Eight Fingers

This is round two for trying to write this blog. I finished a perfect post and it got lost and deleted...so I hope that I can do this one as good..

There's a constant pounding since last night going on in my head. I don't know if it's a real headache or if it's just the stress of life causing it. It's like there's a mini version of myself in there pounding the walls of my head...screaming and yelling much like I feel like doing. Have a temper tantrum. Freak out and cry just because things aren't going my way. Things haven't been going my way for quite some time, so really I wouldn't go about doing that. There's just so much to deal with. I have the move, the weight of Paul moving because of me, the death, the constant reminders of what needs to be done..day in and day out. I have to get rid of my Mustang and help Paul deal with his stresses of finding a truck in one day.

The fight..
Yes again, another broke out between mom and I. This time I wasn't backing down. It seems silly when simply explained what happened..but once I explain my reasons I'm sure that it won't seem as childish.

When Rudi was sick I went downstairs and found his dart board with three darts in it. Obviously from him weeks prior. Not only were they played and touched by Rudi last, but one was a bullseye. I remember quite clearly the smile on his face, the pride in his eyes when he shot a bullseye. Now it wasn't like it was a rare thing for him to get a bullseye but each time he was genuinely as proud as he was the time before. It was adorable and a memory I hold close to my heart. The day that he died I couldn't part with the idea of taking the darts out and giving them away to my uncle. (who had requested it at the time.) Of course, he respected my wishes and left them alone, much like everyone else. They just understood me and let me for whatever reasons I had, keep the dart board the way that it was. Last night I happened to see the dart board in it's case with the three darts missing. There was three markings to show where they had been. But there was also a pink post-it indicating to the movers, that the new owners of the house were keeping it.

Mom had gone and took the darts out of the board and even posted that it was not to be brought with us to Errington! I understand that mom is under a lot of stress and just wants things done. But that seems to be all that she cares about these days. Getting things done, not anyone's feelings, not the consequences after she throws everything of Rudi's away...

The worst part was that once I told her she didn't care. She didn't say sorry and she seemed to think that I was the one being selfish. Like I was making a big deal out of nothing. I had four months to do it she said. But if it had been her who wanted those darts in that dart board for ten years I would've respected her. I had a connection with that damn board. I wanted to pull the darts out of the board, knowing that it had been thrown by Rudi last. I wanted to talk to him while I did it. I needed that. When I tried to explain it to her...she got angry. The fight got really ugly and once she stormed into the house, I exploded with tears. The tears poured as hard as a rainstorm. I shook so violently that my entire body was tense and my jaw and head ached from crying. She came out later and apologized. But that's not the point. Why had she been like that? Her husband died. No one will understand how she is feeling. But she doesn't understand how I am feeling. She didn't really seem to care last night. That might have been what hurt me the most. The person that she was last night frightens me because it is not my mom. She was never like that. No one has seen this side of her either. It's like I'm in a movie and everyone thinks that I'm the one with all the problems. I'm the one mistreating her. When in this case, I think it is very much the opposite.

Anyways, she did end up apologizing once the smoke cleared. But it really made me wonder who she's becoming? Or am I just overeacting? I know this is hard but she turns so mean and cruel. There's hatred in her eyes and it's seriously killing me to see that.

My last day of work was today.. I thought that I would've been happy but I was really sad. I just keep thinking now that we're running away from our problems. I don't want to stay in Hinton anymore now but I don't want us to be leaving for the wrong reasons. My buddy was telling me, "you're going to miss it here. You can take the girl out of Hinton, but you can't take it away from the girl. It'll always be with you." She's right. I'll cherish Hinton for everything that it represents; home...Rudi.

"Patch Adams" is a great film. In the beginning, there's a man in the mental institution asking everyone how many fingers he is holding up, when he is clearly holding up four. When people tell him that he's in fact holding up four, he gets very discouraged and angry. Later when he is asked how many fingers he sees, he explains that everyone looks at the problem and not what's beyond it. Once the fingers are looked at again, it's completely different. There are eight.

