and laughed at by the gods

My husband and I met online. I laugh now because it was in a private chat room that was part of a newsgroup... remember them? The newsgroup was about wrestling and what was called WWF at the time.

I had started watching it when I couldn't sleep or out of sheer boredom. I had no idea who anyone was or what the whole idea behind it all was but it was better than infomercials.

We chatted for a few weeks then spoke on the phone... exchanged emails and finally decided that he would come visit. Between the time we decided he should visit and the actual visit, we also decided we'd get married. By the time he arrived in Canada we had been an online item for 8 months. I had never wanted to get married... just wanted the kids and to travel but I met him and changed my mind.

When he first arrived and the plans of the wedding were revealed, all hell broke loose for the most part. Some friends at the time, a good chunk of my family and a few strangers were all up in arms about how it would never work. How I was being stupid, being desperate (I'm the one who didn't want to get married, remember?) and endangering everyone in the process. Eventually, the loss of a few friends, a few months and a lot of tears things got better. We got married and a few months later found out we had a baby on the way.

Our first baby was a hard and stressful delivery. She scored zero on the APGAR test and spent 12 days in various parts of the NICU. I was with her the entire time and he was as much as he could be. We brought her home and started that wild ride in a new  home. Baby two came along sixteen months later and the challenges of having two kids under 5 brought with it its own share of trauma and laughs.

Time wore on and we settled into the whole family thing... kids starting school, kids in programs after school or weekends, dance performances and new friends.

The one thing that remained constant was the feeling that his money was none of my business. He flat out refused a joint bank account which was normal to everyone else... had credit and bank cards in his own name, did the taxes to which I had no idea whether there were returns or amounts owed and spent work bonuses on stupid big screen tvs I still don't know how to use or other various electronics. I paid the mortgage, insurance on two cars and home, taxes, utilities and other items such as extras for the girls, repairs or decorating supplies and for a good chunk of time, the cable or satellite, phone and internet. I was feeling the strain with mat leave running out and my babysitting gig being cut short so he took over the phone, internet and cable and started payments on a new car he wanted to make things easier on everyone.

One day in summer 2013, he asked if I'd go to the bank with him to help figure out the debt he had on his credit cards and other debts. I wasn't too clear other than a credit card what other debt there could be. When I sat down in the loan officer's office and heard he was $20 000 in the hole taking everything into consideration,  I thought I was going to either puke or pass out of both. He sensed this and although I couldn't look at him, he was very apologetic in his body language. They were suggesting putting the debt on the mortgage and moving it to their bank. He promised to pay part of the mortgage at this point to pay down the debt but I had my doubts. I had heard this before when it came to the car insurance.... that he'd pay me for it if it came out of my bank account. That lasted a whole two months at most.

Secretly, I hoped I wouldn't be saddled with this debt too because I was breaking myself as it was. I was furious with him but couldn't articulate it. Any extras the kids had been getting or expecting... any thing their friends were doing was suddenly cancelled. I started cleaning the Dojo where they took Aikdio to balance their class cost and I started shopping as frugally as I could.  I was still furious. When I would bring up the subject, it was met with defensive bullshit and childishness. I stopped asking.

The next year, still struggling. My cousin decided it was time to sell the last piece of property in my grandmother's estate. This was about 60-70 acres of woodland along with a barn, shed and paddock for a horse. It had been in the family since she was a girl. Her father bought it.

I knew the money would be divided between the cousins because the will had stated that the proceeds were to be divided by grandma's children and if they had died, their children. If they died without children, their portion was to go back into the pot and be divided by the remaining. By this time all but one of the four children had died so it was divided between six people. I had my own debt I'd been carrying for years.... a lot of it from the wedding, furnishing our first apartment ,, baby stuff and the like. I had planned to pay that off, get things fixed around the house and FINALLY be able to say YES when the girls asked to do something. Not have to worry all the damn time about money. Maybe even put some away.

It took a little over a year from the sale of the property to the cheques coming out. Typical lawyer bullshit of course. He got paid first. I got mine just after Christmas and for the first time, could breathe. I bought a few things needed for the house and was waiting until the new year to start repairs on the house or paint. He started giving me weird looks when I came home with some $12 laundry baskets... the ones we had used before were garbage and I was sick of them breaking. I brought them in and he frowned at them but didn't say what was bothering him.

