The End

This is it. One year ago today I started this blog. It's been (mostly) a lot of fun and I'm glad I did it. But all good things must come to an end and especially before said good things become not-so-good. Now I understand why Bea Arthur left all of her TV shows at the height of their fame. But I digress.

Anyhow, I thought that for my last blog post I would try to encapsulate what this blog has been about. And then I thought, Why do that when someone else can do it for me? Actually, my mom gave me the idea. Thanks, Mom!

 

Thanks to all my readers. I appreciate that you deigned my writing to be something worth reading.

The End

Love Is

Don't read this if a) you're my sister Little Jo b) you're not into professions of love for one's husband or b) you don't feel like reading something mushy.

Love is leaving the last bit of cream for my coffee and taking regular milk for yourself.

Love is telling me the truth even when I don't want to hear it.

Love is bathing Jr every night.

Love is being the first one up out of bed in the morning to get Jr.

Love is 3 surprises for our anniversary.

Love is correcting translations at work when you have a busy day.

Love is recognizing when you've put your foot in your mouth and apologizing for it.

Love is patience.

Love is comfort and encouragement.

Love is giving a back rub when you don't really feel like it.

Love is blowing up the kiddie pool and not being upset when we didn't use it.

Love is offering to pick up dinner when you hear the desperation in my voice.

Love is thanking me every week (without fail) for doing the laundry.

I love you Ooogly-Woogly Bear!

To Be Rescued

Last night hubby and I watched The Expendables. First, you have to understand that when hubby and I decide to watch a movie, one of us picks three movies from our collection and the other chooses one out of the three. If I don't like the three movies he picked, or vice versa, I have to choose three new movies. So you can guess that last night was hubby's turn to pick four movies (because sometimes we try to give our mate more options if we know they probably won't like most of our choices). My choices were: Star Trek (bleh), Inception (boring and sad), Sherlock Holmes (good but I've seen it many times) or The Expendables (not a huge fan but I didn't mind).

If you're not familiar, The Expendables was written and directed by Sylvester Stallone, just like Rocky. Except now Sly is 60 years old and looks like a huge candle that has melted into a bumpy, almost unrecognizable mess. The plot is fairly simple and the script often bordering on cheesy. But if you're looking for a good blow-em-up, cut-em-up, see-the-blood-gush movie, this is for you.

But I was struck by how romantic Sly must be, for lack of a better word. One character returns to his girlfriend after a month's absence killing bad guys overseas. She has found another boyfriend, but one that beats her. When he sees the bruises on her face he immediately finds her boyfriend and kicks the crap out of him. "I know I'm not perfect," he tells the girl afterward, "but you should have waited. I was worth it." 

And then Sly returns to a tiny island in the Gulf on a suicide mission to save a woman he's met only once before. He crashes into the room where she's being tortured, kills the two guards in a rather gruesome fashion and gathers the woman in his arms. "No one's going to hurt you anymore, I'm here."

It reminded me of when I used to play with Barbies. There was always an "evil" Ken (which was actually a Jordan doll from New Kids on the Block), who would kidnap Barbie. It was always winter or very cold in the cave where he kept her. "Good" Ken (actually Joey from New Kids on the Block) would come and save Barbie, wrapping her in a warm blanket and carrying her to safety in her arms.

Presumably, since Sly wrote and directed this movie, he likes the idea of a man saving a woman and that his audience, mostly men, like this idea as well. Where did this innate desire or compunction to rescue/protect come from? And why do women want it too?

From Sex and the City:

Charlotte: It's because women really just want to be rescued.
Carrie: (voiceover) There it was. The sentence independent single women in their thirties are never supposed to think, let alone say out loud.
Charlotte: I'm sorry but it's true. I've been dating since I was fifteen. I'm exhausted. Where is he?
Miranda: Who? The white knight?
Samantha: That only happens in fairy tales.

