Hell itself would tremble in the face of my fury and stress-driven hysteria. The look of pure anxiety coupled with tension strikes fear into the heart of both husband and children. They run from me the way they would run if I was wielding a fistful of butcher knives. But all I’m running with these days is cardboard boxes and packing tape.  I am a bundle of nerves, wrapped tightly around a big heap of PMS and it is a fearsome sight to behold.

Also, the stress is messing with my blood sugar.  This kind of busyness and pressure causes my blood sugar to run low and then I spend a lot of time drinking orange juice or eating jelly beans by the hand full to keep up. Trust me, it’s way less fun than it sounds. I don’t even like jelly beans anymore, I’ve eaten that many in the past few days.  This is hard on my body and it leaves me feeling like I’ve run a marathon. Without any of the benefits of being a person who runs marathons. Like looking hot in spandex. But anyone who has every gone one too many hours without eating knows how tired and drained you feel when your blood sugar is running low. Imagine dealing with that all day every day. While trying to pack up your house, organize 80892374049 details pertaining to moving to the states, and drinking 38023021998 gallons of orange juice.  If it weren’t for the new, handy-dandy glucose transmitter I’ve been wearing the past few weeks, you’d probably be finding me in a coma, 75% of the time!

Tonight after a major minor meltdown, the hubby assured me all will be fine and sent me off down the street to pick up some OJ to keep my blood sugar up and a walk so he could call the psych ward to pick up his crazy wife to clear my head.  Then we spent an hour working on some close-to-final packing and I sat down with a handfull of crazy pills the biggest mother-effing piece of chocolate I could buy at the corner store.  Now, I am sitting here warding off The PMS The Crazy by staring at my computer and gnawing on a hunk of chocolate.

That’s the truth about me. The Crazy makes me freak out on my hubby, but instead of it making me get my ass in gear and do what needs to be done, it sometimes paralyzes me. Luckily, I have a good guy who can hold my hand until the Giggling Academy comes to get me we get through this rough patch.

So, until things settle down, don’t be surprised if you drop by and hear me sitting in the corner, giggling.  I’ll be fine. Really!

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Because it is so darn inconvenient!  Plus, my husband, in all his well-intentioned and hard-working glory, always messes up my plans.

I had PLANNED to wait until today to pack my handy microwave egg-cooker gadget that looks kind of like this:

Because there was one egg left and I’ll be damned if I throw away one perfectly good egg. But the Mr. Eager Beaver packed the egg poacher yesterday. So I was faced with a dilemma: do I throw away the egg or do I attempt to find an alternate egg cooking method (when we have packed all frying pans, cooking utensils, plates, bowls, silverware, etc. and have been eating off paper plates with plastic silverware and cups)?

I’ll be honest. I was going to throw it away. But Mr. Beaver came to the rescue and was determined to find a solution.  This is what he came up with:

It actually worked which is good. Except I’m not sure that a cooked egg is enough to make up for the cancer I’ll probably get from eating an egg cooked in a cup made from what I’m guessing is the LOWEST GRADE PLASTIC AVAILABLE and then degraded even more by being melted cooked in the microwave, thereby bonding with said egg and being consumed by yours truly.

Have I mentioned that our microwave is on it’s last leg? Sometimes it will overcook food so badly it is inedible and sometimes you can put food in there for minutes HOURS before it is thawed/warmed/cooked. When I cook eggs in the microwave (with the proper cooking apparatus) it normally takes anywhere from 30 seconds to one minute and 30 seconds and it’s a surprise EVERY TIME!  The real surprise is that you never know if the egg will explode all over the inside of the microwave and you will be cleaning it up instead of eating it.

Also? The glass plate that is meant to rotate the food in the microwave disappeared during our last move.  So we have to stand by the microwave and stop it EVERY TEN SECONDS to manually rotate the food.  My life is glamorous, no?

Needless to say, the microwave will not be coming to our new home with us. We intend to find it a loving home leave it on the curb for garbage day (and I might just kick it a few times, too-I have a lot of pent up microwave-rage).

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As of today it’s official. We have an actual destination in mind when we discuss moving!  We’ve spent the last twelve months speculating and dreaming all kinds of crazy dreams. So before I tell you where we are moving….let me tell you where we are not moving! (This is fun, isn’t it? )

We are not moving to back home to Saskatchewan. Not so much because we don’t want to. We tried. There isn’t a lot of opportunity there, but there is some. Unfortunately, none of the possibilities we explored worked out. So going home is out. I have mixed feelings about this. Obviously I will really miss home and our community there. But it just doesn’t seem to be working out at this point so I am trying to accept it. Who knows? Saskatchewan may still be in our future at some point.