Today on my way home from work, I wasn't looking at the road but beyond it and I saw that part of Hinton in a completely different way. Living here for eighteen years and not once have I ever seen it like that. Instead of seeing four fingers I would've seen eight. To me it was special to see Hinton in that kind of a way. Hinton is a place that I will forever call home.

I will not forget the memories shared with family and friends, the people I've known since I was a little girl new to Hinton.... and the man who brought us here...Rudi.

I will always remember Hinton for Rudi. This place holds a special place in my heart. As long as I have Hinton, I have Rudi. This way I can get over the dart board thing..

Look beyond the picture and see what no one else sees.

Birthday Girls

Birthday Bash

July 16, 1985 I was born into this world. I am two decades old. Wow..that makes me sound pretty decrepit. I woke early and like every other morning, I went straight to my bathroom connected to my bedroom to have a pee. I hear my mom's voice from outside of my window saying "Happy Birthday.. your presents on the table." Well I had only planned to have a quick piddle and get right back to sleeping. But I couldn't resist. So I woke much earlier than I had planned.

I had a hair appointment at 2:00 that I was nearly late for. I had been so busy on my "shopping spree" from Paul at our local skate shop. It had been fun going into the store knowing that I could have whatever I wanted. I did get frustrated because of course, I didn't find things that I fell in love with right away. It always seems to work that way. I wouldn't recommend getting a hair cut and dye on the big day. Most of my time was spent in the hair salon reading gossip mags about celebs. (Not that it wasn't interesting knowing how many pounds Kirstie Ally lost or how Angelina's a whore for stealing Brad from Jennifer.)

My dad and step mom arrived to town before my hair cut was finished but luckily they are more patient than some parents I know. My dad took us out for dinner and it was very nice knowing that they drove 2 and a half hours just to see me. Once dinner was finished, and the visit with my parents came to an end, the drinking began.

Oddly enough my friend and boyfriend ended up drinking a hell of a lot more than me and I ended up taking care of him instead of him taking care of the drunken birthday girl. It was also my other buddie's birthday as well. So we are lucky enough to have this chance to spend our birthdays together. We looked nice and had our birthday attire on. I styled a home made pin that said, "I'm 20 today" and a five year old home made birthday crown so that everyone knew that I was special. My buddy wore an "I'm 19 today" necklace and a cute little blue dress. I was impressed with her birthday glow she wore very well.

The night was filled with the drunken, slurred "Happy Birthdays" and "I like your hair." I was pleased. My other friend that I basically spent a solid four years hanging out together during our childhood came out as well. It really meant a lot to me considering she never goes out and she and I haven't really been as close for these last few years. It made my heart smile knowing that she was there with me. The night I will admit was full of disappointment though. I won't get into details but she was the one thing that didn't disappoint me. She did quite the opposite of that.

I mentioned that the night was a bit disappointing because... well lets just say that I ended my night, helping the cab driver rid the windows of Paul's puke. He sat on the front lawn crying, because we wouldn't let him help. It sounds pathetic, because it is. Haha, he was very intoxicated and I am not holding it against him today. Alcohol brings out the worst in everyone. I guess for some reason, it didn't bring out my evil being that's in there somewhere. I had great self control even when things made me angry; I didn't lash out or let people know that I was in fact quite pissed. Interesting and hopefully something I can keep up in the future nights of drinking to come...

Happy Birthday to me and goodbye to partying in Hinton for a long, long time..

Or shall I say... Good Riddance.

Pointless Scratches..

This is it..this is real.. We are officially moving. Well we were officially moving a month ago once my mom bought our home in Coombs. But in my mind, I have accepted it. We are out of here! My mom and I had been fighting there for awhile and she threatened to go without me. That freaked me out so badly. The idea of being left behind has always frightened me. But what bothered me was that I could be stuck living here in Hinton, after telling everyone that I was a goner. I would much rather argue with my mother in Coombs where it is beautiful and very conveniently situated by the ocean, rather than living in Hinton hating my life.

