This will be the fourth time I’ve started this post.  It turns out long days of travel and nights in small hotel rooms with two small children are not conducive to blogging. (I know! Shocking!)  I was tired in the evenings and since we only had one computer and I wasn’t strong enough to wrestle the laptop from the hubby’s death grip, I had to settle for typing while we were driving and waiting until tonight to finish.

But tonight we are here! In Boston!  We are all tucked into bed in a cozy one bedroom suite at a cute hotel just on the edge of Cambridge. It’s the most room we’ve had since we left Saskatoon as we just had standard two bed hotel rooms at all the hotels we stayed at on our trip. It’s the first night the kids have been in bed before 9:00pm 10:00pm 11:00pm and I am so relieved I could weep thrilled to be watching cable TV and enjoying free Wifi. So while we are sitting here together, let me share some of the highs and lows of the last 4 days…

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We arrived at the Saskatchewan/North Dakota border at about 9am on Monday morning. Yes that means we woke up at an unholy hour. Nothing like starting out the trip bleary-eyed and exhausted bright and early! Our paperwork was processed at the border without so much as a sideways look from the officer working with us. They were ready to enter it all into the computer in just 15 minutes. 

Unfortunately there’s always a catch. The servers in the western states were all down for a good hour or more and we ended up having to wait in a small office with a broken air conditioner on a +30 degree (celsius) day. The kids were BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS and I was trying to keep them quiet without wrapping my hands around their little necks as I figured that might upset the nice gentleman who was holding on to our passports and was about to process our visas.

We made it as far as Fargo, North Dakota the first night where we stayed at a moderately shabby hotel.  It had a small pool where we all enjoyed a really nice refreshing swim.  It turns out that the USA is hotter than the surface of the sun at this time of the year and I was starting to worry that the air conditioner in the car is going to spontaneously combust after the abuse it had and would endure for several more days. [Edit: Our AC on the car started to act up exactly 2 hours before we reached Boston. We're hoping that if we give it a couple days break it will forgive us for 4 days of almost constant use.]  Thank God for hotel air conditioners.  I’ve been setting them at just a notch above freezing for the nights in the hopes that we could cool off enough to save some for the next day. Turns out it doesn’t work that way.

The first night in the hotel it took Kieran approximately 2 hours of crying to fall asleep. He was devastated by our refusal to let him sleep in the big bed with Avery. The confines of the playpen were so cruel that he felt it necessary to protest long past the point where he was just plain exhausted. Luckily hubby stepped in to smother him with the pillow help him fall asleep while I sent emails downstairs in the lobby (ok so I DID get to use the computer every once in a while - just not long enough to compose a coherent blog post!). 

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The second day got off to a reasonably good start. Until about 90 minutes into our drive when Avery realized she didn’t have her long-treasured “special blanket”.  Yes, after travelling far and wide with this lovie we had finally left it somewhere.  I was guessing the hotel lobby where we ate breakfast or in the parking lot where she might have dropped it on our way out of the hotel. I was absolutely sure we had it until the minute we walked out of the door of the hotel. To say I was pissed off would be a huge understatement.  I had been SO CAREFUL not to lose track of this important item and all I had asked was that THE OWNER OF SAID LOVIE carry it out to the car. And since she couldn’t keep track of it for THIRTY SECONDS I didn’t feel exactly sympathetic for my completely and TOTALLY DEVASTATED daughter. She wept on and off for a good two hours. 

At that point the mommy-guilt kicked in.  I’ve felt that kind of searing regret before. Over accidents and poor choices and simple irresponsibility.  And I had always known that this devastation is what we would face if the blanket was lost.  And then I shed a few tears myself as the pressure of the previous days and the sadness over losing this connection to Avery’s babyhood reached it’s peak.

There was no happy ending to that story. We didn’t find it miraculously hidden under 85 pounds of toys in the back seat.  We may try and contact the hotel to see if it was found and if there is any way to get it back. But I suspect that it is lost for good. The good news is that Avery seems to be more attached to the idea of A blanket than of THAT SPECIFIC BLANKET. So she is open to us buying a new one and that is what will probably happen. She fell asleep last night without any serious problems although she is still frequently lamenting her lost blankie. [Edit: Good news! Daddy called the hotel tonight and they did, indeed, find the blanket and were willing to mail it to us here. It should arrive some time next week.  We have one overjoyed little girl!]

