Religion, politics and money

I was always told to avoid discussions on these subjects but, well, I was never one for advice.

My children attend a Catholic School. Not a private Christian school. In Canada there are two active school boards - the public and the Catholic school board. Both are equally funded by tax dollars.

My husband and I grew up Catholic, attending Catholic schools and following general Catholic practises. It was no surprise when we chose to baptize our kids. Having said that, neither of us has attended the Catholic Church regularly since well, our parents stopped forcing us some time in high school. In fact, over the last few years, we have drifted towards a local Southern Baptist Church as we like the community values and the people share our commitment to children. And the music rocks. None of the ritualistic stand up, sit down that the Catholic masses are so famous for.

Even our attendance at that Church has waned since balancing the needs of three kids has taken priority. But, my kids receive Christian values at home and attend the requisit Christian camps during the summer time. They know the odd bible story and have heard of the concept of praying.

This year my eldest is being asked to 'pony up' to his commitment to the Church, first expressed through baptism. He is taking his sacraments of reconciliation (first confession), first communion and confirmation all during the same year. And he is asking some difficult questions about things like original sin, the creation of the world and the kicker - 'who is our pastor? '

Errr....

I started the unavoidable conversation with, ' Well different people believe different things and these rituals are important despite ...' I expected the lightening bolt from the sky as I started this speech. I did not expect that lightening bolt to come from my spouse. He is more cynical of organized religion than I am. However, he is concerned that by telling him that we don't necessarily believe that Adam and Eve were the first people on the earth and that it might be true that the Noah's Ark is really just an analogy for something.

My spouse is worried that by telling our son that we don't necessarily believe in all of the teachings of the Church that we will somehow take away from his joy in experiencing the sacraments.

I am more worried about how you tear down the story of Moses bringing the ten commandments down from the mountain on stone tablets, without losing credibility in your belief that what was contained on those tablets are words to live by.

And there is the ultimate confusion of his first time attending a Catholic mass since he was baptized. And I thought telling him about Santa Claus was going to be hard.

Rhetorical Question

So I know this family whose father-figure delights in all things technical and gadgety. They even have a speech-enabled television controller that the wife and children have never managed to figure out. No matter how many times the mother talks, cajoles, yells 'the weather network' she gets porn. They do not own but are considering an independent vacuum cleaning system that wanders around the floor, unaided by humans, sucking up things like cat hair all day long. You get the idea.

Here is the dilemma. This family, rhetorically speaking, is considering an x-box 360 for Christmas from Santa. Scratch that – at a total of $600 Cdn. the wife is not considering this in any way but the father has already put a pre-order down payment on it.

The kids are young in said rhetorical family: seven, four and two. In the mothers lowly opinion spending that kind of money on a gift for children that rivets them to the television for hours is not only a waste of money but irresponsible as a parent. The father figure feels differently.

I think the father figure – if he were to exist in the non-rhetorical world – wants the x-box for himself and is going to have a canary if the youngest of the group picks up the electronic idiot box and drops it once or twice, as two year olds are prone to do.

Any thoughts out there?

The Value of Cousins

I grew up in a large family. Irish. Catholic. You get the picture. When I was three my parents separated and my mother and I moved in with my grandmother. Err.... grandmother and two uncles. I was raised by my mother and extended family until I was nine and I have some of the best memories of my life from those days.

There were cousins from my mother's seven brothers and sisters always around. Visitors dropped by unexpectedly almost on a daily basis. It was a hive of activity and despite losing touch with some of my cousins, I still cherish the times we spent together and have no doubt that we would be there for each other in a pinch.

And so, family has always been important to me. In my eyes, they are the ones that bail you out when you are down so low that you just cannot get back up on your own.

My significant other has different ideas. While close to his immediate family, we have lived in Ottawa for 14 years and, for the last seven, only spoken to his aunt, uncle and two cousins resident here, at family functions located elsewhere.

I was delighted when this weekend, one of my spouse's sisters decided to come for a visit from London. Braving the six hour drive, the cousins - ranging from two to seven - got the chance to spend some good times together. It was the best kind of chaos. The kind that involves painting and running and jumping and yelling and well, the occassionaly punch thrown.

Many days I wish that the world had not expanded so far, allowing families to be spread across geographies. From my spouse's perspective it will make the kids stronger learning not to lean on family. From mine, you miss the unconditional love - shown through the occassional thrown punch :-) - and the bonds that blood can bring.

Soon, driving the six hours will seem easier. Once we can get the youngest to zone on the portable TV.

