Happy.

When I had The Boy, I spent three days in the hospital. I was in a room with five other new moms, separated by orange curtains on two sides, and walls on the other two. I didn’t have many visitors, and spent most of the day sleeping, feeding the baby, and staring at my thumbs until a nurse came to check on us or mealtime rolled around.

I thought I’d go nuts.

On the second day, I took The Boy to the nursery down the hall so I could grab a much-needed shower. Something was different. The air was still stale. The lighting was still fluorescent. Even the windows were a decent walk away (well, when we consider I had just had a 10lb baby.. anywhere is a decent walk away ).

And then.. I realized what was different. The radio was on.

I hadn’t been able to put my finger on it. Sure, staying in the hospital for a couple days can be a chore. It’s boring. It smells funny. I’m pretty sure my cell roommates were insane. But.. hearing that music.. made me realize that I’d somehow lost touch with the outside world… if only for a day or two.

And here I am again. After a horrendous fall.. I’m back in synch with the outside world. I’m happy. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it a few months ago, but in some cheesy Sound-Of-Music way, I’m happy.. and all the little things I missed are back.

We’re already halfway through the semester. My schedule isn’t so rough. I have time to piss away an entire afternoon watching movies.  I’ve had time to take The Girl sledding and spend time with friends. The house is cleaner (sorta). The car hasn’t broken down in at least a month. I have time. Time to sleep and play and strum my guitar and get my homework done and read to the kids and spend an afternoon in the park. I feel like me again.

It’s remarkable how silly, cheesy little pleasures in life are taken for granted so easily. Stop and smell the flowers, I suppose.

Stop and play the radio.

In the last 100 days.

In the last 100 days, I have slept less than 500 hours. I have pulled 7 all-nighters.

I have submitted 29 homework assignments and 39 lab reports. I have written 9 midterms in the last 100 days.

In the last 100 days I have been to the doctor’s 13 times and filled 12 prescriptions. I have packed 63 snacks for kindergarten and scrounged enough for 3 show-and-tells. I have given 5 lice treatments in the last 100 days.

In the last 100 days, I have made 300 bottles. I have changed 300 diapers. I have built 26 circuits and written 28 programs. I spent 6 weekends at school, and have done over 200 loads of laundry in the last 100 days.

In the last 100 days, I drank 300 cups of coffee. I was out with friends 3 times, and have watched 4 movies in the last 100 days.

I have had 2 complete meltdowns.

I want to say I survived. I want to say “it was tough, but I’m tougher.” And yet..

I don’t know how I did it. I don’t know how I look at the calendar now. And see all that’s left is 4 final exams in the next 10 days. Twelve hours of exams to determine how much I did or did not learn in the last 100 days. Do or die, I suppose. Next semester won’t be as bad. I look forward to the next 100 days.

August

August is almost over, and what a month it’s been. I only had one class for most of the month, and while it was a reasonable amount of work, I was still able to enjoy much of the summer.

The Girl went to B.C. (or A.B.C., as she calls it) for 10 whole days. I didn’t want her to go — mostly for selfish reasons. I’d never been away from her for that long, and I wonder if she realized how long “10 sleeps” would really be. She drives me nuts most days, but when she was gone, I was distraught. I needed the break. But really, just.. distraught. I called her every day, and I know she had a great vacation. She came back with a fresh new haircut and was back to driving me nuts within a couple days

There is one more sleep til Kindergarten. One more. We’ve been counting down. The supplies are ready to go. We have our markers and pencils and glue sticks and paint shirt. We have a backpack and lunch kit and crayons and new shoes. The Girl and I went shopping for school clothes (she doesn’t need them, but it IS the first day of Kindergarten). Dresses were hard to find. All I could see in the 4 – 5 stores we went to were “sweater dresses” and leggings. Really? Cause I think I wore that on MY first day of Kindergarten in 1984. Perhaps I should have saved my lime green and pink track suit from Grade 3.

The Boy is getting bigger. It’s amazing how they do that. He’s almost 8 months old now. Not crawling, but sitting quite well. He doesn’t have any teeth yet, but the way he gums anything within reach.. they should start coming any day now. We are experimenting with more finger foods.

