Trading the Tractor for a Boat

We are a family of goat farmers. With no disrespect to anyone reading who might be an actual farmer and who's livestock might actually be goats. It sucks! The noise, the smell, the eating everything in sight, I'm having reoccuring nightmares that I am Zsa Zsa Gabor humming the Green Acres theme song.

I know, you are sitting there scratching you head; 'Michelle, you live in suburbia, your yard only looks like it has been eaten by goats it could fit into the average beer store twice! Your neighbours thrive on bylaw. Where are the goats?

In the house! In the bedrooms and on the couch, they are tucked into bathroom drawers meant to house hair accessories and toothpaste, in toy boxes and the laundry room. The goats are everywhere,we take them in the car and on vacation. Every one of us has our own personal herd and is continually on the look out to increase head count.

The phrase is 'Don't let them get your goat.' We must say it a hundred times a week. A phrase induced by sibling rivalry and combat. It is the description for that moment where one child does something intentionally to provoke outrage in another, they 'borrow' personal items, comment on relationships, personal appearance, hygiene and intelligence. It is taking control of the other person's emotions and playing them like a marionette. Perhaps we are not goat farmers as much as we are goat rustlers. No one in this house is ever satisfied with keeping their own goats, no they go on missions to collect them, pushing buttons and invading personal space, stopping at nothing to get another person's goat.

It gets loud... "Am not!"...."Are too!".... "Am not!"...."Are too!"... "You're a goat farmer!"

They know it! They know that they are being rustled and they don't close the gate to protect their livestock. No, they see it coming so they climb up on top of the barn Nananabooboo style, wiggle their butts at one another and dare the 'getting' of their goats. All the while I stand around like the sheriff in a cowboy western "Now, Now Jeb...let's just think about this for a minute, you don't really want to go a hurt'n your kin there do ya?"

Heck ya they do! and they will take my goats in the process if they can!

Somebody triumphs at every showdown, the victory cry rings out..."I GOT YOUR GOAT!" Yes they actually say it, as they skip away from the battle back to their room to count their reward.

Leaving me in the wake, my boots covered in dust staring over an empty field wishing we were fishermen. Fishermen bob up and down on the water in their own little boats. They yell across the lake to one another "Any luck today?" They point each other in the direction of good shoals and pass along success tips, they recount great stories over lively music and the catch of the day.

I want to be a fisherman.

Gratitude today that while we spend an awful lot of time 'down on the farm' we also enjoy getting away to do some fishing from time to time.

Are you a family of farmers of fisherman?


Hope, Gratitude and Smiles are meant to be shared!
Michelle

Hey...I'm visiting Pleasantville this week! Stop by and say hello!!!!

How to Walk a Cat

Where we used to live there was a man who used to walk his cat. This fascinated me, I would see him strolling at a snail's pace down the sidewalk with his black and white short hair on the end of a red leash and I would think to myself, "There is an unbelievable feat!"

I've had cats all my life, they are obstinate, fickle creatures with high self-regard and survival-level tolerance for human beings. In the great who's smarter debate; dogs or cats? I take the feline position understanding that it takes superior intelligence to not be trained. Dogs win in the emotional strength category. Cat smarts is probably the reason for my awe every time I saw this man walking his cat. Either A) his cat had a dog level IQ or B) he had uncovered some amazing secret to keeping a cat on the end of a leash.

At some point in my pinball parenting I told my kids about this neighbour who used to walk his cat around the block. We all make rookie mistakes, a mistake like telling your kids a cat can be walked, is one regretted before the punctuation is formed on the end of your sentence. 'why, why, why did I say something so stupid?' *mom smacks head against wall* This is what I think every time one of my kids says "I want to take the cat for a walk." The conversation plays out like this...

Kid #1 or #3 (#2 knows cats don't walk) "Where is the leash? I want to take the cat for a walk"
Me: "The leash is only for tying the cat out, cats don't walk."
Kid: "I want to try."
Me: "You can not walk a cat, they are not like dogs."
Kid: "But you said one time we had a neighbour that used to walk his cat."
Me: "Yes, but..."
Kid: "I want to try."
*sigh* I know this will end with frustration. Once it ended with a call home..."I got the cat this far and I can't get him back, will you come get us? I tried to pick him up but he keeps scratching me. pleaaaaase!"
Me: "No, walk the dog."
Kid: "Well, how come that man at our old house could walk his cat if you can't walk a cat? How?"
Me: "I don't know."
Kid: "But if that man walked his cat, you must be able to."
Me: "Go to bed."

