She's a year old!

I can hardly believe it but Eve is one year old now. Aint' she sweet?

For the Bible Tells Me So

One of my favourite quotes was made by the late Erma Bombeck, "Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving." With a Catholic mom and a Baptist father and as a young adult becoming a Salvationist, I know guilt - and yes, it is the gift that keeps on giving.

In my early 30s when it became clear to me that I could not adhere to the heterosexual imperative our society demands, I stepped away from the church. Why hang around someplace where you know that they would run you out just for being who you are?

In the ensuing years I have had to find my own sense of spirituality but have often thought of all the young people, still within their churches, questioning their sexuality. I've read that suicide rates for young people who question their sexuality are much higher than the average and I often wonder if this is not because of the guilt and shame which is inflicted by fundamental and main-stream religions.

This past week while perusing the titles at the video store I came across this title:
For the Bible Tells Me So.

If you are a young person reading this who is struggling with your sexuality or a parent whose child has just revealed her/his sexuality, or anyone who has struggled with reconciling your faith with your sexuality, run to your video store and rent this film.

Having my first...

My daughter is expecting her first baby in August. Yes, I'm to be a Memé again. In going through some old file folders I found this little piece I wrote not long after having her.

I loved being pregnant. As my belly grew, I wallowed in the glory of all the preferential treatment I received and the mounds of pecan pie that I consumed. Visions of cherubs filled my dreams. My waking hours were spent decorating the nursery and devouring parenting books and while I fought a loosing battle with girth control, I developed a stout determination to be the best mother that ever walked the earth.

What could possibly go wrong? After all, they're only babies, nature's most adaptable creatures. It would be easy to get an infant on a reasonable schedule within two weeks right? Yes, those were the blissful days filled with pleasant dreams and anticipation of giving birth to the Gerber baby.

Someone once told me that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is - I went into labour three weeks early. Now most people know me as a cool and quite competent woman but I must confess that when my water broke, I lost it. Had it not been for the composed demeanor of the seasoned head nurse, I most certainly would have forgotten everything I learned in prenatal class.

Once I got it together again and resigned myself to the fact that this baby was going to be born before I got the garage to put the snow tires on the car, the delivery went well. Apart from a brief moment of respiratory arrest when they made the mistake with the epidural and froze me from the waist up instead of from the waist down, it was eight mercifully brief hours of labour, delivery in a regular hospital bed and back to the ward in time for supper.

After the delivery I was consumed with energy, ready to tackle anything that came my way and when they brought little Jennifer to me I nursed her like an old pro. Shortly after feeding time was visiting hour and with my cooing bundle nestled in my arms I held court like the Queen Mum. Exuding confidence I proudly exhibited my latest accomplishment and boasted that I felt so good that I felt like going home then and there.

Before I knew it visiting hour was over, my new daughter was finished her final feeding and was whisked off the the nursery until the wee hours of the night when she would be returned to me for another fix. I settled down in bed to rest and dream about which of her new outfits I would bring her home in.

The morning bustle of the hospital roused me with vague recollections of fumbling in the dark with a screaming infant - surely a nightmare. When the nurse came in with my baby I asked her if anyone got the number of the bus that hit me. She giggled, placed Jennifer in my arms and on crepe soles squeaked away to get the rest of the layette.

Jennifer was wide away and hungry. Our eyes met and at that moment she began to howl. Perhaps I should have combed my hair I thought. Oh well, maybe if I feed her she might like me better. Calmly I began to go through the motions of breast feeding and as I pulled my baby towards me the reality of the situation overwhelmed me. I was condemned. For the next eighteen years I was solely responsible for this child.

Instantly my bravado dissolved, I was utterly inept and it wasn't long before I was howling louder than the baby. I spent the rest of the morning sobbing into my pillow, inconsolable, trying to bear the disgrace of knowing that my baby was in the nursery being bottle fed.

Happy New Year

Little Eve has a lot to say New Year's Eve at Meme's place. She's such a happy little girl. She'll be walking any time now.

Dear Santa...

