We’ve had such a stupid week that I have neglected to say what an awesome weekend we had pretending we are still kidless and young enough to rock and roll all night and party evah-ree-day.  Some Canadian friends came down to visit us (it is SO WEIRD to be classifying friends by what country they’re from!) and it was so much fun. While we’ve been having a good time doing the tourist thing here in Boston, we’ve really been missing spending time with good friends who we know and who know us. 

To top off the fun of having our friends here the clouds parted and the angels sang and Tina offered to babysit so we could go out sans kids which was great because we basically acted like kids the whole night. 

First, we giggled at the name of a Chinese restaurant because we’re all 8 years old….

Then we went to a bar that had it’s menu in the form of a giant periodic table and lab stools for seating because the four of us are HUGE GEEKS and that’s exactly the kind of gimmick that catches our attention.

Then we annoyed our server because we aren’t familiar with American beers. Once we got the beer we cracked open a nice cold can of Canadian superiority over the lower alcohol content of sissy American beers. Ok, well I didn’t actually have any beer because I’m a big baby and only drink alcoholic drinks that taste like sugar fruity and sweet. 

But it was so much fun to just let loose and laugh! S and T, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR VISITING! And T, thanks for this “Blue Steel” picture. Because it makes me happy every time I look at it.

Know what else made me happier than is reasonable? Spending an hour in a drug store investigating products that are not sold in Canada or that are different between Canada and the US, and having friends who agreed with us when we said “That is just SO WEIRD.” Like why the unit price is posted for every item? Like I care that I’m getting the best deal per pound on deodorant? We did spend a long time searching for the item in the store with the most expensive unit price (I think it was condoms, if you’re wondering). It may have been kind of a lame and geeky night out. But I embrace it!

The next day we went to the beach where we quickly buried our kids in the sand so wouldn’t have to pay too much attention to them:

But when we started burying our friends in the sand, too, people started to look at us funny.  

Still, a good time was had by all. My son personally inspected each grain of sand and pronounced it acceptable.

Then we decided to have dinner at the “Cheers Bar” (the outside of the bar was filmed as the outside of the bar in the hit TV show Cheers, the inside was not shown in the show, nor does the inside resemble the set of Cheers) …

…which is not actually called “Cheers” but is actually called “The Bull & Finch Pub“…

…and where everyone did not actually know our name so much as want to take our money. But the service was great, the food was good (and reasonably priced) and we had a fantastic time together.

Our friends cheered up immensely and it is only because I had such a FABULOUS weekend that I did not reach through the phone and pull out the spleen of our contact at the moving company when he told us that our belongings will now not be reaching us until September 11. And by September 11, I’m pretty sure he means December.

I haven’t posted much this week. Because there has been shit going on.  Or down. Or NOT going down, as the case may be. We are having serious issues with customer service at almost every turn. It seems that we have done something to incur the wrath of almost everyone in the. whole. world. There can be no other explanation for why we are thwarted at every turn, treated like imbeciles, screwed until we beg for mercy (and I don’t mean the good kind of screwing).

I wanted to say that US customer service blows chunks because we have had SO VERY MANY bad experiences since we arrived in America. But I have come to believe it has more to do with the fact that there is something fundamentally inspiring to bureaucrats that emanates from myself and the hubby in particular, and not the fair United States.

Need some examples of what is going wrong?

Well, you already heard me whine about the circus that was our medical issues. They have since been straightened out.

Then there is school: I was told I could not enroll my daughter in school until we were physically living in the city where the school is located. Even though I had my lease in hand, proving that we would be living there as of September 1. The school wasn’t going to allow her to come to the half hour orientation this past week because she isn’t technically a resident of the city yet. Seriously? Who the EFF cares? I made some calls to the superintendent’s office and it was eventually worked out. But it shouldn’t have been so complicated.