Really the story of the man walking his cat is just a catalyst for ceaseless Q & A. I have low tolerance for that mind-numbing lunacy.

There is usually a time span between "Cat-walk sessions" unless of course, like now when the air is fresh and the sun is shining, the cat is itching to get out of the house and the kids are looking to escape chores. Then I get inundated.

Part of the frustration is because I really wish I knew how the guy managed to walk that darned cat. It would be cool to take the cat and the dog for a walk.

Tonight the topic came up again. After so many attempts to explain the mentality of cats to my kids and why they are untrainable and un-walkable. I threw my hands into the air and spat out...

"He could walk the cat because he wasn't in a hurry, he was a retired guy who had no time frame on getting the cat around the block!"

Boom... discussion done, never to be had again. In one explosive blurt of frustration I solved two nagging issues. 1st, I halted the conversation forever because #2 I figured it out, by not trying to figure it out.

He could walk the cat because he wasn't in a hurry. He knew he would get home all he had to do was let the cat set the pace. 

Ahhhhhh...that exact moment was like finding out the Caramilk Secret, for a split second my life was complete.

Gratitude today for the sudden gob-smacked understanding that people who achieve great feats do it in their own time at a pace of least resistance, always moving in the direction of their destination.

Here's to a great weekends, clarity and the anticipation of a great week ahead!

Michelle

Recent Lessons in Domestic Goddess

I have done some pretty amazing things in the pursuit of domestic goddess status. I say pursuit, because we all are very aware that 'Momma got no skills'. Okay I can cook, but it is safe to say that all of my domestic talents are wholly invested in this single ability. Thank goodness an exceptional pot roast has the ability to erase the horror of perpetual basket diving for matching socks and that if you are eating a cookie you are blinded to the smeary nose and finger print covered sliding door.

The job of a family is to encourage you and challenge you to improve your short comings. My family is exceptional in this regard, they develop scenarios continually to exercise my domestic muscles. They get gum stuck in their hair, spill nail polish on the bathroom counter, draw notes on the bathroom mirror with chapstik and lipstick, launch entire jugs of grape juice skyward in the kitchen (purple rain is not metaphoric in our house). There are the hunting expeditions fit for blood hounds as I attempt to locate lost lunches and missing water bottles. There are chemistry lessons in stain removal and tests of mending...everything from zippers and pant seams to shoes and bicycles. When it comes to improving a mother, my family excels, and I owe them a world of gratitude. I have learned that I am more capable than I believe, that the impossible should at the very least be attempted and that you can surprise yourself with the results.

This week I also learned that when the cat pees in the Lego bucket it's not the end of the world. (as long as someone tells you) I also learned that my family still needs me. (their solution to this problem was to bag up $500 worth of feline christened Lego for the garbage! Ok, once upon a time that would have been my solution too.) This week I learned that I can trust my internal domestic goddess guidance system. This week I learned that you can wash, dry and fold Lego. Ok so I washed it in a bucket of disinfectant soap and water, I let it soak for a few days in disinfectant water (I didn't say I wasn't completely grossed out) on Friday I poured the Lego into a couple of pillow cases, tied the tops shut with broccoli elastics and threw the sacks into my clothes dryer with a couple of old pillows. 20 minutes on perma-press netted me clean wrinkle free Lego.

I knew that I had done well, when I unloaded the Lego back into the disinfected bin and E-man said "Ahh, it's so toasty and fresh." For a moment I thought perhaps a little domestic guru does live within me, for a moment I thought about how grateful I am for all the lessons my family has put before me, they unknowingly set me up for a moment of Domestic Goddessness. Next up...I'm going to move the appliances and face what lurks beneath...while I still feel domestically powerful and capable.

Gratitude to the voluntold family member with the bravery to help me with this challenge, I can teach you what I know about Domestic Goddessing.

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.

Michelle


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Picking Sides

When Michael and I were first married we owned a teeny, tiny 2 bedroom house. The total square footage was less than 700 square feet. You can imagine in that limited space, we were lucky to have 1 bathroom. It was a closet of a room, complete with a tub, sink and a toilet. For the first week it had no electrical outlet and in desperation I would plug my curling iron in at the kitchen table and curl my hair in my reflection in the toaster. (I didn't mind too much, there was more room for my ashtray in the kitchen) Michael quickly had an electrician buddy come to the house and help us with our wiring challenges. The bathroom became functional and Michael quickly learned that his turn in the mirror was whenever I was finished.