Mom just got back with a bundle of boxes for us to start packing. Only three weeks to go and we will be up and moving to another province. I am slowly starting to get excited because a new start is always something to look forward to. At least I get to begin my life with Paul somewhere besides here. Even though we're going to be living with my mom until we get ourselves grounded, I finally feel grown up and ready to start out on my own.

We may have to leave the house still up for sale. Mom gets too worked up having to tidy the house every day, with Paul and I at work. She gets too stressed out about it and she's going to end up falling down the stairs and hurting her back or worse. So I was hoping that we could sell the house privately but now it's all up to the realtor. I personally hope that it sells sooner than later, because I don't like the idea of leaving the house empty for months on end. Especially in the cool winter.

I am trying to think of ways in which I can get a head start on packing. I'm just not really sure what I won't miss having around for ... a month or so.

I am really looking forward to all of this being over. The moment we can all sit in our living room on Bowlby Drive will be a great reward. I seriously hope that unpacking will be eventful and not depressing and discouraging because of the small room we are going to be inhabiting. I am full of mixed emotions mainly because I only remember moving once in my life. It's the fear of the future, of what is to come. What do I expect? The fear of the unknown..

I have so many questions but I don't think it wise to stress over them now. There are too many other things to think about. This blog kind of sucks because my thoughts are all mixed up and it isn't very insightful or funny. But hell, what's a blog for if you can't talk about my feelings?

This picture sits in a frame on my night stand now..

Times They are a Changing...

The first day that Kyli, my sister came home with her boyfriend, Joe I couldn't help but feel somewhat saddened. I was very happy to have her home for the short period of time, but on the other hand, I knew that once they left, so would our little puppy, Dixie. Now I don't mean to sound childish but I can't help but be lonely for her now that she no longer resides in Hinton.

The visit itself was a very productive one I must say. We accomplished everything that I was hoping for. We cleaned out the entire basement, scrubbing walls that had never been and making it new again. We went through most of the boxes in our garage, filling twenty or more garbage bags and many garage sale boxes. I feel that we needed to go through some of those things together, because alone, we might not have made it so far. It was sad going through our parent's lives basically in twenty or more boxes. We discovered home videos filled with footage of Rudi on them. We treasure the box full of pictures of us growing up with Rudi and all of the fun things that we did. It was a beautiful experience looking at our happy faces in so many of the pictures. We worked for hours, going through tea sets and old bills along with old knick knacks that brought back flashes of memories. I feel a sense of closure from going through all of our things. I feel better because I found those pictures of us with Rudi, and the videos of him being completely nutty. I realized that he was constantly goofing around making everyone laugh around him. Now watching the videos, it was like he had a glow about him, that was positive and contagious. If he was laughing, everyone was as well. He made people smile, and want to be around him.

It had been a long day that we cleaned and sorted through the garage. But part of me didn't want it to end, knowing that that meant I was left to deal with the rest of the mess on my own. Also knowing that the way I felt looking at those pictures would end and I would have to leave my safe place in my mind, remembering that we were moving our lives far, far from where we made the memories in the first place. I knew that I wouldn't have my puppy, Dixie around to keep our minds off of the stress.

Sunday night I sort of felt panicked, like I didn't want to go to bed. Even though my back ached and my body was exhausted from all of the work accomplished. I wanted to stay up all night, so that it wouldn't end. Paul had to work in the morning, so that helped me to let go, and surrender to time. To let go. Now that's a hard one to do. It's not easily done and almost entirely impossible to do on one's own. Like every night before, we picked up our exhausted, dead to the world pup and took her to her bed that she made for herself, under the jackets, on top of a pile of shoes. We added a pillow and blanket to make the place more comfortable for her months ago. Tonight, Paul and I layed her down together, hugging and kissing her fuzzy face. Telling her that we'd see her soon and that she was loved. Like she was a child or something. But it almost felt like that. She came into this family at the worst possible time, when Rudi was first diagnosed, and later during and after his death. She was forgotten and looked at more like an inconvenience more than anything else by most. But Paul and I fought to keep her. We took on the responsibilities, feeding and cleaning up her mistakes. We were even promoted, maybe at the time demoted to the title of Mommy and Daddy. She was our problem. But we didn't look at it that way. She was our baby and she knew that. Letting her go was really hard for me.

