He's Baaaaack!

You know the feeling. You’re fast asleep and suddenly a loud noise breaks the silence of the room and you bolt upright in bed. Well this morning at precisely 4:37 the loud noise emanated from Remington.  There I was sound asleep, deeply engrossed in a lovely dream. Donny Osmond and I were running on a beach. We stopped under a huge palm tree and Donny was just about to kiss me when a dog came out of nowhere and started barking at us…”GRRRRRRR WOOF WOOF” What? Wait a minute…a dog? I wasn’t dreaming anymore…that bark was familiar. Remington! I sat up in bed and peered around the dark room. There he stood at the bottom of the bed, staring across the room, barking his newly found big boy bark. It had returned…the dreaded mirror dog!  Remy has been after that dog ever since we brought him home.  Every so often we hear barking coming from our room. When we go upstairs we inevitably find him sitting on our bed, barking and growling at the mirror dog. Usually I laugh at him, throw a sheet over the mirror and the mirror dog disappears, along with the barking. Well this morning, after glancing at the clock and realizing it was just 4:37 I was not in a laughing mood. I shushed Remy and rolled over…he kept barking. I got up and threw the spare sheet I keep on hand for just this reason, over the mirror. He stopped. Whew! I climbed back into bed, moved Rufus so I could pull a small corner of the blankets out from under him and settled down to go back to sleep. “Grrrr….GRRRR…WOOF”…what the heck was he barking at now? I rolled over and looked at the bottom of the bed. There was Remy, lying flattened out on the bed....so flat in fact that he was almost two dimensional. He had slithered to the edge and his head was hanging down…..what on earth was he doing? I sat up and looked closer at the covered mirror. Apparently I hadn’t covered the whole thing…there was one tiny corner near the bottom that was exposed allowing the mirror dog to make his appearance yet again.  I got up, pulled the sheet down to cover the whole mirror and got back into bed. Within thirty seconds he was sound asleep, snoring..hogging my pillow.

Fly Little Birds, Fly

From the moment they are born, we are preparing our children to go out on their own. We teach them to stand on their own two feet as we hold their little chubby hands and guide them across the floor. We teach them they’ll get hurt if they stick knitting needles in electrical outlets (how many times did I say “NO” to Little Darling Number One when he did that?). We teach them how to get along in the world. We guide them, shape them, worry about them.  During the Terrible Twos we wish they’d just hurry up and grow up…during the Trying Teens we wonder if we will get out alive..but we do. We survive and so do they. I won’t say unscathed…but we do survive.  From the moment my sons were born, I was preparing them to go out into the world on their own.  Why is it then, that I forgot to prepare myself for the day that they would all be standing on their own feet…leaving the nest…out on their own? This weekend my buddy, our youngest…Little Darling Number Three is moving out and starting his life with a wonderful girl I think may be “the one”.  Two weeks ago Little Darling Number Two moved out to go back to school, yet again. He’s completed four years of university, two years training to be a Paramedic and now he’s studying computer something or other. He's on his way to something big.  Little Darling Number One moved out a few years ago and is now happily married and almost ready to start his own little family. On Monday, I will begin my life as an Empty Nester. I’ll have to learn to cook in smaller batches…we don’t need giant pans of lasagna or big pots of sweet and sour meatballs anymore. I’ll experience smaller grocery bills, smaller hydro bills, having hot water every time I step into the shower and a house that stays immaculate after I clean it, for the first time in 30 years. It all sounds wonderful and it’s something I’ve dreamed about for years…but I’m not ready for it. I want them to be home for a bit longer…I want the mess, the noise…I don’t like solitude. Everything in me is screaming…”Don’t go!!!”…but I know they have to. This is what I’ve been preparing them for…the rest of their lives await. Did I remember to teach them about cross walks? Did I forget to teach them anything important?  It’s too late now…they’re on their ways.  As each of them left, they took a little piece of my heart with them. I hope they know that whenever they need me, I'll be there for them, so will their dad. We'll be there, but somehow I think they're going to be just fine standing on their own two feet...after all, they've been being prepared for this from the moment they were born.


Boys as you make your ways out in the big world remember one thing….I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always…as long as I’m living my babies you’ll be! (Thank you Mr. Munsch).

The Boys vs The Snowpeople

A family of snowpeople has invaded our neighbourhood and the boys have taken it upon themselves to protect us all.

