Somewhere in my mind I remember people telling me I would be such a good mom...a natural...so patient...lucky kids...blah, blah, blah. These kind people knew nothing! Nothing, I say.
Today at the Children's Hospital Bup was hooked up to a Holter Monitor to record his heart beat patterns over the next 24hrs. We got through the hook up with a lot of tears and a lot of "No! I don't like it!" He's now at home still complaining and wearing a funny vest that is reminiscent of funny underwear for Mormans or Orthodox Jews. (...and to all my Morman and Jewish friends...I mean that in the kindest way. YOU know what I mean!)
One can tell when too much time is spent at the Children's when the boys catch site of it's roof and start cheering in the car, "I see it! Chilchren's Hosbital! Yay!" It's homey to them.
Upon leaving, W gets mad because he can't play at the cafeteria play area...dashes off to it anyway...is threatened and admonished and angrily leaves with me as the offer of the aquarium appeases him for the moment.
At the parking office, while I am attempting to pay using the ticketing machines, Bup is beside me and W was too until he ran off towards the Udderly Art Cow and elevators, at which time I turned to yell at him to stop and come back when suddenly the sirens are going off and lights are flashing. No...not having a stroke. That comes later.
Whipping my head to look for Rhett there he is with his pudgy little paw on the freaking fire alarm!!!!
Ugh.
Not again. Yes, AGAIN!!! Because W pulled the alarm at the Children's Hospital Emerg Dpt about a year or so ago.
Schmack!!
So, as I write this I barely care that my child is hooked up to electrodes for the tumors on his heart. I care more that he dared to do such a thing. I care more that the 4yr old runs off whenever he feels like it. I care more about the fireman who chatted with me and my 2 yr old for pulling the alarm.
And imagine the image we portrayed? W with his mohawk. Me with a shaved head and bloody nose piercing, tallish black boots and jeans 'n' hoodie and Bup with cords and wires hanging out of his shirt. Talk about a model family.
So, if you're out in public and see a mother who's slightly b!*tchy, yelling at her kids, or just letting them run willy nilly, "Not being watched" (as one grandmother told me at a local kids consignment store last week)....Please don't judge her. Maybe ask if you can help.
If you see that same mom next week, still b!*&chy with the kids now tethered to her waistband with wrist leashes or locked down in the stroller even though they are too frickin' tall for it while instilling dictatorship and corporal punishment...don't judge her either. Congratulate her on not letting them run willy nilly and actually watching them.
Now, while you finish reading this post, this freaky looking mom with her shaved head and pierced nose is off to consume a mason jar filled with sprite and coconut rum.
It's bed time in 1 hr.
Over and out.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Today at the Children's Hospital
Somewhere in my mind I remember people telling me I would be such a good mom...a natural...so patient...lucky kids...blah, blah, blah. These kind people knew nothing! Nothing, I say.
Today at the Children's Hospital Bup was hooked up to a Holter Monitor to record his heart beat patterns over the next 24hrs. We got through the hook up with a lot of tears and a lot of "No! I don't like it!" He's now at home still complaining and wearing a funny vest that is reminiscent of funny underwear for Mormans or Orthodox Jews. (...and to all my Morman and Jewish friends...I mean that in the kindest way. YOU know what I mean!)
One can tell when too much time is spent at the Children's when the boys catch site of it's roof and start cheering in the car, "I see it! Chilchren's Hosbital! Yay!" It's homey to them.
Upon leaving, W gets mad because he can't play at the cafeteria play area...dashes off to it anyway...is threatened and admonished and angrily leaves with me as the offer of the aquarium appeases him for the moment.
At the parking office, while I am attempting to pay using the ticketing machines, Bup is beside me and W was too until he ran off towards the Udderly Art Cow and elevators, at which time I turned to yell at him to stop and come back when suddenly the sirens are going off and lights are flashing. No...not having a stroke. That comes later.
Whipping my head to look for Rhett there he is with his pudgy little paw on the freaking fire alarm!!!!
Ugh.
Not again. Yes, AGAIN!!! Because W pulled the alarm at the Children's Hospital Emerg Dpt about a year or so ago.
Schmack!!
So, as I write this I barely care that my child is hooked up to electrodes for the tumors on his heart. I care more that he dared to do such a thing. I care more that the 4yr old runs off whenever he feels like it. I care more about the fireman who chatted with me and my 2 yr old for pulling the alarm.
And imagine the image we portrayed? W with his mohawk. Me with a shaved head and bloody nose piercing, tallish black boots and jeans 'n' hoodie and Bup with cords and wires hanging out of his shirt. Talk about a model family.
So, if you're out in public and see a mother who's slightly b!*tchy, yelling at her kids, or just letting them run willy nilly, "Not being watched" (as one grandmother told me at a local kids consignment store last week)....Please don't judge her. Maybe ask if you can help.
