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Cooking in the Time of COVID-19: How About We Make a Pelau Today?

Today I am going to show a real traditional, staple Trinidadian dish. If you are Trinidadian/Tobagonian and you can’t make Pelau, I don’t know what to say to you other than, you’d better learn. Pelau is a one pot meal, made with nutritious and tasty ingredients that fills bellies. I can’t think of a specific time when Trinis eat Pelau. It works any time of year, at any festival or celebration and is welcomed by all every time it is served.In my family Pelau happens at Carnival time, mid week for lunch, on a Sunday for lunch sometimes, at christmas, at the beach, at fundraisers, at Gaby’s rehearsal dinner, when Trini’s come back home for a visit, or when I have people at my home in Canada so that my guests can taste our heritage cuisine. It can be stored for the week in the fridge and the staler the Pelau, the nicer it tastes, in my opinion. Pelau can be frozen and thawed and eaten at a later date and again, it tastes even better. Many Caribbean islands claim to be where Pelau originated. The French West Indies claim it to be their traditional rice dish, and here is what the epicurious website says about Pelau:

“Pelau is one of those dishes that really exemplifies Trinidadian cuisine because it is an admixture of various cooking styles. Pelau, or rice with meats and vegetables, is a variation of East Indian pilau, which originated in Persia where it is called polow. The Anglicized version of the dish is called pilaf. The process of browning the meat in sugar for pelau is an African tradition and ketchup is a New World addition to the dish, although I suspect it has its basis in tomato chutneys available in British India and likely brought to Trinidad by the English.”

In my biased opinion, Trinidad & Tobago Pelau is the best because of the way we cook our food, the way we season our meat and the way we perfect it a little more every time we cook it. I believe, even if you don’t consider yourself a cook, every Trini, needs to know how to make a Pelau just as well as they know how to tie their shoes. Now isolated in this time of the COVID-19 pandemic, I am teaching my younger son to cook and while I know perfecting Pelau will take him some time, I want him to get to the point I am at, where if I feel like eating it, I can make it anytime, once I have the ingredients.

 

As you know, at this time of isolation,we are using what we have in the house to make our dishes, so I had Logan take out the Basmati rice and measure out enough for the four of us ( so just under 2 cups). I showed him how to wash the rice and that he was to do so about 3 times or until the water becomes much less cloudy than the first rinse. Next, I had him open the last can of pigeon peas that we had, drain and rinse it. With all the cooking we have been doing we have seasoned meat ready to go. So if you are wondering, the seasoning is my Trinidad bottled green seasoning, garlic, onion, chives, thyme, salt and pepper, parsley and basil, tomato paste and Worcestershire sauce. Logan wanted a chicken and beef Pelau, so I showed him how to brown the chicken and had him add the pigeon peas and rice to it. I like the beef tender so I showed him how to use the instant pot to achieve this texture.

Putting a little olive oil to prevent the meat from sticking and I chose saute on the instant pot and started cooking it for just over a minute. Then, I set it to “pressure cook” for about 20 minutes and set aside.*Note about the instant pot. I have made Beef Pelau in the instant pot before but I cannot guarantee the bottom layer of food will not stick to the pot so in the interest of not wasting or burning food, we just used it to soften the texture of the stewing beef.

Pelau is all about cooking down the food together. So since we used about a cup and a half of rice I added just under 2 cups of water to the peas and chicken, added the beef,

     

and a tablespoon or two of coconut milk which is an ingredient I always have on hand in cans or my freezer. However, you don’t need coconut milk to make Pelau though it is a nice touch when it comes to flavor. I also did not have a Scotch Bonnet pepper so pepper was added to people’s plates as needed.

Allow your Pelau to come to a boil then simmer. giving it the occasional stir. Once the water starts to diminish, cover and lower heat. The cooking and prep time for me is usually about 45 minutes, maybe a little longer. It is a pot that has to be watched as it simmers down because you don’t want what is at the bottom of the pot to burn. It will take Logan some time to learn this but after years of making Pelau, I have found that sweet spot in the cooking time where my dish is not overly dry and not soggy. My Pelau is moist and does not stick to my pot and I consistently use my iron pots from Trinidad.

Here is the finished product of Logan’s chicken and beef Pelau. Pelau can be made like this, with beef as the only meat, with chicken as the only meat or ox tail as the only meat. Of course, my mom, who makes the best flavored Pelau I have ever eaten is loaded with dark chicken meat, beef and ox tail…because she is granny and when she “throw down” a Pelau, she silences everyone. My mother comes from a large family of brothers and sisters who knew how to cook. I could taste my grandmother’s hand in all their dishes, each sister’s dish slightly different from the other’s with their own signature. The base taste for all however, is Ma Juanita Yee Foon’s hand. My cousins can cook. We were all brought into the kitchen at an early age and while some may say they aren’t as good as others, I have never had a meal at any of my cousin’s homes that was not tasty. I am loving passing on this skill to my son. I think he is enjoying it and moves comfortably about the kitchen. I hope he feels the same pride I do, having the ability to make my heritage dishes and I hope he gains as mych joy as I do spending the hour or so it takes to make a meal.

For those of you trying this for the first time, I have included a recipe for chicken Pelau. Cooking new dishes is something we can do during this time of Pandemic isolation and social distancing. Stay at home. Step away from the news and spend the time cooking with your family and best of all, eating with them. This time shall pass, why not use wisely and productively. Stay safe. Stay germ free. Wash your hands. Stay home. Feel free to share your recipes as well and comment on how your Pelau turned out.

INGREDIENTS

    • 1 cup dry or 1 (12-ounce) can pigeon peas, pinto beans, or black-eyed peas
    • 2 cups long-grain rice (or whatever rice you have)
    • 3 tablespoons canola oil (to brown meat)
    • 3/4 cup sugar (white or brown to use in browning meat)
    • 1 (3-pound) chicken, cut into 8 pieces, skin removed
    • 1 small onion, chopped
    • 1 clove garlic, minced
    • 1 cup canned coconut milk (use just a tablespoon or two for flavor. Too much can overpower the taste)
    • 1 bay leaf (optional)
    • 2 teaspoons green seasoning ( if you have green seasoning. see Tips, below)
    • 1/2 cup chopped parsley
    • 1 sprig thyme
    • 5 scallions, chopped (white and green parts)
    • 1 small whole Scotch bonnet pepper
    • 1/2 cup ketchup of tomato paste

PREPARATION

    1. If using dried peas, soak them overnight in 3 cups of water. Drain. Bring 3 fresh cups of water to a boil in a saucepan and add the peas. Simmer for 15 minutes, or until cooked almost completely through. Drain and set aside. If using canned beans, drain, rinse with cold water, drain again, and set aside. Wash the rice by placing it in a colander or fine-mesh sieve and running cold water over it until the water runs clear, about 1 minute. Drain well and set aside.
    2. Heat the oil over medium heat in a Dutch oven or other heavy, deep pot. Add the sugar and swirl in the pot, stirring constantly; allow it to caramelize to a dark brown color. Add the chicken and stir well to coat. Add the onion and garlic and cook for 1 to 2 minutes, stirring constantly.
    3. Stir in 2 cups of water, the coconut milk, bay leaf, green seasoning, parsley, thyme, carrots, and scallions. Reduce the heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 10 minutes.
    4. Stir the rice, peas, hot pepper, and ketchup, into the chicken. Cover and cook for 20 minutes, or until the peas and vegetables are tender. Remove lid and fluff the rice. The rice should be moist but not sticky.

 

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Cooking in the time of COVID-19: No School. No Sports. No Socializing. Might As Well Learn To Cook.

With our family only going out for short walks and only one of us (me) going out for supplies when necessary, my 17 year old is stuck at home with us. He was supposed to be working towards graduation from high school, hanging out with his friends and girlfriend, supposed to be at hockey combines and tryouts to secure a place on a Jr. Hockey team and he is supposed to be starting college in January depending on where he plays. All this has ground to a halt because of the spread of COVID-19. But he’s taking it in stride, keeping it together as best as he can and has agreed to get a jump start on learning how to cook, considering how much time we have on our hands.

Today, I decided to add to his repertoire of hot dogs, English muffin breakfast sandwiches, pancakes ( that he makes from scratch I might add), eggs two ways and anything he can take out of a box, follow directions and make. I decided to start with spaghetti and meatballs. This is a simple meal he can make for the family or when he is living on his own and needs an easy decent meal after practice or school.