It took until 2 January for him to come out with it. After putting the girls to bed he announced he thought it was time he found his own place because " If I inherited money from my family, I would have given half of it to you right away". Sorry what? Now you want to talk money? I'm supposed to pay off YOUR debt along with still covering EVERYTHING else that was major? Supposed to pay for repairs on a house you haven't contributed a cent to? Still pay your debt or pay for a new playstation for you to piss around on? No. I was in shock. When he was confronted with "so this is about money" he denied it was about money... well if it's not money what IS IT about? He'd repeat... "if I had that money, I'd give half to you" . Ok so it's because I didn't do what you SAY you'd do? No... it's not that. OK so what is it? No answer.

Many fights later... finding out he was in conversation with his sister (and likely mother) when I wasn't home ... as in them emailing to see if I was there so they could call or not and how he'd have to go quickly if I came home... we settled into an uneasy normal. It was tense... he was moody and quick to snap . He refused to discuss anything. I had given him $5000 and offered to cover groceries FOR A FEW WEEKS and he said that was fine.

In April, I borrowed his mobile to send a text to a friend. I saw another text from an 18 year old he works with and had him calling her sweetie, darling and complaining about me. I lost my patience. He didn't see anything wrong or inappropriate about it and refused to stop. In fact he hung out more with this chick even going to her house with ''other people '' supposedly when her parents were not home and staying until 1am. I went to a marriage counsellor because he wouldn't go. I hoped my going would encourage him. It did to a point. I said "I think we need to see the counsellor for our sake and the sake of the girls" He said yes he would. He had also just been tested for a few diseases but had convinced himself thanks to Dr Google that he had the fatal of them. Even our own doctor said they were just testing him for it to rule it out but he continued to tell anyone who would listen that he may be dying. Exact words. It came to August. Test results still not back and an absolutely toxic environment in the house. My 9 year old had been asking for months for me to kick him out. He was moody with her and she had enough. She started wetting the bed and talking to her friends about how mean he was to her and me. The 8 year old just sailed along wanting it all to be normal but they both knew. She would ask why I looked sad. I had enough. I asked if he would please go get help with me. The answer was a curt "no" and that he would leave once separation papers were signed. No discussion just NO.

We told the girls the next day. The elder child had no reaction.... loads of questions after but didn't react. The younger child was sobbing and asked him to stay and get help with me. He refused. How does a parent refuse that request? As soon as he said that, anything I felt for him that was left disappeared. I still don't know what he thinks I did wrong and that is the truth. He won't talk about it and in my opinion is being a puppet with his mom pulling his strings. I decided I don't need that either. He wants the girls at his apartment (which I have no idea how he will pay for on his own) Saturday night to Sunday night. during the week. I want them in clean beds and in no danger. We'll see how that goes on the salary of someone who manages a pet store. The salary of someone I asked to go for their real estate license because I knew he'd do well. I offered to pay for that. He opted to stay in the store.

I guess it's disappointment I feel. Anger toward someone who would do this to their children and for him to be such a coward and not fight for his family. I will never understand and don't want to. 

Baby Talk

When my oldest child was about 18 months old, she came with me on a routine trip to the doctor for her younger sister. She was sitting in the double stroller while her sister got her first needles and made it her business to point and "shout" at the doctor. I use the quotation mark because "shouting" was done with her soother in her mouth which kind of made the shout lose it's muster in the delivery.

The doctor asked how many words Holly was saying. I replied that she seemed to be right on schedule from anything I had read... her first word was "yak" and that had been months ago. From an early age, she used a series of noises to communicate whatever it was she needed to but since her sister had been born, she had used her soother a bit more than she had previously. The doctor suggested weaning her off the soother - if even just during the day- to see if she would use more of her words. Taking that soother out of her mouth was like pulling a plug on the Pacific Ocean and opening Pandora's Box all in one yank.