If you see that same mom next week, still b!*&chy with the kids now tethered to her waistband with wrist leashes or locked down in the stroller even though they are too frickin' tall for it while instilling dictatorship and corporal punishment...don't judge her either. Congratulate her on not letting them run willy nilly and actually watching them.
Now, while you finish reading this post, this freaky looking mom with her shaved head and pierced nose is off to consume a mason jar filled with sprite and coconut rum.
It's bed time in 1 hr.
Over and out.
Today at the Children's Hospital Bup was hooked up to a Holter Monitor to record his heart beat patterns over the next 24hrs. We got through the hook up with a lot of tears and a lot of "No! I don't like it!" He's now at home still complaining and wearing a funny vest that is reminiscent of funny underwear for Mormans or Orthodox Jews. (...and to all my Morman and Jewish friends...I mean that in the kindest way. YOU know what I mean!)
One can tell when too much time is spent at the Children's when the boys catch site of it's roof and start cheering in the car, "I see it! Chilchren's Hosbital! Yay!" It's homey to them.
Upon leaving, W gets mad because he can't play at the cafeteria play area...dashes off to it anyway...is threatened and admonished and angrily leaves with me as the offer of the aquarium appeases him for the moment.
At the parking office, while I am attempting to pay using the ticketing machines, Bup is beside me and W was too until he ran off towards the Udderly Art Cow and elevators, at which time I turned to yell at him to stop and come back when suddenly the sirens are going off and lights are flashing. No...not having a stroke. That comes later.
Whipping my head to look for Rhett there he is with his pudgy little paw on the freaking fire alarm!!!!
Ugh.
Not again. Yes, AGAIN!!! Because W pulled the alarm at the Children's Hospital Emerg Dpt about a year or so ago.
Schmack!!
So, as I write this I barely care that my child is hooked up to electrodes for the tumors on his heart. I care more that he dared to do such a thing. I care more that the 4yr old runs off whenever he feels like it. I care more about the fireman who chatted with me and my 2 yr old for pulling the alarm.
And imagine the image we portrayed? W with his mohawk. Me with a shaved head and bloody nose piercing, tallish black boots and jeans 'n' hoodie and Bup with cords and wires hanging out of his shirt. Talk about a model family.
So, if you're out in public and see a mother who's slightly b!*tchy, yelling at her kids, or just letting them run willy nilly, "Not being watched" (as one grandmother told me at a local kids consignment store last week)....Please don't judge her. Maybe ask if you can help.
If you see that same mom next week, still b!*&chy with the kids now tethered to her waistband with wrist leashes or locked down in the stroller even though they are too frickin' tall for it while instilling dictatorship and corporal punishment...don't judge her either. Congratulate her on not letting them run willy nilly and actually watching them.
Now, while you finish reading this post, this freaky looking mom with her shaved head and pierced nose is off to consume a mason jar filled with sprite and coconut rum.
It's bed time in 1 hr.
Over and out.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Clark & Sarah
"I'm going to change my name, Mom. "
"In August."
"My name will be...hmmm...Clark."
"And your name can be Sarah...and Daddy can be Carson in September...and Bup can be Jack at his birthday. Yeah, yeah."
"Sarah...would you read me a book please?"
And that begins the story and life of Clark & Sarah...and Carson & Jack. One happy family.
"In August."
"My name will be...hmmm...Clark."
"And your name can be Sarah...and Daddy can be Carson in September...and Bup can be Jack at his birthday. Yeah, yeah."
"Sarah...would you read me a book please?"
And that begins the story and life of Clark & Sarah...and Carson & Jack. One happy family.
Clark & Sarah
"I'm going to change my name, Mom. "
"In August."
"My name will be...hmmm...Clark."
"And your name can be Sarah...and Daddy can be Carson in September...and Bup can be Jack at his birthday. Yeah, yeah."
"Sarah...would you read me a book please?"
And that begins the story and life of Clark & Sarah...and Carson & Jack. One happy family.
"In August."
"My name will be...hmmm...Clark."
"And your name can be Sarah...and Daddy can be Carson in September...and Bup can be Jack at his birthday. Yeah, yeah."
"Sarah...would you read me a book please?"
And that begins the story and life of Clark & Sarah...and Carson & Jack. One happy family.
Toilet Training
It has begun.
Oh, the toilet training. Makes me wish we had mastered EC when Bup was a baby.
We'll ease into it....this business of toileting. I don't remember it bothering me with W, but it's kinda freaking me out. I'm scared. Scared that it's going to take forever, of emptying and rinsing unders in the toilet and accidents in public. Oh well...it's time. Bup is almost three and I need to get over it!