I had him season a bit less than a pound of ground beef. I encouraged him to look at and smell the different seasonings and spices in the cupboard to see if he could recognize what I use when I make meatballs. Logan chose Worcestershire sauce, oregano, garlic powder, onion powder and salt and pepper. Trying our best to stay home, we only want to go out when we have enough items on our grocery list to warrant a trip to the store. So, in lieu of garlic cloves and onions, which we ran out of, he used the powder instead. Next, I had him fold in some bread crumbs to keep the meatballs in tact and showed him how to get his hands in there and shape them. With short demos and verbal guidance, I watched Logan prepare our meal like he’d been doing it for years. Yes, it was a simple meal but he did it mostly on his own and was very confident in the way he was moving about the kitchen. I had him use the slow cooker and explained to him that this was a way to prepare food and have it cook safely and thoroughly.

This is a time for us all to share – but not to share germs. We need to share kindness, love and understanding by taking the responsible measures to wash our hands, keep our belongings clean, to stay home and only go out when necessary. It is a time to reach out via social media, phone calls, texts and e mails. It is a time to care not just about ourselves and our loved ones but about everyone. Utilize the time to try something new. For me, there is no excuse not to work on my book during this time. I have so much time now, that I can cook more with my family and share my ideas of using what you have to make tasty meals. I encourage you to try them and feel free to share your ideas with me. Use up what you have in the kitchen before you absolutely have to go grocery shopping. As half of a pair of financial advisors I will also tell you that it is a good time to try and hold on to your money. Use what you have to make meals until you really need to replenish supplies. There is no need to spend money hoarding. Driving less means less wear and tear on your vehicle and less need to fill up the gas tank (even though the prices are super low now). Sleep longer, read more, listen to your thoughts and if you are so inclined, meditate or pray. We could all use some more peace and serenity in our lives. This is our chance to have it. Isolation is hard but if we do it, it will be shorter than if we don’t.

So, without further ado, here is my younger son’s contribution to my Cooking through COVID-19 blog series.I present to you Mr. Logan James’ spaghetti and meatballs dinner. – a recipe in pictures.

Once he seasoned with a teaspoon of the following – oregano, garlic powder, salt and pepper, onion powder and Worcestershire Sauce and a table spoon of herb seasoned breadcrumbs, Logan formed 15 mid-sized meatballs.

Using 1/2 can of spaghetti sauce and about 1/4 cup of his dad’s home made tomato sauce, Logan placed the sauce and the meatballs in the slow cooker and set the time for 3 hours on low, stirring occasionally.

   

Next he got his pasta going in lightly salted water.I passed onto him the unnecessary but traditional family ritual (from my side) of breaking the dry spaghetti in half before putting it into the boiling water. Logan is quite a physical male child (lol) who really enjoyed doing this. Once a few minutes passed, I showed him how to carefully pull a strand of spaghetti to check if it had become al dente because no one wants to eat a bowl of soggy noodles and reminded him to drain the pasta leaving a bit of the water in the pot to keep that slightly salted flavour.

While the pasta was boiling, I had him utilize the time to shred the cheese showing him how to be careful with his fingers and how to be the first James man to not have shredded cheese all over the counter during the process. Logan likes a cheese that will melt easily but he does not like the light flavour of mozzarella so he chose a 2 year old cheddar instead.

     

Adding his father’s signature garlic bread as a finishing touch, Logan plated and presented us with our very tasty and filling meal.  Oh!  We are so proud of him!

     Look for more recipes from Logan as he learns to cook during this time of isolation as well as recipes from his father and me. If you have time please try our ideas and feel free to share some of your favourites that you are cooking while isolating at home. We can all do our part to stop the spread of this virus and have a little fun and family time while we wait this out.

 

 

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Cooking in the time of COVID-19: The Pancake Smile.

It is the second week of lock-down as we try to stop the spread of COVID-19. I woke to more bad news of it’s impact around the world and I was disappointed to learn there are still people gathering in large numbers, refusing to heed the advice of medical officials, begging them to stay at home.

MIAMI BEACH, FL – MARCH 17: People eat at a restaurant along Ocean Drive on March 17, 2020 in Miami Beach, Florida in spite of warnings from government and medical officials worldwide. Raedle/Getty Images/AFP

Opening up the curtains in my kitchen, I looked up at a perfectly blue sky; white wispy clouds like puffs of cotton drifting by. It is business as usual for Mother Nature as spring blooms. I could see shoots of my annuals pushing skyward from the earth, little chickadees popping in and out of our birdhouse and a pregnant robin and her mate, perched on a nearby branch of the massive Russian Olive tree in my yard. Yep, that’s my girl, Mother Nature, the greatest force, doing her thing in spite of the pandemic that is raging through every country on the planet.

I may be disappointed in mankind, but I was uplifted by the beautiful day and wanted my family to wake up to something welcoming. So, I decided to make pancakes. The recipe is etched in my mind after watching my mother make them for us every Sunday for years. I remember she would set up her special Teflon pan. It was a Sun Beam and it had it’s own power source and stand and she had special cooking utensils she used to prevent the surface from scratching. Seems like she had that pan forever – I think it may have made the trip up to Toronto when our family migrated. That pan is a significant part of my childhood memories and I liked that it was a big deal, even though there is nothing easier than making pancakes from scratch. I remember her telling me that making it from a boxed mix took the same amount of time than making it from scratch and why would one want to sacrifice taste and texture by a heavy box mix? Oh Mom, you are so right and I am so happy I have never made pancakes from a box or poured my family’s dinner ready-made out of a can. Thank you for extending your sweet hand to both your girls and just so you know, it is a pleasure for us to cook alongside you. This recipe I am about to share I have also taught to my son, Logan and I have to say, they guy makes a damn good batch of pancakes, ensuring that granny’s recipe is still being extended through the generations.  My mother always had a smile on her face when she made pancakes for her family because she was making them with so much love. I wanted to smile today in spite of all that is unfolding around us, so I gathered the ingredients on the counter and got to work.

Since there is no school or sports to get to, I decided to make a smaller batch that yields about 20 mid sized pancakes. Usually, I can make about 30 to 40, so this morning, this will be quick. Sift 1 1/2 cups of unbleached flour with a teaspoon of baking powder and 1/4 teaspoon of baking soda into a bowl. Add a pinch of salt and a tablespoon of brown or white sugar and mix. Throw in a pinch of nutmeg and cinnamon if you have it and mix again. By now, you should be smiling.

 

Next, add a tablespoon of olive oil (or vegetable of whatever oil you have available), a splash of vanilla and an egg to the dry ingredients.

   Measure out 1 cup of almond milk or regular milk (we use lactose free milk) and add to the other ingredients. Mix well with a whisk, adding a little more milk or water if batter seems too thick.

 

Place a seasoned pan on stove on high heat for about a minute. As mentioned in a previous post, I like The Rock line of cookware because food never sticks to it and it is so easy to clean. I usually use the Rock mini griddle pan for pancakes but I think it grew legs and left the house, so today I am using a big frying pan which means I’ll be done sooner because I can make 3 at a time if I want to.

(A seasoned pan is a pan coated evenly with butter or olive oil. Pan must shine without having excess oil that could change the consistency of the batter)

    

Once the pan is hot, lower burner temperature to medium/low heat. Place a small amount of batter in pan and wait for it to bubble before flipping it. This is the runt pancake.

    It will either be too light and look under-cooked or it will be too dark and spongy. Such is the plight of the runt pancake which used to be called the “doggie” pancake when we had a dog. The runt pancake is very normal. It happens every time. The next pancakes come out perfectly – they rise a bit, are nice and tender and are are a nice medium brown colour with a lighter brown, smooth underside.

  

Continue to spoon the batter into the pan, wait for all the bubbles to appear then flip.

  Repeat this until you run out of batter. The kitchen will have a gorgeous inviting smell and I guarantee you will catch yourself smiling, especially when it comes time to plating and serving it to your family.

   If you have fruit of any kind, now’s a nice time to serve it up. I usually have frozen raspberries or frozen strawberries or pitted cherries.Today, I decided on raspberries, so I took them out of the freezer before I started making the pancakes, so they thawed and juicy by the time I was ready to plate. Like my mom, from time to time I like to make a small production of the presentation of my pancakes.

As you can see, I served the pancakes with a few raspberries on top, a drizzle of maple syrup and a light dusting of icing sugar to make it a little special with some sliced banana on the side.

The pancake scent wafted throughout the home and soon, I heard the thundering of feet up the stairs bringing hungry bellies to the table. With smiles on their faces, the only words said were “Pancakes! Thanks, Mom.” They were smiling, I was smiling and there was a feeling of warmth, comfort and love inside my home this morning in spite of the harsh reality of the pandemic outside.

During this time of isolation, make comfort food for your family, check in with each other and try and enjoy this time as we slow ourselves down, hunker down at home and contribute to the efforts being made to bring this virus down. Stay at home, leave only for supplies and limit your time in public. Wash your hands, wipe down and clean all surfaces and do all you can to stay healthy.