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The next night we ended up in a really nice hotel in Chicago.  The hubby had made a bid on Priceline.com which was accepted. We got a fantastic deal on a regular room at a great hotel. However, not being regular patrons of classy establishments, we didn’t take into account that when you add the tips to the doormen, paying to use the WiFi ((**(&*&%$%#%#@#!@#), a tv show for the kids (yes, we caved and paid – there was nothing on at 10pm!), and parking (TWENTY BUCKS FOR LESS THAN TWELVE HOURS (*^&*#^*%&@^%^%$!) the bill came to at least as much as we had paid for the shabby hotel the night before, if not more, AND THERE WAS NO POOL! But it was fun to experience the high life for a few hours. Plus, the kids went to sleep much better this time. Must have been all that expensive, high quality oxygen they were breathing.

Mostly we had felt like we were on some kind of holiday (not a great holiday mind you, as it involves locking ourselves in the car for ten hours a day with the kids). It’s been interesting to notice the small differences and just give ourselves some time to see a few different places before we arrive in Boston.

I have to say we have been very thrilled with the Interstate Highways and their vast expanses of concrete driving surfaces and fairly high speed limits.  Although we have been a bit confused as to why many drivers do not take advantage of said speed limits.  The hubby is ready to have an aneurysm because of the toll booths which showed up around Chicago and commenced nickel and dime-ing us to death.  He’s been ranting about a centralized system and traffic congestion and the like.  I expect to be hearing about this frequently in the future. 

It was truly strange to be sitting in a McDonalds the other morning in Indiana and hear a worker talking to someone about her two sons who have been serving in Iraq, both having put in two 14 month tours. The war is real here and not just a topic of political debate. 

In Chicago I totally felt like I was on a movie set. In fact, this whole trip has me feeling as though I am entering a fictional world because, for most of my life, the USA is the setting for stories in books, on TV and in movies.  It’s strange and surreal to be seeing it as a real place for the first time in my life.

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 So here we are. Ready to start our new adventure. Beginning with July 4th tomorrow! What a day for our first full day in our new home!  

[Edit: I meant to make note of the fact that I saw two things in the past 24 hours that I was told I wouldn’t find in the USA. 1) Three Tim Hortons’ (in Erie, PA and Buffalo, NY and a little past Buffalo) and 2) Ketchup Chips.]

[Edited Again: The Denny’s we ate dinner at the other night allowed smoking. I have to say that after so many years of smoke-free dining, eating in a hazy restaurant felt positively barbaric.  At this point in history there is simply no excuse for allowing smoking in public places.  We will definitely be paying more attention to that little detail in the future.]

Now, on to official business…

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Dear Avery,

I knew it was a very, VERY bad omen when you fell ill at lunch today, the day before we plan to start a 36 hour car trip which includes trying to obtain our visas at the border tomorrow.  I knew you truly felt awful and weren’t just playing, as evidenced by your tears and distress.  However, it was the first time I wanted to beg you to take it back, to tell you that you really weren’t sick, to threaten to cut your precious blankie into loonie-sized pieces if you didn’t STOP IT RIGHT AWAY.  I’m sorry, the stress ALMOST got to me.  Now, hours later, you seem to be feeling back to normal and I am cautiously optimistic that it was just a little blip on the radar. Please PLEASE don’t get sick until we get to Boston! I’M BEGGING YOU!

Desperately,
Your Mother

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Dear DVD Menu Designers,

Why does it take sooo long to navigate through the goddamn menus to get ANY movie playing?  When my kids wake me up at the freakin’ buttcrack of dawn all I want is TO GET THE MOTHER-EFFING MOVIE PLAYING NOW ALREADY! I do not have the time or energy to watch 48 movie previews and navigate 17 menus. You want a marketing tip? Create a DVD that can be playing the movie within ten seconds of insertion into the DVD player and requires no more than one button push! Even better? Create a DVD that will pop ITSELF into the player and hit play! YOU’RE WELCOME.

Sleepily,
One of Many Button Pushers

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Dear Mother of the Guy Who Wanted to Rent Our Condo,

I have to tell you, I was a bit concerned when our current tenants gave notice the day we arrived here in Saskatoon. I didn’t know if we’d be able to get our place rented out since we were looking for someone to start renting on September 1. It turns out the market here is so hot I could have stood on the front step and told the first passerby that we had an apartment for rent and that would have been all the advertising we needed.