I picked up my textbooks for the fall semester. I managed to find them all used, which meant they were cheaper, and a little broken in, so I don’t need to feel guilty about the odd scratch or singe marks when I inevitably set fire to them halfway through the course. When I brought them all to the cashier at the bookstore, she announced my total: “Three hundred and eighty-four dollars and seventeen cents.” I expect that much, but it blows me away every time. Three hundred and eighty-four dollars and seventeen cents for USED books? That I’m probably not going to read? I was grumbling inside. Then she said, “Would you like to purchase a bag to put them in for sixty-nine cents?”

Now, for three hundred and eighty-four dollars and seventeen cents.. for USED books, a bag should be included. No? For three hundred and eighty-four dollars and seventeen cents for USED books, she should be coming to scrub my bathroom with a toothbrush three times a week for a year.

“No. No, thank you.” I loaded them into the bottom of the stroller — which almost collapsed from the weight — and went off to purchase my plastic parking pass for two hundred and fifty dollars and twenty-six cents. At least I’ll be using that.

After the car was loaded, I rummaged through the pile of books for my physics lab manual. I’ve been so worried about this class, and have actually arranged my last few semesters so that I can take it twice, if need be. A defeatist attitude, perhaps. I flipped it open — gingerly at first, then like a 12 year old with a new comic book.

I could not believe the words that came out of my mouth: “Well, that doesn’t look SO bad.. ” Did I really say that?

 

The next 100 days.. will be the death of me.

CLEAR!

I’m trying to keep this blog alive. Really. I realize that my three daily readers must be distraught that there haven’t been new posts lately, but this is unfortunately one-more-thing-I-don’t-have-time-for. It’s been BUSY here, in the Survivor house. I have midterms stacked on top of finals. I have labs and assignments I constantly have to ask for extensions on. I have laundry piling up, friends I haven’t called in forever, and I swear I haven’t been out just to have fun in months. The Boy is being baptized on Sunday, so there have been baptism classes and preparations to attend to. The Girl is all done preschool and is busy preparing for kindergarten. We are having a wall constructed in the house (and I LOVE it), so the hysteria doesn’t end when we come home.

But… my night class is officially over. One of my labs is ending tomorrow. Finals are in two weeks, and I will have two less classes to worry about. I have made the diffucult decision to stop breastfeeding The Boy, so I suppose a few more minutes of the day are freed up.

I finally found some time last week to sort through the kids’ clothes. I put away The Girl’s fall clothes for next year, hauled out her summer stuff, and took whatever didn’t or won’t fit to the daycare, where apparently there’s some sort of swapping program for families who need it. I received two full black garbage bags of hand-me-downs for The Girl, and I couldn’t be happier. As a bargain hunter, these are the best kinds of deals (although much less hunting, but that’s ok too). When I was little, my sister and I would get boxes of clothes now and then sent to us from a second cousin in Ontario. It was so exciting to rip open that box and find clothes we’d never seen before in different patterns and colours. My sister would get the clothes first, naturally, and then they would be passed to me, but I always loved those boxes.

The Boy is in 12 month clothes. Already. At five months old. So there was more and more sorting through hand-me-downs and borrowed clothes and the odd clearance rack outfits that I knew would fit “eventually.”

It’s been cold here. Really, really cold. I’m not sure that this is “spring”.. or just that-inbetween-where-mother-nature-switches-from-really-friggin-cold-to-unbearably-hot. Yay, the prairies. We are 8 degrees Celcius away from snow, and in June, that almost warrants a formal complaint to Environment Canada. My furnace is on, for crying out loud. And we spend more time rummaging through the “fall” clothes bags than what it’s worth. It’s been rainy and windy and cold for the good part of a week, and I’m always amused to see people running from the pellets. It’s just water. And you shower everyday. (Granted, not fully clothed.. but you shower everyday, no?) I suppose if you were on your way to your own wedding, getting caught in the rain might be troublesome. But I never hardly ever see a woman in a long flowing white dress and veil taking cover.

Ok, I rambled. No pictures today. Mommy needs to sleep. Oh, and I should add: I don’t stare at the stairs anymore

Graduation

We have a graduate in the house!