Almost immediately, she began to say or ask anything that happened to be on her mind at the time and apparently, there was a great deal on her mind. There was - and is - a constant dialogue of talking coming from her at any given moment of the day. On a trip to Toronto Airport to pick up my mother in law, Holly talked the entire way with the exception of a grand total of 30 seconds when she would be taking a drink. When we parked, my husband got out and stood with a dazed look on his face and said " I think I'm bleeding from my ears". He wasn't kidding. There have been times I've had to ask her to be quiet until I parked the car or navigated through traffic because her talking has had me so addled I've been in danger of hitting the car closest to me out of sheer confusion. There are times I simply cannot keep up with everything that is being said. Added to this, her younger sister is usually talking at the same time although not with the 'mania' Holly seems to speak with.

There have been many embarrassing times such as the day we were sitting on the front porch waiting for my husband to come home. An older lady walked by and god bless her, she didn't have on the bra she needed to. Before I could hope Holly wouldn't notice, she blurted out "Mommy... why are the lady's boobies on her belly?". In a moment that would have been the envy of any secret service agent protecting the President from an assassin, I swept her into the house and shut the door in one movement... PRAYING the woman was hard of hearing. There was also the time we were at Costco and the lady giving out samples of perogies was not only quite loud (which Holly doesn't care for) she was a bit on the manish side. In front of a gaggle of old ladies, Holly blurted out "Mommy. Does that lady have boobies or a penis? Where's her penis?". Please... Allah, Buddha, Jesus... whoever can help me. PLEASE make the concrete floor of Costco open up and swallow me whole. No such luck. The old ladies burst out laughing as I catapulted Holly in the cart down the aisle full of giant bags of cereals.

Around the time she started pre school, she decided to use alter egos, personalities and names. First was Huckle. This meant dialogues with other unseen friends. More talking. Elaborate stories including her grandfather (she doesn't have a living one) her brothers (no brothers) and other characters started to emerge and entertain us daily. Some of her personalities or friends are real jerks and after a warning that they have to follow the rules of the house, they are usually banished. We simply tell her the friend is no longer welcome here and has to go. My husband says they end up on the "island of asshole alter egos" much like the "island of misfit toys" in the Rudolph movie.

When she started school, I repeatedly told her she had to use her two ears to listen twice as much as she talked with one mouth in school. She did pretty well but according to her teachers, would go on and on at times and need to be reeled in from time to time.

She is now in grade one. The youngest in her class and loving the challenge that French Immersion provides her. She's in a grade one/two split which means she works well independently and needs a bit of a challenge. This means being quiet for large parts of the day. This also means, she needs to let loose of the many thoughts that have been trapped in her head all day. She starts talking on the bottom step of the bus which always makes the driver laugh. It usually goes like this: " Mommy. I need to tell you TWO things... FIRST of all... Second of all..." then proceeds to talk the three block walk home. It's a blur of thoughts, observations and comments: " I fell over in school today well actually Micheal at Elf Practice pushed me but not really and then the blood was gushing and I need a band aid even though it isnt bleeding now and those people have a LOT of dandelions in their garden then another kid threw up but I'm not sure what colour that was"

At bedtime, she gets two stories and three songs sung to her. She talks through most of that too. Finally, after her music is turned on, she has said she loves me and I go downstairs, I can still hear her talk until she goes to sleep. I know there will come a day when I'll yearn to hear that wonderous, childhood banter and the noise that comes with it. But for now, I'll enjoy my few moments of silence until it starts again. It gives me time to catch up with what has been said all day.

Back to Black

In April 1993, I was already going through my own personal hell. Events unfolding had just pushed me... sorry SHOVED me off a precipice that would require years to recover from but I didn't know that yet. I was standing on the stairs at a boutique I was doing wardrobing and buying for when the news came over the radio that Kurt Cobain had been found dead. Everything stopped and I stood paralyzed not able to take in and process what I'd just heard. I remember feeling like someone had just punched me in the ribs - hard - and I was winded. Getting enough breath back to speak, I asked an equally shocked co worker if they had just said what I thought they said.

That night, I went to a friends house and the group of 7 or so of us just sat in stunned silence watching Much Music who had been covering the event since announcing it earlier. After Erica Ehm started making mistakes on simple details like how many albums Nirvana had released, we left and went to a pub around the corner and had quite a few drinks.

To this day, if I head "All Apologies" I am usually reduced to tears. For most Gen Xers, he was our John Lennon.

