Today was a beautiful day. Warm and sunny, with a little bit of humidity to make it feel like summer is still kicking around, despite the leaves falling from the trees. To celebrate this great day, I packed the lils up and headed to one of our favourite spots – Mud Lake. They love to look for ducks, frogs, herons, turtles, geese… pretty much any living creature. I love to escape the city while right in the city.

We had barely arrived this morning when we all noticed that there was a lot of trash on the ground. It wasn’t just at the lookouts, it covered the trail. This started right at the beginning of the path, within feet of the garbage pail that was there. There were wrappers, cans, kleenex, bags, newspapers… You name it, someone had dropped it.

This irked me. Although I hate littering, I expect it more in the downtown or more popular areas. This was nature! How had so many people decided that it was ok to just dump whatever they didn’t want to carry? When they went out of their way to get to this great spot. I was mad because I was making an effort, carrying everything that we produced, including the 47,000 kleenex that I used (thanks allergies) while there, and they weren’t. What gave them the right?

The hardest part was that the lils noticed. “Mommy, why is there so much garbage? Why do people litter?” I really wanted to tell them that it was because people were assholes, but I refrained. Instead, I talked about how some might have been dropped accidentally, but mostly it was because people were lazy or uncaring. They didn’t like it, and neither do I, but it was true.

We had a great visit to Mud Lake, but I didn’t like that their explorations were clouded by so much junk on the ground and floating in the water. It’s never been like that there before, and I hope to never see it like that again.

The best part of our day, my proud mama moment, was when they both started to pick up trash without being asked. We have always tried to leave each place that we visit a little bit cleaner than we arrived, and I was very proud of them both for recognizing that this place needed some love and starting to tidy. We weren’t the only ones either. The path was even tidier on our way out than we had left it!

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I am sitting here, thinking about all the lils that are going to back to school tomorrow, and all of those that are going to school for the first time. I can’t help but feel a little bit sad. Although Woo is school aged, he won’t be going to his first day of school tomorrow. Goose isn’t quite old enough, but we know her first day of school will come after we return from India, and will happen after the official first day of school here. In the interim, they will be attending school in India, though that first day will come in the sometime future, somewhere far from here.

We don’t know what school that will be, but we do know that it won’t be the school in our community, the one that we have talked up for years, planned our school walking route for, and had acknowledged by the lils anytime we go near it. It won’t be the one with Woo’s best pal, who he has been planning to go to school with since they were old enough to know about school. Woo knows that he’ll be going to school in India, I’m just not sure that he realizes that means he will not be going tomorrow. When he sees all the other children going tomorrow, I am pretty sure this will sink in.

We know that this trip is going to bring such richness to our lives, but it’s times like this when I question our move to India, and the impact that it will have on the lils, and on the customs that we expect them to live through. Does it matter that they won’t have a traditional first day of school, either of them? Their first day will be just another day for all the other lils in their classes. It will likely be lost in the new home, new country, new everything that will be going on in their lives. Will it matter to them? Or just to me?

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The lils are in a wedding in just ten days, and have nothing suitable to wear. They NEED outfits for this, and we have received little no inspiration and guidance from the bride and groom.  This morning, I made the ill-advised decision to take both lils on a shopping trip with me, hoping that they would find looking for pretty clothes fun.  They are my children, though, and did not.

We went to Sears, and managed to find a cute suit for Woo.  The lils still haven’t seen it, as they were nowhere near me during any part of the looking.  They were either running around and hiding from me, or steadfastly refusing to walk with me, hold my hand, hold each other’s hands, or go where I asked them too.  Thankfully the store was pretty empty.  I should have seen this for the warning that it was. I did not.

We headed to the escalator, so that we could go downstairs to the mall.  As we were walking over, I thought that we should maybe take the elevator, but decided against it.  I tried to grab their hands to go down, but both protested and claimed that they could manage without me.  I knew they could not, but let them, positioning myself between them, just in case.  This way I could grab either (or both) if I needed to.

We reached the top and Goose handed me their snack bowl.  In the instant that I took my eye off Woo, he stepped forward and put one foot on the top stair. He then stopped moving.  The escalator, of course, did not, and two stairs passed before he slid his back foot onto a stair.  He was doing a mean splits and started to panic, so I grabbed him and got both feet onto the same stair, making sure that he was OK.  I then heard a squeal from the top of the escalator, where Goose was realizing that we were halfway down, and she was still at the top.