The Girl graduated preschool!

I missed the “ceremony” because of my own classes, but I got to hear the “ABC Song in French” and “Bonjour, Mes Amis, Bonjour” tonight before bed.

I am so, so proud of this kid.

Lawnmowers and Lunacy

I’m not burning the candle at both ends. The candle is long gone, it has erupted into a full-fledged forest fire, and many of those cute little bugs you see on nature shows are now screaming for mercy. It’s been a long couple of weeks.

On Monday, I went to school entirely exhausted. Now, nothing new here, but a conversation was playing out in my head as is also quite usual. And when I’m tired (or all the time, maybe) my face is completely dettached from my brain. Completely. I make faces. I give looks I don’t intend to give. I burst out laughing for seemingly no reason. I also laugh when I’m nervous or when I hang up the phone. No good reason, just weird that way.

Anyway. Here’s honest-to-goodness what was going through my head as I approached the door to the University:

       “It’s Monday. Did I take The Boy’s bottle home from daycare on Friday afternoon? I’m so tired, I don’t remember if I did or not. I don’t think I saw it in his cubby when I dropped him off. I wonder what would happen if I left him without one. They’d probably find and use another sterile bottle. They won’t let him starve, and I’ll call after class to make sure he’s ok.”

Heaven knows what my face was doing. Apparently, it was up to no good.

I reached for the door just as those last thoughts dissolved out of my head. The windows on the door are tinted, and I couldn’t see in until it was physically open. There was a girl there, and she was flipping me off.

“Keep looking,” she said. I was confused. Was she trying to tell me the door was locked? Or I missed some construction and couldn’t go in that way? Was she lost? Mistaking me for someone else? Do people REALLY flip others off when they’re not in a vehicle or freaking out on a private blog?

She threw her finger in the air again. “Keep looking!” She was furious. I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but as I passed her, my eyes (consciously this time!) got big.

“Yeah, you keep your eyeballs in your HEAD.”

I ignored her, but I was walking quickly between her and a flight of stairs. A uniformed campus security guard passed us and smiled. (Hellooo.. .helllp..) I had no idea what the nut behind me was capable of (and she had no idea what I might have done, either). I exchanged smiles and waves with the guy who cleans the floors, as I do everyday. She noticed this, of course, and asked him if he was my brother.

Then she followed me. Through two buildings. Screaming at my back the whole time.

I have zero idea what that was all about. Zero. I must have given her a look of some sort, but I honestly don’t know what my face was doing at that moment. I’m shocked that someone would act like that. If this were a different country, she’d maybe have a gun. Nuts.

Incidentally, after class, I walked back to my car alone. Here what I was thinking:

     “Wow, that class was weird. I’m so frustrated I could pummel a small animal to death. [Ok, and I NEVER WOULD.] If n! = n*(n-1)!, that works nicely for all positive integers. But 0! = 1 because 1!=1(0)!.. so it absolutely must. But what about 0! =0(0-1)! Can that even work? What gets precedence? The factorial or the multiplcation? And crap. What about negative integers? What’s the precedence? Where the hell do the extra parentheses go? Should I just find a squirrel, break its neck, and be done with it?”

And then I burst out laughing. So, anyone passing by would have seen me looking extremely puzzled for a few minutes, and then laughing hysterially out of the blue. Nice.

I got home. I had a small window of opportunity where I could mow the lawn. I don’t weed, seed, feed, water, or garden. But I love mowing. It’s instant gratification, and a control freak’s dream to see the blades go from long to short, long to short. Wonderful! The Girl is fine to play outside where I can see her without going near the mower. But I couldn’t very well leave The Boy outside, or inside, for that matter, while I did yardwork. So while they were still at daycare, I dug the lawnmower out of the garage and set out to mow.

Except it wouldn’t start.

I added gas. I checked the oil. I primed it about eight times. I fiddled with the spark plug. (I think it’s a spark plug.) I pulled that cord probably 20 times. Nothing.

Heard a lawnmower going a few doors down, and figured there would be little harm in going to ask for help. Either that, or I would have to wait another week at least to mow. Now remember, this is The ‘Hood, so even asking for help on a Monday afternoon can lead to a Tuesday morning newpaper article, “… and she was never heard from again.”