My oldest grand daughter Natalie has just finished typing out her letter to Santa. She had a little help from mom but this is pretty much verbatim:


Like many thousands of children in Canada she will be mailing her letter to:
Santa Claus
North Pole
H0H 0H0
Canada

Canada Post has an entire page set up for Canadian children who wish to send their letters to Santa and if they send them in early enough and if they include their return address, Santa will answer each child's letter. Remember though that this is a busy time for Santa so if you want him to answer you, send your letter in as soon as possible. Details are on the Canada Post web site.

I coulda been killed...

That's me. I wasn't even a year old in this picture and here I was zooming around a parking lot under the el, somewhere in the Bronx in, (oh my god) a walker! What were my parents thinking! Sheesh, by today's standards they might as well let me run with scissors!
Considering that cars didn't have seat belts or collapsible steering columns and babies were often placed to sleep in the back window next to the bobbing head Yankees player doll on the way to Bear Mountain, it's a miracle any of us baby boomers survived at all.

Happy Birthday Mom

Today, October 26th is my mom's birthday and she sits in an Ottawa hospital awaiting placement in a nursing home. She's recovered well from her stroke but remains disoriented and confused. As time goes on, she will become more confused and remember even less. She has already forgotten much of her past and I know that one day she will even forget who I am.

So while I still can, I believe it's important that I remember for her. I know that everyone says this about their moms but my mom was an incredible woman. No, she didn't discover a cure for cancer or solve world hunger or peace but she was incredible because she swam against the current of her time and tried to live her life differently. Her life may not have turned out as she would have liked and she did suffer greatly but along the way she had some pretty cool adventures.

I'd like to share one period of her life with you that had a tremendous influence on me throughout the years.

My mom was a from a Francophone community in Northern Ontario. Her father didn't believe in educating girls beyond grade six - why does a girl need an education when all she's going to do is change diapers? My mom argued with my grandfather and managed to stay in school until grade eight. After that, she would sneak out of the house to attend high school. I'm not sure if she managed to finish high school but when she was nineteen she started taking courses in typing and shorthand. By then World War Two had ended and she left home to find work.

One of her sisters had found a job in Ottawa working as a chambermaid at the historic Chateau Laurier hotel and mom left home to join her. Soon, her typing and shorthand skills landed her a job with Blue Cross in Toronto so she moved to Hogtown and lived there for four years until she accepted a transfer to a Blue Cross office in New York City.

I'm not exactly sure how long she worked for Blue Cross but her next job was to work for a man named Archie Bleyer. Mr. Bleyer had once been the band leader for Arthur Godfrey and in 1952 had started his own recording company he called Cadence Records.

Mom always fondly remembered Andy Williams, Phil and Don Everly (she said they were always polite, sweet boys), and Dorothy, Carol, Janet and Jinny of The Chordettes. Mom had friends in the secretarial pools of other record labels like RCA and Capitol and the gals used to swap disc jockey pressings of the 45s and albums of the day.

When my mom was pregnant with me, the gang at Cadence had a baby shower for her and all the label's stars were there to congratulate her. She left Cadence Records to stay home and be wife and mother but I always got the feeling that she missed the music business. But she hung on to all the records she collected while working for Cadence and these were the records I listened to growing up.

In our house we listened to all kinds of music from rock 'n roll to country, to pop, to big band, to classical. I grew up appreciating all kinds of music and it's small wonder that today I find myself married to a musician.

So to celebrate my mom's birthday here's a little video of a song she used to sing to me. Happy Birthday Mom!

Had a little visitor today

My daughter-in-law Sue borrowed my car this morning so she could go down to the Ministry of Transportation office to write the exam for her D (truck) license. Sue's dad works for one of the local waste removal companies and has encouraged her to get her truck license and apply for a driving job for when she comes off maternity leave in March. She's a gal after my own heart, seeing as how I hold a D class license with a Z (air brake endorsement).

Anyhow, after passing her written exam she brought the car back to me and surprised me with her tiny passenger.

Here's little Eve at grandma's office at the Local. I think she'll make a fine shop steward one day.

So much going on...

