Please don't grow!

Yesterday morning on the way to school, I realized that I don't have babies anymore. The Terrors were talking about Boy Terror's day home, and he told us "Kaylee (youngest daughter of caregiver) is 16! She is almost a growed up! Only 12 more years, and then I will be 16!" and it dawned on me. He's four. He will be five this spring. Five is no longer a baby in any way. Five means school, and the bus, and a whole life away from me. In my mind, his sister is still five (she's actually six and a half), so how can this be? How can I possibly have no more babies?!
There is something about the way he runs down the hall every morning, full tilt, that tells me he is refusing to stay little. I've threatened to stop feeding the two of them, if they don't stop growing. I've begged them to please, please stay little for just a tiny bit longer. They just laugh and roll their eyes at me.
I had a colleague once who told me that every time one of her kids started school, she got pregnant with the next one. At the time, I thought she needed professional help. Now? I totally understand.

For Scott and Sherry, and of course, the Oopawat.

Having a baby is contagious. Really. I didn't exactly want kids until my friends had their first baby, and even now, 11 years later, when I look back at the pictures of me with that little guy, it's written all over my face. "Give me sperm, dammit, and let me give birth."
My friends Scott and Sherry resisted the pull of kids for a long time. Scott in particular seemed determined to avoid diapers, spit-up, and toddler tantrums. Everyone else was sure that these two needed kids. They loved the Terrors, and the Terrors will probably run away to live with Scott and Sherry someday. They watched Teletubbies. They sang, danced, and played on demand. But for some reason, they seemed content to go home at the end of the day, to their peaceful child-free home. Finally, June 2007, they caved. Let the procreation begin!
Sherry seemed to believe that the sheer force of her will would make her pregnant. I suggested that maybe she would have a little one by the next summer, and she all but bit my head off. "Um, NO! I'll have one sooner than THAT!! I'm planning on having my baby by March!!" Okay......
Long story short, Spencer arrived January 22, 2009. I'll leave the gory details out, but suffice to say, natural childbirth, particularly if it's because you are just too damn speedy for drugs, is not fun. Sherry sounded rather.....hoarse when she called me that evening. Like all new moms, her voice was tired, and her body exhausted. She had trouble putting together sentences. But when I asked her about her new baby boy, the pride and love was unmistakable. "He's perfect. He is absolutely beautiful." She sounded surprised and awed that the universe would give her this gift.
I spoke briefly to Scott, and in true male form he seemed completely unruffled. I did smile, though, when he said "Maybe I'm biased, because I'm his dad (long pause), but he doesn't look like other babies. He's cute!! Really, really cute!!"
Scott is right. When I first saw Spencer (or Oopawat, as he was known pre-birth), my first thought was "He is cute!" and after that, I just wanted to kiss him. He is adorable, and I can't wait for him to turn his parents into the wonderful parents they are dying to be.

Congratulations, Scott and Sherry!
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History

After school today I was driving Girl Terror home, and listening to the news on the radio. Remembering that a while back she was interested in elections and voting, I told her that a new president started his job today in the USA. We talked a bit about what the job entails, and how the entire country had to vote and choose the person they felt would do the best. Suddenly I realized.....my children have no idea what racism is. They have never seen or experienced discrimination. So I told Girl Terror that not only is Obama the new president, but he is very special for another reason. Without going into a lot of details, I told her that not so long ago, people who looked different were treated very badly. Black students, like her friend Benjy, were not allowed in schools with white children. Black people could not eat in the same restaurants. Buses were only for white people. People felt that because they were white, they were better. Smarter. Worth more.
Her first reaction? She didn't believe me. She told me I was being silly. She could not believe that people could treat each other so poorly. Her second comment? "That is SO unfair!" I explained that this is why we are so excited about Obama, and why he is so very special to the USA, and how this would be a day written about in history.
I think she summed up most Canadians feelings today when she said "I am so proud of him!"

He's not REALLY trying to kill me.

So I'm sitting at the table, mindlessly reading blogs, doing my best to avoid all stress and sudden jolts in blood pressure, when I happen to glance over my left shoulder. Boy Terror was standing there completely silent, staring at me. "ALGHHH! How long have you been standing there?" "A while." "Why are you out of bed?" He thought for a minute. "I just am."
I didnt' hear a thing. From 10 feet away, I totally missed him opening his door, and creeping (rather silently) down the hall to stare at me. Either the strokes made me deaf, or you guys are really, really fascinating writers.