We are not staying here in London (that’s London, Ontario and not London, England, for those just tuning in). There was a point when we seriously considered some opportunities here. At first I thought it was completely crazy, but we have gotten used to this city and, after a year, have made some good friends. I will be sad to leave this place and I am grateful for the memories we have made here.

We are not moving to Toronto. I have to say this with a big ol’ heap of relief. I say that with absolutely NO offense meant to those of my readers who live in Toronto. There are many reasons to love Toronto. I have no really logical reason to not want to live there. None whatsoever. I can’t explain it. But it’s just simply not the place for me. When the hubby started his program there were many who told us “Oh, you just say you don’t want to end up in Toronto. But you’ll see! In the end you’ll cave, just like everyone else does.” So maybe it’s just my own stubborn will that makes me want to “show ‘em”. Before Christmas we did strongly consider an opportunity in Toronto. But again, it just wasn’t right for us.

We are not going to Ireland. This maybe seems way out in left field for this down-home prairie girl who, a year ago, mostly just wanted to go home. But the hubs and I have had a dream of living overseas with our kids. Ireland is a major technology center in Europe right now and as the hubs’ expertise is in the field of technology we decided to give it a try. But it turned out to be harder than we originally hoped it would be. So we agreed that that dream would have to be put on hold for a while.

So where are we going? (Here it is! The moment two of you you’ve all been waiting for!) The hubs has accepted a job in Boston, Massachusetts (aren’t you impressed that I’m already spelling that correctly?). Yes, yours truly is headed south to the United States. This is something I truly never pictured us doing. Never in a million years did I imagine we would move to the states. And certainly not a huge center like Boston! All my whining about Toronto being too big seems kind of silly now, doesn’t it?

I’ve spent almost no time in the USA.* I know almost nothing about Boston. I’ve never even been to Massachusetts. And somehow I’ve agreed to MOVE THERE. Those who know me well are probably thinking I should be locked up immediately I’ve gone temporarily insane as this kind of flexibility is extremely out of character for me. The truth is that I am oscillating between sheer panic and excitement on an hourly basis. It is going to be an adventure and I know we are going to have some great experiences. But we all know moving to a new city is fraught with the awkwardness that is making new friends and getting to know a completely new place.

Just between you and me, internet, I’m a little worried about living in the states. I’m worried about looking like a blathering idiot while trying to convert Celsius to Fahrenheit, kilometers to miles, and trying to remember where the hell 50 different states are located. I’m concerned that my liberal(ish) views and my Canadian upbringing, which was ripe with plenty ‘o disdain for the USA, will cause me to say things which will offend the people with whom I hope to make friends. I’m extremely afraid that I have a great many misconceptions about Americans and I’ll show myself to be foolish and ignorant. Like, even the fact that I just suggested that my views are too liberal for the oh-so-conservative Americans I will encounter, I mean, wtf? I’m sure America is chock full of people whose views are a hell of a lot more shocking than mine.

I am also worried that I will show how ignorant I am of Canadian history, geography and politics. I’m a reasonably intelligent person but certain kinds of facts (like where rivers are located or how the different levels of government operate) simply don’t take hold in my brain. Dear America, Please don’t judge me! I’m smarter than I sound and I’m a quick learner! Promise!

I have had a number of people expound on the many (supposed) cultural differences between Americans and Canadians. But no one seems to be able to tell me exactly what those differences are. So dear, readers, I am asking you all to share your wealth of knowledge and experience with me. I know there are at least a few of my readers who have lived in both countries and many who have traveled extensively in the states and I’m hoping that some of you can fill in the blanks for me. Tell me what I need to know. Tell me what I can do to not embarrass myself! What’s the scoop on our friends south of the border? I need you internets! Don’t fail me now! But please, no name-calling and such. I’m not looking for mockery or put-downs. These are my soon to be friends and neighbours we’re talking about. I just want a little education from those with more experience.

And, on the off chance that any of my readers live in the Boston area, drop me an email at shannon@livinginthegray.com. I would love to stalk you meet you, should the opportunity arise!

*Ok, I did live in Los Angeles for one year. But I was seven. Ninety-nine percent of my memories from that year involve going to Disneyland or a girl in my class who wore patent leather Mary-Janes every day because she said wearing running shoes would make her pigeon-toed (I devoted a great deal of thought to the subject and concluded that this theory was bullshit, but because I wanted to have friends, I didn’t say anything).