I remember when hubby and I were dating. We went to a restaurant with a bunch of people that were more my friends than his, but still not good friends of mine. I wasn't 100% comfortable and he knew that. So when we walked into the restaurant, he had his arm around my waist. Then he took my coat and pulled out my chair for me. When we left, he likewise helped me with my coat and took my waist. It was like he was shielding me and letting everyone at the table know I was his and under his protection. At least that's how it felt to me.

I am not ashamed to admit that I like hubby taking care of me. I take comfort in knowing he is my defender and my champion. I like the idea of being "rescued". 

On the other hand, I don't want to be treated like a child. I don't agree that the man is the head of the household. We're partners and we both have equal say. I don't want or need hubby never to cry or show emotion or feel that he has to "be strong" all the time. After all, sometimes men need (and want) to be rescued too.

But if hubby is the head, well....

"The man is the head of the house, but the woman is the neck; and the neck can turn the head any way she wants." ~ Maria in My Big Fat Greek Wedding

Play Date and Progress

Just had Little Monster and her mom over for a play date. It was the perfect excuse to clean. Unfortunately only the upstairs got cleaned but something clean is better than nothing clean. The girls spilled Cheerios on the living room floor and Jr threw some food on the dining room floor so it's almost as messy as before I cleaned but what can do you.

I admit it was nice not having to leave the house. Little Monster lives on the other side of the island so it takes a minimum of 30 minutes to get to her house, and that with no traffic. 99% of the time I really don't mind going over. It means not having to clean, not having to cook and I can leave whenever I want. But since Little Monster's parents' car is, shall we say, on its last leg, they don't like driving it long distances, which I can appreciate. So 99% of the time, we go to their house. Today was an exception and it was really nice having company. On the plus side, when they left I put Jr down straightaway for her nap, rather than have her fall asleep in the car and then not want to take a proper nap at home.

Regardless of the fact that it would be nice if we lived closer to each other, I would much rather make the trek to her house than have to wait over an hour for hubby to get home from work because he's trying to get through rush hour traffic through the island. So here we stay.

I'm also happy to report that our exterior stairs and walkway are being redone as I type. It was a last-minute call yesterday evening to ask if it was all right if they started today instead of the end of the week. By all means, the sooner the better! Jr is afraid of the workmen and they're making a lot of noise while Jr naps but it's worth it. It'll be a relief not to have to tell people to avoid the middle steps when they come over and for the walkway to look like an actual walkway, not a lawn with bits of stone showing.

Progress!

Catholic Church Conundrum

Yesterday hubby and I were on our way to church when I saw a sign to sign up for Scouts. I thought to myself, Why would anyone sign up for Scouts when they're not allowing gay men to be Scout leaders? Then I thought, Well that's a bit hypocritical to say when we're on our way to a Catholic church!

My brother once said the same thing to me not long ago. How can I be a part of an organization that doesn't allow women the same rights and privileges as men? And I ask myself, how can I be part of an organization that doesn't give homosexuals the same rights as heterosexuals?

At the time I said that there is no perfect religion and that no matter where I go, there will be something I disagree with. I still adhere to this but somewhat lacking in conviction. I believed that I could still be Catholic and be pro-gay rights. I would show people that not all Catholics were the same. I would change things from the inside. But it's rather a silly notion, isn't it? What can I really change when all the decisions are being made by an old man in Rome? What can I actually change when the old man in Rome will be replaced by another old man, chosen by a boys club?

I don't stay with the Catholic Church because it's what I know. I don't stay with the Catholic Church because it makes my life easier in some respects. I stay because despite the many things I disagree with, there are many things I love. Things I would miss if I left. Things I yearn for when I attend worship services elsewhere.

And then there are Catholics I know whom I admire and respect. They, like me, are "liberal". They, like me, have studied theology. They are here. They stay. Surely there are intelligent, reasonable people within every religious organization, no matter their beliefs, so I don't know if that's really a valid point...

I suppose one of the other reasons I'm feeling this way is attempting to make friends with people at church. All summer hubby and I have been sitting in the back of the church with the other young families and making a point to say hello, introduce ourselves and then talk to them every week. Yesterday no one said hello to us and frankly, I was too tired and suffering from PMS to make the effort. It made me grumpy. Resentful. 

