Last week as I was dropping Logan off at school, it began to snow. Great, fluffy “it feels like we’re in a snow globe” type flakes. They were so intricate that I knew I needed to try and take some pictures of them. I drove to one of my favourite spots in my neighborhood, parked the car on the side of the road and stepped out to take some snaps by the lake. (I keep a point-and-shoot camera in my purse for those “just gotta take a picture” moments.) I rounded the front of the car, stepped on the grassy boulevard between the road and the sidewalk and took one sure-footed step onto the sidewalk itself, camera in hand. The next thing I knew, I was staring at the sky, having taken a pratfall-quality slip on the icy sidewalk and landed flat on my back.

My first, fleeting thought was, “Holy crap! I fell down!” Immediately following the initial shock came another thought. “Wow, I really don’t want to get up.” And, if it hadn’t been for

1. My daughter waiting in her carseat, and
2. The fact that I was laying on a public sidewalk in the middle of my neighborhood where other people could see

I may very likely have stayed there for awhile.

In that moment, I knew that I would be perfectly capable of closing my eyes against the snow and the cold and falling asleep on that dirty, icy sidewalk. And that very truth is what got me up off the ground, faster even than the thought of my daughter waiting for me or of my neighbors seeing the crazy, sleeping lady on the sidewalk.

I got to my feet, brushed the snow off my clothes, checked my camera to make sure I hadn’t broken it in the fall (I hadn’t), snapped a couple of useless, hasty pictures and rushed the two or three steps back to my car door.

The whole thing took less than a minute but in those few seconds I realized just how bad things had truly gotten.

It’s not normal to be so fatigued that the idea of falling asleep on a sidewalk is more appealing than expending the energy to stand back up again. 

I’ve never been in such a hurry to see the doctor before. I’m counting down the days until my appointment with the endocrinologist (23). I need to start feeling better. I need to lose weight. I need to regain my energy, to stop feeling like I’m living in a bubble and remember what it’s like to feel alert and alive. I need to be able to wash my hair and have it actually feel clean for more than a couple of hours before morphing into an oil slick. I just want to be myself again. The self who would never, in a million years, consider laying on a sidewalk in the middle of a snowstorm instead of merely standing up and continuing on.

________________________

I’ve actually wanted to publish this post for awhile. I had it in my head that it would be funny to joke about my oily hair, so I took pictures and video documenting the transformation from squeaky clean to oily. And, while I now fail to see the humour in my current situation, I can’t possibly let my hard work go to waste, and so I’ve decided to go ahead and include my prepwork for the post that I have no intention of actually writing:

This video was going to be prefaced by words to the effect of “you know your hair is clean when it squeaks like Tupperware.”

Squeaky Clean from Walking With Scissors on Vimeo.

This is my “immediately following a shower” hair. It’s nice and clean and this is, of course, when I feel my very best.

This is my less-than-twenty-four-hours-later hair. Trust me, you don’t want to see it when I’ve reached the 48 hour point. Which is why I rarely ever do.

________________________

And, just in case you’re wondering what in the hell I’m blathering on about, and what in the hell could possibly be wrong with me, the entire backstory can be found here, here, here and here.  I’m considering giving it its own category entitled “my stupid, fucking hormones.” What do you think?

Hopefully after April 23rd, I’ll have some answers. And, honestly, if the answer is something as simple as a $5 pack of birth control pills, I’m all for it. Bring on the solutions and let me fix this thing!

Filed under: Just My Luck, Keepin' it Real, Me, PCOS, Pity Party by WWS (Lynn) - 5 Comments →

Scaredy Squirrel is super cute and funny. The way Logan reads it is extra super cute and funny. Here he is, reading one of his favourite parts. Enjoy!

A Reading by Logan from Walking With Scissors on Vimeo.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Offspring, Out of the Mouths of Babes by WWS (Lynn) - 3 Comments →

We’ve had the budgies for 10 days now and I’m proud to say that they’ve been adjusting well. They’re gentle and calm around the kids, get along well with each other, and have been enjoying the various playthings and food we’ve included in their cage.

Ah, yes. This is the sweet life. We’ve got no one telling us what to do. We can do whatever we want, whenever we want.

Plus, they totally refill our food dish all the time. Heh. It’s like a 24 hour, all-you-can-eat buffet up in this joint.

Uh, yeah. About that. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Don’t you think you should maybe let up just a touch and let others have a turn?

Heh heh. Yeah, that food dish is awes…. Wait… What?

I mean, I know it’s gourmet feed and all, but dude. Do you really have to sleep in the food? I can hardly reach around you to get a snack, man.

Did you just call me fat?

Oh, crap. Uh, well, uh, not exactly fat, per se. Just, uh, you know. Fluffy.