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This week in meat: BBQ-a-palooza 2008 has come to an end as SOMEONE (an adult male in my household, possibly my husband) left the BBQ on last night after we cooked our burgers. When we got home at one in the morning from a friend’s house the propane tank was, not surprisingly, empty. Since the movers won’t take a propane tank at all, there’s no point in refilling it. Plus, tonight we’re packing pretty much all our dishes so any food that is in the freezer is likely going to friends. We did our best, but I can only eat so much meat before my body starts begging for mercy.

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This week in “Oops, I did it again!”: Because we are nothing, if not consistent, in our inability to remember to apply sunscreen.

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Because I love shiny objects jewelry all of you I am going to share something really cool with you. For Mother’s Day I was given a string of simple beads that I really like. They look like this:

Pretty, right?

Well these beads happen to be made from recycled paper by women and children in Africa. They are a product of the Caring Hands Network which helps impoverished people by caring for medical, physical and emotional needs as well as giving them a marketable skill. These beautiful beads are being sold around the world and the money is being used to meet the needs of those who are suffering in Africa.

I am already a big fan of the beads and I think there are many others out there who will be, as well. I have done some looking around and it appears that they will soon be available to purchase online (along with other African-made products) at With Love From Africa. I am going to be watching this site like a hawk because, not only do I love jewelry and shiny, sparkly objects, but I love it even more when the money used to purchase my little baubles can help someone who really needs it. Jewelry makes a great gift for all kinds of different occasions and soon you will be able to make orders online, give money to a good cause, and get something beautiful for someone you care about all at the same time! Isn’t that fantastic? I know! You’re welcome.

I’ll try and post when I see that the online store is up and running, but I just couldn’t wait to share this story with you and I thought some of my readers might like to keep an eye on it, too.

I’ve posted a link to the site in my sidebar under “Help Someone” (along with a number of other very worthy organizations so you can check back from time to time.

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I was all set to make the official announcement about our move…but the papers that need to be signed STILL haven’t come and because I have a raging case of superstition am cautious, I just can’t bring myself to say it until it’s all official-like.

So, instead, let me whine about the fact that our house is a freaking disaster zone. I HATE packing and the chaos that it causes. I hate trying to figure out what I don’t need, what can be packed. Because I am ALWAYS WRONG!  Within 24 hours myself or the hubby will realize we desperately need something and then having to go searching through each box to find said item because we never put a comprehensive list of what is in each box on the lid (seriously, who has time for that? I settle for “office” or “kitchen”.).  I hate the mess! I hate the disorder! I hate tripping over boxes stacked in every square foot of floor space! Hate hate hate!

The only thing I don’t hate is getting rid of superfluous junk. That is awesome and cleansing and therapeutic.  Screw therapy! Just throw your shit away and you’ll be a brand new person!

Another dumb thing about moving…trying to ration your frozen and perishable food so as to consume all of it before moving without having anything perishable to give or throw away.  I didn’t plan far enough in advance this year. It seems I’ve been stocking up enough meat to see us through Armageddon. Twice. We have an unreasonable amount of frozen meat.  We’ve had so much meat this week it’s like the Super-Turbo-Atkins diet. Except I’m not sure there is any diet in the history of humankind that recommends eating sausage, steak, pork tenderloin, chicken breasts, fish sticks, hot dogs, hamburgers, bacon and salmon fillets three meals a day, seven days a week as a valid weight loss plan (PS- I don’t care what anyone says about fish. It totally counts as meat in my book). We’ve been eating really unbalanced meals, but I’m just trying to make it to moving day with as little food as possible left to pawn off on friends or throw away.

However. If I don’t get some fresh fruit and vegetables in my diet I’m going to die of scurvy before moving day, anyway. So tomorrow we will have to do a mini-stock up at the farmer’s market.

Besides all this? The weather has been sucking donkey balls this past week and I am SICK OF IT. DO YOU HEAR ME MOTHER NATURE? SICK AND TIRED! Last year in May I felt like I was living inside a freaking volcano and this year we might as well be living in a hut on the polar ice caps. Seriously, it’s ridiculous.

And on top of everything else there are 30029347958 details to be worked up regarding our move and with the pressure of all that needs to be organized I would not be surprised to hear a *pop* and feel my brain leak out my ears AT ANY MOMENT.  So keep me in your thoughts, dear internets.  I am a big ball of whiny, stress, but I’m lovable, right? RIGHT????

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Something crazy is going on with Kieran these days.  He is cranky and defiant. He screams about every little perceived injustice. He wants to do everything his sister does, even when he is not developmentally capable.  He climbs, hits, and occasionally, he bites.

What is this foul spirit that has possessed my sweet boy?  Two.  The terrible twos.  He is only ten days shy of his second birthday and his desire for independence is running rampant and turning him into a monster.