First, I want to say thank you to everyone for your kind words of support about my mother. When you get a call late at night saying that this may be the last time you get to see your mother alive, you tend to panic. The events of the last week certainly have "put my pacemaker in high gear".

Oh my, where do I start? Well, my mom had a stroke and a fall. We're not sure which came first, the stroke or the fall but she has bleeding on a couple of spots in her brain. The doctors were also rather concerned about the possibility of her developing pneumonia as she aspirated some vomit during one of the seizures she had when she got to the hospital.

She's spent this week in the neurological observation unit and I won't know if she will be stable enough to step down to a regular hospital room until the end of the week. Lise and I plan to travel back to Ottawa this weekend so I should know more in a few days.

Ok, so I have my mom in the hospital almost 800 kms away and I'm scheduled to go in for surgery on my shoulder next week. I have a pinched nerve in my back (which makes driving for 10 hours particularly delightful) and I'm supposed to have my new roof installed next week. Valium anyone?

This has been quite the emotional week for me. My mom has suffered the last few of years with dementia so when I call her she doesn't often know it's me she's talking to. She thinks she's talking to one of her sisters and that makes it hard because when my aunt asks her if she's heard from me she says she hasn't talked to me in years then I'll get a call from my aunt scolding me for not calling my mother. (sigh)

Mom does have moments of lucidity but 90% of the time you have to repeat things over and over because she doesn't remember things. They say that people with certain types of dementia can remember things from their past like it was yesterday but can't remember what they had for breakfast today. My mom, sometimes can't remember things from the past either. I was surprised that she even recognized me when I saw her at the hospital.

From what my brother said on the phone, as we drove to Ottawa, Lise and I were not sure what we'd be walking into. We didn't know what to pack so just in case we brought "funeral clothes". All I kept saying to myself as we traveled each kilometer was, "Mom, hang on, don't die, I'm on my way." I just wanted to see her alive one more time, even if it was only for 5 minutes, just to tell her that I love her and always have.

Mom and I spent several years estranged when I came out to her and she tried to have my kids taken from me. My mom is not a bad person it's just that she became a Catholic charsimaniac and for several years I simply couldn't reason with her. We finally patched things up about eight years ago but things remained rather strained.

We've never been a family that talks things over let alone express how we feel so in a lot of ways we are like a bunch of strangers where the only thing we have in common is that we survived being stranded on a deserted island. It's kind of sad when you think about it. I've waited almost 50 years to hear my mother tell me that she loves me. When I left her, she held my hand, kissed me and told me she loved me and while that was so very good to hear it also makes me very sad. Sad that I only hear this now that she is demented and disoriented. How do I know that she knew it was me she said she loved or if she thought I was someone else? At this point, does that even matter?

Anyway, just being in Ottawa has been very emotional for me. I've always loved the city of Ottawa. It has many charms and many fond memories but it is also the city I fled when leaving my abusive ex-husband. So returning to Ottawa has brought back those memories too and the thought that had I not had to leave Ottawa I might still live there and therefore been able to help my brothers look after my mom.

Oh well, you can't put the toothpaste back in the tube and shucks, if I hadn't left Ottawa perhaps I might have never met Lise or found my haven at my Lakeside Lair?

My mom

I'm in Ottawa today. My brother called late Thursday night to tell me that my mom had a fall and a stroke. Lise and I spent all day yesterday driving here. I saw her briefly last night. She looks so old and afraid.

I'm heading back to the hospital this morning. Will have more to write later.

Bouncy Baby

I've been trying to upload this video here for the last several days but haven't be able to because my internet connection sucks. Anyway, all frustration aside here's another short video of my little grand daughter Eve.

Eve Speaks

Ok, I'm dropping into grandmother mode again. Just can't help it and there ain't no cure for it either.
The kids took this short video of Eve blathering away while playing with her daddy. Don't know what she's saying but she sure does!

Two proud Memés

For Mother's Day the kids arranged for Lise and I to have our photos done with the two girls. My step-grand daughter, Natalie is seven and here Eve is three weeks old. Natalie's been a good girl at school this week so this afternoon I'm taking her to the movies to see Shrek 3.