Afraid that she was going to just launch herself at us (as she is prone to doing from the tops of stairs), I turned and headed up, telling Woo to ride to the bottom and wait.  Telling her that I was coming, I took a few steps and made little headway.  She was still squeaking, so I stepped it up a little and thought that I could take the stairs two at a time.  I could not.  My toe caught one of the steps, and I went sprawling forward.

Have you ever tried to right yourself from a prone position on a moving escalator?  While still trying to make forward progress in the direction opposite to the one that the escalator is moving? Don’t. It is not easy or graceful. When I finally righted myself, I got Woo to retrieve my keys, which had flown out of my pocket, and made my way back to the top.

After what seemed like an eternity, I reached a very concerned Goose and we rode together to Woo.  they had many questions… Why did you spill our snack? Is there any more snack? Is the snack all dirty?  Why is the snack all over?  Did you throw our snack?  Are you sure we can’t eat that snack?

Thanks for looking after my well being, lils.  Don’t worry about all the skin I left on the stairs, the bruises I am now sporting, or the toenail I am pretty sure I will lose.

I think they are trying to kill me.

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I don’t often stay in hotels any more, and when I do, I certainly don’t get the time to ponder their policies or the little signs that they leave hanging in the shower. My trip to San Diego this month was different, and I actually got to take daily showers, so I saw the sign posted above a lot. You may have seen this sign, or similar ones if you stayed in a hotel recently. It encourages you to make the right choice and green our planet by hanging your towel up if you want to save and re-use it after you shower. I always do this, and yet 90% of the time my towel is exchanged for a new one when I return to my room after it is refreshed. My stay at the Marriott in San Diego was no exception.

I am not sure why the staff exchanges the towels, if they forget that it was hung up, if there is actually a corporate policy that directs staff to refresh the towels, if they think that I really meant to have it changed, or if the towel really smells and I haven’t noticed. What ever the reason, it is clear to me that this initiative isn’t working, and doesn’t make me see the hotels as doing something to green the earth. It actually ticks me off a bit, telling me to “do my part”, but then not following through.

I know that the business of hotels can be inherently wasteful. They need to be far more careful about sanitization and cleanliness than I do in my home, and they cater to a large number of guests, most of whom stay there wanting to be pampered and taken care of. I really do understand this, but am no less irked. The daily refresh got me thinking about ways that hotels can make efforts to be greener without sending out these confusing messages and ticking me off in the process. There have to be meaningful changes that they can implement that don’t significantly impact a guest’s experience, or that demonstrate a true desire to reduce an ecological foot print.

Looking around my room, I saw several places where I thought that this particular hotel could have helped me reduce my footprint. In my room there were disposable cups for the coffee maker, wrapped in plastic. They had lids, that were also wrapped in plastic, but a separate piece of plastic. There were recycle bins in some areas of the hotel, but none in the guestrooms. They used incandescent bulbs in the light fixtures, where CFLs or (even better) LEDs could have been used. A gentle reminder to put the do not disturb on the door may have saved me from having the room cleaned when it didn’t really need it… These were the simple things I noted in my room. There likely were many more that could be carried out throughout the hotel. I wish I had seem some, or been told of some. Their absence made the message in the simple shower sign all the more frustrating.

I know that there are no simple solutions, but the card in the shower is not a solution at all. I have never stayed in a hotel when following the instructions on the card has met with the desired result. There has to be a better way.

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My lils were never ones to suck their thumbs, or to be soothed by pacifiers. Sometimes I wished they would use either – or both! They both developed very early attachments to special toys or other objects, and it was there that they found their comfort. For Woo, his first and best love was his blankie. For Goose it was her doll that was given to her at birth by my aunt and uncle. While both of these are the go to in times of distress, others have come to take significance in their lives over time. For Woo, right now, his little wolf that Santa delivered under the tree this year is *almost* on par with blankie for comfort and love.