Is there anything cuter than a little bouncy bum in tighty whiteys?
And what about a little boy almost asleep while sitting on the potty...arguing every step of the way up the stairs , "I not tired! I no like potty!"The grin and surprise of peeing on the toilet the first time and the joy of receiving a sticker for doing so...and the older brother running up the stairs to joyously shout, "Congratulations Bup! You did it!" while giving him the thumbs up.
Wish us speedy, dry, luck!
Toilet Training
It has begun.
Oh, the toilet training. Makes me wish we had mastered EC when Bup was a baby.
We'll ease into it....this business of toileting. I don't remember it bothering me with W, but it's kinda freaking me out. I'm scared. Scared that it's going to take forever, of emptying and rinsing unders in the toilet and accidents in public. Oh well...it's time. Bup is almost three and I need to get over it!
Is there anything cuter than a little bouncy bum in tighty whiteys?And what about a little boy almost asleep while sitting on the potty...arguing every step of the way up the stairs , "I not tired! I no like potty!"The grin and surprise of peeing on the toilet the first time and the joy of receiving a sticker for doing so...and the older brother running up the stairs to joyously shout, "Congratulations Bup! You did it!" while giving him the thumbs up.
Wish us speedy, dry, luck!
Simple Sunday
A Sunday tradition at our home is pancake supper. Complete with eggs and bacons. Mmmmm....breakfast for dinner! It started out of ease as I usually worked Sundays so 
this is never-fail dinner for my favorite husband to whip up. It's become a pretty regular event.
Do you have a Sunday tradition? Do share! I have a sister who feeds her family popcorn for dinner on Sundays and they watch a movie as a family as well.
Sundays also include family time such as a trip to the playground, today it was the Inukshuk park, often a visit with friends, and definitely naps. Oh, sweet, sweet naps.
this is never-fail dinner for my favorite husband to whip up. It's become a pretty regular event. Do you have a Sunday tradition? Do share! I have a sister who feeds her family popcorn for dinner on Sundays and they watch a movie as a family as well.Here's our pancake recipe. It's GFCF, sugar free and can be vegan as well. I've made it all ways and they always turn out!
Pancakes
1 1/4 cups flour - I use a rice & sorghum mix but have used straight rice or whole wheat
3 tsp baking powder
1 1/4 tsp guar gum
1 egg beaten or 2 TBsp water & 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 cup + 2TB rice milk or water or pineapple juice
2 TB pure canola oil.
1 cup + 2TB rice milk or water or pineapple juice
2 TB pure canola oil.
Mix dry ingredients. Mix wet ingredients in a separate bowl. Mix together wet & dry until just mix. Thin as needed with additional milk, water or juice. Bake on nonstick grill. Serve hot with butter, fresh fruit, jam or syrup. We use Summerland Sweets syrup that is sugar free. Yum!
Sundays also include family time such as a trip to the playground, today it was the Inukshuk park, often a visit with friends, and definitely naps. Oh, sweet, sweet naps.
On this Sunday a special trip to secure W's first roller blades took place. He is so excited! It'll be a wonderful father son time while B teaches W to skate. Maybe next year this will be a right of passage for Bup too.
Fresh sand for the sand box and some TV time. It's a good day.
Do you enjoy a "simple Sunday"? What's yours look like?
Simple Sunday
A Sunday tradition at our home is pancake supper. Complete with eggs and bacons. Mmmmm....breakfast for dinner! It started out of ease as I usually worked Sundays so this is never-fail dinner for my favorite husband to whip up. It's become a pretty regular event.
Do you have a Sunday tradition? Do share! I have a sister who feeds her family popcorn for dinner on Sundays and they watch a movie as a family as well.
Sundays also include family time such as a trip to the playground, today it was the Inukshuk park, often a visit with friends, and definitely naps. Oh, sweet, sweet naps.
this is never-fail dinner for my favorite husband to whip up. It's become a pretty regular event. Do you have a Sunday tradition? Do share! I have a sister who feeds her family popcorn for dinner on Sundays and they watch a movie as a family as well.Here's our pancake recipe. It's GFCF, sugar free and can be vegan as well. I've made it all ways and they always turn out!
Pancakes
1 1/4 cups flour - I use a rice & sorghum mix but have used straight rice or whole wheat
3 tsp baking powder
1 1/4 tsp guar gum
1 egg beaten or 2 TBsp water & 1/2 tsp baking powder
1 cup + 2TB rice milk or water or pineapple juice
2 TB pure canola oil.
1 cup + 2TB rice milk or water or pineapple juice
2 TB pure canola oil.
Mix dry ingredients. Mix wet ingredients in a separate bowl. Mix together wet & dry until just mix. Thin as needed with additional milk, water or juice. Bake on nonstick grill. Serve hot with butter, fresh fruit, jam or syrup. We use Summerland Sweets syrup that is sugar free. Yum!