For more Eve pictures check out: www.lakesidelair.com/ourAngel

Our Baby

Ok, I've tried really hard to spare you all and not to come here and keep blubbering on about my new grand daughter but...

The other day I picked up the kids to take them to get their Welcome Wagon New Baby kit. On the way back we stopped in to see my hairdresser. Her daughter had a baby too a few weeks ago and I wanted to see her grand daughter and, of course, show off mine.

After we had left and were driving back to the kid's place my son turned to me and said, "That was a cute kid." I agreed their baby was adorable. Then Matt said, with all the earnestness of a 23 year old new dad, "Ya know mom, I think I'm pretty sure about this but I think our baby is even more beautiful." I smiled then I thought about this photo:


Eve had fallen asleep while I was feeding her. Milk had pooled in the dimple around her perfect little cupid's bow and as she passed gas, she smiled. Yeah, my son is right. There is no baby as beautiful as our baby.

I've turned into...

...one of those insufferable grandparents who obsess over their grandchildren. Holy cow and it took less than 48 hours! They just look at you, coo innocently and instantly the subliminal message of the Borg is conveyed - Resistance is futile.

I made a similar video with the same music for my nephew and his wife's first baby. I simply love Alison Krause and this version of Baby of Mine so...

Hope you like it.

Introducing Eve Lillian

Our little Eve arrived this afternoon at 2:50pm Eastern, weighing six pounds, eleven ounces.



































Eve and her Mémé Lise.


















Eve and her Mémé Barb

It's a Girl!

Introducing Eve Lillian.
Yep, I'm gonna be a grand'ma.
I'm gonna bust!
LOL

My Son's Wedding

My son Matthew, got married last month. Here he is with his beautiful new bride Susan.



After the ceremony we had a small reception in the church basement. Dinner was served later at our Lakeside Lair.

While waiting for the bride and groom and other guests to arrive we took some family pictures. There are six kids in Lise's family. Three of them are gay. Here's a shot of the three happy couples.

Love was in the air...

Dinner was casual and served under a lovely white festival tent.

Later, the kids cut the cake...

Of course, Sue is a little devil...

But she's cute...

This is my daughter Jennifer...

And her boyfriend Patrick...

Despite it raining for the three days before the wedding, the sun came out, the weather warmed and it turned out to be a very nice party.

Mom, what do you know about plumbing?

I was in the store shopping with my daughter last night when my son called my cell. The first words out of his mouth were, "Mom, what do you know about plumbing?" I immediately got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. You know that feeling, the one that precedes the hard kick to your wallet.

I paced the aisles of the store while Matt tried to explain the problem. Or shall I say problems. I'm a visual learner so I was getting frustrated by not quite understanding how I could explain to him what he had to do so I told him I'd be right over.

Years ago, when I started meeting taxi drivers with degrees in history and biology, I left university to pursue a career in the trades. Remember, I had a family to support and if I couldn't get into medical school or teacher's college we'd be screwed. At the time the government had a big push to introduce women in the trades and with the offer of free education, I signed up.

As I was driving to meet my son I was wishing that I had paid more attention to the plumbing apprentices in the school cafeteria. I was in the welder-fitter program and we usually sat with the electrician's apprentices who would tease the plumbing students by saying things like, "All a plumber has to know is that shit runs downhill and payday's on Friday!"

Well since I was a welder-fitter back in the day and had done some toilet and faucet repairs, I suppose that and the fact that I watch a lot of reno shows on HGTV qualifies me to be my son's plumbing expert.

Matt has two plumbing problems. The first is a seized water supply valve to the toilet which is leaking. It has to be replaced. His second problem is a leak under the kitchen sink. It's a double sink and is leaking at the elbow below both sides of the sink and at the reducer which joins the vertical part of the T-joint above to the p-trap. I told him I would get the parts for him and drop them off the next day.

