Happy One Year Anniversary to Me!

This is the big moment—one year since we moved to Canada! Twelve months ago, we packed up and shipped anything we thought we would ever need—except the neighborhood pizza delivery boy.  We thought we had thought of everything—looked up apartments, took care of urgent dental work, found potential schools for our little one. We had, or correction, rather, my diligent spouse, P, had done all the research—everything I need to know, I learn from movies and making assumptions. We thought we had everything under control…but what did we know?

It seems like time has flown, yet stood still and that we have come so far, yet sometimes it feels like we walked around a big circle and are back to square one. Looking back…hindsight is always 20/20—but only when you are wearing non-rose colored glasses. I will give you, my loyal readers, the year in review, uncensored and broken down according to the three of us: my long suffering ever efficient spouse, P; my adorable and quirky four year old, Lanes; and of course yours truly, who is ever so charming and conundrum prone.

P, my spouse and reason for being—in Canada:  Luckily for him, he is nothing if not meticulous. He anticipated most of the hardships that immigrants face and budgeted his time, money and sanity accordingly. After we moved, he spent countless hours in front of the computer, going to classes and signing up for mentors at different programs. He was always tweaking his resume, making calls and attending job fairs.

However prepared he was, he never imagined that his extensive experience and American degrees would be no good here. All anyone wanted was Canadian work experience. But one has to start somewhere! It is then that we saw the importance of knowing your neighbor back home’s uncle’s goat herder’s mother’s second cousin, named Gulab Jamun (ok that is the name of a dessert and not a person, but hey I love food), who lives in Canada. We needed Gulab to hire one of us!

Ever optimistic and steadfast in his belief that he will make something of himself, P entered phase II of his plan—approach temp agencies. That’s when he got his first break and crack at work experience. After a few stints here and there, he racked up good recommendations and he finally got a gig for six months. That is up on Halloween of all days and I don’t know where that leaves us. Spooky.

P is hoping to be adopted by this company, as his immediate bosses are really delighted by his efficiency, but they are amidst layoffs and it is up to someone in HR, who knows nothing of P and his contributions, to decide on the matter. Timing is everything and timing is inconvenient.  On the bright side, for what it’s worth (literally) now he has that elusive Canadian work experience.

I asked him what he thinks of our big move, after all, it was his bright idea. I was in full support of it, much as I wanted to fuss at him for causing me to move not once, but twice as a result of this idea—we had to move house in the motherland after he submitted our application to consolidate our things before coming to Canada. He said he was happy. He wished his job situation was less precarious, and that our building was more stable, but what are you going to do in this topsy turvy world? The most important thing is now, he has time for Lanes, even if by default.

Lanes:  She has learnt a lot and matured since she first came here. Sadly, she has forgotten her native tongue. This is rather tiresome because it makes issuing warnings and reprimands harder in public. If she spoke her mother tongue, I could happily yell out things like ‘get that ladybug out of your nose! Don’t put that in your mouth. No, you cannot take a frog home with you. Don’t go near the garbage can or else!’. On the other hand, I can tell P things like ‘Lanes needs to get a vaccine, let’s go to the doctor’ and she is none the wiser and I’m spared a meltdown.

Next year this time, she will be enrolling in kindergarten! My little baby is not so little anymore. Times have changed from my time and we are starting to enroll Lanes in extracurricular activities like her friends. I don’t know what it is preschoolers do these days, sheep shearing or advanced calculus, limbo dancing or what. For our part we signed her up for a music class, an art class and the notorious swimming lessons. I think we are a bit late getting on the ball with all three, but I guess it’s better late than never.

Yours Truly: Well, I must say of all three of us, I have accomplished the least—in my book, no pun intended. I have not worked the entire year, and that is not so good for my self-esteem. I wanted to always be there for Lanes because she went from a lifestyle that included lots of people, to one that involved only her parents.  I applied for some jobs that I could work on while she was in preschool, but never got a call back—again perhaps due to the lack of work experience here.

I keep our apartment, which I call ‘Faulty Towers’, or this crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous joint, quite nicely—I love decorating it and keeping it cozy and clean (mostly due to my mortal fear of germs rather than being a tidy person). Having never cooked a meal in my life, I now have a lovely repertoire and P and Lanes are far from starved.  These are simple things, but I'm not the most domesticated sort, so it's a big thing for me. I’m full of self-satisfaction on that front. So hardy ha ha to all those who thought with hanky to the eye that I couldn’t do it. Nanny nanny boo boo!

On the not so successful front, I still have no driving license. My stormy relationship with my driving instructor has come to a standstill and we are on a trail separation. He refuses to take me to the test in my town, saying it will all be just a waste of money as so many people with far more experience than I have are failed repeatedly there (it’s a costly venture).

I have to wait to take the test in Vancouver, but they won’t be open for testing till January! I am supposed to surf the web after October and get a test date then and call my instructor. The good news is that since I have given up my lessons, my stomach is feeling a whole lot better. And here I was blaming blueberries for my gurgling belly!

With Lanes only away from the house for three hours a day, I do all the cooking, cleaning, laundry—the fun stuff, while she is away. Being an only child, bad things happen when I’m otherwise occupied and she is bored. I’m in constant fear that she might amass a small army of reptiles or decide to repaint the walls for attention if I’m tucked away in the kitchen while she is around. She remains annoyed that we won't buy her a little brother or sister from the supermarket. 