 

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Cooking in a time of COVID-19: Finding Peace and Perspective through Cheese Paste

I make myself laugh. Now, more than ever that I am older. I am, like you at home, trying to keep myself and my family safe and well and we have just gone through the first week …two more to go, maybe more, of social distancing. And while this has not been terrible, it has not been too easy either, especially for our younger son who wants to see his girlfriend and friends but understands that he can’t for a while. My boys are not indoor guys but they really are doing very well to abide by the medical advice we have been given. My biggest stressor is having to go out and shop for stuff. We are only gong out when necessary for supplies, following the hand washing, showering and washing clothes worn in public right away when we return home. To reduce this stress, my husband and I are using all the ingredients we have to make our meals while making grocery lists of items we absolutely need so that whomever goes out to shop will get in and out of the store quickly.

Today, after a workout, a check of the work e-mail and a movie on Netflix, I realized I was hungry. Adam went for a walk with Logan and had himself a chicken sandwich and Logan and Tom took down the rest of the Shepherd’s pie with a salad. I decided to rummage through the fridge and come up with something comfortable and I realized like in recent months, it was a good old Trini cheese paste sandwich. Any of you from Trinidad, Guyana and some other Caribbean islands will know what I am talking about. Once a month, or as long as I have known myself, I crave chocolate. Lately, I find comfort in a cheese paste sandwich on plain, soft, white bread. It is not the best nutrition and so many people look down on white bread but you know, life is short and when you need to comfort yourself while you live a life on lock down you should indulge.

I found exactly what I was looking for in my kitchen. I found extra old cheddar, and mayo. In my pantry I whipped out the black pepper, pinched a little cayenne and parsley flakes and I grabbed the mustard from the cupboard.

 

Making this simple pleasure, made me laugh. I remembered my Aunty Jean on the phone to Jacqueline’s Bakery ordering chicken puffs and cheese puffs for one of her girl’s birthday party. Cheese puffs are essentially a fancy cheese paste sandwich made with choux pastry instead of simple white bread. I remember my mom, running out of sandwich meat or just getting caught on a Friday with nothing exciting to make for our lunch boxes, except a cheese sandwich. If she was feeling to jazz it up, that cheese sandwich became a cheese paste sandwich. I caught myself smiling as I shredded the cheese onto the plate I intended to use for said sandwich. Grinning from ear to ear, enjoying mixing the ingredients, figure eighting it with my knife, remembering how much I loved the taste of this simple zesty sandwich that meant so much to me. I happily whipped out 2 slices of plain white bread and evenly spread the thick paste on each. Placing the slices together was accompanied by a satisfied sigh. I cut it in half into triangles and added a side salad for “wellness” and to relieve my guilt. Taking my sandwich into my office, I curled up on the daybed and ummed with every bite until it was gone.

 

This simple sandwich that only I consume and appreciate in my mostly male Canadian household, made me happy. It comforted me in a time when we are all concerned about everyone’s well being and it reminded me of a simpler time a time when we had less gadgets and slower lifestyles. I ate a cheese paste sandwich and I was reminded of a time when TV had a sign on and sign off time and when nothing was on for us to watch, we read books or played outside. Staying at home in this time of COVID-19 is not too different from life at a simpler time. There is much to do at home and there is a lot to think about. There are books to be read and conversations to be had, games to play and love to share. There is food to cook, music to play and rooms to clean and organize. Today I made a sandwich that was much more than a sandwich – it was a taste of the pleasure of simplicity. Life is going to get really simple in weeks to come.  The spread of the virus will peak. Please stay at home. Make whatever your comfort food is and know that if we could all sacrifice our way of life for a few weeks for the greater good, we will help stop the spread of this virus. Find peace through what comforts you and you will find your perspective on what is happening around us, will change in a positive way. For anyone who is afraid of what is to come, don’t be. Just stay home and stay calm and let’s be kind and helpful to each other. Find your ummmm food, your ahhhh movie, have a bath, turn up the tunes and sing out loud. Get some exercise, putter around in your garden if you have one, draw something, paint a picture or listen to some comedy on line. Find your cheese paste, my friends because this too shall pass.

 

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Hover, Hinder and Somehow Interrupt My Day.

I’m 52 years old and I am beginning to live in world that I am struggling to understand. It’s not because of technology or anything like that. I am happy to advance in the age of smart devices. What perplexes me the most is the devolution of parents and parenting. My children are almost adults and maybe I should not have an opinion on this but it is hard not to when it is all around me. Much of the next generations are being raised in a manner that is making them incapable of doing anything on their own. They have no boundaries, they are always the centre of attention (mostly when they are unremarkable) and they have no regard for others. They also have little to no coping or problem solving skills and no manners and it is sad and very concerning that they are indeed our future. Now you will probably say that my statement is unfair so let me re-iterate, I said much of the next generations. Certainly not every child is like that but I urge you to look around and observe and you will see, many children have the behaviors I’ve described.

Earlier this morning, I stopped for a young woman and her toddler to use the cross walk. I was not in a hurry and she was with a really little child. She proceeds to cross with the child and I realize she is not holding her hand. The kid is really young so her gait is slow and wobbly. As the mother gradually moves ahead of the child, she doesn’t realize the little one is sitting on the cross walk. Oh yes, bum planted firmly on the asphalt and she ain’t moving.  The mother walks back to the child and begins to talk to her, never acknowledging that there are now 3 cars waiting on her and her child to cross. I took myself back to when my boys were toddlers. If someone motioned for me to cross with my toddler, I would have scooped him up in my arms and crossed the street. Once I was safely on the sidewalk, I would have put him down (my boys were heavy) and taken his little hand in mine and led him safely to the car. When did parents stop reacting like I would have? When did we stop holding a toddler’s hand? And when did we think it was okay to negotiate with a 2 year sitting on a cross walk to get up and get moving? That situation this morning was unsafe, inconsiderate to the three waiting drivers and stupid. I have no problem acknowledging children, listening to them and explaining things to them but there are times when a child has to be told what to do, when they have to be picked up and have their hand help to keep them safe. I finally drive by and she motions for me to roll down my window and she tells me that the little one is at the age when she chooses to walk. Okay…I have no problem with giving kids a choice. They can choose whether they want to wear the blue or the yellow pajamas and they can choose a bedtime story but they cannot choose their bedtime. They can choose to have an apple or a pear but they cannot choose candy instead. Children are children because they need to be parented. They need to be guided and they need to be taught. We love our boys. We are friendly with our boys but we are their parents, not their friends. We speak to them with respect and we expect that respect in return. We speak openly to each other but there is a distinct difference between the way they address us and the way they address their friends. There is a clear, healthy divide between us and our children are no worse for it. The 20 year old, lives on his own and though autistic, runs his own life and his aides, his father and I support the way he chooses to live. The 17 year old still lives at home, and needs our permission to borrow our cars and go to parties and have friends over in addition to all the things a teenager needs permission to do, have or attend. My husband and I are still the authority figures in our home and our son at home respects our guidance, our home and property.

The cross-walk fiasco over, I am sitting in the exercise studio monitoring the participants. Through the glass wall I can see the participants of three in a row toddler dance classes. These classes are designed for ages 2 -5 and cost parents way-too-much-plus tax for the session which consists of ten 30 – 40 minute classes. I have noticed over the weeks that none of the participants are ever on time for the first class which starts at 9 am. Then there is at least 10 minutes of crying or screaming and kids running out of the class into their parent’s arms who carry them back into the class time after time, the drama only ending when the parent stays in the room with the child. Those who don’t go into the room, are glued to the glass tapping it and waving to their now distracted child. Then there is the parent that goes into the class suggesting alternate dance moves and specific music requests of the teacher. My close observation of these humans makes me understand the high turn around of teachers for these classes.

The second class of participants arrive about 15 minutes before the first class begins and they are allowed to spread their toys all over the floor outside of the class which is also the walkway to the studio where I’m sitting. I watch in awe as adults and seniors coming into the workout studio gingerly navigate their way through a spread of dolls, miniature cars, Lego and  a version of Pick up Sticks with no attempt from the parents to clear the path for others, no telling their kids to move into a corner so that others can get by them, no apology for taking over the entire walkway. One child not interested in the toys on the floor, is finding joy in spilling water from the drinking fountain all over the floor because the obstacle course created by the spread of blocks isn’t challenging enough for the adults and seniors to navigate. Excuse me for a moment while I go to the utility room to retrieve a mop to clean up said child’s mess. And in case you were wondering, I’m not mopping the floor. My children didn’t spill the water.