Mom told me about a month ago that I had to give her away because the place that we're moving to doesn't allow more than two dogs on the property. Luckily, Kyli and Joe stepped in and said that they would love to have her.

No more than a month later, she is gone. The morning that they left, I hid in my bedroom. I wanted so badly to get up and see her again. But I knew that it would only make things more difficult for me. So I fell back asleep and the next time I woke, they had been long gone. I cried in bed, thinking that I had been a coward for not saying goodbye. Later I realized that it was for the best that I stayed away. It would've made it worse for the dog and my sister, who already felt like the bad guy.

Last night Kyli phoned to inform me that Dixie was taking to the city well, not barking at passerbys anymore. Going to the bathroom outside, rather than in their quaint apartment seven floors up. She was taking walks in the park and entertaining them for hours on end. My heart smiled and I feel better knowing that she's with my sister. She'll treat her well and now they have themselves a little family. Maybe this will make them want children sooner...

I felt like I was losing everything that I loved. But I was just being too dramatic. Like Bob Dylan said, "Times they are a changing." And I just have to get used to that...

~

In A White Haze

Yesterday was Father's Day. So it would seem appropriate to write about my dad, Bernard Parenteau. But, I didn't even want to phone him yesterday. I felt a curious urge to somewhat resent all dads that were still here on this earth. So unfair of me, but I didn't really care yesterday. I was bitter because my dad, Rudi wasn't here. He loved father's day where he'd get all choked up over the mushy card I carefully selected for him. He would tell us that he didn't want anything for father's day but secretly I know that he did. He could always use a new set of darts, or a new juicer, or something useless in the kitchen. He loved useless things like deep friers. I call them useless because he seldomly used anything like that. Maybe once or twice.

This morning, I woke at 9:14 and I thought to myself, I have to get up to help mom with the house; washing walls, throwing out the huge bags of unwanted things, and most importantly organizing the garage sale stuff. But, I returned to sleep most likely just from dozing off and not having enough ambition to wake. Then I woke again at around 9:42 and I was having the same thoughts, about what needed to be done today. I was thinking about my dream I had about Rudi, and as I was about to give up on getting up. A loud, yet subtle enough knock, with one knuckle it seemed was hitting my door. It was noticeable to me, but at the same time it wasn't loud enough for the puppies at the end of my bed to wake and notice. It wasn't mom, and well I may sound nuts but I do not care. It was Rudi, hitting my door telling me to get the hell up and help my mom. So I did.

The dream, wow what an interesting dream. At the time in my dream I wasn't aware of how important and significant the happenings were until later when I woke up and analyzed them.
I was out at the bar and had to follow my really great childhood friend, Jessie to her weird house. Now this house was big, and it was set up very strangely. For some reason, Jessie was on a snowboard in front of me going down her steep hallways and I was on a board with a thin yellow rope following her, having much difficulty. (Perhaps my mind wanted it to be a tobbaggan but maybe I'm not that creative..haha) Jessie went off past a door and down a dresser around a corner and I was very uneasy about doing so. So I looked around to see if there was an easier way out. That's when I heard a voice. I thought it was Jessie's dad from down below, but there Rudi appeared. To me, in the dream I acted like this wasn't a peculiar occurence, yet I was fully aware that he did indeed pass away. I was up higher than him and it wasn't possible for me to really reach him without jumping down, but I couldn't do so. I don't know if I didn't want to, or if I just was unable to. I don't recall what exactly he was wearing when I think about it now, but I know that I thought; Why is he wearing all white? Out of my dream there is an obvious answer. He was his 55 year old self, grey hair and grey kind of mustache. He was happy to see me and I wasn't really all that excited to see him though I knew it was a rare thing to see him. He asked me a lot about my mom and how she was doing and if she was alright. I told him the truth, and made sure he knew that she was doing okay but that she had her days where she was really sad. I told him that she was keeping herself busy, but I didn't tell him why. In my head, I thought that maybe mom had warned me not to tell him about us moving because it might upset him. I really wanted to ask him if it was okay for us to move, but I didn't. Now I wish I had. He got a little teary and apologized for dieing and putting us through all of the pain. I wanted to cry a bit, but stayed strong thinking I couldn't cry, not infront of him. So I told him that it was okay and that we were getting through it and that we were strong. I don't really remember my exact words, but it was something like that. I remember just wanting to get away, like I was in a hurry. So I rushed him and he came over to hug me. But I was so high up that all he could really reach were my bare feet. So he kissed my feet. And then I believe I bent down and gave him a funny angled hug. And he helped me get out of Jessie's house. I didn't see him after he hugged me though. I just remember I got out of Jessie's house, with his direction, but he wasn't there anymore. Oh, and before, I told him that I had his car, and he asked how I was doing with it. He was always so concerned about that damn car, it's no wonder he asked me in my dream how it was doing.

