a half:

 

Mommy, are those people bones? They’re supposed to be people bones? But mommy, if they’re people bones, why isn’t there blood? Shouldn’t there be lots of blood?

 

Cameron stopped and inspected each and every decorated house, wanting to know why, why, why. He stood by the disembodied talking head on a platter for a good long time, listening and watching, while other kids scampered past en route to filling their bags with more candy. Plastic spiders got poked. Bags got peered into. He stood on the trap door with arms reaching out from underneath it, and appeared to contemplate the situation. Then he wanted to open the door.

 

Some of it seemed to be curiosity, wanting to see behind the mask of the evening, to assure himself that it wasn’t real. Or maybe just to figure out how things worked. But some parts disturbed him. That foot, the scattered bones, the mist from the fog machines, all set him a little off, which meant that after a bit he became fearful. Thankfully this wasn’t until after we’d encountered the giant spider. Adults in costume can be distressing to him I’ve noticed, but with some encouragement by the spider herself, Cameron was persuaded to run between her legs and ‘escape’ with giggles. But before long, a teary uncertain Cameron was begging to go home. He’d even lost interest in the fireworks, and claimed they were too loud.

 

Don’t misunderstand – it was still a fantastic, special evening. My little knight in shining armour did boogie around on the streets a bit, and positively glowed when people commented on his sword and shield. He went up to each house on his own, and would occasionally come to grab me by the hand and excitedly show me the decorations. He was again amazed at the idea of people giving out candy from their homes, and continually commented about how much he had gathered.

 

He’s sound asleep, despite fireworks still occasionally crackling in the sky, and screamers zipping around on the street. For the most part things are quiet again, though. Here’s hoping he doesn’t process the things he saw with the help of nightmares tonight. And tomorrow it’ll be November, and things will be back to un-haunted normal again for another year.

A Winner!

How exciting – it’s time to announce the winner of the first contest on my blog! Many, many thanks to everyone who entered, and also to everyone who popped by to see what was said. This was a neat experience for me, perhaps even an adventure, reading a book with the purpose of sharing my thoughts about it, specifically a parenting book. I’ve got another review in the works, and am trying to work out some sort of a contest with the publisher. So, perhaps mid-November keep your eyes out.

I listed out the entries in order of when they were made, then used random.org to tell me who won by random number.

The winner is:

 

Nancy!

 

I’ll send you an email, Nancy!

Back to Blogging!

It’s back to basics tonight – back to happinesses. Not because of a lack of anything to write about. There’s lots! And not because it was a really rough day. It wasn’t. Okay, total meltdown on my part on the walk home, where I let Cameron push some buttons. But the day started wonderfully, and ended peacefully. No – I’m doing a happiness post because sometimes it’s good to recognize the things that make you happy.

 

Last night. Jumping on the trampoline while the sun set, and the moon rose. Stars came out to Cameron’s delight, and we bounced and leapt in sock feet until our toes were frozen.

A bouquet of purple flowers on my kitchen table – and thoughts of the smile that went along with them.

Fun laughter and good-natured teasing at the coffee shop this morning.

Dry leaves on the sidewalk swooshing and crunching underfoot. It smells like Fall. Hallowe’en decorations are starting to appear – spiders creeping on verandas, skeletons on doors.

Bright blue eyes and giggles as Cameron and I touched lollipops and said, “Cheers.” We’d both gotten our flu jabs, and Cameron hadn’t cried at all.

Playing with trains in the living room after we got home – not just the playing, but also Cameron’s happiness when I said, “Okay, supper’s cooking, let’s play!”

Emails and texts in the middle of the day and evening – they make me smile, feel warm, and know that I’m being thought of. Which is a really good feeling.