Imagine our surprise when we noticed in the middle of last week that Wolfie was missing! We searched all the usual spots, all the unlikely spots, and even spots that Woo could not have reached or that Wolfie would not have fit into. He was really MISSING. While the lils and I were at the cottage on the weekend Willy tore the house apart (and then cleaned it up!!!), but no Wolfie. I got home and repeated the exercise, then got our wonderful, awesome daycare provider to do the same to her house, just in case Wolfie had snuck through the security fence. We have a pretty strict rule about taking loveys out of the house for exactly this reason, but there was a slim chance that he had been smuggled out. He wasn’t there either. We were stumped and declared him lost.

This was a particularly bad time for Wolfie to go MIA. We started our immunizations for the big move on the day after Wolfie was first reported missing. Woo was sad to go to the doctor with out him that morning, but decided that his Curious George could accompany he and blankie to the doctor. This surprised us but we went with it. All was fine until our Doc gave “immunizations” to the various loveys that the lils had brought to the appointment. Woo realized that Wolfie missed his needle and was distraught. I promised that we would find Wolfie in time for the next round of needles.

The second round happened yesterday. Willy and I both thought that appointment was on Friday, and hadn’t found or replaced Wolfie by Tuesday night when the calendar error was discovered. I knew I could replace Wolfie, as Woo and I had discovered his twin in a local mall one day. I just didn’t want to do that without talking it through with the lil man. Right before we were going to the appointment I had to explain that we were getting needles early, that Wolfie wasn’t around to get needles, and that I could get “another” Wolfie, but it would be too late for today’s needles. It did not go well. There were many pleas to go now or make the mall open. Much discussion ensued, and in the end his moose got the needle and I went shopping after work.

I presented the replacement at the end of the day. He was too soft, too fluffy, too big, too white (Wolfie needed a bath…), too not Wolfie. It made Woo more distraught, but I explained that Wolfie became how he was because Woo loved him and squeezed him so much. The new guy just needed some love. Woo decided that he was up for it, and they went skipping off together. I knew all was well when I tucked them in at night, and the new Wolfie was cuddled under his arm.

This morning I was changing the sheets on Woo’s bed when I noticed that the mattress was lumpy. I lifted the corner and found Wolfie. Of course. He was even flatter now, but he made a little boy’s day. They spent the day together, with Woo going over each little difference. He loves that he now has two Wolfie’s, and is excited for them to get their needles. I am kicking myself for replacing him when I did. We knew he would turn up eventually, just didn’t expect it would be the very day AFTER we replaced him!!

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At the beginning of this year Willy was presented with an opportunity that would have allowed our family to move to Bangalore, India for a year.  We were both very excited, and started the ball rolling on the various hurdles that needed to be cleared.  It was a very exciting time for us both, as we have both wanted to travel to India together, and wanted to have our family experience living in another country, another culture. 

The weeks that followed were filled with anticipation, excitement, and stress.  We didn’t tell our families or friends, as we knew nothing was certain.  I only had Willy to talk about this with. He would come home and almost every day I would ask what was happening, if he knew anything, when he would know anything, and why he didn’t know anything.   I started to make plans with an eye to the future, trying to figure out what I could and could not commit too, and what we need to do to ensure that the lils would thrive in this new environment.  

The weeks turned into months and things progressed incredibly slowly.  Just when it looked like the trip was no longer going to happen, there was a small bit of forward progress.  I am sure that there were lots of things happening behind the scenes, but this was what I saw.  It frustrated me and had me on edge. 

Finally, in late March, it looked like there was no possibility of travel to India, and we closed that door. It was very sad, as I had really hoped that we would have this wonderful experience.  It was also a relief, an end to the stress and uncertainty, and meant that I would not have to face all my fears for the family about moving to a completely new world.

Life went back to normal.  We planned for the summer and fall, started talking about family vacations, school for Woo, new adventures for Goose, and just living life.  Then Willy sent me an email. India was back on if we wanted it, and had cleared almost all of the organizational hurdles.

It means that he and I will likely be going to India in the next couple of weeks to look for a place to live and ensure that we can get both lils into school, JK for Woo, and nursery school for Goose.  If all can be put in place, we’ll return home and pack up our lil family for this new adventure!

I’ve written a million pro/con lists about the trip.  There are some cons, and some things that we will all miss out on.  We will all miss our families, friends and our fabulous daycare.  Our life will turn upside-down for a while, but it will right itself.  There will be new things to see and do, new people to meet, and many wonderful experiences.  We might hate it, but we might just love it.  That is why we can’t miss this opportunity.  We’re moving to India. Soon. Really, really soon. 