This dream means a lot to me now. Even though I hate my behaviour of constantly wanting to get away. Not out of fear. I was anxious to leave, but now I wish I could have stayed longer and asked him questions. Even in my dreams I stay strong and don't allow him to see how I am hurting. I was in so much anguish yesterday. I missed him so much, and constantly thought about him all day. We all did. The day wasn't as bad as I had thought it might be. But I sure did miss him entirely. I feel priveleged that I got to dream about him in this way, where I actually had an intelligent conversation with him.

I hate how dreams vanish, even from memory almost completely. I felt the need to share it with my mom as soon as I woke and to write it down so that I can read back to it. Because slowly the very image of him and the words that we shared are fading away. Soon the dream will be nothing but a white haze in my mind...

Easy Pleaser

I think that I am relatively easy to please. Today for instance, I have to tidy up my house because my mom is returning either today or tomorrow sometime. She's not being specific of course, so I have to clean today. But all I wanted to do was sit with a fluffy pillow on my lap and an afgahn blanket surrounding me with a novel that was requested for me to read by a dear friend. Reading, how I love it. I feel like I really can escape in a good fictional novel. I become the characters, and like I have recently discussed with my friend that shares the same passion for reading, we find that we are still thinking about the characters and their situations when we're away from the book. Now that is a good story!

Today there was a possibility that Paul might have the second half of his day off. But instead of hoping for him to not have to work, I hoped that he would so that I could read some of my book. It sounds awful, but it really isn't. Only a reader would understand what I mean. I sat in the living room, my not one, or two..but three dogs laying around me as I read on. The book I am currently reading seems to just be really getting interesting. But it's at the transitional phase of too much detail and I was beginning to lose patience and drift off to sleep. But then again, sleeping, more like napping on the couch is another one of my favourite things to do. The day isn't waiting for me. The sun is hiding behind clouds and I am sure I won't be seeing until tomorrow morning when I am too tired to really care. So I found that I slept for a good hour or so. It was so pleasant; a great way to spend the afternoon.

When I am reading a novel, I constantly am thinking of the author typing the very word that I am reading. My mind runs away with me and I image him cursing and deleting things that wouldn't fit as well. I imagine him putting in some of the lines and being insecure, wondering if his readers will identify with it or think he is a fool for writing such a mess. I wish so that I could have that very skill of detail that this author has, or the ability to make a character so real that you can actually see him.

I hope that one day I will have a few masterpieces out written with my blood and sweat. I hope that there is a reader much like myself imaging how I wrote the book. How I felt when I wrote this line, or how I came up with that line. I hope that I am successful like all the others I so fondly read. I hope that I make people want to be alone, so that they are finally with my book at last, to find out what happens next. I just want to write and I hope that I can follow my dream and not be discouraged, draft after draft. This is what I feel I need to do...what I am here to do. Write on...