And then there was setting up power and electricity. I couldn’t call and do it because I don’t have an SSN and they would need all kinds of other identification faxed to them if I were to set it up. So I attempted to do it online with the hubby’s info. But, as always happens, it was more complicated than it was supposed to be. And I had to call the customer service line in order to get help. Where they offered to just finish setting it up online. But then they couldn’t because…see above. So it took 87 hours to get the power set up. The electricity was supposedly set up - but then we received an email requesting the hubby send some faxed copies of his identification. Which he did. Then never heard from them again to find out if we would be allowed the privilege of buying the electric company’s electricity. So when he called to find out what was going on the automated system was broken and wouldn’t accept any information he entered verbally or by punching buttons. And then hung up on him. FOUR TIMES. When he tried calling a different area and spoke to a person he was told that yes, our electricity had indeed been set up ON AUGUST 20TH. Despite the fact that we requested it to start SEPTEMBER 1ST. Because who doesn’t like paying for someone else’s electricity?

Oh yes, and we had the nonsense with getting our phones set up. And then the phones we worked so hard to get have not been getting the days and days of battery power that we were promised. So we are switching them for new ones.

I’ve been calling places all week changing our records so that banks and doctor’s offices have our current contact/mailing info after we move.  I tried calling our health insurance provider’s office to give them our updated info. But they wouldn’t take it! No, that info has to come through the hubby’s work. Because they don’t have enough things to be doing. It certainly makes sense to refuse to take info from ME when I have gone through the effort to phone you, rather than to get it through a third party. Yes, that is totally reasonable, right? (GAH!!!)

And the icing on the cake? The movers, who have been telling us all along that we should have our household goods delivered to us by this Tuesday, Sept. 2, are now suddenly saying it could be as late as September 9th. And no matter what we say to them, they refuse to even attempt to do anything about it. They are just poor helpless victims who have no control over this very complicated process. Well, no control over anything EXCEPT MY EFFING STUFF Yes, this biggest of all the screwups, is happening by a Canadian office of Allied Van Lines (Note to the world: NEVER use Allied Van Lines unless you want no communication from the people who are holding your belongings hostage and a drunk to throw your shit around carelessly when they’re loading the truck. If that’s what you want, you’ll definitely be satisfied.). 

But really, I’m looking forward to living in our beautiful new house with no beds, linens, chairs, dishes, cooking utensils, or anything else that I own. I’m sure my kids will love having picnics on the floor and eating take-out every night. 

Somebody kill me.

I’m sorry. I can’t even make my whining eloquent today. I’m too mad and frustrated and ready to just throw up my hands and cry “uncle”! If I thought that it would help, I would have done it a long time ago.

Today I took Avery to Kindergarten Orientation - which she insists on calling OREO-tation, despite being corrected. Because we may not know much about the education system, but we DO know our cookies around here. It’s all about priorities, folks.

We managed to work through the great backpack debacle of 2008 and found a backpack that did not make me pour bleach in my eyes. What design won my daughter’s heart, you ask? Why, a cupcake decal, of course! Because while we DO love our princesses, baked goods come first in our family, my friends. PRIORITIES.

Last year in London (Ontario, not England) Avery became fast friends with a little girl in her class who was petite and girly and so adorable I was tempted to put her in my pocket and take her home many times. (Don’t get me wrong, no one takes the place of my own girl, but this child was so petite I literally could put her RIGHT IN MY POCKET. You’ve gotta admit, that makes it tempting.) When we moved we promised we would send a letter once we were settled and we still intend to keep that promise. Of course we didn’t know that it would take us THREE MONTHS to finally move into our own permanent place. Avery loved to play with little A, but she also dearly loved to chase A’s brother G around on the playground after school.  It developed into a seriously intense obsession crush and she looked forward to playing with both of them after school each day. And now, three months later, what do we hear about every day? The love letters she is going to write to G, how much she misses G, all the things she needs to tell G about her new house, with nary a mention of her once-BFF A.  The girl is lovesick!  Because girlfriends are nice, but girlfriends’ older brothers are waaaay nicer!

Short list of Very Important Things in Life: sugary snacks and boys.

Why, hello teenage hormones! You seem to be about 5 or 12 or 37 years too early!

I really think it would be … trying if one had a five year old who was infatuated with all things princess and said five year old required a new backpack for school.  The selection of a backpack would not be traumatic in and of itself. Just the fact that the five year old is drawn to the Disney Princess backpacks like a moth to a flame and the parent might be UTTERLY AND EMPHATICALLY OPPOSED TO CHARACTER CLOTHING AND/OR ACCESSORIES.  In fact, following this shopping trip, one might start using the phrase “drawn like a five year old to Cinderella” instead of the moth/flame analogy. 