Sundays also include family time such as a trip to the playground, today it was the Inukshuk park, often a visit with friends, and definitely naps. Oh, sweet, sweet naps.
On this Sunday a special trip to secure W's first roller blades took place. He is so excited! It'll be a wonderful father son time while B teaches W to skate. Maybe next year this will be a right of passage for Bup too.
Fresh sand for the sand box and some TV time. It's a good day.
Do you enjoy a "simple Sunday"? What's yours look like?
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Wild at Heart
The weather continues to be up and down but really is a nice "spring" for Alberta. As an aside, for all you that don't live here...spring doesn't really exist in Calgary, not really. Not April showers bring May flowers kinda spring. More like dead March & April bring May's flurries, so any time the kiddos can get outside is a bonus.
We enjoyed a lovely play date on Monday in which all the boys played so well together. For hours! There no major squabbles, there was sharing and laughter and it was FANTASTIC! My lovely friend and I just knelt on the couch and watched out the window as these little men played hockey for at least 30 minutes. Happily. With no one needing the penalty box even.
Beautiful. A happy play date really is a beautiful thing. It warms my heart.
And so do these little men. Playing hockey, riding tricycles in their jammies, and the raccoon goalie in his rain boots...well that just cracks me up.
Parenting boys is just different than parenting girls. We're all wired differently. Men vs. Women. It's a fact, that I denied until baby boys came into my life. Wild at Heart is a great read that shows the nature of men/boys and is so enlightening for those of us that have the male persuasion in our lives.
So, I'll warmly embrace my wild at heart, back-yard-igan boys when there's animal costumes, pyjamas and happy friends in the mix.
Wild at Heart
The weather continues to be up and down but really is a nice "spring" for Alberta. As an aside, for all you that don't live here...spring doesn't really exist in Calgary, not really. Not April showers bring May flowers kinda spring. More like dead March & April bring May's flurries, so any time the kiddos can get outside is a bonus.
We enjoyed a lovely play date on Monday in which all the boys played so well together. For hours! There no major squabbles, there was sharing and laughter and it was FANTASTIC! My lovely friend and I just knelt on the couch and watched out the window as these little men played hockey for at least 30 minutes. Happily. With no one needing the penalty box even.
Beautiful. A happy play date really is a beautiful thing. It warms my heart.
And so do these little men. Playing hockey, riding tricycles in their jammies, and the raccoon goalie in his rain boots...well that just cracks me up.
Parenting boys is just different than parenting girls. We're all wired differently. Men vs. Women. It's a fact, that I denied until baby boys came into my life. Wild at Heart is a great read that shows the nature of men/boys and is so enlightening for those of us that have the male persuasion in our lives.
So, I'll warmly embrace my wild at heart, back-yard-igan boys when there's animal costumes, pyjamas and happy friends in the mix.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Nose Picker
The great Canadian past time...nose picking. (My aunt once told me that!)
Now, if you see me and think I'm exploring my nasal cavity a lot...well, I'm not. Not in that way!
Finally, I've been adorned! There's a sparkly little daisy gracing my right nostril. I love it!
Maybe my husband does not. Maybe he thinks the daisy is too big and was okay with the first diamond bone (stud), but it just wouldn't stay in. Every time I yawned that little diamond flew out! Seriously. Just popped right out. So, I had to upgrade to a screw and the daisy just caught my eye.
The nose that wouldn't stay pierced.
It was first done in December and lasted 24 hrs. Yup, 24. My body rejected it. The swelling popped the stud out. So here it is March and I braved the pain of piercing again. Wore medical tape off and on until I had enough with these bone studs flying out and opted for the screw. Yes, it hurt a little having the taker inserted so that the jewellery could be positioned in place.
What hurt worse and made me nauseous? Looking at all the pictures of piercings on the wall. I am such a wimp! The gal who assisted me has piercings right on the inside of her eyes, where they meet the nose.
Piercing my back on both sides and then lacing it as a corset...just can't go there.
So, I shut my eyes, she threaded the daisy through and all is well.
Now, if you see me and think I'm exploring my nasal cavity a lot...well, I'm not. Not in that way!
Finally, I've been adorned! There's a sparkly little daisy gracing my right nostril. I love it!
Maybe my husband does not. Maybe he thinks the daisy is too big and was okay with the first diamond bone (stud), but it just wouldn't stay in. Every time I yawned that little diamond flew out! Seriously. Just popped right out. So, I had to upgrade to a screw and the daisy just caught my eye.The nose that wouldn't stay pierced.