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I’m hanging out in San Diego this week for Blogher’11.  It’s been a fabulous trip so far, and still have three more days. The conference itself is only two days long, but in coming here I decided to make this a six day weekend.  It’s what Willy does when he goes away golfing… So this is a case of what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.

When I woke on thursday morning, our first morning here, I rolled over in bed to find someone in bed with me. I was sure that I had gone to bed alone, but I didn’t panic.  It took me a minute to recognize that it was just my roomie Anna, who had arrived in the night.  It was a weird experience waking to someone who wasn’t there when I went to sleep. Anna had been very concerned about waking us when she came in.  She does stealthy well. 

We all woke before five, but lay in the dark talking.  It was relaxing and nice to be able to enjoy a peaceful morning.  Three of us went off to breakfast, and found a restaurant that looked decent and was populated by locals.  The service was spotty, and coffee bad, but the food was good so it was a bit of a wash.  As our meal was ending, I asked the waiter where the washroom was.  He looked at me blankly for a minute and then struggled to find the word restroom in asking for for clarification.  I looked up and said, “sorry, Canadian” as a way to explain my word choice.  He shrugged his shouders and said, “s’okay, Mexican” with a smile.

Later in the day my other roomie Krista and I headed for lunch.  We found a lovely little crepe place and sat on the patio.  Our meal was interrupted a couple of times by the sounds of a very loud argument across the street.  A couple appeared to be having a fight, and when I looked up I could see what appear to be clothing flying.  We remarked on it, thinking that it was quite the row. I sort of half listened, just to make sure that all was ok.  A couple of minutes later I heard another sharp yell, and looked up to see the couple having an animated discussion while folding laundry.  Clearly not a serious fight if they were still doing household chores.

Krista and I had a fun and relaxing day together, and I told her as much, that I thought we made good travel partners, and that I would travel with her again.  She smiled, and we continued to enjoy our day.  A couple of hours later she told me that she thought she could travel with me elsewhere too.  I teased her about having taken so long to return the favour and she likened it to saying I love you – you can’t just throw it out there rashly.  At least now we’ve both said our travel I love you’s!

It was a good day in San Diego.

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Some of my oldest memories of our family cottage involve mice…  They invaded the cottage with alarming regularity, which meant that our first chore upon arrival was to wash all of the dishes, change the beds, and hunt down all of the places where they hid all the macaroni noodles.  Years later, long after we have sealed all of the holes that they were sneaking in through, we are still finding noodles.

My mom instilled a healthy fear of the mice into me.  Her shrieking and clamouring for the highest piece of furniture that could be climbed on once a mouse was spotted was quite legendary. Soon enough, I was following her onto the coffee table.  It took me a long time to get over this irrational fear of mice, but I am pretty much over it, although I am still not a big fan of mice.

The family is pretty split on how they feel about the mice.  Willy is not bothered at all by them, and doesn’t seem to mind sharing his house with them.  Woo loves ALL living things, and would be crushed to know that we have displaced them, let alone terminated some.  Goose is pretty much oblivious now, but I am certain that right now she would be joining her grandmother on the kitchen table, given how she reacts to house flies.

When I was in my teens, I set out to light the barbecue at the cottage one night. Remembering to open the lid (that’s another story), I lit it and looked inside to see a tiny mouse, a la feu! I squealed, it squealed and escaped quickly, only to sit in shock on the patio.  It was still smoldering, I was still squealing, and my mom helpfully instructed me to turn the hose on it. I misted it and it ran off. 

Last week Willy came in after lighting the ‘que at home and he had that look in his eyes, that I need to tell you this look.  “I just relived your mouse in the barbecue story”, he said, “except there is a twist.” Apparently when the mouse escaped the BBQ, it landed on the deck then quickly leapt to the bushes. Where it landed on the cat’s back.

Minnie is in no way ambivalent in her feelings toward mice.  Although she failed to catch the ones that moved into the house in the winter, she has caught a number of mice at the cottage and in the yard. She does this while tied to a leash, so I’d have to say that she is a decent mouser.  I know this because she presents me with her catch on a semi-regular basis. Landing on Minnie was a case of out the fire and into the frying pan. Suffice to say that the tussle that ensued left us with no doubt as to who won this round.