Fast forwarding to early 2004, I am engaged and one of the things my future brother in law sends is a copy of a CD by an Amy Winehouse called "Frank". It had been ten years since I'd been excited about a new musician. Not anything like I normally listened to, it spoke to me and I'd crank it and sing along at the top of my lungs. The day Back to Black was released, I had my copy soon after the store opened and I was blown away. There are several tracks I love on it but my hands down favourite was Back to Black. LOVED the video - black and white had always spoken to me with it's detail, shadows and crisp lines.

In the video, she is burying her broken heart. It plays like a funeral you'd see in Britain and is by far one of the most beautiful videos on my favourites list. Her make up, hair and clothes spoke to the style hungry design student in me... a huge fuck you to mainstream and expected and to me, this was exactly what was needed in music and fashion at this point.

She met her Blake and seemed to fall into a wild kind of love you first experience when you're young and haven't had your heart beaten down a few times. He was her soul mate at the time and by the way they looked at each other, you knew that it was mutual. He introduced her to crack and cocaine. He loved her THAT much.

At first, the press seemed to jump on the old heroin chic bandwagon of years before and any photo of her would show how wonderfully skinny she was becoming. It was funny to them... go to rehab? No no no. What's funnier than that, right?

The thing is, she DID go to rehab. In fact, she was in rehab when she won her Grammy. After being granted permission to leave and perform for the Grammys via satellite, she was shoved on stage, propped up likely shot up and made to perform. Her reaction to winning artist of the year was genuine and fresh. I sat and cried happy tears.

Then the bottom fell out and suddenly, heroin chic was not so chic any more. As if the media needed reminding there is NOTHING chic about being that addicted or looking like that... nope... all of a sudden any unflattering photo of Amy was worth more than a flattering shot. Fabulous. Just what a struggling addict needs... another blow to the self esteem.

All of a sudden, Blake filed for divorce and she was falling farther down the rabbit hole but this time, Wonderland didn't exist.

My mobile phone went off in the middle of a 'look around' trip to Toys R Us. It simply said "BBC is saying Amy Winehouse was found dead" from my husband. I froze. This was too familiar, suddenly. I literally could not move. I could feel the lump in my throat growing and I looked around the store and saw people going on about their day not knowing she was gone. Knowing my husband was likely busy, I texted one of my best friends who had internet on her phone at work to please check to see if this was true. Confirmed. I needed to leave.

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" I told my two girls that Amy Winehouse had died. "why?" Why indeed.

Over the next two days, I witnessed a huge amount of vile opinions and lack of compassion. I got sick of seeing "she deserved it" " it was obvious, a matter of time" and the holier than thou crowd telling the rest of us it was a lesson to just say no..., like that lesson worked the first time. People with Buddhas as their profile pics on facebook were proudly declaring their lack of compassion... it wasn't a tragedy. Like I argued on a friend's status... my cousin died at 20 from an overdose. Three times in rehab. Do YOU want to call his parents, sister and brother and tell them it's not a tragedy? I'll more than oblige you with the number. I dare you. No one took me up on the dare. Big surprise.

No I didn't know Amy personally. I wasn't that lucky... or maybe I was. How much her family and friends have felt all these years knowing there was nothing they could to to help her other than going through the motions of attempting to get her to accept help. The addiction wasn't going to let that happen though. The addiction owned her and she wasn't making any decisions without checking with it first. I didn't know her yet I am heartbroken. Too young, too talented, too under appreciated to go yet. But she IS gone and yes it IS a tragedy.

Back to black. Rest well Amy and if there are such things as choirs of angels, show them how it's done.

The Killer Next Door

We live in a semi detached house. Not our first choice by a long shot. It's in the suburbs, it matches all the other houses on the street.... in fact, it matches quite a few other houses on other streets in this subdivision. Somewhere in the very far recesses of my mind, I can remember when this was all a farmer's field. The farmhouse to it was around until the mid 80s I think but this subdivision was built in the mid to late 70s.

In 1979, my mother's best friend moved in to what was then a new house on the crescent which backs on to our street. I remember going out exploring one night with her son and some of his friends and running around some of the houses in the process of being built. At that time, they were framed, floored and that was about it. If memory serves, the one we went into was right across the street from where I live now.