Christmas Lists

And so it begins.

In some countries, preparation for Christmas starts once Hallowe'en or Thanksgiving is over. In Canada, preparation is marked by the delivery of the Sears Christmas Wish Book. For reasons that I won't go into, Sears has deemed it necessary for us to pick UP a copy, rather than the home delivery enjoyed by so many others but I digress.

About two weeks ago we got our books (not one but three to avoid fights). The boys reviewed each page of the special 'Toys' edition with care, ensuring no pictures of toys were creased in the process. And then the lists started.

My eldest has informed me that he will be thoughtful this year, only asking that Santa bring him 10 presents. He has culled the list down, deciding that the remainder of things will have to come from grandparents, parents and brothers. He was even so generous as to 'spend' one of his presents on an extra controller for the X-Box so that his friends (READ - NOT BROTHERS) will be able to play with him when they come over.

Aiden is trying hard to keep up with his brother's drive. He can think of a couple of things but doesn't yet get the writing to Santa concept. People - it IS only October.

And then there is Keegan. Doomed to a life of hopping up and down yelling, "Me too, me too", he doesn't get the concept of Christmas or Santa but he knows that he wants a piece of the action. He has picked out EVERY dump truck, garbage truck and tractor from the book. This is despite the fact that he already owns all of them.

This year we are playing things quiet at Christmas. We have been famous for our 4 city over 8 days Christmas tours and last year was one that I will never want to repeat. This year we are staying at home. It will be quiet. Except for all the trucks crashing together.

The Best Advice Ever

People are full of advice: good advice, bad advice, etc. But there are times in ones life where a nugget of wisdom is passed down that so contributes to your life that you can't forget it.

Years ago I had a friend - let's call him sugar daddy :-) who took a special interest in my career and life in general. We would meet for suppers and outings and he actually got me my first job with the federal government using his connections.

One of the last times that we got together I was struggling with time. I was balancing a full time job and volunteer work that he had nominated me for. And he wanted to go for a long leisurely supper and talk about the world. I just wanted to go home and catch up on my deliverables.

Sensing my stress (really, I flat out told him) he offered me some sage advice. Whereever you are in business: be there. If you are in a meeting, block out your other stresses and obligations and focus on that meeting. If you are at home, BE at home. You will not be successful if you are not engaged.

Over the years I have found creative ways of staying half true to this idea. In some cases I have fallen completely off the bandwagon but, for the most part this bit of advice has helped me to impress others with my committment despite turmoil in other areas of my life. It is the piece of advice that I cherish the most in life despite the fact that my sugar daddy has disappeared.

For me it has become a mantra. Along with don't slow down cause the ride keeps going.

How Company Policies are Developed

I completely pilfered this from another blog that I love to visit:

Start with a cage containing five monkeys. Inside the cage, hang a banana on a string and place a set of stairs under it. Before long, a monkey will go to the stairs and start to climb towards the banana. As soon as he touches the stairs, spray all of the other monkeys with cold water.

After a while, another monkey makes an attempt with the same result all the other monkeys are sprayed with cold water. Pretty soon, when another monkey tries to climb the stairs, the other monkeys will try to prevent it.

Now, put away the cold water. Remove one monkey from the cage and replace it with a new one. The new monkey sees the banana and wants to climb the stairs. To his surprise and horror, all of the other monkeys attack him. After another attempt and attack, he knows that if he tries to climb the stairs, he will be assaulted.

Next, remove another of the original five monkeys and replace it with a new one. The newcomer goes to the stairs and is attacked. The previous newcomer takes part in the punishment with enthusiasm! Likewise, replace a third original monkey with a new one, then a fourth, then the fifth. Every time the newest monkey takes to the stairs, he is attacked.

Most of the monkeys that are beating him have no idea why they were not permitted to climb the stairs or why they are participating in the beating of the newest monkey.

After replacing all the original monkeys, none of the remaining monkeys have ever been sprayed with cold water. Nevertheless, no monkey ever again approaches the stairs to try for the banana. Why not? Because as far as they know that's the way it's always been done around here.

And that, my friends, is how a company policy begins.

Yvonne 1, Bear 0

Mom - you do NOT want to read this post. For the rest of you, it will be a great laugh!

So, a few years back my father owned a cottage in Gravenhurst, North of Toronto. It was a beautiful place and my significant other and I would travel from Ottawa for the occassional weekend. As it is North of Toronto, we would drive across Highway 60 through Algonquin Park.