When the kids began arriving  I barely noticed the one bathroom inconvenience, they were little and we managed, but being a girl I knew that the day would come. The day that would find myself and our 2 daughters negotiating mirror time while Michael and our son begged on the other side of the door for toilet time. I envisioned them opting in desperation to borrow a neighbours loo or pee behind a tree in the yard. Common sense dictated that we eventually would need another bathroom. Actually common sense dictated that a family of 5 in a two bedroom house probably needed more than an extra bathroom.

So we sold our little house and moved into something more suitable. We tripled our square footage and along with it our bathroom count, officially ending our bathroom dilemmas.

There is always a place to pee, a mirror to see in and an outlet to plug a hairdryer or straightener into.

Or there was.

Tomorrow we have two teenager girls who will vie for shower, mirror, sink time, in preparation for highschool appearances. They tried a trial run today. 96 minutes start to finish for KJ. 96 minutes before the door opened and KJ informed Lula the bathroom was all hers. 96 minutes before the fireworks started. 96 minutes before the bathroom trauma started. Arguments over hairdryers and nail polish remover, towels and counter space.

I think they may have forgotten their bathroom roots. I think they have forgotten how grateful they should be that they have a bathroom to share. Perhaps they don't realise how grateful they should be that while they are cat scrapping over eyelash curlers and bobbi-pins, their little brother isn't banging on the other side of the door threatening to pee in their shoes if he doesn't get his turn in the water closet.

What today's trial run taught us is that the girls will need to wake up at 3 am to get all their primping and priming done in time to meet the bus. It taught us that teenage daughters are like cage fighters, sometime you just have to let them battle it out, survival of the fittest style and wait for the hairspray to settle.

More importantly I learned how grateful I am that I have a bathroom of my own.

Note to kids; I will be on the good side of my bathroom door and all of your knocking and pleading will not convince me to forfeit my time. I paid my dues...curled my hair in the kitchen and stood cross legged on the bad side of the door too many times, and you can too!

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.

Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

My Late Night Date With Dr. Suess!

Oh, the wonderful things Mr. Brown can do!  

Blurp Blurp
Slurp Slurp

Cock-a-doodle-doo

Knock Knock Knock

and Hoo Hoo Hoo......

Have you ever read Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You? it's a classic Dr. Suess. I read it so many times when the kids were little that I almost had it memorized. It was a delightful book and I loved to put every ounce of my creative reading effort into delivering it. I would change the pitch and volume of my voice, I would make great faces and the kids would laugh. When they got old enough to begin reading to me they would attempt Mr. Brown with the same level of enthusiasm and try their best to out do my technique. All of them get highest marks for commendable effort, but I have to say, not one had truly committed themselves to delivering the content with the zeal intended by the great Dr. himself.

Not until 4 o'clock this morning.

We conceded to the girls each having mid week sleepover friends. That was fine, they were pretty quiet with only the odd giggle rising above acceptable sleeping volume. The dogs were happy in their respective bedrooms and the cat was completely exhausted from a busy day of 'kittening'.

This is how all great nights should begin.  Then...

Eventually the girls began needing drinks....
Open the bedroom door....Creeeek (note to Michael, we need hinge oil)
On goes the light... Flick.
Down the stairs...Clomp, Clomp, Clomp.
Get a cup, slam the cupboard... Blam
Back up the stairs... Clomp, Clomp, Clomp
Shut off the light... Flick.
Close the bedroom door.... Creeeeeek (again hinge oil)
Settle back down... Giggle, Giggle

Then snacks...Creeeeeeek, Flick, Clomp Clomp Clomp, Blam, Clomp Clomp Clomp, Flick, Creeeeeeeeek, Giggle Giggle.

Add one well refreshed nocturnal kitten with a bell on his neck. tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, tinkle tinkle, tinkle, TINKLE, TINKLE, TINKLE.

At 4 AM Lula's 24 hour allergy medication wears off (6 hours too early!)
Open the bedroom door....Creeeeeeeeeeek (really Michael... hinge oil, is it on the list?)
turn on the bathroom light... Flick
with kitten in tow...Tinkle, Tinkle, TINKLE
shut the bathroom door...Creek, Click (Michael, the bathroom door doesn't need oiling)
Lula, blow your nose...HONK, BLONK, HONK, Achoo, BAZONK, Honk!
Open the door...Creek
turn off the light... flick
tinkle, tinkle tinkle
close the bedroom door...Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek

and repeat.... Creeeeeeeeeeek, Flick, Tinkle Tinkle TINKLE, creek, Click, HONK, BLONK, HONK, Achoo, BAZONK, Honk, creek, Flick, Tinkle Tinkle Tinkle Creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek! for another 45 minutes! Until the prematurely administered next dose of allergy meds kick in. (a note of reflection here; perhaps the addition of 2 dogs, a cat and the required state of the art air freshening system, duning the beginning of allergy season is not the best timing. Despite negative allergy tests for animals one can never really tell what is causing the problem)