I wanted to share this with you as you clearly don’t know how fast rentals get snapped up in this city. I also wanted to say thanks for confirming to me that renting to your son would have been a bad idea if for no other reason than that I would have been dealing with his Mommy all the time. Newsflash dearie, an 18 year old doesn’t need his Mommy to fight his battles for him and if you think yelling at prospective landlords for not renting to your PRESHUS BOY is going to get him (or you) anywhere, you are sorely mistaken. Also? I know you think your baby is really and truly special and I’m sure he is a lovely boy, but working at a part time job and diligently looking for a rental place for ten straight months hardly qualifies him for the Nobel Prize.  But don’t worry! At the rate you’re offending people, you’re likely to be keeping your little sunshine at home for a long, long time!

Disdainfully,
That Bitch Who Didn’t Rent the Condo to Your Baby

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Dear Boy Whose Mother Yelled at Me For Not Renting You the Condo,

Seriously? Grow some balls and cut the apron strings already!

With Pity,
A Friend

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Dear Prairies,

I’ve missed you! It was SO GOOD to be back.  It may be a while before we see each other again. I’m just glad I get to remember you the way you look now and not the way you look in January. No offense. But I think we both know the winters aren’t kind to you.  Anyway, I’ll be thinking of you. 

With Heartfelt Love,
A Prairie Girl

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Dear US Border Guards and NAFTA Visa Officers,

Be kind! I swear we’ve done everything short of sacrificing a lamb on an altar of US Dollars. We tried REALLY REALLY HARD to get everything right. Please, lets not be too nitpicky, ok?  We’ll be the ones travelling with two small and EXTREMELY TIRED AND CRANKY CHILDREN.

With Utmost Respect, Fear and Trembling,
A Hopeful Visa Recipient

PS-The 4kg of white powder is environmentally friendly laundry detergent. It didn’t occur to us that it might be ill-advised to show up at the border with big bags of white powder, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to leave it behind. It’s awesome!

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Dear “That Time of the Month”,

Impeccable timing, as always.

Riddled With Hormones,
A Dissatisfied Customer

Today involved a lot of trying to comfort a cranky, tired child. And that was AFTER a two hour nap.  Poor child.  I feel bad for continuing to drag him out so much, but we are here for such a limited time and we want to spend time with so many people, I just can’t say no! I guess putting up with a miserable two-year-old is penance for my selfish behaviour.

Actually, no. I think three straight days of driving to Boston will be more than adequate punishment. I CAN’T WAIT!

So instead of telling you about what I have been up to I felt it was of the utmost importance that I share a very useful home remedy with you all. I didn’t realize that so many people had no idea that duct tape could be used for wart treatment. People, I’m telling you it works like magic! Really SLOW magic.

Even doctors are recommending it these days.  A wart showed up on Avery’s foot this past year and I was just remembering all the hysterics hijinks involved in getting her immunizations and what kind of torture fun it would be to hold her down while a doctor froze off the offending wart.  I asked our pediatrician if it needed to be frozen and without skipping a beat he told me that he had been recommending duct tape to his patients. It’s not the first time I’d heard this and my husband had actually treated a wart on his own foot with duct tape so we tried it and VOILA! GONE!

Ok, it doesn’t actually work that fast. As I mentioned before, it takes patience. All you have to do is apply a generous piece of duct tape over the wart. That’s it.  Seriously. You just replace it when it starts to come off. I’m not sure exactly why it works (some have suggested it suffocates the wart - I didn’t know those little bastards had to breathe) but the end result is the wart disappears in 3-4 weeks with no pain!  If you’ve had warts frozen off as many times as I have, this will be welcome news. If the wart is particularly deep or large it may take longer to get rid of it but with patience and consistency, you are pretty much guaranteed a happy outcome. You’re welcome, internet!

Home: Driving from Winnipeg to Saskatoon today was truly enjoyable in a way it has never been before.  The main reason I’ve never appreciated it before is because it’s a nine hour drive with two little kids, people! WHAT’S TO LIKE?!!! I’ve never spent such a long time away from my beloved prairies. There is an adage that a Scotsman becomes twice as much a Scotsman when he is living away from Scotland. I have found this to be true. I have never loved the prairies as much as in the year I spent away from them. Entering the real open prairie today was like taking the first really deep breath I’ve taken in a long time. It’s so good to be home.

Drool: I got about 0.39 hours of sleep last night, for no really good reason. We got up at 5am to get an early start.  I am rarely able to sleep in the car but I surprised myself by falling into a deep, drool-inducing sleep, despite the fact that the kids were screaming in the back seat and the husband was mediating their disagreements with a calm and patient manner listening to the radio at approximately 380035794 decibels.