Matt is a very talented artist so I made him draw a sketch of all the pipes and fittings. On that drawing I indicated where the leaks were with little arrows that said, "buy this" and headed off to Home Depot which was on my way home out of the city. The sketch was so that when I asked for help I could point to the drawing and say, "It's leaking here. I need a doo-dad like that and a what-cha-ma-call-it like that". The nice man at Home Depot explained how everything fit together and I bought every part he mentioned - even the ones he said I might not need. Why? Well we all know about Murphy's Law - anything that can go wrong will. What you might not know is Barbara's corollary - it will happen to me. It has been my experience that it never fails that I will desperately need the part I thought I didn't need.

I was supposed to drop off the parts the next day but I knew I wouldn't see my son as he would be working the next morning, so I drove across town back to his house with the bag of parts. I'm glad I did because by the time I drove back I had nearly forgotten the Home Depot man's assembly instructions. Matt and I dumped all the pieces out on the living room floor and did a "dummy" (gee, you could take that two ways) assembly of all the parts.

Once satisfied that he understood the theory of how to replace everything, I patted him on the back, said, "son, welcome to home ownership" and grabbed my coat. It was late, I had a trunk full of groceries in the car, a 45 minute drive home and I hadn't had supper yet.

Although I was tired and hungry I felt I should have stayed to help him but he assured me that he had it all under control. As I walked out of his house I felt another bit of that old apron string being severed. He's got a tool kit and a book I bought him on home repair. I suppose now he knows as much as I do about plumbing. I have a feeling that after this weekend, he'll be able to teach me a few things.

The Defiant Ones

This is my firstborn, Jennifer. Here she was angry, defiant. She didn't want to go to bed. I crawled under the table to take this picture of her.

I know a lot of moms say this (especially when they are trying to lay guilt trips on their kids), but I almost died giving birth to her. I was given an epidural and instead of freezing from the waist down, I froze from the waist up. It wasn't pretty.

Oh but my Jenny was the prettiest little thing I ever saw. Of course the nurses whisked her away almost immediately but despite being covered in goop, I could tell she was a looker.

Jen was a bright affectionate child but when she turned two she became the queen of temper tantrums. If we were at the mall and she wanted a gumball (curses on those people who put those things right at the store entrances) and I said no, she throw herself down on the floor, flail her arms and legs and scream like she was being tormented by demons. Being a young mother I didn't know what to do. I was embarassed, people were looking askance so I tried to pick her up and cajole her into complying.

I don't know if you've ever tried to pick up a wiggling, wailing two-year old with an eight month old baby strapped to your chest in a baby carrier and a backpack full of canned goods on your back but it's not something I'd recommend anyone who doesn't know the clean and jerk to attempt more than once. The second time she had one of these fits, I simply stepped over her and kept walking. By the time I got a few yards away she realized that I wasn't there to witness her display. She stood up in panic and with her eyes scanning the crowd, called out for me. I calmly walked back to her and quietly asked if she was ready to come with me. She took my hand and we carried on. I repeated this tactic with every tantrum. When she was a teen I told her that if she ever found herself in therapy with abandonment issues, it was totally my fault.

From the time she was two and a half, she was a willful child. Now that's not necessarily a bad thing. You want your kids to be strong, have their own point of view and be confident in themselves. But Jen could be downright obstinate. Yes, she frustrated the hell out of me and there were countless times I'd chew my fist rather than spank her. She taught me patience.

The day I left my husband I knew I would have to be more patient with Jen for she had every reason to be angry and defiant.

The summer of 1984 I had my gallbladder removed. The day after my surgery I was visited by a police officer and a social worker. They told me that while I was having my operation, my husband had betrayed his child's innocence – I collapsed and had to be sedated.

When I came to, all I could think of was getting out of that hospital and getting to my children. The surgeon wanted me to stay in the hospital a few more days but I was having none of it. I started ripping the IV lines out of my arms and nearly fainted from the pain of the drainage tube in my side scraping against my ribs as I pulled it out. The nurses were having a fit and I demanded that one of them put a dressing over my incision or I'd do it myself. Seeing my determination, they relented and I raced from the hospital to my mother's home where the social worker had left my children.