We moved in December 2005. A few days before Holly was born. We had come to the point where getting a house downtown that we could afford and liked was impossible so it is remaining our pipe dream. The day we moved in, the neighbour guy came right over and introduced himself. Nothing was in the house... I was waiting for the appliances, nine months pregnant, no where to sit and unable to help do ANYTHING. I saw his little daughter once in the backyard a few weeks later and then they were gone. As Adam says "pulled a runner" and left nothing but a huge pile of garbage that kept getting visited by seedy characters in beat up trucks until it was carted off by the garbageman.

It was empty a long time. The actual owners would come stick up hardware store signs that read "for rent" and they'd no sooner be gone than it would either fall over or be stolen. Finally, a family moved in. There was a lot of yelling and cursing outside, bratty kids hopping the fence all the time which resulted in my husband becoming "that guy" who goes out to shout at the kids not to hop the fence.

There seemed to be a million kids living in the house ranging in age from 15 down to 5. The mother would appear the odd time but mostly it was her boyfriend outside yelling at the kids or her. One day there was a huge fight and soon after, the for rent sign reappeared.

Next was a family from North Bay. They had a huge German Sheppard dog named Roxy and Holly was in love. EVERY dog she saw was "Roxy Dog" be it real or plastic or stuffed animal... Roxy Dog. These people seemed much calmer but no less white trash. There were loud, outdoor fights and music that shook the walls in OUR house. They had a little girl who blissfully slept through it all or wandered off . The dog got out on a regular basis due to a lovely dog sized hole in the fence.

Adam announced one day before Christmas that he had agreed to look after the house when they were 'back up north' for Christmas. I asked him the usual "for how long" " did you get a number they can be reached at if something happens " etc and all I got in return was a blank stare and "no". They left a note in the mailbox the morning they went saying they couldn't find the key so they were leaving the side door unlocked. Lovely. No contact number, no instructions, no nothing. At the time, I was babysitting a little girl the same age as Ava so it was me and three kids under 3. One morning it was cold and pouring rain and I noticed a guy in a jeep parked in front of the house in the middle of the street with his window down and yelling something. I went outside and he informed me the dog was sitting on the back stoop. Sure enough, there was Roxy. Socking wet and happy to be let back in. I have no idea to this day how she got out but scant seconds later, Animal Control drove slowly up the street. Did I mention Roxy's license was expired?

Another night, it was bitterly cold and windy as hell. No snow, just the wind. Adam went over to feed the dog and take her for a walk. He was gone longer than usual and when he DID come back, he was out of breath and frozen. He had gone out to tend to Roxy and she had met him on the front steps with the front door wide open. Roxy saw Adam and thought she would have a bit of fun so took off running. Adam ran after her for about three blocks until she dashed across Sarnia Road ( a four lane, busy street) with Adam hot on her heels. She almost made it the block to the railway tracks but decided to let Adam off and take her home. I came over to help him figure out what the hell had gone wrong with the door. In the door jam, there is a steel plate that the deadbolt part fits into... well this was gone so the slightest push would open the door even if it was locked. We piled tons of shit behind the door to keep it shut. Weights, bags of dog food, anything we could find. All the while, Roxy is asleep on the couch... occasionally opening one eye to watch.

The spring came and one day we came home to three police cars on the street and the neighbour's boyfriend being hauled out in cuffs. Soon after a real for rent sign went up with an estate agent and everything.

It sat empty for a few more months until a family moved in with teenagers. They were gone just as fast but not before a loud party.

Finally, the Muslim family moved in. There were three little boys, the father apparently did research with breast cancer at the hospital and the mother stayed home with the kids. Other than the live from Mecca prayer music that was loud enough to come through the walls a few times a day, and the noise of kids there was finally peace. They would wave, no yelling and screaming, no cursing or hopping fences. Polite kids and the mom was nice to talk to while we waited for the school bus. Ava being Ava was a bit shy and would play side by side but not with their youngest who was a few weeks younger than she. Finally, they started playing together. Malik would be lifted over the fence and run around in our garden with the girls. His older brothers looked like they wanted to come too but were too cool for younger kids AND girls at that. We knew they were moving. He didn't get along with his boss and quit. Being a muslim man, it wasn't surprising. They tend to be a bit of an authority on everything and do not take well to authority. The family was to go back to Jordan for a few weeks then come back and move. The wife told me the family moving in was Indian and were very nice with two little boys.