At about 4:30 AM, around the same time I was laying in bed with the pillow over my head wondering if Dr. Suess did his best writing when he should have been sleeping, the dogs decided that the honking and flicking and tinkle tinkle tinkle was enough to get them in the mood for a pee.

Woof, WOOF, BARK!

Down the stairs...Clompity Clompity Clomp
out the backdoor.... shoosh
In the backdoor... Shoosh
Back up the stairs... Clompity Clompity Clomp

Back into bed... (Eman, move over or go back to your own bed, Dad needs to sleep)

5 AM the house goes silent. For a minute the lack of  Creeeeeek, Clomp, Tinkle, flick, HONK, blam, Woof is deafening. Momentarily I panic that I should not have given Lula an early allergy remedy. I sneak down the hallway.... CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK (darn it Michael, OIL! we need some now!) A quick check and all is good. I tiptoe back to bed and snuggle under the covers; 5:05 AM.

5:15AM, wha Wha WHA WHAWHAWHAWHA
5:15AM, WHOMP! snooze-bar!

Can you do that, Mr. Brown? I can do it, upside down!

Gratitude today for a rhyming Doctor, who put some perspective on a noisy sleepless night. All those hours of training did come in handy!

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.

Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!

Sometimes "You had to be there" is a Better Vantage Point

When it comes to providing spaces for kids to play and miniature heart attacks for mothers our city has come a very long way! When Michael and I were young we had to scheme ideas, design a plan and bring it to life. That generally meant building something.

Our mothers had the great comfort of knowing, when we announced a plan to race a go-kart down the face of Mount Trashmore, that they could rest easy during the design and build phase, bid us good luck weeks later during the launch phase and wait contently at home in the throws of a Harlequin romance for our plan to inevitably succumb to it's integral design flaws. They knew we were never in any real danger, not if we had to build our risky adventure first.

While many of our plans failed in conception, some in build phase and some during event launch we had a great time. Those momentous summers provided more than hours of entertainment, they provided inspiration. They got us through those blistering unstructured weeks of summer holidays.

Then our generation grew up, we became engineers, and parks co-ordinators, city planners and designers.
We grew up and became our very own worst nightmare. We, who spent all those hours wishing that things existed have become adults who make things exist. We design the toys and the rides, we create the sports events and social places. We want to make sure that our kids have everything we never had before! Things like this.

Moms too, have something we never had before...'Realized Anxiety." No longer are those hair brained schemes in the hands of 8 year old designers and engineers. No, now there are real live educated grown-ups with money and connections to bring good things to life!

We, the generation of do-ers, have out done ourselves; creating coolness for our kids. While at the same time inadvertently securing work for hospital staff, sports therapist and fracture clinics. Not to mention the fiscal boost to those 'mother's little helper' industries. (safe money to invest in band-aides and things bottled)

Please don't misunderstand me. I love these hot-beds of danger parks! I put on my flip-flops and tag along. I watch, I cringe, I suppress anxiety, I clean-up litter in a lame attempt to be nonchalant and non-phased with the idea of my son hurling himself about on wheels and concrete. I think I do a pretty good job hiding all of those miniature heart attacks. It is a Mother's job after all to be the ever supportive cheerleader, boosting confidence in her children as they pursue things that bring them great joy. or is it?

Gratitude today for the young man at the skatepark who saw through my anguish the other day. He very plainly told me "It's okay not to watch, my Mom has never seen any of the tricks I do. It's better that way."

So I tried it. I let Mike take E-man to the skate park. They arrived home unscathed and unbroken. I asked "How was it?"

"You had to be there Mom, it was awesome!"

Awesome it was! I got to shake my pompoms everytime I heard E describe a trick or a run and I got to smile while I was doing it. All the Raw-Raw without the anxiety attack!

Spend some moment everyday in reflection of gratitude and happiness. Even if the time found is standing in line for coffee...use is wisely.

Michelle


Did this post brighten your day? make you smile? If so I'd be ever so grateful if you shared it on Facebook or Twitter. Someone else might be in need of a smile - Thanks!