<saturday september 13, 2003 - 8:20 p.m.>

I inhaled a bug today, while visiting the Mackenzie King Estate in Gatineau. No damage done, but my nose is still itchy.

Off to see Capturing the Friedmans tonight. Review to come later.

a.

<thursday september 11, 2003 - 11:20 p.m.>

Two years ago today I was at home on a sunny afternoon, watching children's cartoons. The phone rang, it was Mark.

A plane just crashed into the World Trade Center.

It felt strange, to be sitting at home on such a beautiful day, happy and oblivious, while somewhere else in the world something awful was happening at that precise moment.

I changed the channel to CBC Newsworld. At that early moment everyone still considered it a terrible aviation accident. The world changed that day. It doesn't seem like it was two years ago, does it?

-

-

Tonight, the moon is one hand span away from the sanguine dot of Mars, and my Altoid Citrus Sours are all glommed together in their lovely tin container. I hate that. The two events are surely unrelated.

Earlier this evening, I wrote a nastygram to Staples. They crossed the line.

As business owners in Ottawa, we make regular trips for office supplies to the Staples location on Merivale Road. When it was time to buy a new fax machine, this was the first store we went to.

Last week we were considering a purchase of the HP OJ 4110 for $199. Imagine our surprise when we received our weekly Staples flyer today, only to see that the same fax is now marked at a higher "sale price" of $229.96 with a "free" photo scanner with purchase. That photo scanner isn't really free, is it? In fact, I doubt that the value of it is really $49.98 as it states in the flyer. In fact, if it was really free that fax machine would still cost $199.

I find these kinds of business practices really distasteful, and I'm surprised that Staples would advertise in this misleading and deceptive manner.

Wow. I wonder what else we've bought there with the mistaken belief that it was "on sale."

Bastrds.

These last few days have been totally mental.

Suddenly I've become More Than Mom. I have been shunted into a much larger role, one that I am relatively unprepared for: Mom of School Age Kid.

Childfree readers may not appreciate the difference, but let me tell you, having your child in a government-approved educational facility is like visiting a whole different world. Visiting? I take that back. Having kids in school is like moving to a busy, strange, and new planet.

All of a sudden there are a zillion more things I need to remember. Even this early on in the game, things are just dropping out of my brain. Names for ordinary household objects, for example, have evaporated to make room for the litany of new names/dates/places that I now have to keep in my (already on the verge of burning out) memory banks.

And this may sound totally stupid, but Emma's junior kindergarten and nursery school are both peanut-free zones. This has freaked me out and I'm finding the concept of snack preparation totally stressful.

I also find myself being in new roles, totally different from what I'm used to. My persona as a hip and happenin' chick is eroding. (Although I think I may have staved it off with the purchase of The Kick @ss Black Knee High Boots of My Dreams.) For example, did you know that I am a member of the Playdoh committee at Emma's nursery school? (I can hear many of you cracking up over that one.)

Allow me to backtrack.

Emma goes to a co-op nursery school (NS) three mornings a week. Parents are expected to help out. This helps keep costs down. Sure, great! As I read over the registration papers I realized that the positions parents are expected to help out in aren't exactly my cup of tea. Regardless, I was allowed to pick my selection of volunteer jobs, stating my preference on a scale of 1 to 5. Number one pick: newsletter editor. No. 2: Public relations committee. I can't remember number three, but my last choice was the Playdoh-making committee. That's the one I got.

As I sat in on the first orientation meeting I made a not-so revolutionary discovery about myself. I looked around at the other parents in the room, and make a huge sweeping generalization: I am not one of those moms. I can't put my finger on it. I don't know how to describe the kind of people who were there, but I am not a bake-sale mom. I am not the mom who is on the social committee.

Confession: I do consider myself inherently shy. I don't think I do very well in group situations, although some of you probably think otherwise. :)

I like people, but I'm not much of a joiner. Perhaps that's the problem. It's just not in my DNA, yet I have a tendency to beat myself up about it because I don't fit in.

I am a different kind of mom, and I have to be happy with this. It's all I've got to give.

The first day of NS I had to spend the morning there with Emma, to "ease the transition." Frankly, she didn't need easing into anything. The kid pretended I wasn't there, almost the whole time.

I sat with Emma at the playdoh (PD) table (it gave me the opportunity to assess this home-made PD for proper texture/durability/elasticity).

There was another mom there and her little boy. She was using the PD as the Ultimate Teachable Moment. In fact, she wouldn't shut up about it. She was worse than a Teddy Ruxpin with a loose wire and an overcharged battery. The stream of questions to stimulate the poor kid's synapses was unrelenting:

Wow, here's the pd, what does it feel like?
What can you make with it? Why don't you make cookies? Why don't you put these square cookies in the big round bowl? Try using this rolling pin. See the pattern? And what happens when you turn it this way? And that way? See the pattern? Doesn't it look like a checkerboard? Why don't you bake your cookies in the play oven? What else can you make?

Meanwhile, I mostly sat and watched Emma do her own thing. I felt guilty about my non-involvement.

Hey Emma, let's make snakes!
No.
Try making a cookie with this cookie cutter!
I don't want to.
Should we make a loaf of bread? I can show you how to knead!
I can do it myself.

Yesterday I realized that being a work-at-home mom is going to be a helluva lot of work. My schedule (with Emma) is insane. I won't even get into transportation issues.

Domestic work is sliding like never before. I won't reveal the fact that I could have made a miniature sandcastle out of all the crumbs I swept from the kitchen floor today. And then there is Actual Paying Work, that I am enjoying yet trying not to worry about too much.

<sigh>

I think I need a lifecoach. Or maybe just a maid to come in once a week.

a.