I can’t believe you, man! Honestly. Don’t you have any tact at all? I have body issues. Seriously. Geez.

Crap. Crap, crap, crap.

Don’t you turn away from me when I’m talking to you! We’re going to have this out. Seriously. I can’t believe you called me fat! How am I supposed to live in the same cage as someone like you? I’m going to lose it, I swear.

I have a feeling it’s going to be a loong night…

Don’t tease Snowy about his weight. He’ll go all Exorcist on your ass. Believe it.

Filed under: Random by WWS (Lynn) - 5 Comments →

For some reason I can’t wrap my mind around, the fine people over at Blogtrepreneur.com have put me on their Top 50 Mommy Blogs list. I made it in at #44. The mind boggles.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Me, Ponderings by WWS (Lynn) - 1 Comment →

This morning, as I was driving Logan to school, some woman driving a Subaru decided it would be fun to ride my bumper all the way out of our subdivision and out to the main road. She then whipped out beside me, was nearly t-boned as she turned left in front of an oncoming car and sped her way down the road, weaving through traffic like a madwoman. She turned onto the road leading to Logan’s school and rode the bumper of the minivan in front of her in a desperate attempt to speed her way through the school zone. She turned into the parking lot across from the school and went the long way around, double parking behind several cars so her child could open the passenger door and walk through the parking lot to get to the crosswalk. While she was doing this, I slipped into a proper parking stall, helped my son on with his backpack and made it to the crosswalk ahead of her child. All of this was accomplished by driving properly, watching out for other cars and, most importantly, children, and generally acting without all of the assholery displayed by crazy Subaru lady. That’s right. I win.

Filed under: Keepin' it Real, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 2 Comments →

I am terrible with change. I don’t like it. I get horribly, neurotically stressed out about change of any kind. At times, it’s a “you should really see a doctor about getting a pill for that” kind of stressed out. In fact, the first night we had the budgies, I sat on the couch like an anxious little twit, worrying aloud that we never should have gotten them. I even had a mental list of why not:

• they’re alive
• they make noises
• the cage totally throws off the symmetry of the dining room
• I’ll have to sweep more
• they’re going to live for up to 8 years (or longer, if they’re really healthy!)
• Omigod they’re new and different and I don’t think I can handle all this change all at once!

When I told my husband, the anti-pet-owner, my concerns, he replied, “Lynn, they’re just birds. It’s not a big deal.” And, to anyone even remotely less neurotic than I, it isn’t a big deal. With anything new, though, comes a big freakout while my brain processes the change. Once I’ve gotten it out of my system, it’s fine. I have to say that sometimes it can be tough to have such a high maintenance mind.

Fast forward (or rewind?) to last week, when I opened my mailbox to find the earrings I bought for my mom. Along with those were a pair that I purchased for myself.

Now, you’re probably wondering why on earth I would think that buying a pair of earrings would be newsworthy. Trust me, me buying a pair of earrings is front page newsworthy. Because I don’t know when I’ll actually ever wear them, considering that it’s going to involve me taking out a pair of earrings I’ve worn for, oh, I don’t know, the last twenty years?

Changing my earrings is a big deal for me. Emphasis on the change part.

(I mentioned that I have issues with change, didn’t I?)

Let me introduce you to my ears:

This is Lefty. Lefty is modelling a set of sleeper earrings that she’s been wearing since 1987.

And here’s Righty. Righty is modelling the same set of twenty year old earrings. Righty is a little more fashion-forward than Lefty, though, as she introduced a new set of bling into the mix several years ago. The capture ring represents a time in my life that I like to call, “Holy crap, I just had a baby. How am I going to convince the world that I’m still hip?” The little ball at the top is the product of my “oh hell, I’m thirty!” freakout. ‘Cause I’m all about growing older gracefully.

Obviously, I’m not one who spends a lot of time or money on jewlery. For some odd reason, though, I was feeling somewhat girly the day I bought my mom’s earrings and simply had to have these ones. (Also, I really like the seller.) (I also like a deal, and combined shipping = cheaper for me, so yay.)

I took them out of the packaging and admired them. I laid them on some tile in the master bathroom (also the room with the best lighting) and took some pictures of them. Then I realized that in order to wear them, I might have to remove my other earrings. Oh, the stress!

Figuring that there had to be a way around my dilemna, I tried them on overtop of my current earrings.

Classy.

Hmm. Gold sleepers combined with sterling silver dangles? Probably not the prettiest combination.

So, I’m left with two options.

1. Keep them in my jewelry box, occasionally taking them out to admire them before placing them back in storage again.
2. Remove (gasp!) my other earrings and actually wear the damn things

Honestly, it’s a tougher choice than I’d like to admit. Do you know what it’s like trying to put in and take out those tiny sleeper earrings? It’s a pain, that’s what. Plus, the whole change thing. AND, do I take out the second set, too? The decisions!