It was first done in December and lasted 24 hrs. Yup, 24. My body rejected it. The swelling popped the stud out. So here it is March and I braved the pain of piercing again. Wore medical tape off and on until I had enough with these bone studs flying out and opted for the screw. Yes, it hurt a little having the taker inserted so that the jewellery could be positioned in place.
What hurt worse and made me nauseous? Looking at all the pictures of piercings on the wall. I am such a wimp! The gal who assisted me has piercings right on the inside of her eyes, where they meet the nose.
Piercing my back on both sides and then lacing it as a corset...just can't go there.
So, I shut my eyes, she threaded the daisy through and all is well.
Nose Picker
The great Canadian past time...nose picking. (My aunt once told me that!)
Now, if you see me and think I'm exploring my nasal cavity a lot...well, I'm not. Not in that way!
Finally, I've been adorned! There's a sparkly little daisy gracing my right nostril. I love it!
Maybe my husband does not. Maybe he thinks the daisy is too big and was okay with the first diamond bone (stud), but it just wouldn't stay in. Every time I yawned that little diamond flew out! Seriously. Just popped right out. So, I had to upgrade to a screw and the daisy just caught my eye.
The nose that wouldn't stay pierced.
It was first done in December and lasted 24 hrs. Yup, 24. My body rejected it. The swelling popped the stud out. So here it is March and I braved the pain of piercing again. Wore medical tape off and on until I had enough with these bone studs flying out and opted for the screw. Yes, it hurt a little having the taker inserted so that the jewellery could be positioned in place.
What hurt worse and made me nauseous? Looking at all the pictures of piercings on the wall. I am such a wimp! The gal who assisted me has piercings right on the inside of her eyes, where they meet the nose.
Piercing my back on both sides and then lacing it as a corset...just can't go there.
So, I shut my eyes, she threaded the daisy through and all is well.
Now, if you see me and think I'm exploring my nasal cavity a lot...well, I'm not. Not in that way!
Finally, I've been adorned! There's a sparkly little daisy gracing my right nostril. I love it!Maybe my husband does not. Maybe he thinks the daisy is too big and was okay with the first diamond bone (stud), but it just wouldn't stay in. Every time I yawned that little diamond flew out! Seriously. Just popped right out. So, I had to upgrade to a screw and the daisy just caught my eye.The nose that wouldn't stay pierced.
It was first done in December and lasted 24 hrs. Yup, 24. My body rejected it. The swelling popped the stud out. So here it is March and I braved the pain of piercing again. Wore medical tape off and on until I had enough with these bone studs flying out and opted for the screw. Yes, it hurt a little having the taker inserted so that the jewellery could be positioned in place.
What hurt worse and made me nauseous? Looking at all the pictures of piercings on the wall. I am such a wimp! The gal who assisted me has piercings right on the inside of her eyes, where they meet the nose.
Piercing my back on both sides and then lacing it as a corset...just can't go there.
So, I shut my eyes, she threaded the daisy through and all is well.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
A Heartfelt Thanks
To all of you who chose to share your wisdom and compassion by commenting on my last post....Thank you. Your words really touched me. It is through friends like you...whether near or far..in person or inter blogging....that makes addressing tough moments in life just that much easier and worthwhile. It's easy to second guess one's self as to whether our feelings are warranted or appropriate to share. So when a person, such as me, does so and receives such kind words in return...well, that just makes taking the risk even more monumental and worthwhile. So, my friends, thank you for sharing with me and speaking from the heart.
Many hugs to you all...Knob Sister, Teri, Mrs. Barbershop, Mrs. Two Mittens, Mrs. Tootsie, Melinda, and Stephanie.
Mrs. M
Many hugs to you all...Knob Sister, Teri, Mrs. Barbershop, Mrs. Two Mittens, Mrs. Tootsie, Melinda, and Stephanie.
Mrs. M
A Heartfelt Thanks
To all of you who chose to share your wisdom and compassion by commenting on my last post....Thank you. Your words really touched me. It is through friends like you...whether near or far..in person or inter blogging....that makes addressing tough moments in life just that much easier and worthwhile. It's easy to second guess one's self as to whether our feelings are warranted or appropriate to share. So when a person, such as me, does so and receives such kind words in return...well, that just makes taking the risk even more monumental and worthwhile. So, my friends, thank you for sharing with me and speaking from the heart.
Many hugs to you all...Knob Sister, Teri, Mrs. Barbershop, Mrs. Two Mittens, Mrs. Tootsie, Melinda, and Stephanie.
Mrs. M
Many hugs to you all...Knob Sister, Teri, Mrs. Barbershop, Mrs. Two Mittens, Mrs. Tootsie, Melinda, and Stephanie.