Maybe I'm naive in thinking that Protestant churches are big happy families where each and every member is involved, but I do know that whichever church I've visited -- Pentecostal, United, Evangelical -- more than one person has approached me to say hi and welcome. It would be nice to be a part of a group of people that care about welcoming new people as much as I do, instead of having cliques of the same people who always do everything and therefore end up sticking together.

I don't know. I just don't know.

Ya-Ya Sisterhood

Last night I asked hubby to watch The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. Suffice to say he wasn't too pleased about the prospect but he did anyway. 

[ I just don't understand him sometimes! He loves Twilight and the Story of Us but then he acts like I'm crazy for suggesting One True Thing! How does one chick flick differ from another I ask you?! But I digress.]

In the end he said it wasn't too bad. There was one scene, however, that he laughed so hard and so long for that we missed the next scene. Sidda, the main character, is having a fight with her fiance Connor, although it's mostly a fight she's made up in her head based on things Connor said taken out of context. She's ranting and raving over the telephone when suddenly Connor stops talking and trying to make her see reason because he's at a loss for words and frankly, bewildered. Sidda bursts out: "Do NOT start that patronizing "You're-crazy-now-so-I-won't-make-any-sudden-moves-till-you're-finished" thing!"

 You can watch the video here. It's taken off of someone's TV so not very good quality (video or sound), but you get the idea.

Well. Hubby thought that was the most hilarious line he'd ever heard. Because that's exactly what he does when I'm on a crazy rant. It infuriates me. A) because he's patronizing me like I'm a little kid having a temper tantrum (and if I am?!?) and B) because he's not responding to what I'm saying (SAY something!!!). I know it's self-preservation kicking in and he knows that the chance of him saying something to piss me off even further is pretty good. And I know in these instances I'm looking for a fight.

So you can see why he thought that part was particularly funny -- what with having a part of his life played out on the big screen.

Oh well. At least he enjoyed some of the movie and I got to watch what I wanted.

Ahh married life.

Farewell, Play Group

This morning was our last play group in the park outing. It makes me sad that it's over. It means summer is coming to an end and it means we won't be seeing Peter Rabbit and his mom anymore for play dates since she's going back to work.

I've found something for us to do starting in September with a re-invented Belles Mamans. They are now offering classes all over the place in other people's place of business, which makes a lot of sense. Don't have to pay rent and you can better cater to your clients who live all over the island of Montreal -- and off it, like myself. Jr and I are taking a course called Sensory Exploration. I imagine that to mean playing with toys, instruments, singing and whatever else delights the senses of a toddler. I don't really care what we do. It gets us out of the house and in contact with other moms and toddlers.

This morning I spoke with two moms in the play group I had never sat with before because their kids are babies -- they make Jr look like a kid, not a baby. I think one is turning 1 next month and the other is maybe 6 months old. I was listening to their labor and delivery stories and I realized the grass always looks greener on the other side until you actually walk over to the other side and take a good look. One mom pushed for 3 hours and she vomited almost the entire time. Push. Vomit. Push. Vomit. The other mom had three miscarriages before she was finally able to conceive her daughter and then was put on bed rest at 20 weeks because the placenta was so low. She was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance at one point because her bleeding was so heavy.

And yet somehow, by some miracle, 10 moms and their kids got together for a play date this morning. We all have our stories and we all have our horror stories, whether from pregnancy or delivery or the first 6 months or the first year, or from now. No matter what the story is, we need to stick together and help each other. Despite your partner knowing everything you went through, sometimes you need another mom to understand. 

So let's be nicer to each other, okay mommies? No more treating motherhood like a competitive sport! No more judgment! And older moms (or moms with older kids or kids that are now grown, I should say), this goes for you too! Your memory can play tricks on you. You weren't Super Mom. You didn't do everything perfectly. You made mistakes. You were at a loss sometimes. You hated getting unsolicited advice. Give us new moms, us moms at the beginning of the race, a break. We could use your sympathy and your compassion.

Okay, I'm done now.