I think it’s probably going to take several weeks before I actually take out the other earrings to wear the new ones. And I’ll be uncomfortable with it the whole time. And probably race to put them back in again and the end of the day. Sighing with relief the whole time.

So, after reading all this, you’re probably wondering why my husband of nearly nine years is still married to me. Let me tell you, he has issues…

Filed under: Confessions, Keepin' it Real, Me by WWS (Lynn) - 4 Comments →

When my Grandma passed away a few weeks ago, it didn’t come as a shock. We had been preparing ourselves for it because over the past couple of years, Grandma had become a delicate, frail shadow of her former self. Blind, very nearly deaf, wheelchair bound following a fall which broke her hip, and nearly incapacitated by violent shaking, she was no longer living a life with any quality. She was simply existing because her heart was too strong and stubborn to quit. And so, when at the age of 94 years she caught a cold and simply didn’t have the strength left to fight it off, mingled in with the sadness was a glimmer of relief. Because even though it was heart-shatteringly difficult to let go, we all knew that it was the right thing.

When my mom got the call one Saturday saying that her mother was sick and wasn’t expected to recover, she scrambled to get a flight booked so she could be by her side. The flight was booked for that Tuesday and my mom prayed that she wouldn’t be too late.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” I told her. “Grandma will wait for you to come. She knows that you want to be with her one more time.”

My mom spent several hours with Grandma on Tuesday afternoon and then another few on Wednesday morning, holding her hand and stroking her hair. Making sure that she knew how much she was loved. Saying goodbye.

Grandma held on until Friday morning and quietly slipped away. The fact that she had had a long and happy life was little consolation. Knowing that the suffering of the past few years was finally over and Grandma was in a better place is what gave the most comfort. It wouldn’t have been right for Grandma to have to continue on in such a state.

My mom took my Grandma’s death particularly hard. Considering that I don’t know what I would do if I lost my mom, I can understand why. Aside from losing a child, losing my mother is the single-most horrifying thing I can imagine. The bond between a mother and her daughter is a strong one. Though I was, of course, grieving the loss of my grandmother, I found myself more concerned with my mom and her grief. Knowing that someone you love is in pain and knowing that there is nothing you can do to stop it is a tough pill to swallow. For whatever it was worth, I wanted to do something to show my mom that I was there for her.

In the days following Grandma’s death, I tried to think of an appropriate gesture for my mom, something that would not only attempt to express my condolences but also attempt to evoke some happy memories as well. Somehow, a flower arrangement just didn’t seem fitting. It had to be something longer lasting.

It didn’t take me long to realize that whatever I did, it had to have something to do with the prairie lily, which is the provincial flower of Saskatchewan. My Grandma had been born and raised there, as was my mom, and both of them identified strongly with the flower. So, with that in mind, I hopped on my new favourite site, Etsy, to see what I could find.

After perusing countless listings, I came across a seller who had tons of gorgeous items in her shop. None of them was exactly what I was looking for, but after emailing back and forth with her several times, she worked with me to come up with a custom pair of earrings, designed to look similar to the prairie lily.

From the moment I saw the pictures that Melissa from New Fashioned Whispers sent, I knew that I had found the perfect way to honour both my Grandma’s life and my mother’s memories of her.

The day that the earrings arrived in my mailbox, I called my mom to see if I could come over. I desperately hoped that she would like them. I wanted her to understand the reason behind my choice and that it wasn’t really about the earrings at all – it was merely the vehicle I had chosen to represent the bond of love between a mother and a daughter. Between my mother and her own mother. I hoped that they would serve as a reminder of all the best things about my Grandma – a way to keep those happy memories near the surface. I was terrified that she would hate them. Grief is such a difficult thing to deal with and I didn’t want to make the situation any worse.

My mom opened the box, read the note that I had written and promptly announced that she loved the earrings. She tried them on right away. They looked perfect. Small and delicate yet strong enough to stand out.

Just like my Grandma.

Just like my Mom.

Filed under: Confessions, Keepin' it Real, Me by WWS (Lynn) - 4 Comments →

Yesterday was report card day. Logan brought home a shining example of how his hard work has paid off. His teacher is very impressed with the speed and neatness of his printing, his math skills and his reading level. There were a few small complaints on his report card, though.

The highlighted areas read like this:

1. Logan is often more interested in using his stick as a guitar rather than a hockey stick!
2. he is prone to entertaining his partner rather than working on developing his skills.

And:

1. Works well with others: Logan has been very helpful with assisting our new student, but can get very silly when working with some of the other children.
2. Makes constructive use of time in class: Logan is a social guy who likes to entertain his classmates, this can impact how effectively he uses his class time.
3. My one wish for Logan is that he puts as much focus into his work as he does into entertaining his friends.