Update: Seriously, I'm not deaf. Or dead. I had another TIA on Thursday, but my CT scan came back perfectly normal. So no bleeding brain or tumors. I'm on blood thinners, and I'm doing my best to avoid all stress, and to stay away from creepy children who sneak up on me in the quiet house.

and then life kicks you in the ass

This Christmas (NOT New Year's) I made a very quiet, private resolution. I decided to take control of my health. If you know me, right about now, you're snorting. Because my health? Has always been wonky. When Hubby promised "in sickness and in health" he had no idea what he was actually saying. If there is a germ out there, I'll find it. A rare, oddball sort of sickness? I'll get it. Unusual symptoms that make the doctor scratch his head? Not all that unusual here in the Average household. So for me to "take control" is a bit of a misnomer. What I actually meant was "I'm going to be aware of my body, and change my life to improve my overall health." This is not a diet. Not an "exercise regime". Just.....some small steps.
I've been eating fresh, raw veggies whenever possible. Instead of a granola bar, I eat an apple for breakfast. I still snack. I just be aware that supper should be smaller to help compensate. I don't automatically buy a cookie with lunch. Just small things, you know?
In the mornings, I've been doing a teeny bit of exercise. Not enough to depress me, or make me want to quit, but each day I add a few minutes. I do sit-ups, leg lifts, push-ups, and I just added light weights for my arms. Nothing to brag about, just enough to feel less like a slug. And like I said, baby steps. Each day I feel motivated to do a bit more for myself. Weight loss was not the goal, but a happy side effect. I've lost 3 pounds since January 1st. Nothing to write home about, but enough to make me stand taller.
Yesterday afternoon, I had a mini-stroke. At least, that's what the doctor's are assuming, and later today I'll go have a CT scan and find out some details. I am young-ish (38 is still young-ish, right?!), have low blood pressure, no heart troubles, nothing to flag me as "at risk". So this was a bit of a surprise. I spent last evening in emergency, having x-rays, blood work, and questions filled out. And still, in my head, I'm going "Seriously? A mini-stroke? Me?"
To sum up: I decided to get healthy. And two weeks later, I had a stroke. I'd like to know what I did in my past life to deserve this sort of karma.

It has been -35 C here lately, or colder, and then with the wind chill, the temperature is unspeakable. The sun comes up around 10 in the morning, and disappears again before 4 in the afternoon. Everyone is clumping around town in their giant white Sorels, kids are forced to wear itchy long johns, and in short, winter is looking never-ending. Normally, all this makes me rather cranky. But this weekend I was reminded of why I really, really love it here.
When I was unloading the car at the dump on Saturday, a raven (I love ravens. They are the coolest birds.) came and sat on the roof of my car, looked right at me, and chattered away. I think he was talking about the weather, or perhaps he was introducing me to his family all gathered around on the ground. Who knows. It was just a neat experience.
Then, as I was leaving, I saw a coyote wandering around the dump. He was totally not afraid of me (which is a bad sign) and just kept doing his thing while I drove up next to him. His huge, fluffy tail was almost as big as his body, and he seemed completely unaffected by the cold.
As I was driving home, I glanced down a side road off the highway, and caught a glimpse of a moose. I quickly turned and went back, and slowly drove right up to a mama moose, standing with her little one, looking majestic and regal in the way that only those beasts can.
As I continued home, I actually looked around me. When it's bitter cold outside, the sky here is clear and sharp blue. The sun was setting, and it made all the snow blindingly bright, with pink and blue shades everywhere.
I know I complain. And really, I think I have the right to at times. But every once in awhile it's nice to be reminded of what the Yukon is all about.

Do girls break up? With each other, I mean. No, not lesbians. Just...girl friends. I'm ending a friendship, and it feels very much like breaking up with that guy we all dated in high school. You know the one. He was fun, you liked hanging out, but you knew, deep down, that he was wrong for you in so many ways. That's what my friend is like. Fun, cool to hang out with sometimes, but not at all the sort of person I want to be or associate with.
In the beginning, we had so much in common. Our husbands are best friends. We had children at the same time. We snickered at the same jokes, and we loved the same shows. But for the last number of years things have changed. I'm not saying one of us is wrong, or one of us is right, but our lives just do not mesh any longer. I don't like the way she is raising her children, and she thinks I'm a controlling overlord. While I still like to go out and close down the bar about once a year, I think that she's overdoing it every week. The list goes on, but you get my point.
So. After exchanging some polite yet direct e-mails last night (and no, I would not normally do this over facebook, but that's what happened) it's over. I think she agreed that the friendship is no longer there. I feel relieved, a bit sad, and somehow....free.
It feels like a break up.