Chill: There is just no way for me to deny it any longer. I am so. on. edge. about the move. I am so anxious about crossing the border and getting our visas (not to mention the layers upon layers of subsequent details that have yet to be worked out - like where A PLACE TO LIVE, not that that is important, right?) that my stomach starts churning when I think about it. So I try not to think about it. But there’s no way I can ignore it as the 87 bazillion details involved in moving to the USA are closing in on us and there is just no way to deny their presence. But my powers of denial are simply not strong enough to keep reality from intruding! Damn it!  The bottom line is I have been a crazy bitch bit snappish to my dear husband who is the one who is working really hard to make this move go smoothly and to my poor kids who are innocent bystanders in this whole process.  Anxiety is all part of the process for me, but I need to quit taking it out on my family.

Cheerios: We are staying with some very good friends while we’re in Saskatoon for the next two weeks. And because of our poor impeccable timing, we arrived on the same day that they moved into a new house. They are gracious people and have welcomed us with open arms, despite the fact that we have arrived at the worst possible time. I attempted to make myself useful and help unpack the boxes with the kitchen stuff but instead of being a helpful friend, I have become the crazy friend who is unreasonably preoccupied with the fact that they had FOURTEEN BOXES OF CEREAL FOR TWO PEOPLE! FOURTEEN!!! Who eats that much cereal, or requires that much variety in breakfast cereal? That’s what my friends get for welcoming me into their home. Mockery on the internet.  But I’m so worth it!

Two: How did I forget how much “two” sucks? Kieran is so contrary and difficult right now. I mean, he’s still a generally pleasant little guy, but there have been way too many random shouts of “NO!” and screaming, just because it feels good, and hitting of his sister, and .  And WHY, for the love of all that is holy, will the child not swallow his food? I can get him to put nearly anything in his mouth but I’ll be damned if the little bugger won’t just swish the same bite of food around his mouth for hours, rather than admit defeat give in and swallow.  While I admire his tenacity, the two-year-old-stubborn-streak is not doing much to improve my mood lately.  The enfuriating thing is that I can reprimand, yell speak firmly and sternly, coax, coo and cry, but no matter what I do, the only thing that works is standing him in the corner for a time out.  Just the act of standing in the confined space of the corner seems to spur his saliva glands into action, almost instantaneously.  I’m considering locking him in a closet or a kitchen cupboard for his meals from now on.

Buuuut we all know I’m going to do it anyway so on with the show!  

There’s a little problem with spiders in the lovely, modern, finished basement, which is where we sleep.  The spiders have found a way into the basement from somewhere.  They typically show up in the bathroom and make their way towards the rest of the house from there. But they are not creeping in through the drains or anything like that. And I think they know we’re here, because the incidences of arachnocide have increased from about once per day when we arrived to about 3-4 times per day.  I’ve killed so many spiders I could be in my own horror movie.

Spiders are so insidious! There is never any warning that they’re coming. No buzzing, whirring or clicking. You just suddenly become aware of something creeping along beside your head while you’re in bed or around your toes when you step out of the shower.

I’ve never been really scared of spiders, but I’m definitely not a fan, by any stretch of the imagination. I’ve tried to keep my hatred of creepy crawlies to a vague disdain in order to keep Avery from losing her shit every time she sees one. But I have to say that, despite the fact that I keep calm, it is NOT WORKING.  She is terrified beyond all reason and stricken with the inability to control her vocal chords, every time a spider appears in her vicinity. She screams the blood curdling scream of a thousand bee stings, or a person soaked in gasoline and set afire. There is NO talking her down in her horrified state. Just the other night we were playing cards with my parents after the kids were in bed and she came flying up the stairs, pants around her ankles, shrieking that there is “A SPIDER! A SPIDER IN THE BATHROOM! MOMMEEEE!!!!! ASPIDERINTHEBATHROOMPLEASEKILLIT!!!”  

Now I have no doubt that running into a spider while you are in the middle of - erm - doing your “business” is traumatic. But what about the mother who has to talk you down, convince you to come back to basement bathroom and WIPE, and then look for a spider which, naturally, has now scuttled away to hide from the wailing banshee? Then I have to kill A DIFFERENT SPIDER that came to see what all the fuss was about, and then continue on with life, knowing that the original spider is STILL IN THE BATHROOM WAITING FOR ME!