In negotiating the purchase of a backpack with a five year old princess-worshipper, one might try and convince her of the superiority of the cute and funky non-character backpacks. One might attempt to convince her that it’s good to try something new, or that the princess backpacks are of lesser quality than the others (which is totally true - Disney is a virtual merchandising whore and will stick their characters on the poorest quality products). One might try to explain that she gets to a BIG! GIRL! BACKPACK! this year because she is so grown up and big girls don’t like princesses on their stuff.

One might eventually realize that this reasoning is NEVER GOING TO WORK on a five year old princess-worshipper.

One *might* leave the third store in a week WITHOUT A BACKPACK which still seems to be a more positive outcome than selling out purchasing more Disney crap. Because even though I one has no problem with princess dolls and barbies and dressup clothes, one draws the effing line at making one’s child a walking Disney advertisement.*

Then one *might* realize that tomorrow the five year old will be attending kindergarten orientation where she is likely to announce, with just the right amount of tragedy in her voice, that her mommy won’t buy her a backpack.

One *might* swear a bit at that point and start down the slippery ideological slope to selling out giving in. Maybe. Not that it happened to me.

*No judgement to those of you who have kids wearing clothes with characters on them. It’s just always been my personal thing. I can’t bring myself to do it.

…but alas:

One photo of my stretch marks could convince at least 50 girls out of going all the way on prom night.

-Anne Nahm  (This has to be one of my all-time favourite blogs.  Sooo funny!)

Courtesy of Blogtations which is always good for a laugh or a pick-me-up. Some days I need a lot of picking up. They’re having a contest right now which you should check out. You can win a $50.00 gift certificate to Amazon.

I discovered a wonderful organization that promotes a small change to have a significant impact on the environment.  Asking not have a phone book delivered to your home.  I know! Small, right?

Five hundred MILLION phone books are printed each which requires that:

• 19 million trees need to be harvested
• 1.6 billion pounds of paper are wasted
• 7.2 million barrels of oil are misspent in their processing (not including the wasted gas used for their delivery to your doorstep)
• 268,000 cubic yards of landfill are taken up
• 3.2 billion kilowatt hours of electricity are squandered  

      (this information from yellowpagesgoesgreen.org)

I don’t know about you but I can’t even remember the last time I picked up the phone book. Google is my phone book! In the age of technology there is no excuse for so much waste to happen and it seems like the only reason it does is that the phone companies make money from advertisers using their pages for ads.  

This organization is not trying to completely do away with phone books. They just think that phone books should only be delivered to those who request them, thereby saving a huge amount of waste and natural resources.

If you live in the United States and want to sign up to have your address taken off the delivery list for phone directories in your area you can do so here. Yellowpagesgoesgreen will contact your local telephone provider and ask on your behalf to have you address taken off the list. There is no guarantee that this will keep them from delivering to you as they do not have to oblige, but if it works, that’s one less book delivered and hopefully one less book that will be manufactured the next time around.

For my Canadian friends, you may have to do a little more work if you want to request not to receive a phone book. Try calling your local phone company.  For my dear ones in Saskatchewan, if you haven’t been using mysask.com for all your phone number needs (for both people and businesses), WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? It’s the whole SaskTel phone book online.  There should be NO REASON for most of you to have a phone book.

We need to encourage the telephone industry to be more environmentally responsible by using the internet for telephone listings and only manufacturing a small amount of phone books for those who really need them.  And if you happen to have a blog, I encourage you to post about Yellowpagesgoesgreen and link to them so that more people will learn about this small way to make a difference in the world.

What five year olds are good for:

-unrelenting optimism and enthusiasm
 -convincing a two year old brother to breastfeed a doll while bottlefeeding they’re own “baby”
 -small household chores (FINALLY! THANK THE SWEET BABY JESUS!) like picking up toys and clearing and setting the table
 -keeping you humble
 -making one feel loved with 45 drawings a day that say “To Mommy From Avery” and by saying frequent spontaneous “I love you”s
 -appreciating the simple, fun things in life like swinging really high and pink bubble gum and staying up past bed time
 -anticipation and the pure joy of reaching various exciting events
-creativity and imagination 

What two year olds are good for:

-sweet snuggles
 -helping one appreciate curiousity
 -empathy and concern - like a few weeks ago when I was overcome with frustration and stress and sobbed on my hubby’s shoulder and Kieran ran to me and patted my arm, saying “Tay (It’s OK) Mama! Tay!”
 -delight and wonder
 -standing on the outside of the glass shower door and watching mommy shower like it’s the freakin’ olympics and then throwing toys in the toilet while mommy shrieks, but is helpless to stop you unless she runs around naked and dripping wet
 -hiding the sticks that are part of the frame of a toy tent - we have yet to find them - suspect they endedup in the garbage without our knowledge
-very satisfying giggles

What I’d like to know is what does this say about the reliability of eye witness testimony?