Mrs. M
Monday, March 15, 2010
Remembering Tragedy
This date always creeps up on me...on us...on my extended family. In writing and remembering it's not about "celebrating", or giving power away to the darkness that at one time was all consuming ...yet the anniversary is here and this year I really feel the need to discuss it more fully than other years. I'm not entirely sure why...yet.
On this date, 19 years ago, my brother Jim was killed. Killed. There's a definite word. Other descriptors such as taken from us, died, passed away, etc are just too soft, too normal, too easy. This date was anything but easy and normal.
Jim's 25 yrs went by all too quickly. He was a young man of charm, wit, stubbornness, athletics, and protective of his family. That is what got him killed. That protectiveness. You see (for those that didn't know me in 1991) in my small hometown the local "crazy" guy targeted me, and then my family, which resulted in Jim's death.
I remember that date in detail as if it was yesterday. I remember the phone calls, the radio announcement which my mom heard at work, looking for my brothers, trying to protect my dad from the news until we had heard officially from the RCMP, the police finally arriving to confirm what we already knew, people coming to support us before we were officially advised, friends rallying and supporting us in any way they could, the outrage of the community, the audacity of the "crazy" man's friend who came to our home even though he was involved on that fateful night, and there is more....many, many more memories. More memories to come and experience as this horror became a media interest, the legal system came into play.,..for years....the injustice of our justice system...and people who were supportive and those who weren't.
A part of me hates remembering. For many reasons. The obvious...it hurts. The second reason is that I don't want to give "him" any more thought and time and heartache. He's taken enough over the past 19 years...and more actually. I don't want any thing in my life and thoughts to be about him. Thoughts of "him" are there though.
I wonder if he's still alive. After all he would be 86yrs by now. I want to know if he's alive and where he is. I even called the last place I was aware of him residing to see if he is still a resident there...he isn't. I know there is no remorse there and never could be. He is a sick, sick man. So, why the need in regards to knowing his whereabouts? Not sure. Just want to know.
My brother's death doesn't define me anymore. There was a time that I felt it did. My life was consumed by court dates and grief. Plus there was...."You're the girl with the brother that got killed. I heard it was over some girl." It kinda was. Me. My family. I felt like I couldn't go anywhere without hearing about Jim's death. Some of it was good....people reminiscing about Jim. And that is invaluable. That I treasured. Those days are gone too. A memory. Jim's murder will always be a part of me. It is not who I am though.
Yet, this day cannot be forgotten. Maybe should not be. Somehow remembering the tragedy and it's cause is important too. I can't explain why. Yet, it is.
Jim is remembered. Jim is my brother and he is a part of me. A part of my boys. An uncle they will never know but still he is a part of them and maybe, just maybe, he's one of their guardian angels...watching over them, teaching them a love for carpentry, sports, and getting into mischief!
So, today I remember the details of 19 years ago. I remember the loss, the shock, the anger, the sadness. I remember my brother phoning me to join him that evening and even now, all these years later...I wish I had.
I remember....lots of things. Mostly, I remember Jim.
On this date, 19 years ago, my brother Jim was killed. Killed. There's a definite word. Other descriptors such as taken from us, died, passed away, etc are just too soft, too normal, too easy. This date was anything but easy and normal.
Jim's 25 yrs went by all too quickly. He was a young man of charm, wit, stubbornness, athletics, and protective of his family. That is what got him killed. That protectiveness. You see (for those that didn't know me in 1991) in my small hometown the local "crazy" guy targeted me, and then my family, which resulted in Jim's death.
I remember that date in detail as if it was yesterday. I remember the phone calls, the radio announcement which my mom heard at work, looking for my brothers, trying to protect my dad from the news until we had heard officially from the RCMP, the police finally arriving to confirm what we already knew, people coming to support us before we were officially advised, friends rallying and supporting us in any way they could, the outrage of the community, the audacity of the "crazy" man's friend who came to our home even though he was involved on that fateful night, and there is more....many, many more memories. More memories to come and experience as this horror became a media interest, the legal system came into play.,..for years....the injustice of our justice system...and people who were supportive and those who weren't.
A part of me hates remembering. For many reasons. The obvious...it hurts. The second reason is that I don't want to give "him" any more thought and time and heartache. He's taken enough over the past 19 years...and more actually. I don't want any thing in my life and thoughts to be about him. Thoughts of "him" are there though.
I wonder if he's still alive. After all he would be 86yrs by now. I want to know if he's alive and where he is. I even called the last place I was aware of him residing to see if he is still a resident there...he isn't. I know there is no remorse there and never could be. He is a sick, sick man. So, why the need in regards to knowing his whereabouts? Not sure. Just want to know.