 This morning as we approached one of the houses in our neighbourhood, I felt Rufus' leash tighten slightly and then start to vibrate. I looked down at him and noticed he was standing on guard, looking up at the house and I heard a low rumble coming out of him. My gentle giant was growling a warning...but at whom?? It was then I noticed four snowpeople with bightly coloured scarves tied around their necks staring blankly back at us. The rumble started getting louder...Remy heard it and he jumped on top of Rufus who growled a loud warning at him..he meant business. Remy decided this was serious and he slid off Rufus and stood beside him, hackles up, staring at the snowpeople. Rufus started stamping his feet and barking at them...they didn't move. He lunged towards them almost dragging me off my feet..still the snowpeople stood their ground. Remy joined in with his higher pitched puppy bark....that didn't scare the brave snowpeople off either. Now I had both boys straining at the ends of their leashes, barking and growling and carrying on..it was all I could do to hang on. Suddenly my feet hit a patch of ice and down I went. I tried to hang on to their leashes but they got away from me and bolted towards the alien intruders. I was sure they were going to tackle the snow family and ruin the kids' work but they didn't..no, instead they simultaneously lifted their legs on the biggest of the snowpeople, melting him slightly and happily trotted back to me...mission accomplished. They showed them who's boss. So people of our town take note, you're safe from the threat of alien snowpeople...Rufus and Remy are on guard and they'll keep their bladders full :)

The Picky Pooper

My dog is a picky pooper. Rufus will not poop unless conditions are ideal. Now what constitutes ideal conditions is beyond me...I can't figure him out.  Take this morning for instance....we were walking along the road and he started that intense sniffing that signals, IT'S TIME! I stopped and waited. He sniffed...walked around...and sniffed some more. He started circling in ever decreasing circles...assumed the position...and then....started sniffing again. We walked a little further...he stopped again. This was it...he circled, sniffed, circled again. Suddenly he plunged deeper into the ditch in search of *the* perfect spot, dragging me behind him. He was a dog on a mission...intent on finding his special spot. I was a human with snow going into my boots. I tried to drag him out of the ditch and get him back on the road to make it easier to pick the poop....(because of course being a responsible dog owner, I do poop and scoop. Well I don't poop and scoop...my dogs poop, I scoop!) but he was having no part of that. He had finally found "it"...the spot. There he was perched on the other side of the deep ditch on top of a huge snowbank. He circled, circled again, humped over with a look of concentration on his face. Just then a bus full of elementary school kids went by with little laughing faces peering out at us through iced up windows. And poof..there went my dignity. Once he was finished it was my job to climb up onto the snowbank and retrieve the poop. I managed to get up there, but balancing while stooping and scooping was no small feat. I dug into my pocket and retrieved one of ever present vanilla scented poop bags, plunged my hand into it and bent to pick up the prize. This time I was lucky...my fingers stayed within the confines of the plastic bag..last time..oh never mind, that's another story.

No rhythm needed...you're kidding me

A month ago a friend of mine mentioned that Zumba classes were being offered in town and asked if I wanted to go with her. Game to try anything..once...I signed up before Christmas for the classes that were to start in the New Year. I've mentioned it to a few people over the past month and was told by everyone that the instructor's name is G.I. Jane...G.I. Jane? I had visions of a large military type woman barking orders at me while I struggled to complete just one push up. Uh oh..I talked myself out of the classes and was planning on bailing but my friend begged me to go with her. Yesterday was the big day and I was dreading it. I spent the day planning my escape..."My cell phone just rang...I have to go home, Remy ate the new kitten"..."My husband just called me and the house is on fire...gotta run....sorry I can't finish the class, G.I.". The dreaded hour arrived and my friend showed up at our door to pick me up..."Let's just get it over with," I thought...yup that's a great attitude!

We arrived at the Community Centre, took off our coats, put on our running shoes and entered a large room filled with giddy women. "I'm so glad we're back at this", one woman gushed to her friend as they walked past us. "Oh don't tell me we're the only newbies", I groaned. I scanned the room looking for our fearless leader...military girl G.I. Jane. I didn't see anyone wearing Fatigues..maybe she couldn't make it? Dare I hope? Then I heard a voice..."Welcome to the PARTYYYYY...let's goooooo" and into the middle of the group jumped a young woman wearing clothing that didn't even remotely resemble Fatigues. She started gyrating and moving around the room to the music....."Come on people..join in". Join in...join in what?? Wiggling and shaking my butt? I don't think so. I could break a hip.  "Who has been here before", our leader asked. Out of the 40 women in the room, 35 put up their hands. OK so there were five of us who had never done this before....good I wasn't alone. As Jane and the 35 experienced Zumbites shook what their Mama's gave them....we five newbies stood shivering in the cold room.  Picture deer caught in headlights. "Just feel the music..you don't need rhythm..just move", chirped one of the participants as she Zumba-ed past us.  We looked at each other, shrugged and stepped out onto the floor. Well without going into painful details, I'll tell you I lived through the night but I discovered something about myself in the process. I am not one of the Jackson Five's long lost relatives..I am not one of Gladys Knight's pips...ie I have no rhythm. While others moved sensuously through the steps, I lurched and stumbled around the room. When the group moved left, I moved right. When they swirled and twirled, the rubber on my shoe caught on the floor and I fell.  When Jane told me to "feel the music", I felt a cramp starting in my left calf.  I stuck with it though and made it to the end of the class. I was sweaty and hot but I finished it. I am proud of myself for not bailing. I'm hoping over the next 8 weeks that I can find my inner goddess and learn to move more sensuously. I'm not aiming for Beyonce or Shakira...I just don't want to be compared to the Fresh Prince's cousin Carlton!