So we’re just over a week from moving into our new place.  The place that I am so excited about. The place with an ocean view and the whole beach for our backyard. And a nice big kitchen. And new appliances that don’t squeal like a stuck pig when operating!  I can hardly wait! 

Another feature that is HUGE (for me) is that we will have 2.5 bathrooms! That is exactly 1.5 bathrooms MORE than we had at our last place and I could not be happier.  The hubby thinks this excessive bathroomage is over the top. But he is generally pleased that there is more than one place to pee.

Until yesterday. Yesterday the hubby started making crazy suggestions.  And not the “wacky” kind of crazy either. We’re talking drooling in a straightjacket, eating your own feces, LOCK ME UP ‘CAUSE I’M ONE HELLA CUH-RAY-ZAY EM-EFFER!

Yes, he actually suggested we use one of the bathrooms for a purpose other than bathroom-type activities. Like a storage room. A STORAGE ROOM! 

Someone call the looney-bin because my husband is officially certifiable. Clearly the stress of the last few months has caused his break with reality.

Here’s how the conversation went:

The hubby:

“I’ve been thinking…” *drools, wipes away drool* “What if we used one of the bathrooms for storage space? 2.5 bathrooms is a lot of bathroom. There must be some way to repurpose one of those rooms. Like turn it into a fitness center? Or how about a yoga salon? Hey! Hey! How about a karaoke bar??! BLAAAAABLBBLBLBBLBLBBBLAAAA!!!!”  

Me:

“Have you lost your ever loving mind? I am finally going to have a dream jacuzzi tub and a beautiful double wide shower - both of which will not be available to the kids! We have OUR OWN FULL MASTER BATHROOM! Why would you want to give that up??? We aren’t hard pressed for storage, why would you even suggest such a horrendous thing?”

“…or a PETTING ZOO!!! What about that? Some kind of miniature Wild Animal Theme Park?! Or we could use it as a recycling centre for paper and bottles and cans…”

*sigh*

The five year old:

“We could store my dressup clothes in the bathroom!”  *Holy crap! More than one potty to pee in! I can’t wait to try them all!*

The two year old:

*So I could be flushing toys down one of the two upstairs toilets while my mom is fishing out the toys I dumped in the downstairs toilet Awesome!*

(If you want to face YOUR manga, click here.)

From time to time I read things written by Christians who presume to speak for all of us. Often I ignore it because it’s not worth the effort it takes to object. Or because I’m not sure where, or if, I fit in the larger Christian community, my personal theology having evolved to what it is. Other times I lack the ability to think quickly or adequately explain my ideas and I remain silent.  But the odd time, the thoughts process quickly and the ideas form fast enough for me to get them down. Like this week…

I read a discourse by a person who felt very strongly that the “rights” of Christians are being infringed upon by the removal of public prayer in a variety of forums. Christians are having their “right to pray in public places [taken] away”! Release the hounds!

Having grown up in, and up until recently been completely immersed in, evangelical culture, I can safely say I am in the minority when I ask why are we so hung up on public prayer? I just don’t understand the self-righteous indignation and the victimized howls of “they’re MAKING us STOP PRAYING!”. Why do we cry foul because people ask us to have respect for those of differing opinions? Why do we behave like children, trying to garner the attention of the masses in order to fulfill our constant need for an audience?

If you take the 21st century Bible as some kind of ultimate authority (which I don’t necessarily, but IF YOU DID), then Christianity at large would do well to remember the words of Jesus, when he taught about prayer:

 And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. (Matt. 6:5-6, NIV)

There are times and places for public prayer, in religious ceremonies and institutions or at other acceptable venues.  But prayer has always had an intimate and personal aspect which no one has the ability to take away and which has no fundamental need to be public.  You can not restrict the mind of a person. And if you believe prayer to be a communion with the divine, you must also believe that the power of this communion is that it is unstoppable and can be done in complete secrecy, if desired. Prayer is one activity that cannot be controlled or restricted and I find the suggestion that it can be troubling.  

