Toronto

So I went away to Toronto for work. It was so hard to leave everyone. I had a mild panic attack at being so far away from my kids. I wanted to run away and go back to them. It felt so wrong to be so far away from them. And being without Craftymama was like being without air, it was so hard to function. I thought about them all the time.

They were all fine. Kids had lots of fun, and K's room got finished: complete with new hardwood floors, painted ceilings, walls, trim and all the fun stuff. It's like the most done room in all of the house now. Slowly but surely I suppose we are making it ours - and yet in the back of at least my head I know that when the kids move out in the many years to come we will be selling it and moving back to Nanaimo. Our place is not Duncan. We are destined to return to Nanaimo - and something tells me we are destined to return to the Green House. It is Andrea's dream house, and her kindred soul, but more than that - it is something for me - but I don't know what yet. Figuring out the green house isn't at the forefront of my thoughts lately.

My grandma is still in the hospital - multiple seizures, brain surgery. I feel awful at not being able to see her, but I don't want to stress her out, or get her sick - and I still have a cough. If she goes home I am going to visit her there. Even if it's just to say a silent goodbye. I wasn't there for my grandpa, I want to be there for her.

Tick Tock

It's been quite the week.

I am leaving for Toronto today, I got to say a great goodbye to R last night because he is never up in the morning. K gave me the most gigantic of hugs. And M actually let me kiss him, he is normally very cranky in the morning and wants nothing but food. He also told me he would miss me. *Ded from cute*. LittleR slept in, which us weird for her - so I didn't get to say goodbye. I am so sad to leave the kids - it's the longest I've ever been away from them. My heart is aching already.

I don't want to leave Craftymama. She is my love, my happiness, my comfort - every day and every night. Even when we are frustrated, there is nothing better than finding her hand in the middle of the night.

My birthday was two days ago. It was all right. I'm 27 now, and that just feels absolutely unreal to me. I had my favourite dinner - and my favourite cake, and then went to R's teacher/parent evening. It was fun, and it solidified my want to be a waldorf teacher.

Oh...I guess I haven't shared that. I've been trying to figure out what I want to do. I want a career, and something with benefits, closer to home, and that fits in with my values. Everyone has always told me I'd make a good teacher (and lawyer lol), but I couldn't stand teaching in the public or private school system. But the more I come to learn about and witness waldorf the more it seems to click with me. I may not agree with everything - but no workplace is going to be perfect. I am hoping to start school in 4 years, there was another program this year starting but we just couldn't afford it.

I wan't to talk about my Grandma, but I don't know what to say. She is in the hospital, and has been diagnosed with brain cancer and multiple tumors. For so so many years, and even now - I looked at her and her life and always wanted it to be my own - or at least similar. She successfully raised 6 wonderful children, who are all so vastly different its amazing. She had an incredible relationship with my Grandfather. She was strong, and proud, and confident. She was a stay at home mom, and did all those things you would expect from the 1950's. I looked up to her. And I still do. Even now, in her weakened state - the values she instilled in her children are showing. Together, they have taken turns staying by her side all the time - she is never alone, they have been her advocate to the doctors, and they have not been afraid to show their emotions and reach out for help.

Though I do not agree with my grandmother on everything, and I know she doesn't agree with me about everything - there is still that connection. She was the first person who taught me how to clean a chicken coop, chase a chicken, and feed them. She let me wonder The Property and told me all about the different plants I would find. When I was little and spent weekends there, she found my crying in the closet because I missed home - and she comforted me, and we made cookies. She made me exquisite bubble baths with candles and lots of bubbles in her giant soaker tub and let me play there for hours. She would show me pictures of my mom growing up, and talk about the past so clearly I could picture it. She and my Grandpa got me my first guitar, and encouraged my love of my music. She has a wonderful spirit.

I only wish I got to know her better, that we were closer - but that's what happens in life, we don't actually realize how many memories we have with a person until their life is ending. We don't realize all the time we wasted being angry, or doing other things until its too late. I know my grandma and I could never have been best friends - but I wish I could have shown her what all those memories and all those times with her taught me. I wish I could let her see how those strong family values, and the ability to just make-do with what you have has shaped who I am.

I love my grandma - even if she doesn't know it.

Building, Growing, Learning

We had a weird moment yesterday. We were renovating the upstairs: taking up the floors, scraping ceilings and the three of us were drinking some drinks, listening to music and it was just all working. And then later on, Craftymama pointed out that we couldn't do half the stuff we are doing without a man. Sexist yes - but I have had that thought a few times as well. Not that females can't reno like we are, but that us two specifically could not. We are thankful for Glassman in that regard.