……Okay, I’m back. The water is being mopped by the child’s father and the precious angels have gone into class and there is a repetition of the running in and out of class to mummy and daddy.  Oh dear, one father just got a premeditated back hand to the face and he is responding by hugging his child who continues to strike him. Wow. I have no words.  One little girl from the previous class is playing with the Lego on the floor as her mother tells her over and over that it is time to go. The child screams a loud shrill “NO!” Mom, holding a baby just smiles and waits and repeats her request to leave. I think they are going to be here a while.

Call me archaic but I think in addition to laying down some guiding rules and some consequences for their actions, we also need to give children a chance to grow and be independent and to learn from and be guided by other people. They don’t sit beside them all day at school so why are they in the dance class with them? Children need a chance to fail so that they will have a chance to succeed. They need to learn that mom and dad can leave them to learn from someone else and that they will be fine until they return for them. There are three parents right now doing the dance class with their child. Three parents who look like they can use a break, so why aren’t they taking one?

The classes are over and the little darlings have gone. The custodian is shaking her head as she mops up the sticky spots of juice and picks up the fruit roll up wrappers off the studio floor. The hallway looks like a tornado came through it and so does the gallery to the pool where the siblings of those taking swimming lessons are left to run wild and wreck the place.

I don’t know what books, or websites these new parents are reading nor do I know who is giving them bad advice but here is what I know –

It’s okay to take the weekend back and empty a trunk of toys on the floor and let your kids play. It’s okay to play with them for a while then walk away and let them play on their own. Having a friend over or going to play at another kid’s house is a healthy activity.  Video games in moderation isn’t the worst thing in the world. In fact some kids develop excellent hand eye coordination from playing video games. Whatever happened to Saturday morning TV? That used to be a great thing. I remember many winter mornings when Thomas the Tank Engine and the Clone Wars made for a cozy time indoors. When the shows were over many hours were spent by our two little boys creating their own versions of the stories they had seen  in our basement with all the make shift costumes, props and noises of children at play. Very often there was a sign that said “keep out” or “kids only” that let us know that this was their parent free time to pretend and we respected that.

Maybe we can go back to keeping things simple. You know how little ones get a fancy present and they are more interested in the box? It’s because kids are simple people. No need to make things with them over complicated. My husband and I didn’t get suckered into expensive toddler classes that pretended to promise cognitive and motor skill development. We knew these skills were important but our kids got all that stimulus at home and eventually at school and through sports.

Parents, it’s okay to give yourself a break from your children. Learn to take turns. Both parents and kids don’t have to be everywhere together all the time. From time to time we did take our kids shopping or to run errands with us but there were also days when we took turns staying at home with them while the other parent did the errands and such. Alone time is good for mom and dad and kids have a lot of time ahead of them to go shopping when they are older and more tolerant of crowds, noise and other stimuli. To keep our sanity we knew it was not possible for both of us to be present at all times at our children’s’ activities. We did not all have to go to the store all the time. We took turns going to the gym and to church. We gave our boys boundaries. We told them “no” and they learned to be disappointed and they learned that disappointment passes. They learned to be in a class or an activity without us and today at 20 and 17, I have 2 happy, independent, generous and polite young people (one with autism) with jobs, commitments and responsibilities and they are turning into very respectable men of whom we are extremely proud. I look at our autistic son (who has his own apartment going on three months now) and I am thrilled to see that all my instincts were right. Nothing in any book about parenting ever applied to him and I am so grateful he is a part of our family because having him made us better parents and it allowed us to raise him and his brother with our minds wide open without getting caught up in this overprotective, micromanaging, coddling style of parenting that seems to persist.

I once asked my 17 year old how he felt when I dropped him off at Kung Fu when he was 5. He said sometimes he felt a little scared that I was leaving him but Sifu didn’t allow other parents to linger and no one cried for their mom or dad and he didn’t want to be the baby that did. He said, me not being there helped him focus on Sifu and the moves he was being taught. He said he learned how cool it was to stay quiet and be still and focus on the move he was about to do. He said he liked learning stuff without us there so he could surprise us by showing off his moves when he got home. He also told me he always knew one of us would come back and pick him up and he never felt that we would forget him. He also said, when he was little he sometimes felt like everyone was a big kid – better than him, bigger than him and faster than him (he was a short, stocky little thing who is now a lean 6’3″) and that learning to be in a Kung Fu class with mixed ages and heights made him feel like a big boy; made him feel proud that even with his size, he could sometimes take down someone much bigger and taller than he was. He said it made him confident and taught him that if he tried his best, he could take on anything. He does not practice Kung Fu at the moment (maybe he will get back to it one day) but that activity combined with all the other sports and activities he participated in allowed him to learn from other people and given him skills he would not have developed if we were constantly by his side.

By trying to be all inclusive parents, trying to be the perpetually positive parents trying to make life perfect for your kids, you’re setting them up for failure. Isn’t it exhausting doing everything in your power to make every moment of every day a successful one for your child? Take it easy parents. Say “no” once in a while and hold your kids accountable when it comes respect and give them rules and boundaries so they can actually successfully live in society. Loving them does not mean doing everything for them and giving them their way all the time.. By hovering over them all day, you stifle their independence and creativity. Helping them every step of the way does not set them up for the bump in the road that will make them stumble. If they don’t stumble and fall they will never learn to pick themselves up, dust themselves off and try again. I know it’s hard to not jump in and help them every chance you get but what you are actually doing is hindering them and making them unprepared for that roller coaster journey that is life.

Finally, be considerate of others. Your children are lovely and all children are gifts but they are not lovely gifts to everyone. My children are grown. I put in the years with the sleepless nights, the worry, the teaching, potty training, the feeding, healing, reassuring …all the verbs that go along with parenting and even though they are grown, I still am concerned for them and concerned about things I cannot control. But I know my husband and I have put in the time and work and love and all I can have now is faith that they will make the right choices and that they will be safe. My husband once said, parenting is 50%what you teach them and 50% what they do with it and we need to give them the chance to exercise their 50%.I don’t have little children anymore and the few kids I know between the ages of 1 and 12 have really great parents with a strong, admirable parenting styles so when a poorly parented child comes into contact with me it usually leads to an inconvenience to my day somehow. I don’t want to be subjected to poorly parented kids, yet I am on the daily with the hovering, over helping and hindering parents everywhere I go. Because I don’t need to hear you negotiate with them at the top of your lungs, I grocery shop listening to music through earbuds. I don’t appreciate them running around my grocery cart, randomly stopping and starting, yet you let them crash into my cart anyway. I don’t always want to have a conversation with your kid who can barely talk. I am a complete stranger. Why would you let your child wander around talking to complete strangers in an arena? I am there to watch my son’s team, I don’t want to miss the game because your child whom I don’t know, wants to talk to me. And for the love of all that is right and just, please don’t allow your child to linger in the entrance of a busy store. Don’t let them play with the doors and don’t let them lie in the aisles of the grocery store. No one enjoys that…plus, it’s unsanitary.

Dial up the discipline and tone down the hovering and path paving. Prepare your child for their path. Do not prepare the path for your child. Keep it simple and it will be special. Sign your toddler up for less activities and let them enjoy being active through play with their friends, with you and on their own. Take the time to breathe, Mom and Dad, guide them, teach them and take more time to enjoy them. You don’t need to take them to organized classes when they’ve barely learned to walk. Kiddies are simple beings. Don’t make raising them more complicated than it needs to be.

 

 

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Sometimes You Have to Unsubscribe

Wait. You know what? Hold on a minute. Just STOP. Time to unsubscribe.

Things are good for us lately and we were really enjoying this time and now, stuff that doesn’t belong to us has come into our lives and taken up too much head space and have eaten into our free time. I caught myself grinding my teeth the other day. Not forcefully but when I noticed I was doing it, I realized that not only did I have a headache that radiated upwards from my jaw, it was doing this sliding motion of my bottom row of teeth against my top in a weird pattern. I stopped myself and thought “Why l am I doing this? I’m having a great day,” and then I realized this new activity was now a part of my day, any day, whether it was good bad or otherwise. Since then, I have been consciously stopping myself from doing it. My husband and I have found ourselves in the very trying sandwich generation.So many times we begin to do very basic things that relax us, give us a laugh and give us time for ourselves and we have to stop because this stuff that is not ours, needs immediate attention. My husband and I have had very little down time lately. Launching young men into adulthood and dealing with family on his side and my side has taken a lot of time. Even carving out time to be a couple has been difficult and lately it seems that being at work is the only time we are alone together, but of course, we are working.