Alex and I much younger

Alex and I

No Escape

Small towns are cliches aren't they? I don't think that just Hinton itself is the only kind of small town there can be either. There are plenty small towns within Hinton. Think about it.... Everyone's work place is like a small town because there is a group of people within it that are the centre of any talk that may be conversed. Everyone knows everybody at work, for the most part. Everyone knows eachother's business and we all have our own little cliques. I personally am a bit of an outcast at work because I am the youngest and the things that the other ladies talk about are their children, recipes, etc. Things I am not very interested in. But there are a few ladies that I would rather work with than others. I am not ashamed to admit that I have had discussions with other ladies about someone else's questionable work ethics. See, just like a small town. Another very obvious kind of small town, is school. More so high school because it is so dramatic, with all of the new hormones floating up and down the hallways. No matter what we do, we can not escape small town bullshit.

So even though I am moving to another province, a better provice, I will still be subjected to the usual small town dramatics. I am moving to a small town, surrounded very closely to two others. I know that once I get there, I will be the new girl... I will be that person everyone is going to quickly try and categorize. I will be categorized based on my appearance first. Then by who I am with, as well as who I will warm up to first. In my case, my very spunky, outgoing cousin, Alex. There it is, I will be put in Alex's group, whatever that may be. I am prepared for it and quite happy that the two of us have always been very much alike.

My cousin Alex has always lived miles and miles away. She is my best friend, since we were just little, even though we didn't always get along. But that had to do with the same small town behaviour that lyes in each family. Her family moved around often and too often it was farther away from me. I visited her in Louisiana, Wainwright, Edmonton, Qualicum, and Dallas. Well I didn't visit her in Dallas, but that's all the different places that she's lived in while we were growing up. Now she resides in Qualicum, which is quite close to Coombs, where I will be living. We have always been the type that rarely keeps in touch when we're away, but once we reunite, it's like we never left eachother's sides. I am very fortunate that my mom decided that moving to the island was the answer.

I realize that all of my last few blogs have been related to moving. But my whole world, each day I think about it. There is so much to be done and very little time to do it. Yet I am sitting here at my computer writing about it, instead of actually doing it. Am I avoiding it because I am lazy and don't feel like tidying up or is it because subconsciously I am afraid that packing up makes leaving that much more real?

One of the many left behind..

From The Mountains To The Sea...where will I be?

To stay in a life that I know and have learned so much in....
Or to go off to an unknown land far away, to learn so much more ... struggle, warmth, my saviour perhaps?

My mom bought a home outside of Coombs, British Columbia yesterday. We know very little about the island and it was something surprising for all of us. She wants to up and move by next month. Sometimes I think that she hasn't even thought of us yet. Paul and I are young and just new to living together, after EVERYTHING that has happened in my soap opera life. We struggled for awhile to make things pleasant and we have succeeded. So just when everything was starting to sort of feel normal, well as normal as life can be at this point..... We are moving away. Away from everything that I know. From everyone that I know. As much as I complained about this place, I am terrified of leaving it. When I moved I expected my parents to live here forever and for this to be my home forever. Not necessarily this house, but Hinton in general. I understand that my mom needs to leave this town for many reasons. But it's so sudden and the part that hurts the very most is she's running... and I know she'll never look back. Rudi would be proud of her for leaving, I know. But his memory lives in Hinton and with that, this town means everything to me. Even though I despized it for so long. I need to know that I have a home here and I will no longer. It's tough to stomach...

It also doesn't help that with moving, I have to give up so much. Thankfully, my shining star is coming with me with very little hesitation. I am not really sure what I would do if he decided to let me go... He still could, I am not sure. I just don't want him to rescent me or my mom for all of this. He has to leave his entire life behind, as well as his new nephew and his family that are all still in town. Again, how do we cope with that? There is a lot of frustration swimming around us and questions with answers that I fear will be so procrastinated, that we will be left even more discouraged than before. A lot on our plates I must say. Will we last through all of this? Is this our ultimate test? I thought we were through with the harsh tests on our love for one another. Apparently not. But I do know that if only after a year of dating, and we overcome the loops and jumps on the bumpy path we can do anything together, forever. Which will be the most rewarding feeling out of all of this.