You may think I’m being melodramatic (never!) and perpetuating stereotypes (moi?). I have considered the same thing. On the one hand, every child is different. They don’t all behave the same way through each developmental stage. I don’t believe Avery was so belligerent at this age (despite anything I may have blogged at the time).  But her powers of communication were considerably more developed at this stage.

On the other hand, stereotypes are around for a reason. Because enough children of the same “type” exist, legends are created. And my almost-two-year-old is becoming the stuff of legends.  But truly, I can’t blame him.  He is clearly frustrated, more than anything, by his inability to control his world.  His speech has greatly improved since his surgery, but he still has a long way to go in the communication department.  He doesn’t get to decide when he can go outside, what he eats, when he sleeps or plays, and whether or not he may consume pebbles for dinner.  And he has an older sister who, in his mind, gets to do everything he doesn’t. This lack of control would be infuriating. I get it. I really do. But still, the temper tantrums, the shrieking, wailing, going-limp-and-laying-on-the-floor-howling, the fighting over every. little. detail. is wearing me out.

I fear what the next months will be like as we pack up our house, travel across the country to visit friends and family, move to the new city that will be our home, camp in a hotel, find a new place to live, and unpack.  If I am finding it overwhelming as an adult, how will a two year old deal with so much change?

Somebody hold me!

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[Edit: I'm sorry if the layout is all effed up here. Need help from husband who is not home at the moment to make stupid wordpress work properly! Check back soon!]

In the spirit of family togetherness we ventured out of London this week and made the trip to Toronto to spend some time with friends. This group of friends are a lovely bunch of people, none of whom, have children. So the fact that they put up with us, and the many limitations that accompany sightseeing with children (a.k.a touring the ROM at the speed of light), speaks volumes about their character.

They put up with my four year old who wanted to play silly games and lead each and every one of them around by the hand. They put up with my two year old who wanted to be carried around by whichever adult was nearest, whether they were biologically related to him or not. They put up with their annoying antics and my whining and helped us schlep our gear everywhere it needed to go. They didn’t laugh (much) when I wrote my cell number on my kids arms in ballpoint pen (in case we lost them). I have to say that if you are going to tour downtown Toronto with two young children, doing it with an adult to child ratio of three to one is the way to go!

So to O, A, S and D…thanks for making the trip so much fun! And to S, especially, for letting us camp out at your place and sleeping on the couch just so we could sleep in beds, you are the best!

We practiced taking the subway since our up and coming new home will likely involve subway travel from time to time (for those of you who don’t yet know…am I driving you crazy yet?). Avery thought it was great fun. I thought it was pretty much like every other form of public transit. Loud and dirty. But whatevs.

We saw the bones of flying turtles.

We sat down because our feet were so effing tired from hiking through the endless floors of the ROM took cheesy pictures.

My kids refused to look at the camera while I took their pictures because look! It’s shiny! A shiny chair!

Then we stayed up too late, got really mad had a lot of fun playing Apples to Apples, were woken up at an ungodly hour by the kids, had a sweet brunch, and headed off for a day of being gang-raped by price-gouging vendors at excitement at Niagara Falls.

I haven’t been to Niagara Falls since I was a little kid. What I do remember is that the day we were there in about 1986? It rained. Yesterday? Same deal. Pouring. Rain. Niagara new I was coming, yo.

I will be the first to admit that when we arrived, after driving through stupid traffic and pouring rain, I was not in the most cheerful of moods. But after we started to walk around and the rain stopped for a bit and we took the traditional pictures in front of the falls, I felt a bit better.

We agreed that the one thing we wouldn’t feel was a complete waste of money spend our money on would be the Maid of the Mist boat tour. The kids enjoyed the trip. Here we are. I am the one who looks like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Kieran loved his complimentary garbage bag rain slicker so much he insisted on wearing it ALL. DAY. Even for the two hour ride home. And really, how could I say no? Because hello? Cutest. Ripoff. Ever.

But then I had to rip it off in fist-sized chunks around his car-seat seatbelt half an hour from home as his devotion to the plastic souvenier suddenly turned into the fiery hatred of a thousand burning suns and had to be removed IMMEDIATELY. At that point it was slightly less endearing.

All in all, despite the horrendous weather, it was a fun day. That’s Family Togetherness: 1, Craptastic Weather: 0 (or 32984323, depending on how you look at it).

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I apologize for the lack of posts lately. The blog is on my mind but I am a bit overwhelmed with the planning and organization of our upcoming move. I reeeeally want to tell y’all where we’re headed, but until the hubby actually signs a piece of paper, I don’t want to publish it (I’m totally superstitious cautious that way). Let’s just say it will be a definite change of pace for us.