When it comes to Adam and Logan, we are more understanding because we are working with them to help them become the men they want to be. While we are not responsible for what they ultimately do with their lives, we are responsible for helping lay the platform from which they will be launched. From helping Logan get ready for his driving test and getting Adam ready to live independently of us, it’s a busy time but we are are up for these rites of passage and are happy and proud to do it as we watch the remarkable story of their lives unfold. What is difficult is finding ourselves being tugged at in other directions without anyone stopping to recall that even though we work for ourselves, we still have to work. The other thing that people forget is that we don’t have a typical family set up. When we have do do anything, we still have to plan our every move around how it will affect our autistic son, Adam.

I imagine that if we did not run our family like a well oiled machine, things would be different. If we seemed to have nothing under control, less would be required of us. What amazes me is that in spite of the stumbling blocks we have been dealt by Adam’s autism, we manage to require little to nothing of others who need far less oil to run their machines, just as well or better than ours. Don’t misunderstand my words. We willingly accept being available to others and we are happy to help and be there in times of need and give of ourselves but it is hard to bear when people are not mindful. It is frustrating when we offer solid, sensible advice that can solve a problem and it goes unheeded. It is tiresome when denial prolongs the implementation of effective solutions. It is simply insensitive when we re-arranged our schedule in order to help out and our assistance is met with resistance. Again, don’t misunderstand what I am saying. We have received many wonderful blessings from people along our journey and we are grateful, but when things become too intrusive, when our schedules are stretched thin incorporating the stuff that does not belong to us, we occasionally have to unsubscribe.

It may seem selfish, but unsubscribing, I have found, is a good way to keep myself and my family whole and to keep myself and my husband healthy. Unsubscribing is a good way for me to free enough energy and mental space for the things I like to do,which I have to put on hold sometimes for far too long when I have to tend to the stuff that does not belong to me. Unsubscribing also helps me keep myself functioning at a level I am comfortable with. At 52, there are just somethings in the world I do not need to know how to do.There are some things that I just don’t want to do anymore. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone and I need less possessions and obligations in my life. I am happy to learn and try new things but I am not out to ace every undertaking. I can’t support every cause, can’t attend every event and can’t and won’t do more than I can do. I don’t need recognition, glorification or adoration. I just seek occasional stillness and I enjoy peace. I believe It’s okay to be aware of things around you without trying to be an expert at everything. I am satisfied that I can only slightly better the world by bettering myself and if today was my last day, I would be sad to leave my loved ones but satisfied that I lived a good life even if I didn’t get to do and see all that I’d hoped.

Unsubscribing keeps me checked in with myself and keeps me authentic. Authenticity is important to me because social media has created specific moulds where people tend to get stuck. I like social media but it is a beautiful yet dangerous forum I can only take it in small doses on a fairly superficial level. I like that I am able to stay in touch with people who live far away from me but I don’t like that it gives too many people a distorted sense of confidence that allows them to to use words and photos to either laud their privileges over others or bring them down. I like social media when I get see the great things my friends’ kids have done, or see nice photos of people having fun. When it comes to the “hot topics” on social media, I unsubscribe. I have my political, social and religious views that I share discreetly with a chosen few because engaging in banter on line with people who speak before thinking is a waste of precious time. There are days I unsubscribe from brain aching, teenage drama and arguments, I love Adam and Logan but sometimes when hormones shoot wildly and crash down around me, I have to unsubscribe to stay sane. Puberty crashing into menopause can yield a lot of casualties and is messy to clean up …so … I unsubscribe and try negotiations another time. My husband and I have also learned to unsubscribe when people who ask for our opinion or advice are not satisfied until we tell them what they want to hear. No one really wants advice. People want the satisfaction of the support of their often bad idea. When I regurgitate what you have said to me, or when I say “I don’t know”, I’ve unsubscribed…not because I don’t care about you but because I care enough about myself to not let your stubbornness drive me crazy. If you are an adult, you can figure out what you need to do or choose what you want to do without my input. Make your choice and move on set and secure in your decision. I only ask that if it does not work, you go back to the drawing board and try to remedy it yourself before interrupting my day.

I love everyone enough to let them carve out their own path. I try hard to not judge or question people’s motives. When I feel I have to unsubscribe, I do so out of love for them and out of love for myself and to avoid tension and conflict. In life, everyone needs a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. Tom and I don’t mind giving that support but we can’t help, or listen or decipher issues for others every time something goes pop in their lives. It is tempting to get involved and tangled up in a web of emotion when it comes to helping family and friends but it is far better to unsubscribe, step back and give a person time to think things through on their own and give them space to change and grow. So, the next time you catch yourself clenching your fists, gritting your teeth, furrowing your brow or biting your nails, be kind to yourself and unsubscribe for a while.

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“Come Again?” – Trying to Live in the New World Society.

2018 drifted into 2019 and so far so good. I believe in the grand scheme of things if you find yourself in an upright and breathing state, you’ve won.  My 52 nd is just 4 days away and I’ve made plans, albeit not extravagant ones, and I am looking forward to celebrating. Two years ago, I counted down my year to 50 and documented and shared the things that left an impression on me. I wrote about the things I learned and the ways in which I found myself evolving from one phase of my life into another. I felt that I had grown in so many positive ways and was happy to work on the things I could do better. That year, I shed a lot of people and things from my life, happy to move on without them, basking in a new found freedom. I didn’t think in 2 short years I’d find myself feeling as unsettled as I do now and looking to perhaps shed even more and point myself in a new direction.

This year and the next 2, actually, I find myself in the process of launching my sons into their adult lives. Adam is 19 and yes, still autistic, still has some struggles and is still unique, quirky and wonderful. He is learning the ropes when it comes to asserting himself as an adult, learning to live his life without us in the home and learning to cope with the responsibility required by this transition. I never thought when he was 3, or 6 or 9 that he would be able to be independent, but the time is here and he is almost ready to take the giant step away from Mom and Dad. His father and I always planned 4 years ahead when it came to raising him and helping him achieve his life skills goals. We always challenged him by raising the bar every time he made progress and we are so glad he chose to join us on this journey to his maturity and independence.

Logan is almost 17 and his age is like a shackle holding him back from flinging into his adult life on the horizon. As much as he is comfortable at home, he is like me and wants so much more than what this time and space he finds himself in, has to offer. He is so comfortable in a crowded city and drinks in every experience and each moment a new place has to offer that I am comfortable saying he is ready to fly and he will fly far because he absolutely should. How I envy his youth for the energy, curiosity, enthusiasm and time it offers him. He has no limitations placed upon him. We have never told him what to do, what to like, what to try and which path he should follow when it comes to his life. We have placed no time limits or boundaries on him when it comes to discovering what he likes and what he wants. We expose him to various situations and opportunities and once he makes a choice, he works hard to achieve the goals such opportunities are able to yield. He has chosen to be a spiritual person and he wants to be the best he can in whatever he is involved in and has committed to. He ain’t perfect, but watching him grow up is like reading a very engaging book and I can’t wait to witness the chapters to come.

But while launch mode has me somewhat occupied, I am finding more than ever that I have phased out of or rejected many things the world presents to me and I am surprised that it’s happening so quickly. I find myself reading things online and seeing things on the news that make me say, “Come again?” I love technology and advancement and all good that they offer but I feel the people of the world don’t know how to cope with the simplest of things. I don’t understand this age of imbecility that has come about. I don’t understand why a spoiled rich 19-year-old would toss not one, but two patio chairs off a high rise apartment into traffic some 38 stories below. I cannot see the fun in such an act. I don’t understand why those involved have no regard for other people’s well-being, their property, their life. I don’t understand the thought process of the friend who was recording the moronic act and I absolutely am floored by the fact that she had not just the best criminal lawyer money can buy, but a smile on her face as she walked handcuffed before the news cameras while her lawyer told reporters she was embarrassed and remorseful. This is is just one example of the new world behavior I cannot comprehend or accept.