The last time that I drove it was on my own and I came head-to-head with a moose. He was far enough away that I had ample time to stop but he was literally in the middle of the road. As I pulled around him, he charged the car and I stepped on the gas. Hard. I was a little shaken but absolutely fine.

This weekend I had a wedding to attend. For personal reasons, I was attending this wedding on my own and driving through Algonquin Park again. As is my personality, I write off fear to being irrational, bury it and keep going. There was absolutely no way I was going to meet up with a deer again. And I was right.

However ...

On the other side of the park, doing my victory lap I am only 15 minutes away from the hotel. I was driving by a precipice (big word for cliff) and a black bear jumped down and in front of my vehicle. I did not have the grace of ample time this time. I hit him. Hard.

The whole thing happened so quickly that I did not even have the benefit of being able to think. Surprisingly, I took my hands off the steering wheel and my foot off the gas. I didn't even attempt to stop at the impact point. A second or so later I stopped and (I believe for some reason unknown to me) I turned the vehicle off. Then I heard the screeching of tires.

The car behind me also did not realize what had happened. They managed to pull into the ditch and around my vehicle AND KEPT GOING. I realized that I needed to get over to the side of the road so I pulled over. I could not see how badly my vehicle was damaged but I could see that the bear was on the side of the road still alive. Three vehicles passed and despite my honking my horn none of them stopped.

I figured I had better drive to civilization rather than staying with an injured - and just a little ticked - black bear. I tried to shift gears and realized I was shaking too badly to get anywhere safely. At that point a van pulled up beside me and told me that he lived a few yards back and had heard the impact. Once I assured him that I was fine, he told me to stay in the vehicle that he had both a gun and a bow in his van. He pulled up on the other side of the road. For the rest of the story he will be known as the hunter because I never did ask him his name.

It was here that I lost it. I guess my psyche had trouble deciding between staying in the smoking vehicle, standing outside with the angry bear or getting in a vehicle with a strange man armed with not one but TWO weapons. I called 9-1-1. I wanted my daddy!

I was surprised at the efficiency of the hunter as well. He waited almost 40 minutes for the police to arrive as you are not supposed to kill bear at this time of year. However, the animals was menacing and in a great deal of pain. He used a bow to kill the bear with one ‘shot’ to the head. When that only seemed to anger the bear further he managed a shot to the heart then retrieved both bows for re-use. I turned slightly to toss my cookies and the whole thing was over. :-)

At this point my father and the OPP arrived and helped the hunters put the bear in their half-tonne *my father in his tux*. The SUV was towed to Huntsville where they will let me know the next steps at some point today. According to my husband, this is a very expensive way to force him to get an oil change.

Thank God for Todd here. Despite the fact that I could not have called at a worse time (he was putting the boys to bed) he dropped everything and through a combination of internet, cell and landline managed to get me the details that I needed about how to get the vehicle towed and what the next steps were. Being able to focus on the tactical made things much easier.

The next day I swam laps in the resort’s pool for more than 2 hours. I swam and I cried – not tears of anguish or fear but gratitude. Gratitude that I was driving a larger vehicle (I will never apologize for that again), that I was going the right speed and it was the right timing. Had any of those things gone wrong I would have been killed. As it stands, I do not even have bruises from my seat belt.

The hunter told me that the bear was between 300 – 400 pounds and probably between 3 – 5 years old. Apparently, the best way to tell is to check the teeth but I was not getting close enough to do that. They can have the meat, the teeth and the fur. I have no interest in meeting that bear again and delighted in my very rare steak, and ample vodka paralyzers to wash it down.

Sacred Cow

So, a while ago I promised titilating conversation as much as a blog can conversate discussing traditions that seem strange by modern terms and some of the research behind those traditions. I had decided to start with my favourite: the sacred cow. The challenge that I have been having and the reason this has taken longer than I would have expected is that I have not been able to substantiate what I had been taught as truth in university.

Shocked and amazed? I'm sure. HUW you professers out there have some 'splaining to do.

In my undergrad social traditions class, multiple theories for why social traditions develop were discussed. In the end, the theory that all things have a purpose was dominant. For example, at this stage in society, the notion of Noah's Ark is arcane and rather silly. However, at the time that the story was "created" (nee delivered from mouth of God!) the concept had a purpose. Personally, I am not sure of what the purpose is but I am ...errr... was sure about the cow.

Once upon a time, in rural India many generations ago, animals roamed the streets. Unfortunately, some of these animals carried disease. Groups of people would eat these animals, specifically cows, and die from it. Rather than considering the cow sacred, the cow was considered a killer. Reverence for the animal only developed once people had forgotten the original reason for not eating the animals and were telling the next generations of the tradition.