We got our yard landscaped a few weeks back - and it has changed the entire house. It has given it a new life. It's nice to see it looking so fresh, and so inhabited, rather than overgrown and forgotten. So many things left to do - but its a start.

Craftymama is busy sewing dolls every evening, I am preparing to head to Toronto next weekend for a trade show, and glassman goes between playing video games and practicing his martial arts. R is going through a rough time - and its so testing. K is a princess and the world owes her. M is SO WHINY, but intermixed with adorableness. And finally, Little R...well she is the same - crazy.

R's birthday is soon. He will be 6. Seriously...this little kid will be six. I remeber being six. As he gets older I remember my own childhood. I also begin to realize that we aren't raising babies or toddlers, what we are raising are adults - these beings, these souls will one day be adults - and watching R go through the first of these stages is very humbling.

LittleR's birthday is also coming. She is *my* last baby. Historically speaking on her birthday - when she was born, when she turned 1, and when she turned 2 - only Glassman, Craftymama, and myself has been there. She doesn't seem important to anyone outside our immediate family. No one makes time for her - she just is. And that makes me sad. I love her so fiercely, and as she gets older - I find myself feeling older. She is aging me - but not inn a bad way.

The Struggle with Words

I would love to write here more. I started a blog in hopes of recording events in our lives. Actually - I originally started this blog as a poly blog, but as life transformed so too did this place.

So now I am left in a grey place. How to write about normal mundane daily activities in a way that will refresh my memory in years to come, and maybe be of interest to anyone else who stumbles across my blog.

So without further ado, here is my first crack at it!

I attended my first kids birthday party yesterday. Well, first since becoming a working parent, and since life completely exploded a couple of years back. It was weird. It was weird interacting with moms again. I found I was much more at home with the kids - I even juggled for them much to their amazement (for the record those little bags of carrots make the perfect juggling balls, little gravel rocks do not).

K's good friend from school was the birthday boy, and his sister happens to be R's best friend so he got to go too! We rode on a train, played at the park for hours - oh to be a kid again and to be able to play on those structures for so long. We had cake, and sang, and it was just a chill time. And then we went home - and dealt with the sugar and excitement crash that inevitably follows any birthday party. However, there were no goody bags to fight over so that was a small blessing.

LittleR is have her occupational therapy appointment in a few weeks and to say I am nervous is an understatement. You always want your kids to be perfect, and if not perfect you certainly hope there is nothing actually wrong with them. I know in the end it will be okay, but it is the not knowing that has killed me for nearly three years.

M starts preschool in the fall. He is all registered and accepted. I remember when M was born - and I find it so impossible to believe that he is going into school. This one is even harder than K was. When K went to school I was excited for her. I was sad at the growing up of course, but I was so excited as I felt school would appeal to her sociable nature. With M, I can't describe what my worry is. Maybe because he still seems so little - speech wise and physical ability wise. Or maybe it's because with M entering school we are one step closer to having them all in school - and then they will only get bigger, and bigger and we will see less and less of them.

Stuck in the Middle

I'm so stuck in the middle sometimes between Craftymama and Glassman. It's a hard situation and one I am not so good at dealing with.

I don't know what it's like nor can I even begin to fathom how it feels for them to be living in the same house. On the one hand Glassman has to watch me be in a relationship with someone else. Plus, that someone else is someone who he used to be in a relationship. On the other hand Craftymama has to live withher current partners ex whom her partner has children with and thus will always be connected to. Plus, she used to be in a relationship with him.

Its all very complicated.

Plus like all people there is conflict and frustrations, only because they aren't in love anymore - there isn't that buffer. I am the buffer. When Glassman does something stupid - I hear it from Craftymama. When Craftymama is being high maintenance I hear it from Glassman. It's hard to remain neutral but still supportive.

I can't remain completely neutral. Afterall, I am in a relationship with Craftymama and as a result I need to support her through her fustrations, not encourage them, but support none the less. And with Glassman, well, I will always love him - I've known him for just too long. I am no where near in love with him anymore, he is a really good friend, but there are still those need to protect feelings.

Somtimes I wish there was a pause button...oooh! or a fast forward button!

The Kidlets

So R and K have been going to a waldorf school for quite some time now - well in the grand scheme of things I guess it isn't quite some time. But regardless. Last year, at their old school they were in the same class. The sadness at separating at the beginning of this year was heartbreaking - but they powered through.

Now we are facing the end of another year.