Everything in this era is a problem. Everything is an outrage and everything is offensive to the point of ridiculous. We say there is freedom of speech and freedom to choose. How is it then that many of us can’t decide to not support something or someone who offends us without picking a fight on social media? Ever notice that no one just says “fuck it” and moves on anymore? Everyone has to jump in and get in on the backlash bandwagon without becoming properly informed. Too few people dig deeper anymore. Too many are prompted by vague headlines that make them take up arms without knowing the facts. Too few think things through these days because the go-to response today is not to think but react. We broadcast everything about ourselves online. Nothing is private anymore. Not our meals, not our conversations, our personal decisions, our bodies, nor our possessions. While social media has re-connected old friends and forged new friendships and improved communication among people, it has also tainted us. So many people cannot go unnoticed because they desperately need approval. More people, more than ever need copious amounts of attention and yet the social media society has no problem cutting down someone or something else because the keyboard has made some people too bold.  That certain amount of anonymity cyberspace affords; not having to face a person as we type our comments, have given us big iron balls and when we feel that strong, it is easy to judge and we are empowered to hurt. Yet, we all condemn Jussie Smollet, right away. If indeed he orchestrated an attack on himself, he has done what almost everyone else does on social media every day. He found a way to get people to notice him. He found a way to get not just 15 minutes of fame but a way to be a victim. He wants this kind of attention for some reason – the attention that acting on Empire just isn’t giving him. I remember the Smollet kids acting on TV when they could barely walk. They were adorable and talented and had many fans. They are no strangers to the spotlight, yet, Jussie has a void to be filled. What happened to him between his role in The Mighty Ducks and now? What has happened to so many of us? Why are so many of our young people anxious and depressed? They should be embracing youth and checking out new things and pushing boundaries towards greater things and we should be supporting and guiding them not spoiling them, ignoring them or cutting them down. They should not be staging attacks or throwing chairs from high-rises. Have we forgotten how to be okay with who we are? To be satisfied with our opinion of ourselves? I think so. Sadly.  It is ironic, the term, Social Media. Being social is supposed to be a good thing. A social person is thought to be friendly, outgoing and a person who enjoys the company of others and enjoys lifting themselves and others to a higher level of happiness. Social media to me seems more like social slaughter at times and some of the things that are said require not just a thick skin but a suit of armor.

Taking in the way life is being lived around me now, makes me unsure of where I fit in. I used to care about so many things. I used to love to write. I loved speaking up and sharing my thoughts and loved when I got a chance to see an awesome movie with a great script and talented performers or be moved by the lyrics of a well written and well-sung song. Lately, I’ve not found things that spark my interest. I look and I listen and I am finding that I roll my eyes a lot and then I get to the stage where I don’t care. I just don’t care. To me, that is a frightening statement about myself. I don’t care enough to voice my opinion, to tolerate the lack of effort put into where I sought entertainment (if you can burn it, blow it up or bury it you don’t need meaningful dialogue). I don’t care enough to even attempt to comment on a post I may have read. I got to a stage where I’d start typing and then I’d delete and move on…now I just move on. The thing is, I want to care. I want to be a part of things but I can’t seem to find anything substantial to take part in.

I know the onus is on me to re-invent myself. No one can get me out of this rut but me. I won’t try to care about things I really don’t want to include in my life. I’m not a part of the instant gratification movement of the youth and I don’t want to throw my arms in the air and make everything an issue like many late 20 something to 30 something-year-olds. I don’t want everything to be a situation or a problem and I’m not floundering to stay afloat after a full day of work and family like some forty-somethings. I’m not ready to join any one group in solidarity and go against “the man” and I am not interested in topics about raising children because I raised mine very differently from the way people raise children today. My children are grown and capable and I all I have to say to the hovering parents of young kids today is “good luck”. I know I’m not ready to sit still and wait for my life to end but I am truly searching for something, somewhere and some way to become passionate again and find a new happy niche in the current world. I’m not sure where to start but I know I’ll get there. I know I will find a way to fulfill my soul again even if it means meandering about the absurd obstacles this world presents on the daily.  Maybe when I find it, I’ll tell you what it is …then again…. maybe I won’t.

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WARNING! NOT REALLY FOR DUDES! The Left Side of My Body Is Angry with Me: Ergo I Am Happy to Make It Shut Up.

Friday started with me waking up suddenly at 1:48 am. Just jolted awake for no apparent reason. So, I did what you do when you wake up way too early, I went to the washroom. I returned to bed and lay there, my mind roaming to this and that (the slightly insane way mother’s, wives and workers do), organizing the day ahead of me, uttering a few prayers. I started feeling uncomfortable and I figured it was the kidney as usual.  The kidney that is back to it’s original size and is functioning better than it ever had before, but this time was having issues draining now and then because it’s ureter is being squeezed by my uterus that has about 2 buckets of golf balls embedded in it. Nothing an Advil could not keep at bay if I needed it to. But then, there was a different ache, this time on the right side of my abdomen from my belly button radiating across the right and down. A sigh and an eye roll. Really? Now? With the pain no better but no worse, I decided to head to the shower at about 6:00 a.m. as Tom and I were leaving for Ottawa to meet with a client. I was disappointed that the hot water didn’t provide the usual comfort to reduce the intensity of the pain, so I popped a Tylenol and an Advil as my urologist recommended for pain management, and we started towards Ottawa. By the time I was 10 minutes along Highway 37, I decided to turn around. Now, I bear pain really well, after all, I had two, 10 pound, bouncing baby boys vaginally and I’m an average sized woman. I did think I could muscle my way through it, get the appointment done and in a worse case scenario, I would be in the nation’s capital and the hospitals there are better than the one where I live but as my husband pointed out,  driving in a car putting up with 6 hours of discomfort with no known source was not the ideal way to spend the day.

The pain was more intense by 8:15 am and it was only on my right side. I called and cancelled with the client and started googling appendicitis. My symptoms were very close to both appendicitis and gall stones so I had my husband drop me off at the Emergency department of our local hospital. As usual, it was not busy when I got there and I was in a room, wearing the flattering blue and white gown with the God-knows-what pattern with the little flimsy white strings at the back. Nothing makes you realize how vulnerable we all are, more than that flimsy, misshapen, shitty little hospital gown. Nothing makes you feel more helpless and on display than when they make you lie on the gurney as they push you to the ultrasound department that you are most certainly able to walk to and nothing makes you think how horrid aging can be as you look at the many elderly people laying on gurneys in hallways moaning while they wait for their tests or in many cases, a room where they can rest comfortably.  Yes, with all these little ER visits I have had recently, I have had a solid look at the hospitals, the well-meaning staff who are too few in number to handle the volume of patients coming through the emergency department. Dear Ontario Government, the lack of dignity the elderly and everyone for that matter experience laying on gurneys in the hallways of the ER is unacceptable and inexcusable. Please make it right.

My blood and urine samples were sent to the lab right away and I got to see a great doctor and had my ultrasound within minutes of being placed in an examination room. The waiting happens when you find out that there is only one technician reading the ultrasound findings for all 3 hospitals in the area. Dear Ontario government, please release the funds needed for the hospitals to have more staff on hand to take care of patients. It was almost 3 pm before my doctor was able to come in and tell me that my pain was due to a rather large ovarian cyst that had ruptured. She explained everything thoroughly and I was so grateful to the time she took to make sure I understood what had happened and how it was going to be treated. The symptoms, at first made her think that I was either suffering from appendicitis or gall-stones as I had thought, but my internal ultrasound was what revealed the ruptured cyst.

                                                             

 

So, here’s what I learned. According to my cousin Susie, (who dives into the realms I never can because our lifestyles are completely different), the left side of my body, my female side, is upset with me. My Chakra is not balanced.

 

                                                              

 

Well how the hell can it be? I live with three active and fun-loving men and I hate all things about my body associated with female reproduction because it has been a pain in my … well…it’s been a right pain and obstruction and interruption since I first got my period. I have always put up with my female reproductive system because I wanted children. I have my boys now and I have no problem letting my female side know that I hate it as much as it hates me. It makes me achy and uncomfortable and in the past it has made me physically sick once a month. Without fail, it made me fearful of the 30 day anniversary of all things horribly associated with menstruation.

                                                                

Since I was 12 or 13, I have known the anxiety of those last few days before my period came. I knew I’d have cramps that would have me curled in to the fetal position, I know I’d need to always walk with a bottle of Midol or whatever I could find to keep those debilitating cramps at bay. Everyone knew when I had my period. I couldn’t keep it discreet if I tried. At least I went to an all girl high school where there were many sufferers just like me.  If I was not curled into a ball of pain, I was puking because of pain. I constantly went through 5 days of bleeding; the first three spent sick and cramping. My period was the arch enemy and saboteur of my dancing and my sports. It made swimming a real concern because no woman is 100% confident in the protection of a tampon.

                       

Fifty-one has not been kind to me so far, but I’m dealing with this menopause stuff as patiently as I can. A uterus full of fibroids can squeeze your bladder, ureters and your bowels and make life uncomfortable.

                                                               

I learned that when an ovarian cyst pops, it hurts like hell because the fluid it releases with all the     hormones and blood can be very irritating to the abdominal wall and the pain is much like the pain and symptoms associated with appendicitis and gall stones. Don’t assume the pain will go away and because you won’t know if it is a cyst, appendicitis or a gall bladder problem, DO go to your doctor or to the emergency department and find out what it is. Ibuprofen helps with the pain of inflammation and DO take it easy as the pain lasts a while until your body eliminates the junk from the cyst.  Don’t be too concerned with your belly that suddenly is pregnant like and hard and tender to the tough. It too shall pass.