Currently, the cow is considered sacred and its protection is a recurrent theme in Hinduism where she is symbolic of abundance, of the sanctity of all life, and also of the earth that gives much while asking nothing in return. Most Hindus respect the cow as a matriarchal figure for her gentle qualities and providing nurturing milk and its products for a largely vegetarian diet. While most Hindus do not worship the cow, it holds an honoured place in society and most will not eat beef even at risk of death through starvation.

That's my theory anyway. Discuss amongst yourselves. Here is a link of interest.

Stress Reduction Technique

Picture yourself near a stream.

Birds are softly chirping in the crisp cool mountain air.

Nothing can bother you here. No one knows this secret place.

You are in total seclusion from that place called "the world."

The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.

The water is clear.

You can easily make out the face of the person whose head you're holding under the water.

Look. It's the person who caused you all this stress in the first place.

What a pleasant surprise. You let them up... just for a quick breath... then ploop!...back under they go...

You allow yourself as many deep breaths as you want.

There now... feeling better?

Things that Make you Go Hmmmm....

Well, it is always my goal to stretch your brain out :-) when I write and I was reading an article over the Canadian Thanksgiving Weekend that piqued my interest.

There is a debate heating up over the 'super parent' phenomenon. They, being mass media, actually call it super mommy but I think that is unfair to those stressed out fathers out there. Using a sociological perspective, it is trying to explain why mothers two generations ago were having broods of 12 children and seemingly coping while parents of families as small as two are having troubles juggling responsibilities in this generation.

The article went on to offer interesting insights such as changes in the economic market place forcing more competition and parents who want their kids to succeed are making choices that give them a competitive advantage. All these explanations are 'gimmes' in my mind. However, one struck a chord in my sociological heart.

Nature vs. nurture.

There has long been a debate over whether you can influence what skills (IQ, disposition, looks) you are born with and mold them for success. By long I mean for the last 40 - 50 years. About two generations ago. The article posits that in our grandparents generation, genetics research was limited and parents felt they were there to deal with the cards as they were dealt so to speak. Sure was easier to parent when you did not have to worry about piano lessons, KUMON extra curricular activities, hockey, skating and Yu-Gi-Oh clubs. If the child was meant to be a successful prodige they would be - without all those extras.

Parents then simply categorized their children: the good one, the easy one, the smart one, the bad one. I suppose that would have been easier than remembering their names. Since there was nothing to do but allow them to be 'themselves' there was no pressure to develop them and test their limits. Hmmm...

Filled with gross and easy to refute generalities? Yep. Rings a bell of truth as a hypothesis? Absolutely. Jon - add this to the sociological study of why European urban planning is so different from North America. Hope that Todd wins a lottery soon cause I want to go back to school to figure some of this out. Imagine a world without knowing these things!

Yvonne Needs

Ok, so I pilfered this one from Postcards from the Mothership but in not wanting to bore my childless readers with yet another complaint post, scaring you all off from pro-creating...

Go to Google.
Type, "(Your name) needs".
Yes, in quotes, so it looks like this "Yvonne needs". But with your name, not mine, unless you really want to look through the eight pages I did.

Here were my results:

yvonne needs to meet more writers. Apparently I'ma top ten finalist in some best
of the whole world blog contest. I'm not exactly sure how that happened...

Sex educator, author, and consultant Yvonne K. Fulbright gave her first talk ... Yvonne has focused on the needs of adolescents and young adults. WOO HOO!!!

Yvonne needs urgently a small stations wagon to transport all the equipment....

Yvonne needs money but can't (won't) go out to work, so Julie gets a job instead
and pays Yvonne to look after the child. (I had to snoop through this whole one...)

It is clear that Yvonne needs to get out on her own and that her mother needs to
be free of her. The play gets a lift when mother and daughter play a trick ...

Ordering is an intensely personal experience - Yvonne needs to be alone. (Yep!!!)

Chief Referee

Sometimes I think that being a mom is a lot like being a wrestling referee: you are only heard by the participants when there is a 'flag on the play' otherwise all the other screams and cheers drown out your message.

I had an interesting conversation on the weekend where I was told, in no uncertainty, that I do nothing to help one of my sons. That's why he is choosing to not be helpful to the rest of the family right now. Sigh.

I do not take him to hockey (never mind that I stay with the other two, enabling him to be taken to hockey). I do not make his school lunch (that is a daddy job) and I do not walk him back and forth to school; that task is relegated to my sister.