They say that when someone gets terrible news one of the first reactions is denial – it couldn't possibly be true. I just had to see Jen, hold her, talk to her so I would know the truth. After I had held her and rocked her to sleep I ruefully recalled my husband insisting I see a psychiatrist because I was crazy and just imagining that he would do anything to hurt his daughter. I remember those sessions with the psychiatrist. How I would cry and feel so guilty for having these terrible thoughts. I thought there was something wrong with me.

Most people are relieved to learn that they are not crazy. I was horrified.

Big Shoes

My son Matt was a year old in this picture. He's standing in my friend Dan's army boots. This photo was taken several months after I had left my husband and had moved to a new city. Once the shock of my dissolving marriage subsided, the reality of my situation began to sink in. I was a woman with no money and few marketable skills and now I had a family to raise.

My mother tells me that her parents supported nine children through the Depression and never went on the dole. I remember her telling me this when I was a child and when she said it, she sounded so proud. When I left my husband I had a two year old toddler, an eight month old baby and $14 to my name so I swallowed my inherited pride and went on the dole.

I received just over $600 a month and this crappy little place cost $290 a month. Thank goodness the previous tennants left that old lumpy sofa you see in the background, because that gave me something to sleep on.

As I'd tuck my two babies in each night, the weight of the responsibility I had to them was nearly suffocating. I knew their future, whatever chance they had in life, was totally dependant on the decisions I'd make and I was determined we would not be another statistic.

In those anguished, lonely nights I'd sit on that sofa, in the darkness of that tiny living room, and listen. I'd try to still my breathing, my thoughts and the nauseating panic. I'd force myself to focus on the muffled sounds of distant traffic, the neighbour's droning television, the raindrop's patter on the window until I could hear nothing but my own breathing. Only then could I hear the whisper of my father's voice, “Educate to elevate”.

I had met Dan's wife Marlene in the first weeks in my new city. Although I couldn't pay her very much, she agreed to babysit my kids while I took courses to upgrade so I could get into university. Between classes, I got a job cleaning rich people's houses for grocery money or a new pair of shoes for Matt. He was growing so quickly and was so hard on his shoes.

He was my little man. The most important man in my life. I named him Matthew because I once read somewhere that “Matthew” meant God's gift. Matt was a twin. I lost his twin but carried Matt to term. That he was even born, (and born on Christmas Day no less) was a gift. I'd gladly scrub toilets to buy him shoes.

The day I took this picture I remembered wondering what kind of man would grow to fill those boots. Would I be able to raise a good, strong and kind man or would, in my desperation to survive – to keep us fed, clothed and housed – I make some misstep and fail him?

It seemed we both had to fill big shoes.

Love on a cellular level

I have two children. Here they are when they were children.

They are grown now and have their own lives. This is good and is as it should be. Children need to separate from their parents and find their own way in life. My logical mind agrees but in my heart (where I've heard it said we just don't know better), they will remain closer to me than my own skin.

I could become maudlin and weave a tale of a mother's love but what many have described as, the "Mr. Spock" in me, will not allow it. Instead I will refer to a National Public Radio piece I heard this morning titled, Babies' Cells Linger.

Scientists have discovered that fetal cells remain in the mother's body for decades after the birth of their children. They have yet to determine if these cells harm or help protect the mother.

I know this is not scientific, but I think those cells remain so that no matter where life takes them, I will carry them with me always.

Happy Birthday Matt!

This is my son Matt and he is 22 years old today!

Matt has a wonderful imagination and from the time he was very little, he would invent things. After he made a flame thrower out of his super soaker water cannon, I thought he might grow up to be a mad scientist (by the way, I still twitch funny as a result of this incident).

With his career as a designer of weapons of mass destruction thwarted, his talents were channelled to his art. Matt has a talent with a pencil and sketchbook and writes wonderful tales of fantasy. He could be another George Lucas. My wish for him is that he doesn't give up on his dreams and that he finds the time to continue to imagine and create.


Matt found himself a nice girl he plans to marry this spring. Sue has moxie. She's smart, has a great sense of humour and is a good mom to her six year old daughter. I like her. I think she is good for Matt.








Look at them together. They are young, happy and in love. My son is happy. What more can a mom ask for?

Happy birthday son! Love, Mom.