Two small bites showed up on Avery’s neck this week.  I told her they were bites of some kind and when she asked what bit her I had to lie and say it was a mosquito, despite the fact that I know exactly what little bastards have been biting her. I just didn’t want to deal with the messy aftermath of telling her that spiders have likely been crawling all over her and nibbling on her while she sleeps. Because hello? I am very fond of sleep! And if I told her that spiders were not just hiding in the bathroom but had perhaps entered the sacred territory of her bed NONE OF US WOULD EVER SLEEP AGAIN!

I’m thinking it’s probably a good thing we’re leaving tomorrow. That and the fact that it’s been wet and cool here for the past two weeks. Tomorrow it’s supposed to warm up and dry out and we all know that in Manitoba that means that this week will mark the birthdays of millions and millions of baby mosquitoes! We love hanging out with my parents but I think we’ve had enough of the critters around here!

He’s just so TWO right now!

He recently discovered pockets and has decided they are the BEST. INVENTION. EVER. He constantly fills them with pebbles (his second favourite thing after pockets) and sometimes I fear his pants will fall off with the weight of his pockets full of treasures. (I also fear what will happen if I forget to check his pockets for stones before I put him down for a nap, but that’s a whole other story.)

Awwww.  Look how they express their love for each other hug and kiss when I make them do it for the sake of a photo.

When we were visiting my inlaws in Northern Ontario we enjoyed a lovely natural stream running beside the playground by their house. There’s nothing I love more than wading in a clean, critter-free stream, except maybe taking pictures of my daughter enjoying it.

Yeah, that was a good day.

“Honey,” I quipped, “If there’s one thing you should have learned after being married to me for eight years, it’s that hormones are NOT restricted to one specific day of the month.”

“Oh yes, they do have a particular time of the month,” he responds. “ALL OF IT.”

I have to admit that I’ve both celebrated and lamented the lack of wind this past year in Ontario.  I told stories of the legendary prairie wind. And yet my memory started to dim after a while.

Being back on the prairies has jolted my memory. The last few days have been sooo windy.  I’d forgotten the fun of getting blown away every time I walk out the door. Or driving on the highway and the excitement of the constant interruption and subsequent gusts of wind when we drive by a row of trees or a semi or a group of large farm animals.  Take your eyes off the road to admire the scenery on a blustery day? Say hello to the ditch!

And yet, there’s something strangely familiar about this irritating and sometimes dangerous wind.  It feels like home.

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We’ve been attempting to keep Avery from having a nap this week because she’s gotten into the bad habit of napping in the afternoon and sleeping less at night which results in her waking up at unholy hours in the morning. By the early afternoon yesterday she was soooo tired and melting down and after several scoldings and a time-out she was literally BEGGING me to let her have a nap! I know, right? 

I explained why we wanted her to stay awake but this only resulted in wailing and weeping. “PLEEEEEASE MOM-MMMMEEEEEE!!!  I just want to haa-aave a naaAAAAAAP!  I can’t k-k-keeeeep my eyes open anyMOOOOORE!!!!!” What kind of a monster would I be if I kept her awake?  A monster with one hell of an unhappy baby monster to pacify. That’s what.

Avery: 1
A Good Night’s Sleep: 0

Since I am stubborn as a mule persistent, I started scanning through the yellow pink pages, line by line, searching for a synonym for hair stylist that I had forgotten. Unfortunately, I found none.  But I did find that we can all rest easy in the knowledge that Southern Manitoba has it’s priorities in order.  There is an entire category (with one entry) for cheese:

Isn’t that awesome? It totally made my day.

Oh, and I did eventually find the name of the hairdresser I was looking for in the regular listings. It only took me ten minutes to read the whole phone book. 

So I’m asking nicely now. Please share your wisdom! This blog is all about shades of gray so I’m sure we can find ways to share observations without judging the citizens of entire nations. Don’t make me start calling on individual names, because I can and I will!

Also, one more thing…I am more than a little concerned about one particular American custom. I understand that the majority of Americans wear their shoes in their (and other people’s) homes. I am getting a bit uptight about the idea of footwear! in the house! I have SO MANY QUESTIONS about this very foreign (to me) practice. Like what do people do in poor weather? Do they just wipe their shoes the best they can and then go in? Do they stay off carpet? Do they have “indoor shoes”. Don’t they sell slippers in America? Will I be shunned or thought of as rude or bizarre if I ask people to remove their shoes in my house? Will people be offended if I remove my shoes when I go to their homes?