R will be doing another year of kindergarten - waiting for kids to be developmentally ready to move on, and to allow them to live in the innocence of childhood is fundamental to waldorf. But K will also be entering kindergarten next year - as she has now aged out of the preschool program. So we faced the decision of whether or not to put them in the same class again, or separate them. We have decided to separate them - allow them to be their own people, develop their own education journeys.

M and LittleR will be entering the preschool program next year - we definitely don't want them in the same class. They just aren't suited to be in the same class, and it will be detrimental to the both of them. We have decided to have one of the little kids go two days a week and the other go three days a week. Next year M will probably be moving to kindergarten, at that point R will be in grade one so M will go into R's kindergarten class. The year after R will go into grade 2, K will go into grade 1, M will still be in kindergarten and LittleR will go into K's old kindergarten. Oh the constant shuffling and arranging of children and their schools!

We have had the parent teacher interviews. The kids are doing well. K is excelling in her artistic expression, and R is so engrossed in childhood that it's inspiring to watch apparently. I am so glad to hear that, and so relieved to hear they are doing so well, making friends, and enjoying their childhoods.

Waldorf offers them such a great chance to experience all aspects of living, and of childhood. All aspects of nature and the seasons - and above all else of acceptance. R's class motto is "All Friends are Welcome", which is a great value to have in a class. Though all the families must have similar values to send their kids to a waldorf school, there are still some variances. Still opportunities for teasing or mockery - especially for sensitive R who is so easily influenced by others.

As time goes forward, I realize we made the right decision in sending our kids to this school. Though Unschooling is still how I believe kids learn best, it isn't right for my family, waldorf is - and its fitting. It's working. I'm proud that my kids go there.

Sexuality part 2

Why is sexuality an okay thing to joke about or make fun of? The past week has shown me just how far we haven't come in all out accepting people who are different than our own.

I was sent to an all girls private school when I was 15. Apparently, and I play along too, that just leaves so many jokes available to my bisexuality. That I should have known, or others should have known. Apparently, growing up, my whole family suspected or knew I would be gay - and told my mom as such. Further - they made jokes that two out of 3 of her daughters were gay. I was made fun of - by my sisters. And one of my sisters was gay. I was taunted in elementary school when my sister came out, and all through high school because people thought I was a boy.

All of this through my development years. Since my change in sexuality, or embracing loving a woman - I have been going through these years of my life wondering that if I had been more supported, or if people had been more open minded then maybe I would have embraced my sexuality sooner. Maybe I never would have gotten married to glassman, or maybe I would have but would have explored my gay side a little more completely before getting married. I don't know what would have happened - but I can't help but feeling that I allowed myself to be oppressed to avoid all the stigma and all the negative attention that would have come from allowing myself to be publicly out.

Why are the jokes okay? Why do I play along with them like they don't bother me? Why don't I ever speak up? In highschool I can remember going home or being reduced to tears because people called me a boy or called me gay or whatever. Maybe it hit me so hard because I really was/am.

Even now, I have realized that I don't fit the typical girl attributes. I don't have a curvy figure, I am quite rectangular, I have the short butch haircut, I can't stand wearing tight fitting clothing. I am the butch lesbian - as horribly stereotypical as that sounds. If there is a male and female in lesbian relationships - I am clearly the male, and craftymama: the nail polish wearing, hair curling, primping one, is clearly the female. This fact bothers me.

But why does it bother me? I mean - I don't like wearing tight fitting clothing. It makes me feel large and uncomfortable. Nail polish makes me feel self conscious. I do like wearing makeup sometimes - but all in all I don't enjoy being that person. But part of me feels I must. I am a girl. This is what girls do. This is what girls look like, this is what a girl is. And I am a girl - aren't I? So the fact that I don't fit what the norm is, makes me so uncomfortable and so self loathing. I am not angry or resentful of Craftymama for doing those things - its who she is. I guess a part of me just wishes I was like that and because I am so uncomfortable in my own skin I am envious of the fact that she is so comfortable in hers.

I just want to feel comfortable. In the person I am, in how I look, how I dress, my own sexuality. I want to be able to walk down the street in the clothes that feel comfortable to me (even though I don't own them yet), hold craftymama's hand and not think of all the jokes and ridicule that are out there. I want to not feel like everyone was right growing up - even if they were.

Because how would they know my sexuality before me? And if they did, who were they to tell me or even more so make fun of me for it? Who were they to determine something before I had? Maybe if they hadn't have tried to force it on me I would have found out sooner, and maybe then I'd be comfortable in my own less than feminine skin now.