There were two girls and guy doing yardwork two doors down. I asked the guy (because he was mowing!) if he was any good with starting stubborn lawnmowers. He said he would take a look when he was done. And I thought, wow. Not everyone sucks all the time.

One of the girls came instead. I expressed my embarrassment at not being able to get it going, but I suppose after being in the garage for a winter of many -50 days, not starting was reasonable. I told her I’d pulled the cord 20 times.

She reached down, gave it a yank, and it started. On try 21.

Hopefully my face didn’t do anything stupid at that moment

So unsuspecting..

I left my Electronics class the other day and strolled through the physics department. Everything about the morning was average. I noticed this door.

It’s in a back hallway. A regular door by all accounts. Is it an office? A lab? Classroom? Nope.

BAM! Fifth dimension.

I don’t know the story behind this, but I’m hoping it was put up quietly without much fanfare. And I hope there’s a tiny little geek snickering in a corner somewhere, going about his day. It makes the dork in me very pleased. Very pleased, indeed.

Back to skool

After a 4-month hiatus, I am back at school! And ohhh, what a day. I am NOT a morning person, but I set my alarm for 8AM. And I was up by eight. Thirty. Ish. The Girl dressed herself before I even had to ask (what a sweetheart). I showered, dressed, fed The Boy, cleaned up the resulting vomit (I’m going to have to diaper his face soon, I think), made cereal for the girl, made coffee, combed hair, clipped nails, etc etc etc until 10AM. When I realized I hadn’t even emptied a backpack since December. ARGH. I found one, dumped it upside down, and threw in 2 pens, a fresh pack of paper, a calculator (mmm nerdy), my wallet, and my class schedule and we were out-the-door-let’s-go-let’s-GO and in the car with engine running by 10:13AM.

Drove to daycare and was back on my way to school 9 minutes later. Trying to not buy a parking pass this summer, I parked a block or so away (half in a 2-hour spot, half in a no-stopping spot). The paid parking area isn’t that much closer, really. It’s usually pretty nice here in the summer, and I might as well walk off that baby weight, even if it’s only 10 minutes at a time.

Finally got to the University with 20 minutes to spare. I walked in, and immediately sucked in a smell I didn’t know I’d been missing: old textbooks, sweat, and floor cleaner. It was wonderful, really. Off to class. Decided not to take the 4 flights of stairs up (I did take them down later!) and chose the elevator. I always like to rationalize my laziness by telling the next person to the elevator that it’s “too early” or I’m “just lazy.” This morning though, the next person who came was in a wheelchair, so I kept my mouth shut.

And I was early. By 10 whole minutes. That never, EVER happens. The class filled up: 26 guys, 3 girls. A guy who’s been in a few of my classes sat down next to me. Had his earphones at such a level the only thing I could hear was the *boom boom hiss* of his “music.” (Do these people think we can’t hear that?) He breathed loudly. Harummm.. Harummm.. He brought lunch, I guess. Again, I’m a vegetarian, and I’m not sure what animal died to make it in that tupperware container. Good Lord. The chewing sounds.

Side rant: I can’t stand loud smokers or loud eaters. If it’s crunchy food, fine. But I know people who can’t eat mashed potatoes quietly. Saliva swishing, jaw popping, nostrils flaring, throat gulping, nose hissing. It makes me sick. This may be a remnant of an eating disorder I spent years watching, or maybe it’s just genuinely gross. I dunno. And I wonder if most people even know they’re loud eaters.

All I could picture was the gristle between his teeth. He’d wash it down occasionally with a thwiiiiiip of a water bottle. chew, chew, pop, snnnnn, harummm, chew, pop, thwiiip. And all the while, boom boom hiss. I was so happy I only had coffee for breakfast.

Then I learned stuff. Walked back to the car, drove to the grocery store to pick up baby stuff (side rant on this one too… stay tuned!), and was back to daycare by 1:30PM. All told, my 40-minute class took five and a half hours. Tomorrow’s classes start at 9:30, so I should probably just pull an all-nighter.