That parading that some people do? The spewing forth of many words for bystanders to hear? That is not necessarily prayer.  And I dare say that the ones who make the loudest outcry about the importance of the public theatrics are the ones who practice the actual discipline of prayer the least. Perhaps they are uncomfortable being alone with the divine, with no words to hide behind.

In my mind, at least, prayer has always been a kind of breathing. As natural as thought, the idea that I am not alone in my head. That my very existence is observed, down to a memory floating on the surface of my mind or when more serious struggles create inner turbulence, I am watched. I don’t know much, if anything, about The Watcher, but I appreciate the company and find it comforting.

Not everyone experiences what they perceive as God this way and perhaps this experience of private and ingrained prayer is why I have often been perplexed by the need of some others to do it as, what I consider to be, a performance. Ultimately prayer can be done anywhere, at any time, and without the permission of anyone.

So why the big fuss?

What difference does it make if kids don’t pray out loud in school or if The Lord’s Prayer is not said in an official ceremony? That is not a restriction of your personal rights, that is a general respect for the citizens of your community.  That is keeping any one religion from imposing it’s worldview on others.  That is keeping people from setting themselves up as outcasts if they refrain from participating in a religion they don’t practise. Anyone who says that they aren’t forcing anyone to participate in public prayer hasn’t had enough experience being the odd one out. What restriction of public prayer does NOT do is keep people from praying.

Honestly, I think many Christians get some kind of a high off being “persecuted” (which, let’s not even get into the discussion of what real persecution is, other than to say that this is SO. NOT. IT.).  Having been thoroughly, 100% evangelical, I know the arguments, I can repeat all the catchphrases, I’ve done it and I believed every word of it. At least at one point in my life.  I’ve always had the sense that many  Christians like to remind themselves about how they are supposed to be “persecuted” and hated by the world, because they hated and persecuted Jesus first. So if “unbelievers” (again, don’t get me started on how much I despise that word) take away their “rights”, then it is just because they are so holy. Not because they are being unfair, disrespectful or insensitive.

Can I just say something? I know a lot of people won’t like it, but luckily “a lot of people” don’t read this blog.  I really think that when Jesus said that the world will hate Christians (he was actually talking to his disciples - again with the let’s not get started on how this interpretation of this passage as applying to all people at all times is ridiculous) he didn’t mean that people will hate you because you’re being an obnoxious, annoying asshole. My impression is that it was a persecution due to nothing more than the nature of Christianity being perceived as a political upheaval, but that’s just my interpretation.  

Also? Christians love to quote the passage in 1 Corinthians that talks about how the message of the cross will appear foolish to those outside the faith and that God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise. It’s fine to quote those verses, but again, I really don’t think that the intention was to embrace ignorance. We’re not talking about foolish, as in revelling in irrationality, ignoring science and being dumb as a hammer.  In my (humble) interpretation it has always meant that, while people may not always understand why you do what you do, when they see the good that comes from it, the care you display for your friends, your community, your world, they can do nothing but shake their head and throw up their hands and say “I’m glad your faith motivates you to be who you are!  I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Bottom line? Everyone has rights. That’s not up for debate.  But let’s not start a pissing contest about whose rights are being trampled on.  Because let’s be serious, if we open the history books, Christianity pretty much comes out a winner in the “rights” category, often at the expense of other ideologies.  Also, to argue that we have the right to do what other religions in North America don’t - that is, to parade our religion around in public as a fat and fancy sacrificial lamb of more importance than all the other lambs out there - is the ultimate in arrogance.

Maybe its time that North American Christian rights took a back seat for a century or two. Yes, you heard me. Maybe it’s time to take a step back and attempt to actually live the humility described in the biblical Jesus. To let others be first, even if they have a different worldview. We might actually learn something. If we are afraid to live Jesus-like humility that Christians hold up as the highest ideal, if we are afraid to let ourselves fade into the background and are threatened by other ideologies, then maybe that says more about us than an elaborate public prayer before a football game ever could.