My brother's death doesn't define me anymore. There was a time that I felt it did. My life was consumed by court dates and grief. Plus there was...."You're the girl with the brother that got killed. I heard it was over some girl." It kinda was. Me. My family. I felt like I couldn't go anywhere without hearing about Jim's death. Some of it was good....people reminiscing about Jim. And that is invaluable. That I treasured. Those days are gone too. A memory. Jim's murder will always be a part of me. It is not who I am though.
Yet, this day cannot be forgotten. Maybe should not be. Somehow remembering the tragedy and it's cause is important too. I can't explain why. Yet, it is.
Jim is remembered. Jim is my brother and he is a part of me. A part of my boys. An uncle they will never know but still he is a part of them and maybe, just maybe, he's one of their guardian angels...watching over them, teaching them a love for carpentry, sports, and getting into mischief!
So, today I remember the details of 19 years ago. I remember the loss, the shock, the anger, the sadness. I remember my brother phoning me to join him that evening and even now, all these years later...I wish I had.
I remember....lots of things. Mostly, I remember Jim.
Remembering Tragedy
This date always creeps up on me...on us...on my extended family. In writing and remembering it's not about "celebrating", or giving power away to the darkness that at one time was all consuming ...yet the anniversary is here and this year I really feel the need to discuss it more fully than other years. I'm not entirely sure why...yet.
On this date, 19 years ago, my brother Jim was killed. Killed. There's a definite word. Other descriptors such as taken from us, died, passed away, etc are just too soft, too normal, too easy. This date was anything but easy and normal.
Jim's 25 yrs went by all too quickly. He was a young man of charm, wit, stubbornness, athletics, and protective of his family. That is what got him killed. That protectiveness. You see (for those that didn't know me in 1991) in my small hometown the local "crazy" guy targeted me, and then my family, which resulted in Jim's death.
I remember that date in detail as if it was yesterday. I remember the phone calls, the radio announcement which my mom heard at work, looking for my brothers, trying to protect my dad from the news until we had heard officially from the RCMP, the police finally arriving to confirm what we already knew, people coming to support us before we were officially advised, friends rallying and supporting us in any way they could, the outrage of the community, the audacity of the "crazy" man's friend who came to our home even though he was involved on that fateful night, and there is more....many, many more memories. More memories to come and experience as this horror became a media interest, the legal system came into play.,..for years....the injustice of our justice system...and people who were supportive and those who weren't.
A part of me hates remembering. For many reasons. The obvious...it hurts. The second reason is that I don't want to give "him" any more thought and time and heartache. He's taken enough over the past 19 years...and more actually. I don't want any thing in my life and thoughts to be about him. Thoughts of "him" are there though.
I wonder if he's still alive. After all he would be 86yrs by now. I want to know if he's alive and where he is. I even called the last place I was aware of him residing to see if he is still a resident there...he isn't. I know there is no remorse there and never could be. He is a sick, sick man. So, why the need in regards to knowing his whereabouts? Not sure. Just want to know.
My brother's death doesn't define me anymore. There was a time that I felt it did. My life was consumed by court dates and grief. Plus there was...."You're the girl with the brother that got killed. I heard it was over some girl." It kinda was. Me. My family. I felt like I couldn't go anywhere without hearing about Jim's death. Some of it was good....people reminiscing about Jim. And that is invaluable. That I treasured. Those days are gone too. A memory. Jim's murder will always be a part of me. It is not who I am though.
Yet, this day cannot be forgotten. Maybe should not be. Somehow remembering the tragedy and it's cause is important too. I can't explain why. Yet, it is.
Jim is remembered. Jim is my brother and he is a part of me. A part of my boys. An uncle they will never know but still he is a part of them and maybe, just maybe, he's one of their guardian angels...watching over them, teaching them a love for carpentry, sports, and getting into mischief!
So, today I remember the details of 19 years ago. I remember the loss, the shock, the anger, the sadness. I remember my brother phoning me to join him that evening and even now, all these years later...I wish I had.
I remember....lots of things. Mostly, I remember Jim.
On this date, 19 years ago, my brother Jim was killed. Killed. There's a definite word. Other descriptors such as taken from us, died, passed away, etc are just too soft, too normal, too easy. This date was anything but easy and normal.
Jim's 25 yrs went by all too quickly. He was a young man of charm, wit, stubbornness, athletics, and protective of his family. That is what got him killed. That protectiveness. You see (for those that didn't know me in 1991) in my small hometown the local "crazy" guy targeted me, and then my family, which resulted in Jim's death.
I remember that date in detail as if it was yesterday. I remember the phone calls, the radio announcement which my mom heard at work, looking for my brothers, trying to protect my dad from the news until we had heard officially from the RCMP, the police finally arriving to confirm what we already knew, people coming to support us before we were officially advised, friends rallying and supporting us in any way they could, the outrage of the community, the audacity of the "crazy" man's friend who came to our home even though he was involved on that fateful night, and there is more....many, many more memories. More memories to come and experience as this horror became a media interest, the legal system came into play.,..for years....the injustice of our justice system...and people who were supportive and those who weren't.