Also, I’ve been loving having the man around to spend time with all of us. It feels like perpetual weekend around here (except for sending Avery to school, of course) and it’s great!

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Tonight I pulled my son out of the bath and he gazed with concern at his manly bits, shrunken with the chilly air, and announced “Oh oh!”. All I could think was that I expect that men everywhere share that same sentiment when exiting the water. And that he’s going to hate it that I posted this on the internet. Thems the breaks.

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This week in poor marketing:

I told you that I had recently begun using a Glucose Transmitter to help monitor and control my diabetes. The good news is that I am well on my way to getting used to it and I feel that it will eventually be a useful tool for me.

The bad news is that I have been really disappointed that I am not able to get the full benefit of the transmitter as the supposedly state-of-the-art USB link that allows me to upload the data from my insulin pump to the computer is designed purely for use on a PC and not a Mac. This means that I can only access the last 24 hours of data stored in my pump and not the last week, which allows me to evaluate trends in my blood sugar. This was less than apparent from their website.

While I find this irritating, what I find MORE irritating is this:

Yes, what you see there is a picture of the USB link connected to a MAC. And while the site does tell you that you need to run Internet Explorer 5.5 or higher (Dear Medtronic, over 25% of internet users do not use Internet Explorer.) and states that the software is “Windows Compatible”, it does NOT say that the product cannot be used on a Mac. And, one would imagine, when the product is displayed ON A MACINTOSH COMPUTER that it would be compatible with that computer (Dear Medtronic, over 12% of new computers are Macs).

When I called about this little detail the people I spoke to had little to say when confronted with the evidence. It will be interesting to see what comes of it. I have had fairly good customer service from them in the past and I hope that they will make this right. A $700 Glucose Transmitter is little more than an expensive piece of jewelry if I can’t study the information it provides me.

End rant.

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I’ve been wanting to post for a few days now. We’ve been busy with family and it’s been really great to just sit back, relax, and celebrate our accomplishment.  The hubby graduated on Friday and it was a pretty great day, all in all.  He made the Dean’s List and graduated with distinction which came as a bit of a surprise to both of us!  Not that he is not smart enough or capable of making high grades.  He has a very strong work ethic and has worked his backside off all year long. But when we began this year we talked about it and agreed that he might have to sacrifice a little bit in the grades department in order to not completely neglect the family department. I think we managed a pretty good balance.  But I am so proud of him for making the Dean’s List!  The truth is that a person with a family and children has to work a lot harder to get the same grades than someone who doesn’t have those responsibilities. Kids (and, ok, maybe a wife) are a big black hole of distraction and steal a lot of much-needed rest. Especially when you are in such a demanding program and you reeeeally need that rest.

So let me just say that my husband deserved the recognition he got on Friday, and a whole lot more.  I couldn’t be more pleased.  Also? I am SO GLAD THIS YEAR IS DONE!  WOOHOO! WE DID IT!

It was interesting to see how many people skipped the convocation ceremonies all together. I was surprised that it doesn’t mean much to some people.  I’ve been thinking a  lot about the role of ceremony in our lives and what it signifies and whether or not it is important.

I’ve come to the decision that it is more important to some than others.  Of course we all know that ceremony is symbolic. It doesn’t mean anything.  But to me it feels highly significant. Perhaps it has to do with my Judeo-Christian upbringing or my cultural heritage. Perhaps it has to do with my personality.  But the role of ritual, be it holidays, seasons, birthdays, baptisms, weddings or graduations, has been and continues to be important to me and my family.

I feel it is important to embrace ceremony.  Even though it wasn’t me graduating, convocation was a moment to step back and appreciate what has been accomplished this year.  A baptism or child dedication is a moment for parents to reflect on their intentions in raising a child or to express gratitude for the life of their child. A wedding is marker of the commitment and love of a couple for each other.

Is the ritual necessary to fully experience an accomplishment or one’s beliefs or feelings?  Certainly not.  For me, it is a way to fully drink in a moment.  To treasure its beauty, acknowledge it as important, and to mark it for history.  I suspect there are some people for whom simply having an experience is enough. I am not one of them.

As long as there are meaningful life moments, I believe there should be ways of recognizing them. A marker can be constructed in many different ways to suit different people and different circumstances.  People, gifts, words, experiences and events can all be  used symbolically to say “This is what I have accomplished/I have made this decision/This is how far I have come”. Bottom line? I think sometimes a line in the sand can be very healthy and it can be useful and even beautiful.

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