I thought GREAT! More quiet, respectful neighbours. I was wrong. They are not Indian. They are from Sudbury. There is a joke I always tell when someone is going anywhere north of Barrie... I'll say "Sudbury (or where ever)? There's nothing up there but whores and hockey players" ha ha ha we all laugh. Well I am not laughing now.

My first inkling there was something odd afoot was the number of pickups that arrived with the family. Some kind of converted horse wagon as a moving van and a huge trampoline. This was quickly accompanied by one of those big, blow up swimming pools. There are more indoor chairs outside in their yard than are IN my house and now a huge... and I mean HUGE tent is stuck up in the middle of the back. There are two 'rooms' on either side of a main "room" in this tent. I've never seen a thing like it. There is an older guy... maybe somewhere in his 40s with that white blond scraggly hair and ruddy complexion... he always ALWAYS has a trucker hand on his head and a beer in his hand. His wife... seems nice enough but has smoker voice. A younger girl... maybe her younger sister... and a guy that wears shorts large enough for the entire family to fit in, no shirt huge gold chain around his neck. He is usually seen with a smoke hung out his mouth and is usually doing wheelies up the road on his bike or in the back with his smoke, a beer in one hand and a water gun in the other... spraying the kids and women alike. They yell over the fence (chain link, came with the original house) to me when I am BBQing and say how they don't like the fence as it keeps the kids apart. Little do they know my plan for a nice big privacy fence. As my dad always said... "good fences make good neighbours. " Truer words, my dear father... truer words.

The Last Day of Kindergarten

Getting Holly ready for school today was slightly exciting for her but not so much for me. She was thrilled the summer has officially started as of 3 pm this afternoon because it means swimming lessons, playing at the park, going to the zoo and her best friend Danry's return from his stay in Germany. I, on the other hand, was a little sad that my little girl was no longer going to be a kindergartener.

When she was born, she and I spent the first two weeks in the hospital. It wasn't what I had expected the birth of my first child to be like because things had gone a lot off plan and she ended up in NICU. Working your way out of NICU meant several steps... the last being "Care by Parent". We had our own room and the baby was allowed to stay with us with a common area with kitchen and bathroom and two nurses on duty at all times. I was exhausted, still recovering from a c section and eclampsia and a new mom. Being discouraged was part of the day. After yet another round of doctor's visits, it was decided her feeding tube could not yet come out. Maybe it was the hormones but I remember just sobbing at this news. I wanted to go home with my baby and start getting into the new normal. The nurse - an excellent lady - said "don't worry... she won't go to kindergarten with it in". Kindergarten? That was YEARS away. Almost as far in the future as university. BUT time has a funny way of going by FAST and before you know what's happening.

Last September, my little girl climbed on the bus for the first time and I concentrated on not throwing up and bawling my eyes out as not to embarrass her. She had a good year in kindergarten... not the most creative teacher I've seen but a great teacher nonetheless. She's reading already at the level of at least an 8 year old, knows about life cycles, some math and lots of French.

But today is the last day. I am thrilled she'll be with me all day again and able to take swimming lessons, go to the park or just GO without having to think about school or getting up early or whatever. Maybe I'm a weird parent but I hate going back to school for my kids. I keep my thoughts to myself because they both love it... Holly for learning and Ava for the social aspect but for me it's a few hours every day without my right and left arm. I get anxious thinking someone is teasing or hurting them or that they'll be hurt or god forbid, some pervert should try to pick them up.

Holly decreed that since she is graduating kindergarten, she should be taken out for dinner AND is the boss of the day. If anyone doesn't do as she says, she has threatened to call "the cops" and have the offender thrown in jail for an undecided amount of time. Adam is to stop drinking coffee and sitting around. Ava is not to touch her things and I am to walk her to the bus and pick her up. I got off pretty easy. I'm sure Adam and Ava will have many other things added to their lists but for now Adam is safe at work and Ava is safe at home while Holly is at school.

I guess everyone deserves to be a dictator once in a while.