This post over at Notes to Self got me thinking about the whole thing and I posted my questions as a comment. I was interested by a few different responses. Kyran (who authors the blog) suggested that “…In the South, some people have a stigma about going shoeless, because it is associated with poverty (think “barefoot hillbilly”)”. Another commenter posted that, having always worn shoes indoors, bare feet seemed kind of intimate to him and that he would feel very uncomfortable with the no shoe scenario.  Upon reflection, this does make sense to me. It’s all about what you’re used to.

Personally, I would feel like I was being very disrespectful by wearing shoes in another person’s home. But I can understand how another person with the opposite experience would feel “naked” without their shoes.  Now my concern is how to navigate this world of “shoe etiquette”. Several other Notes to Self commenters, coming from a variety of places and experiences, said they had felt that it wasn’t usually a big problem, so long as you asked politely.

I’m thinking perhaps I can write my “shoes-off-in-the-house policy” as an endearing Canadian quirk. What do you think, internets?

A mosaic that represents me. Well, kinda.  The pictures I wanted to select were always copyrighted. Doh!

The concept:
1. Type your answer to each of the questions below into Flickr Search.
2. Using only the first page of results, and pick one image.
3. Copy and paste each of the URLs for the images into Big Huge Lab’s Mosaic Maker to create a mosaic of the picture answers.

The questions:
1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food? right now?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favourite drink?
7. What is your dream vacation?
8. What is your favourite dessert?
9. What do you want to be when you grow up?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. What is one word that describes you?
12. What is your flickr name?

Got this from Schmutzie.

Number of kilometers driven since Friday: 2, 386

Number of minutes it took for Avery to ask if we are “there yet?”: 5

Number of times Avery asked if we are “there yet”: 1498

Number of birthday cakes Kieran had on his birthday: 2

Number of items loaded into our moving van: 234

Number of men who loaded our belongings onto the moving van: 2

Number of men who loaded our belongings onto the moving van while drunk: 1

Number of complaint letters written about said drunk worker: 1

Number of naps taken by kids while driving in the car: not enough

Number of times we were warned about roaming moose on the road in Ontario: 28

Number of actual moose sighted: 0

Number of dollars Ontario spent on maintaining their highways in the past year: $2.50

Number of times we thought we were finally getting pulled over for speeding: 12

Number of actual speeding tickets: 0

Number of topics to argue about while confined in a car with one’s family for hours at a time: there isn’t a number big enough

It’s been a hectic week for us but we managed to finish our packing and get all of our possessions loaded onto a moving truck and put into storage until such time as we have an address in Boston to have them delivered. We have driven across every. single. inch. of Ontario, with a brief stay up north and are now in Manitoba, spending time with my family.

I’d love to write something clever and witty but…I got nothing.  Still catching up from the trauma that is a week of almost no sleep, followed by 27 hours in a car with a 4 and 2 year old who are both currently nursing “summer colds”.  So let me just share a list that I compiled during our long trip:

A Brief List of Things That My Husband and I Can Argue About On Car Trips (just in case we run out of ideas)

-what radio station to listen to
-whether the volume is too loud or too soft
-whether the kids can watch (another) dvd
-which dvd the kids should watch
-if the windows can or should be down
-when to stop for breakfast/lunch/dinner
-where to stop for breakfast/lunch/dinner
-how long to stop for breakfast/lunch/dinner
-how fast we are driving
-how fast we should be driving
-how much the speeding ticket would be if we got pulled over right now
-how cold (or hot) it is in the car
-about the operation of our new GPS
-about my husband trying to operate the GPS while driving
-about which “voice” to choose for the GPS to use for guiding us to our destination (the female American voice or the male British voice)
-about the passenger not paying enough attention to/occupying the kids
-about where the damn power cords are for all the damn electronics we brought along
-about why we felt the need to bring so many damn electronic items along
-about whether our son needs to wear a hat so as not to get a sunburn through the car window (which was closed)
-whether the kids can have another snack
-what the kids can have for said snack
-about cleaning all the crumbs/shrapnel from aforementioned snack
-about the fact that we didn’t get enough water/juice to hold us over until the next stop
-how long Avery can wait after her first announcement that she has to pee
-about the meanings of words
-about our plans for moving/buying a house/life in Cambridge

…and oh my the list could go on and on and on. Isn’t family togetherness a *blessing*?  I think we were all just a touch past cranky this trip and it was a bit hard on everyone.  But I promise you, no one was harmed in the making of this family vacation.

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!

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).

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

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.

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????