A part of me hates remembering. For many reasons. The obvious...it hurts. The second reason is that I don't want to give "him" any more thought and time and heartache. He's taken enough over the past 19 years...and more actually. I don't want any thing in my life and thoughts to be about him. Thoughts of "him" are there though.
I wonder if he's still alive. After all he would be 86yrs by now. I want to know if he's alive and where he is. I even called the last place I was aware of him residing to see if he is still a resident there...he isn't. I know there is no remorse there and never could be. He is a sick, sick man. So, why the need in regards to knowing his whereabouts? Not sure. Just want to know.
My brother's death doesn't define me anymore. There was a time that I felt it did. My life was consumed by court dates and grief. Plus there was...."You're the girl with the brother that got killed. I heard it was over some girl." It kinda was. Me. My family. I felt like I couldn't go anywhere without hearing about Jim's death. Some of it was good....people reminiscing about Jim. And that is invaluable. That I treasured. Those days are gone too. A memory. Jim's murder will always be a part of me. It is not who I am though.
Yet, this day cannot be forgotten. Maybe should not be. Somehow remembering the tragedy and it's cause is important too. I can't explain why. Yet, it is.
Jim is remembered. Jim is my brother and he is a part of me. A part of my boys. An uncle they will never know but still he is a part of them and maybe, just maybe, he's one of their guardian angels...watching over them, teaching them a love for carpentry, sports, and getting into mischief!
So, today I remember the details of 19 years ago. I remember the loss, the shock, the anger, the sadness. I remember my brother phoning me to join him that evening and even now, all these years later...I wish I had.
I remember....lots of things. Mostly, I remember Jim.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Hiatus Schmiatus
I've missed you. My blogging friends. Pouring my heart out to you.
So here I come. Back to chat and vent and discuss and laugh and wonder with you. Are you ready?
The funk is fading...not altogether gone...but fading...and after checking my email today I realized that I need to stop focusing on myself and get back in the game. So, here I am. Back in the game.
So here I come. Back to chat and vent and discuss and laugh and wonder with you. Are you ready?
The funk is fading...not altogether gone...but fading...and after checking my email today I realized that I need to stop focusing on myself and get back in the game. So, here I am. Back in the game.
Hiatus Schmiatus
I've missed you. My blogging friends. Pouring my heart out to you.
So here I come. Back to chat and vent and discuss and laugh and wonder with you. Are you ready?
The funk is fading...not altogether gone...but fading...and after checking my email today I realized that I need to stop focusing on myself and get back in the game. So, here I am. Back in the game.
So here I come. Back to chat and vent and discuss and laugh and wonder with you. Are you ready?
The funk is fading...not altogether gone...but fading...and after checking my email today I realized that I need to stop focusing on myself and get back in the game. So, here I am. Back in the game.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Hiatus
I've decided to take a break from blogging.
I enjoy blogging...enjoy reading blogs, creating a post, and reading the comments that sometimes come with it.
However, I've come to the conclusion that these days I really don't have anything nice to say. Positivity is a fleeting thought and there's enough negativity in the world without me sharing mine all the time.
So, I will continue to read and comment on those blogs that I enjoy and will keep in touch that way.
One day I'll start posting again...maybe sooner than later...until then keep care and thanks for reading!
I enjoy blogging...enjoy reading blogs, creating a post, and reading the comments that sometimes come with it.
However, I've come to the conclusion that these days I really don't have anything nice to say. Positivity is a fleeting thought and there's enough negativity in the world without me sharing mine all the time.
So, I will continue to read and comment on those blogs that I enjoy and will keep in touch that way.
One day I'll start posting again...maybe sooner than later...until then keep care and thanks for reading!
Hiatus
I've decided to take a break from blogging.
I enjoy blogging...enjoy reading blogs, creating a post, and reading the comments that sometimes come with it.
However, I've come to the conclusion that these days I really don't have anything nice to say. Positivity is a fleeting thought and there's enough negativity in the world without me sharing mine all the time.
So, I will continue to read and comment on those blogs that I enjoy and will keep in touch that way.
One day I'll start posting again...maybe sooner than later...until then keep care and thanks for reading!
I enjoy blogging...enjoy reading blogs, creating a post, and reading the comments that sometimes come with it.
However, I've come to the conclusion that these days I really don't have anything nice to say. Positivity is a fleeting thought and there's enough negativity in the world without me sharing mine all the time.
So, I will continue to read and comment on those blogs that I enjoy and will keep in touch that way.
One day I'll start posting again...maybe sooner than later...until then keep care and thanks for reading!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)