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I remember the day that it happened.  A beautiful and hot day in July.  We had just come home from a long walk.  Woo was hungry and wet, so I went upstairs to change him while his bottle warmed.  He was his usual happy and playful self, not yet fussy, but getting there, so we headed downstairs.

I fell.

I lost my footing and we tumbled down the last two stairs, falling forward.  My knees hit the floor first, then my elbows, then Woo. Onto the slate tile. It was so silent for an eternity, then we both freaked out.  He cried and fought to stay awake while I cried and called Willy.  He rushed home and we headed to the closest hospital. I should have called 911, but I had never been faced with a situation where you would need to call 911. I called Willy and he came running.

We were fast tracked at the hospital. It wasn’t a pediatric hospital so it was a bit of a comedy of errors trying to get his vitals taken, but we quickly got to see a doctor. Woo had perked up by this time, and charmed said doctor and everyone else around, which was incredibly normal for my lil man. He was thoroughly checked out, and we were sent home with instructions to watch him for any changes, any pattern of abnormal behaviour. Which is not the easiest thing with a four month old. Normal is the lack of routine!

I watched him like a hawk for the rest of that day looking for any little change in his behaviour. He was his usual unpredictable self, but I over analyzed his every move. There were no significant changes until he vomited his bottle right before bed. Then I knew what they meant. This was not normal. It wasn’t a pattern and he wasn’t distressed, so he settled in to bed, and we carried on with the evening. I was stressed and blaming myself, but he was OK, so I was almost OK. Until he vomited his next bottle.

We called tele-health, and they sent us backto the hospital that we had been to that morning. They again checked him over and had us stay overnight for observation. I watched him sleep that entire long night, and then fed him in the morning. He was fine for a while, but then sick again, so they sent us to CHEO, where he was poked and prodded some more, and sent for a CT, which showed that his skull was fractured.

My poor little baby had a fractured skull. I fractured his skull. I felt like the world’s worst mother. A small part of me still does when I think about it. There was no treatment, and other than the added doctor’s appointments over the next year, you would never know it had happened.

I knew. He was so young when it happened.  I spent the next year or so agonizing over every milestone, watching his every reaction, searching for something that wasn’t there. I am sure that I drove Willy nuts with my concerns, but he never let on. I was positive that I had “broken” him in some way. He’s still perfect, and for that I am so grateful.

It still haunts me to this day. It doesn’t happen every time I walk down the stairs, but I frequently replay that day in my mind. When I am carrying one of the lils, or even the cat, I clutch them a little bit tighter on those stairs. Now that the lils are older and freely moving up and down the stairs, I am forever trying to be there as they go. To catch them if they fall.  Watching them horse around on that very set of stairs kills me, and I forever preach to them that it is NOT ALLOWED. They mostly listen, thankfully.

As I was leaving CHEO on that fateful day, a nurse stopped me and asked if I was OK. I started to tell her that I had no physical injuries, but she stopped me and asked how I was emotionally. I said that I was shaken, but would be fine. It’s taken me a long time, and I am getting closer, but I am still not fine. Getting better about it, but definitely not fine.

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It’s catching. First it was the lils, and for them the last three weeks have been hard. We thought it was getting used to the lack of schedule and no day care in July. We blamed it on travel, on the late bed times. Then there was Woo’s summer camp and the fact that they were separated for a couple of weeks, then more travel. It’s constant though. They’re still out of sorts, and it never ends well. The crying, the tears, the fights, the hitting, the tantrums…

This week it’s us. I know that I am off, and Willy admits the same. He has deadlines and stress at work, I can’t get anything done most days. I am not adjusting well to having the lils n e e d me all day long every day, and I am so very overstimulated by the constant noise and attention. I have not gotten any work in, other than a quick trip to the office last week. There are things I need and want to do and can’t. Things I should be doing and don’t or I get so easily distracted from. Then there are all the things that might be happening, that we aren’t sure of, and that have yet to break or invade our home. They are wearing on me. Plus the crying, the tears, the fights, (no hitting) the tantrums…

It’s hot, I am tired, rambling and out of sorts. I don’t like it one bit.

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