                                

 

                               

 

Similar to my decision to have an ablation, I am over the moon about my hysterectomy in June. I’ll still have my ovaries so I can still get a cyst that could burst but at least I’ll go through menopause naturally and in good time. I love being a woman but I have always hated the bloody, bloaty and uncomfortable components of being a woman.

I never “girled” well when it came to my cycle or female organs that caused me so much grief and pain and lost time at work and lost hours of fun, often in my life. I hated it so much, that as soon as my gynecologist put me on the pill when I was 19, I as thrilled as it gave me a pain free and regular cycle and an uninterrupted active life.

                                                                  

When I was ready to have children, I made the decision to come off my beloved pill that made my life so much better. Oddly enough, after being on the pill  for 12 years, I got pregnant quickly. This was good because coming off the pill to get pregnant meant fighting off the fear of the pain and suffering that the return of a regular menstrual cycle would bring.

After my second son, I wanted to wean him from breast feeding before I went back on the pill. I remembered how horrid my periods were and how unnerving it was to sit anywhere when I had my period post babies. All the crap people said to me about how much lighter your flow is after kids, was just that – utter crap. My cycle was worse after I had my boys. I remember being unable to rely on a tampon and having very little faith in pads as I nervously sat at the hairdresser’s, or worse, at work where there were men everywhere.

I am not a person who just puts up with anything. I don’t believe in “this is how it is”, or suffering through anything. I have a challenging life as it is and if I can make it manageable or easier, I am willing to try whatever there is to try. I was tired of my family planning everything around “Mom’s cycle” so I had an ablation.

         

Fortunately, it worked for me and off to Disney World we went…twice… and to the Bahamas, and to New Orleans and to Punta Cana, North Bay, Corner Brook…we went everywhere and that miserable period I had? …Well, there has been no sign of it since 2008 and I don’t miss it one bit. Now that my boys are pretty much men, I don’t need a uterus or Fallopian tubes and since I have no choice but to go through menopause, I’d rather go through it without unnecessary female parts. I am looking forward to so much and I hope to see and do all or as much as I have planned, so the least I can do, is do what I can to make the so-called feminine side of my being, as cousin Susie calls it, quiet and content as it tags along.

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Even If “Just Once in a Blue Moon” It’s Good and Important to Reconnect.

 

The lyrics of the theme song from the TV show “Cheers” comes to mind when I think of the night of July 20th 2013 when I stood in a room with my SJC sisters.

                                             

We were a smiling sea of blue in a room where everybody knew everyone’s name and not because of the gigantic name tags we were wearing but because we Trini gyals take really looonggg time to age. I had no problem recognizing anybody and I was so happy to see everyone so lively and well. Almost like when we were in school, we were dressed the same, we were all the same age, we looked very much the same as we did years ago and after chatting with everyone, it was clear that though we had all lived a whole lot of life and had found our niche in the world, the essence of who we are is still the same.

 

   Even if just “Once in a Blue Moon” everyone’s soul needs  to experience reconnection. This year is our 35th high school reunion.  Unfortunately, try as I might, I cannot attend this year and I am sad to miss it. My God, we are all 51/52 years old! I think back to when we were in Form1 through 5 and for some Lower and Upper 6 and I just don’t know where the time has gone. I can barely wrap my head around the things we thought were so important back then but I am glad to have reconnected with these beautiful, down to earth and amazing women and learn about what matters in their lives today. Having lived abroad, longer than I lived at home, the Trinidad in my head is the Trinidad of my childhood through age 20. Most of those memories are warm and tasty as a nice piece of sweetbread fresh out  of my mother’s oven and they put a smile on my face much like the one I would have when I slathered butter over said sweetbread in anticipation of eating it up. Other memories are a little bitter (what is life without the bitter to make the sweet, sweeter?) but not so bitter that they would ever keep me from reuniting with the now grown women I went to school with.

           

Living in another country is not easy. It was not my idea to move, but with no house to come home to after graduation, I chose to make Canada, my home. For me, it’s not the weather or the culture that makes it difficult – that stuff is easy to adapt to and enjoy. For me, it was a struggle adapting to the nature of people who grew up so differently from me. There is a distinct bubble within which people live in this country that casts a sort of shroud of hesitation and skepticism over them. People here sometimes wary of letting people get close to them. They don’t trust easily and have a hard time throwing  caution to the wind.  They have schedules they can never stray from and the walls they build around themselves for self-preservation are obvious. In a big country, people are from everywhere and it can at time be difficult to make sincere connections, friendships and relationships. Throw into the mix something that makes you different. For me it wasn’t so much race or colour, accent or culture that separated me from  other people in my adopted country, it was my child who made our family of four quite …odd.

                                              

          

 

Long story short, I wanted to come to the 25th reunion and couldn’t at the time because Daddy was ill. So, when the 30th reunion came about, I was hell bent on being there. It was called “Once in a Blue Moon” and I really felt that if I missed the 30th, I would miss out on so much more that it had to offer. I had a sense that if I did not go, it would be harder for me to get a chance to reconnect with anyone for a very long time and that scared me a little. I felt like that would snip away even more of what was left of the roots of my youth, which was a happy and carefree time of my life. I needed that reunion so I made sure I wasn’t going to miss it. After the uphill battles of my life, I needed something, somewhere and some people who were familiar….I needed home. I needed ole talk with women who shared  a similar girlhood. I needed to say “hear nuh,” “in trut” “Oh geed” and  I needed to steupes and say “ent?” and “how yuh goin chile?” without having to translate my dialect.

    Lord, it was like breathing  in a nice sea breeze just talking and having people understand everything I was saying. That year I needed to be among people who grew up the way I did. Sure, I have Trini friends and cousins in Canada and at home whom I visit, but I think the reunion in 2013 was the homecoming I was looking for to remind myself of who I was then and that that same girl with the long plait and Oscar eyebrows was still dwelling inside me.  At “Once In a Blue Moon” she surfaced because she was among childhood friends.

To be clear, it was not easy hooking up with people on Facebook. I wondered with every friend request if they would  A) remember me and  B) like me and  C) want to connect after all these years. I am happy to say, most of them did with a genuine warmth and to be honest, it is the only reason I am still on Facebook.  Since the reunion in 2013, I have met up with many girls in many different places enjoying some good laughs and walks down memory lane. At the last reunion, whether it was at a pre-lime or post-lime or just getting a drop from somebody, I heard so many stories from these women I had known since I was 11, some since 7 and some even from age 5. Stories of situations they experienced, stories of their children (a few with a child like mine) stories that made me understand that we all lived a whole lot of life and the petty shite of our teen years never surfaced.

As I listened to them speak, I realized that though I often felt alone in Canada, I was not the only one who went through the twists and turns of life. These women have the same stubborn strength I have and like me, they knew when they needed to tap into it to set everybody straight. I came to reconnect and for a week, I was plugged in again to a sweetness I’d let slip away in the blur of North American life.

I will also tell you francomen, that the actual night of the reunion, I was a little apprehensive. I had already limed with some people but there was a whole lot more to bounce up that night and I wasn’t too sure how it would go down. Would people remember me? Did I make anybody vex back in the day? Were they still vex? I know I was still a tomboy when everybody else started looking nice and checking out boys. I know I wasn’t very cool because my parents were strict and I was barely able to leave the house without grief if it wasn’t for dancing or some sport. I remember getting closer to the doors of the venue that evening hoping to God everyone would be warm and friendly and I have to say by the time 20 minutes had gone by, I was talking to people as if I never left the country. Did I get chummy with everybody? Of course not. Not everyone is going to flock to you, not everybody will have nice things to say and yeah, you get vibes flying off some people. But if there is one thing I have learned from having my wonky family is that there is no point in judging people; no point about coming to conclusions about people whom you may find judgemental.  Everybody has something they have to deal with. Everybody. It is hard to let go of pain. Hard to forget something that may have hurt or even humiliated you when you were young. But the beauty of youth, is that it is temporary. The beauty of youth is that we all do mature and become wiser with age and the beauty of youth is that it has it’s place in the past. I have to live a life where I look forward. If I glance back too long, I will stumble and find myself at a standstill or drowning in a deep dark hole. I went to a reunion fittingly called “Once in a Blue Moon” because I have no idea when I will see these women again; these women who gave me that little dose of familiarity and grounding I truly needed that year. I went, I re-connected and I came back to my home in Canada revitalized and reassured that I have 75 or so women who run their lives and their family much like I run mine and there isn’t a damn thing wrong with that. I reach out to them sometimes with questions about various things and I get a genuine answer whether it is about children, work, travel, cooking and just about anything you could think of and I hope I have been a great source of support for them as well. We celebrate each other in times of joy, and comfort each other in times of sorrow … And when one of us needs prayers we don’t have to look too far. There is nothing like the honour of receiving the support and strength of a few girls from Convent among a bunch of Canadians punctuating the pews at your father’s funeral in a country where no one thought he would rest his bones.