He has missed all the book reading, homework doing, laundry-doing, cooking, etc. I worry that he will grow up believing that his mom did not do anything to make his life easier because she is focussed on the younger ones and working. I suppose this is the age old issue for the working mom.

It's all about balance

I was invited to a friendship party this week. Decidely different from the vodka paralyzers from last weekend :-), this one involved singing, crafts and hundreds - nee, thousands - of the afore-mentioned rice krispie squares.

And I almost declined.

You see, this party was for grade twos and their parents. I had just taken time off the previous week when my caregiver was ill and I was concerned about the perception that I was not committed to my job. Never mind the long hours I put in or my attempts to do things the right way (not the easy way) at work. Fact is, working parents take more time off than those without kids. And it is a sensitive issue.

In the end, I snuck out to the party with only seconds to get there. The parental guilt of a 7 year old looking around for a familiar face and seeing none was more than I could take. And afterall, I had not had a chance to actually try any of the goodies that we had prepared.

I won't always place my kids before my job. But I wish I could.

And Here's Where I Brag

I have been meaning to get this story on 'paper' so to speak but, being otherwise occupied with turkeys and rice krispie squares, have not been able to squeak out the time. I wanted to tell you about my 4 year olds first day at school. With staggered entry, he was there with only four other children on the first day.

The teacher shows the kids where to place their bags and coats when they come in the door. The conversation with Aiden goes something like this:

Teacher: You put your bag on the hook that has your name on it.

Aiden: (pointing to the sign above the hook) What does that say?

Teacher: That says 'Aiden'

Aiden: (arguing) No, it doesn't.

Teacher: You have probably not seen your name with a big letter 'A' and small letters after that.

Aiden: (still arguing). That is an 'H'. Not an 'A'. And the letters are H-E-L-L-O. That DOES NOT spell Aiden.

Me: snickering delightedly in corner - you go boy!!!

You think you're busy???

So, the lives of parents are busy. Multi-tasking is a mode of survival but yesterday was unbelievable.

In order to ease up some financial stresses, I have taken on consulting again. I am consulting Tuesdays and Thursdays for 10 hours each day 7 am - 5 pm. It makes for long days for me but is very lucrative. It also adds additional stress to dad as he has to do swimming lessons, etc. on his own on those days.

So, I arrive home at 5:30 and realize that my eldest son's teacher has sent home an assignment for me: trace, cut out and glue googly eyes on 25 Thanksgiving turkeys. And make 25 rice krispie squares. Which of course, I cannot do just for one child so: make that 50 rice krispie squares. Then pack up the old plastic containers for a friendship party for the next day.

And make dinner, bathe the children before bed, do homework with the two school age kids and try to keep up with laundry and chores.

Who else can say they have done gaggles of turkeys and huge tracts of krispies all on the same day!

Stumble for the Cure

Well, we did it. The CIBC Run for the Cure for Breast Cancer has been participated in for another year. And what a year it was. Let me set the stage:

This year we brought the children. It is an emotional event for my husband and I and we have chosen in the past to complete it together because we didn't want to freak out the kids. People wear signs showing 'who' they are running for. Young kids with signs that they are running for their moms. Older (not ancient) ladies with signs that they are running for their daughters. And I bawl. Openly. With gooey kleenexes all over the place. In fact, for most of the race, I cannot carry on a conversation. I am a suck.

This year, I made it challenging. Not only did we decide that getting three children out the door and downtown for 8:15 would be possible, I got drunk the night before. Stop the truck I hear you say. I am not a drinker at all. In fact, I think it was a couple of years prior to my eldest that I had more than a couple of glasses of wine in the evening. Saturday night though, we were at a friends having a wonderful time and vodka snuck up behind me and got the best of me.

So, now I am gathering three children, sobbing uncontrollably and looking for the portapotties along the way. DOH!!!

The kids had a wonderful time. We stopped - honestly - to pick up every piece of garbage that had fallen along the way. My littlest not understanding the environmental rules, picked up every leaf and stick that he could find as well. By 1/4 of the way in, the stroller was filled with old juice boxes, cereal bar wrappers and every twig dropped along the downtown corridor by the old majestic trees.

The funniest part is that we started about 20 minutes before the crowd so that our double stoller would not get in the way. In the end the unmarked police car ushered us along the path as he removed the pilons and re-opened the road. We were officially the last to arrive. In fact, they had already dismantled the finish line before we got there. Fun was had by all though!

I think I will be a little smarter at this next year though...