This. I have no words to describe 'this'. This is my life and this is how I am to deal with it. Deal with it. I could go on forever, wondering and worrying about what is to come...
I am sick of worrying and bitching and hating my situation. I think from now on I need to live. Let myself live life that I am so very blessed to have. Rudi would want me to just be. Live. Exist for him and let nothing stand in my way. Even if that seems impossible. I can do this. This.

From the mountains to the sea there I'll be...

A Demanding Road Ahead...

Being someone's mother is a huge responsibility. I always thought that when women have babies it's exciting and it'll be so rewarding in the end. I still believe that. But I never really thought about how a baby right before my own eyes would evolve into a young child.

I went to a baby shower for my future sister in law, Kristen. She had many people there from mainly her fiance's side. He has a very large family and there are many aunties and cousins to get to know. There were a couple of young kids there. I hate to say this, but at a certain point there comes a time when a child just gets annoying. Always asking questions and needing attention, their mother's attention all of the time. A baby can't speak, it cries and sleeps. But a child can nanner on and on and on forever if he felt up to it. I find that these kids are a handful and all babies no matter how cute they are, turn into that eventually. Having children is a huge deal and I've always known that, but moreso now. But I admire Kristen so much for having her baby boy. She is a young mother, just turning twenty two a few weeks ago. She has a lot on her plate for basically the rest of her life. A baby turns into that nose picking eight year old, demanding attention. And the eight year old turns into a young teen desperate to be old enough to stay out past 10:00. That teen graduates, hopefully, and still needs attention and love from his parents. I still need my parents to this day and I'm almost twenty. Raising a child doesn't end at 18 like it is often said to. It never does. Having a baby isn't just having a baby, it is having a human being that depends on me forever, until the day that I die and even after that as well.

I salute young women that decide to have those babies that are slowly developing in their tummies. Kristen was surprised to find last year that she was one of those girls that just happened to be pregnant, and not having planned it. There are a lot of those these days. She owned up to her responsiblility of a woman and held her head high and let that belly grow. Despite what her own parents felt and others too I am sure. She was strong and stuck to it, even after finding out that her future baby boy had complications. She remained courageous and took care of herself and her son. She made sure to eat properly to ensure that he would be receiving the proper nutrients, fighting the cravings to eat badly. (She said she didn't have many, but I don't believe her.)

March 15, 2005 Kristen gave birth to a healthy, wide-eyed baby boy, Drake. He was transported to another hospital across the city for his very first operation. Drake was surrounded by tubes and machines beeping and buzzing. Kristen stayed confident that things would improve and they did. She finally held her baby boy a few weeks after his arrival. He was home in a little less than a month I believe, healthy and quite happy I am sure.

I admire Kristen for being such a wonderful woman through all of this. She did happen to go through much of it on her own, which wasn't easy. But not once did I hear her complain. It was her life now, Drake first, Kristen second. Now she's raising a wonderful little boy. The expressions on his face show his changing moods. His most common noises are grumbling and the sounds of him sucking on his bottle. I love him already and I can't imagine Kristen's love for him, having been with him everyday since he was born. Even though I am not Drake's true aunty, I am welcomed like I am by Kristen and everyone else. It's an amazing feeling, holding a little baby in my arms. As I feed him, it seems as though he stares into my soul. I have no idea how a baby does that, but he really does. Kristen is a strong woman and evidentally Drake has inherited that from her.

The View From My Backyard

Windex OR Back-Pack??

Lately I feel like all I ever do is work. But I am sure many people feel this way. Most people, who am I kidding? Now I used to love to wait tables but now I find that I don't enjoy the public so much. So now I work as a housekeeper at the Best Western. At first people look at me and tell me that I am better than that and I don't need to clean up after people. My question is; who then deserves to clean up after filthy, disgusting, nasty, stinky men and their numerous wenches that they bring home from the bar? Really, who really deserves that kind of work? No one, that's who. But like everyone says, somebody's got to do it. And so that is where my lovely self comes in. Each day, with my hair pulled back, and my "bib" Paul likes to call it. It's my uniform, that is so poorly made, it's embarrassing to wear at times. All the time. I come to work, sometimes on time, usually a few minutes later than the rest. No one minds, because I have to clean toilets and who really wants to yell at a person for being late fully aware that that very person has a good four hours of pube removing, as I like to call it. Ohh, the beauty of housekeeping. The question really is; why do I do it, for the pittance I receive? For some reason, I enjoy cleaning. It's a great way to relieve stress.