  I am glad Carla found me on line (as only she would with her passion and determination). As a grown ass 51 year old woman, the silly girlhood bygones are bygones. I think if we spend too much time thinking about nonsense from years gone by we are wasting precious time. I enjoyed the reunion and enjoyed my time with everyone there and I love seeing what they are up to on social media and meeting up with them when I am in their neck of the woods. I don’t care what people think about me. Honestly, I’m not any more special or interesting or important  than anyone else. I have  my crosses to bear like everyone so when I get a chance to enjoy what life has to offer, I do. In my job I help people protect and grow their earnings and I walk them through graduation, first job, marriage, first investments, first home, first car, first kid, first day of retirement and before you know it, I’m delivering the first death claim to a family.  In my job, I am reminded every day how short and precious life is and that we should spend as much time as we can enjoying the journey while we are still upright and breathing because it will change and we will be stunned by that change and then it will happen again and again. So, before we can easily count how many of us are alive and well enough to gather together, if you can make it this year, get your gold dan-dan or your gold accessories and have a drink for me.

As many of you know, if you come to Ottawa, Toronto or anywhere along the 401 corridor or anywhere in the GTA, give me a shout out on line and I will show up and lime if you could take me on. No hard feelings if you don’t want to but I have been known to show up and cheer on people’s field hockey children,      

I have bowled in winter with people’s young children     and I try to lime with the girls living near me as often as I can and there is always time for a spa day, a meal or a drink.

                     

If you are up my way, don’t be a stranger because I am not shy about bouncing you up when I am in your neighbourhood. Have a lovely time with each other at our 35th anniversary reunion. I will miss out this year but I will certainly enjoy all the photos on line and I know I will see you all again as we make our way to the 40th.

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Celebrating the Return of Free

Our second family dog died the Tuesday of March Break. It was sad, it sucked and we all came to the conclusion she was the last dog we would share as a family.

                          

The “having a pet” door for Tom and Daniella is now permanently sealed shut.  We are dog people but we don’t have the lifestyle anymore that will be fair to or accommodate a dog. Life with the Lady Haley has come to an end and it seems that the chapter that was waiting to begin has indeed begun. It seems horrible to think of it, but in a way for 7 months we were caring for an ailing doggie. We saw her through vertigo which was literally the beginning of her downhill slide and everything we did needed to be planned around her care. This after living a life throughout Adam’s younger years planning around his autism. I think we all felt like we were waiting for her to leave us before moving on to the things we wanted to start doing as a family. Her passing was difficult but it was a release for her from her pain and our release to move on to the next phase of our lives.

Tom and I are 3 to 4 years away from giving or rather renting our current home to our older son, Adam. There is still a lot to be done with regards to that goal but things are in the works to give him the most independent life we can give him. It is a very big undertaking but we know this project will only be a success if we put the work in now to get the support he needs in place. We love Adam and he loves us but he has wanted his independence from us for a very long time and it is just a stone’s throw away before he has what he wants and what we get to have – time together that does not have to include or be specially planned around Adam.

Logan’s graduation and the start of him going off to be adult Logan will happen around the same time as Adam’s leap to living without us . Adam will stay in high school until he is 21 to brush up on his life-skills and we will have 2 graduates that year. Once everything is all settled and everyone knows where they are going to live, the travel chapter of our lives will begin and so will the march toward retirement. God willing, a hopefully long, healthy and very much deserved retirement before we meet our Maker.

The next thing that needed to go was my hair. I am surrendering to the grey. I’m done fighting with it. It is too strong and I am tried of highlighting and touching up roots.

I want to spend my precious time doing things that I enjoy and that matter. I have had all sorts of styles, lengths and colours of hair in my life and I have never had a problem going from very long to short and while I am not interested in it being super short. I have no problem cutting it somewhere in between.  It was sexy long for about 4 years. Now it’s time for sexy shorter. Not really interested in being the older woman with the long grey hair – nah! With shorter tresses I could have a little fun with the occasional lavender or light silvery blue highlights when the mood catches me. I’m not interested in bleaching out my greys and highlighting them light brown or blonde like the nine thousand people I see with what I like to refer to as brass heads. The hair goes in a few hours, never to be excessively long again.

Another chapter that needs to get going is the one concerned with my aching boobs.      I am perimenopausal and shit starting getting weird about 2 years ago.  It has not been horrible (maybe because I have been taking Estrosense and Menosense for about 4 years in preparation for this life stage) but it hasn’t always been comfortable. I had a weird heart beat for a period of time a couple years ago that has since settled, then I would get uncomfortably warm as I slept some nights which for anyone who knows me is strange because I tend to be colder than anyone and then for a while I had what I used to call pregnancy brain back in the day when I would lose my train of thought and forget stuff. I’ve had two hot flashes in the past year while in a freezing rink watching my son play hockey and now, my boobs ache much like they did when I was breastfeeding my babies. So, it’s time for a dietary modification and I am raring to go with all the subtle changes I researched that I could implement to help me nutritionally get through this bizarre phase of my life. Hmm…wonder if these boobs will get bigger? Hope not too much bigger because I like my small boobies –  always have…or at least I really started liking them in my twenties. I would not know what the heck to do with big boobs.I certainly don’t wear traditional bras anymore.       If I can’t wear a sports bra  or conveniently and comfortably stick on a bra    …I’m not interested. Sweet Lord I really hope I don’t get more boobs in menopause. I imagine they’d just be in my way so I think the plan will be that I’ll stay active so that nothing accumulates in my sports bra.

I also have to deal with some stuff that has popped up after 50 ( sciatica, fibroids) and while I still do pretty much everything I have always done, I don’t like being uncomfortable so whatever I need to do to get rid of these issues, I’m going to do. I love getting older. There is a really cool perspective you get that makes the issues that you fretted about in your 20’s and 30’s insignificant. Mentally and spiritually there is now a peace within me and a connection with the Divine that keeps me balanced and I approach everything I do now from a place of love…even the difficult things. Physically, aging is a joker and an occasional nuisance. Every now and again Tom and I will have an A moment (age moment) where one too many laps or too many reps cause us to ache a little more and a little longer. We don’t just get lactic acid build up, we ache and when one ache goes away another one happily takes it’s place. It’s a combination of sports wear and tear over the years and well we just ain’t 20 anymore even though oddly enough I think we are healthier than when we were younger. I dunno…it’s a hard one to explain. Still, we persist so maybe we’ll add a little glucosamine to the supplements…we ain’t stopping cause we are just getting started on a new and exciting phase. My only fear that I push as best as I can to the very back of my mind is not being healthy enough to do the things Tom and I hope to do and see together. But, God willing we will do it all before we leave the planet.

I think because it is so cold outside today, I’m going to do a little cosmetic and skin care spring cleaning. I might just throw out my nail polish and eyeliners and lip colour and eye shadow.  I’m tired of seeing them and using them so they have to go. I don’t have much but I think a new set of colours with the new hair might be nice. I think I’ll replenish my body scrubs while I’m at it as spring is around the corner or so they say. Think I’ll lay my old, tired, dirty, gray Converse’s to rest and change it up with a fresh colour…maybe a soft green low cut this time. Heck, maybe when it is warmer next week, I might even grab a couple dresses or skirts for the warmer weather.

This spring feels a little different from springs past. I feel freer, lighter and much altered for the better and I am looking forward to so much in the years ahead. Maybe it’s because we are all changing in our family and heading towards new things and I am as excited for Tom and myself as I am for the boys as a new phase of the journey of life begins. My boys are entering adulthood and they are going to become these awesome men and their father and I, God-willing, are going to see these chapters of their lives unfold and while we watch we will get to really focus on our new time together.  I feel like I am actually going to be able to spend more time in my home office writing on my computer again because I have more uninterrupted time lately and with Logan on the verge of driving, I think I will have even more time because I’ll have no car lol. I suppose I’m gonna have to share a car with Tom like we did way back in the day. I’m excited to get time back. Time to create, eliminate excess stuff (even though I’ve already tossed  many things over the years) time to read more than a couple books a year.  I can work longer if I want to, stagger my days when I need to…Oh this is going to be fantastic! I’ve already gotten rid of my iPad and the couple stupid games I used to play. I’m gonna shelve Netflix for next winter and I’ve already deleted Facebook from my phone.  I’ll keep it on my computer so I can be in touch with friends and family who are far away. I don’t need social media on my phone because for me it’s distracting and a bit of a time waster and I have much to do because this is Chapter 3  – Time to celebrate the return of free.