While Lucky and I continually try to impress upon Logan the importance of paying attention in class and trying to limit the time he spends goofing off, I have to say that he comes by it honestly. Here is an excerpt from one of my elementary school report cards:

1. her socializing in class has been detrimental to her listening skills and her attention to her work.
2. she gets carried away with herself and presses a point to an inappropriate level.
3. Lynn has really come into her own. She has learned to temper her enthusiasm with sensibility.

While we still need to work with Logan on reigning his personality in a bit, I have to say that if his social personality is the biggest problem he’s having in school, we must be doing something right! Academically, he’s doing great. He’s a sweet, loving, caring and fun boy. He’s popular and loves school. He’s making excellent grades and is thisclose to being at a grade two level in his reading. Honestly, the comments on his report card made me giggle because they’re so Logan. And, just to toot my own horn a bit, I was a straight A student in elementary school, despite my “untempered enthusiasm” and “socialization.” I went on to complete university with a Bachelor of Science degree whilst chattering my way through every class.

Way to go, Logan! You crazy little chatterbox of a genius boychild.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Keepin' it Real, Me, Offspring by WWS (Lynn) - No Comments →

Their inspiration was this video:

You can thank Lucky for introducing them to the toilet cat song.

Filed under: Uncategorized by WWS (Lynn) - 3 Comments →

Meet Snowy and Chirpy Sunflower:

(Bonus points if you can figure out which child named which budgie.)

The first thing anyone says when I tell them that we bought budgies is, “Lucky agreed to this? Did you tell Lucky? How did you get Lucky to go for that?”

To say that Lucky isn’t a huge fan of pets is an understatement. It’s like saying that Mount Everest is sorta big or that Michael Jackson thinks little boys are kinda cool.

However, his love for his children outshines his distaste for pets and after several weeks of listening to Logan’s pleas for a pet of his very own, Lucky caved and the pet-choosing process began.

Me: So, how about a dog?

Lucky: *snort* *eyeroll*

(The last time I tried to convince Lucky to get a dog was back when we were living in sin engaged and living in our first house. His response? “A dog? Are you kidding? We might as well have a kid.”)

(Because we all know how much easier it is to take care of a child than it is to take care of a dog…)

(Hey. I think I may have found the key to convincing Lucky to have a third child! I’ll just threaten to bring a dog into the house. Muahahaha….)

But I digress…

Me: Cats are out. They make my eyes itch.

Lucky: Definitely not. No cats.

Me: Hamsters are creepy.

(I hate hamsters. Their creepy rodent tails. The way they burrow into that shredded paper. It gives me the shivers. They might as well be trying to burrow right under my skin. Blech. I know how everyone thinks that hamsters are just so cute and cuddly but I can’t help thinking that those little bastards are carrying rabies or Hep C or the chicken pox virus or something. And I just know that if I caved and bought one, it would go all crazy on me and try to eat my face off or something. How would I ever explain my horribly scarred and misshapen countenance to the other moms at school? “What’s that? You’re wondering why I only have half a face? My kid’s rabid hamster knawed the other half off, that’s all. The silly little fluffball.”

At first glance, you’d think he’s all cute and fluffy but on further examination, you can clearly see his shifty, beady little eyes pinpointing the exact place to strike. He’s in full-on attack position, getting ready to launch himself at your face. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Step One: claw Lynn’s face off. Step Two: take over the world!

Definitely no hamsters.

Lucky: How about fish?

Me: Fish? No. Fish are boring. Plus, you couldn’t pay me enough to clean out the tank. Blech.

Lucky: Yeah, but can’t you get self-cleaning tanks? How hard can it be?

Me: Your son wants a pet and the best you can do is a fish? Fish don’t do anything.

Lucky: But they’re relaxing to watch. And they’re colourful!

Me: Give it up, dude. I’m vetoing the fish.

Me: Rabbits bite.

Lucky: No rabbits.

Me: You don’t want anything that even resembles an actual pet, do you?

Lucky: I don’t like pets.

Me: You’re not making this very easy, you know…

Me: I know! Budgies!

Lucky: Uh. Really?

Me: Yes. They’re easy to take care of. Plus, you can hold them. And they don’t smell.

Lucky: *sigh.* Fine. Just go ahead and buy one.

Me: Two.

Lucky: What?

Me: It’s not like it’s any harder to take care of two. They can keep each other company.

Lucky: Fine. Two.

Budgies it is!

Another, previously unforseen perk to having pets of the avian variety? I get to visually demonstrate exactly how I feel about the weather around here:

Go ahead, boys. Don’t be shy. Poop away.

Filed under: Happy Happy, Me, Offspring, Random by WWS (Lynn) - 4 Comments →