Today for instance, I was rather hung over from a night full of events. When I woke this morning, I felt like a piece of gum chewed by a bum laying in the streets of Toronto. But once I started making beds and windexing mirrors, I felt great. I like my job. It's petty and simple, but hey so am I. I thought about my friends in university and college in far away lands and I wondered if I would be happier if I too chose that expected path. For awhile I actually stressed over that very question and now I don't regret anything. No regrets. Life in my small town with one boyfriend and one or two friends that still live here, was all I needed this year. After highschool, after all the dramatic events such as prom and graduation I realized that life can be a whole lot simpler. Do I really need to go to some college for something I don't really want? Do I need to prove to this town that I am better than everyone else because I left at the first chance that I got? No. Trends. Highschool is full of them, and life is even more jam packed with them. It seems to me that University and College have turned into trends. It's important to go yes, but make sure that it's for the right reasons and the right reasons only.

I have a lot of time to ponder my thoughts as I vacuum and dust night-stands. I think about anything and everything that my mind will allow me to. I love thinking. It's therapeutic and makes a person wiser. I also don't mind walking in on the odd naked man in his room either. No I actually really don't like bursting through the door shouting, "Housekeeping!" and finding a poor, surprised man laying with his blankets off, naked. It's rather embarrassing for both of us. Especially when that very man runs into me a few times before he checks out forever. It's all part of the housekeeping experience. Waterspots, dirty floors, stained sheets and naked men.

I trust my choices because I figure by now I seem to know what I am doing. At least that's how I feel today. Who knows how I'll be feeling tomorrow...

Energizer Mummy

Everyone has a mom. They may not know her, they may hate her, they may think the world of her... the list of possibilities are endless. For me, my mom is everything to me. I know that in a mother's womb, a child is said to bond the most with his mother. But I find now, in struggling times, I bond with her the most.

Kim, such a simple, somewhat dull name doesn't serve my mom justice. Yet, she gives the name Kim more meaning just by being who she is. My mom truly is amazing. She has had a tough life yet she's always smiling. She's positive and is always concerned with everyone else around her. Which can pose a problem. She is walked on, and has been all of her life. My mom will always think of others, even in times when it is her that is in desperate need of attention. When my dad was in the hospital slowly giving in to the cancer, she wanted to make sure that all of the family was okay and taken care of. Even though she was the one in the most pain of all; losing her one and only. She has been through a divorce with my real dad and had to raise three kids all on her own. Her childhood..? Aren't they all screwed up in some form or another? Other's more difficult to overcome than most. Yet she's somewhat like the 'Energizer Bunny'... she just keeps going and with each difficulty in her life... makes her go even harder and stately as ever.

She's my rock, as I've mentioned before. She survives and with that, inspires those around her to do the same. My mom and I are a lot alike in many ways. Before when I was in the snotty, teen stages, that would ignite many arguements. But now it seems to have rendered us closer together. In a sense, we , as in the two of us are in a seperate family of our own. I say this because I feel that we have gone through the very most together, out of anyone else I have been encountered with in my life. My brother and sister may not agree with me, but it seems that way to me. They have been through the same and most definetly more than I have because they were older when my parents were divorced. Yet, I still feel because I am the youngest and still live at home with my mom, that we are going through the very most we might ever have to in our lives at this very point. The loss of a husband, and the loss of the best dad I'll ever know, all under the same roof. I must admit, it's hectic and at times rather depressing here. But it is making me stronger. It is shaping the person that I am becoming. With that, I can't hate what has happened... If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't be who I am today and will be tomorrow.

My mom is who she is because of what she has endured in her life. She is my angel, the person I want to become as I grow into the woman I will be...

My Mom

Me and my dad when I was teeny..