I stay up way too late, but then again, I always was more of a nocturnal sort—comes with being bats. When P and Lanes are tucked away safe in bed and my ‘work’ (and I’ve realized being home is a 24 hour job) is done, I enjoy my own company and have some peace. I hope, though, in the next twelve months, after Lanes is in school longer, I will have a regular wage earning job as well. If nothing else, so I get out of the house without the sole purpose of dropping/picking Lanes up or running to the grocery store.

Summation: I think the move was a positive one for us as a family. If we get the job situation squared away, we will all feel a lot more relived. Or rather P & I will.  Lanes is in blissful ignorance on account of being four—in her world, it’s inconvenient when Daddy has to leave the house every morning for work. We have made a few friends, but they are good friends.  

Of course we have encountered characters, most of whom live in our crazy a$$ ghetto fabulous apartment complex.  Just the other day I saw our fan favorite—the dandelion haired Mandarin only speaking lady who loves to rub my belly and sign language that I should take up power walking. She saw me across the road and smiled so fondly and waved and waved, after punching her companion in the stomach when he couldn't see me through the foliage. Even Lanes was like ‘mamma, what’s wrong with that lady?’.

I have no idea why she is drawn to me. I would have bolted, but politely returned the wave because the steady flow of traffic ensured she couldn’t get to me and trap me in an utterly useless one sided conversation. I almost felt bad for running from her. If I ever ran for office, she would be the first to campaign for me. I just know it.

As for the three of us as a family, we have stepped on each other’s toes several times, but along with all that stomping we have really tumbled into each other’s hearts. We all have our dreams though. P would like a steady job. I would like any job. Lanes would like to be Chinese (seriously—that’s a whole other blog).

Of course all of us would like to move to a better place—but that again comes with the job. After one year of pipes bursting, tenants leaping, water cuts and holes in leaky ceilings, we are all hoping to enjoy a place where we might not need to wear a raincoat indoors. Again, on the bright side, it brings much entertainment to others: )

So at the start of our second year, we are hoping that P remains employed—anywhere, that Lanes continues to grow into that sweet little slightly eccentric person that she is, and that I will have some other hats to wear besides the mom and wife hats—none of us want a hat head after all.

It would be nice if I could stumble into a routine of my own. Especially if it is in writing, which is something I enjoy. I wouldn’t say being a mom and wife is completely thankless—I deliver soliloquies daily on my virtues to an eye rolling audience of P and Lanes. I try to give them give or take twenty-five reasons to be glad and grateful I’m in their lives.

Right now, the only thing I have for myself, is this blog, and I want to thank you all for reading it and offering me feedback. It makes my day, and I’m glad that the crazy stuff in my life, brings laughter to yours: ) You know what they say, one person’s misery can be someone else’s joy. I’m not sure who this ‘they’ are, but it makes sense: )So here’s to more Canadoodling in the future! May the adventures continue...

C'est Si Bon

We actually made it to Ottawa and Montreal, more importantly, we made it back!  Only just. We took off on Monday in a mad rush and came back late Saturday night a little worse for wear. We started out late on Monday and I was seen dashing to the shuttle at the park n’ ride with my four year old, Lanes’, dashing pink Hello Kitty back pack dangling from one arm, my hand luggage on my shoulder and two suitcases trailing behind me.

I was such a sight between gravity defying hair, my clanking clogs and mismatched luggage that the driver of the shuttle bus stopped for a chuckle and that gave all three of us, and our plethora of baggage time to get on.  Lanes had decided to fall asleep in the car and her poor dad, P, was lumbering across the parking lot heaving her on his shoulder. As we got on the shuttle, he dashed out again and pranced round the parking lot trying to lock the car with the remote on his key. Everyone on the bus, including the patient driver, started laughing.

Eventually, we got to Ottawa, but only briefly because we caught the train from there to Montreal. I must say that the folks who work at VIA Rail are super friendly and thoughtful and we had a really pleasant ride on the train not only to Montreal but back as well. Lanes enjoyed her first proper train ride, during which we saw many farms and every time she saw a cow she would exclaim ‘look Mamma, a baby cow and a mamma cow, just like you’. This running commentary, which involved me being compared to a number of farm animals, elicited many snorts of delight from P.

Incidentally, during the course of this trip, I have come to be known as ‘Mumsy’.  I don’t know where Lanes got that from, but she would pepper her conversations with phrases like ‘good job Mumsy’ or ‘yea Mumsy!’. It made me feel either like a slow old horse in a straw hat or an eccentric old lady with a thing for scones with clotted cream and collecting marbles (most preferably the ones she lost). I guess there are worse things I could be called…

Any old how, we really enjoyed Montreal. It was absolutely gorgeous, and we lucked out with a good deal for a fabulously luxurious hotel. Lanes, who was complaining that she wanted to go home, walked into our hotel room and decided that it would do nicely indeed, and thoughts of returning home were abandoned like old tissue papers. It also helped that she got a little care package gift when we arrived and the toys in it kept her busy the entire time—much to my relief.

The bed we had deserves a special mention because it was soft yet firm and almost swallowed us up in comfy goodness. We spent a lot of time in Montreal sleeping as a result. Not the best for sightseeing! We did get to see Notre-Dame Basilica, St. Joseph’s Oratory, the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (only briefly because Lanes didn’t give two hoots about Napoleon’s hat and she wanted to go back to the big comfy bed in the hotel) and the BioDome. 

We spent the most time at the BioDome as that was the place that held the interest of our four-year old. I cannot tell you how much time she spent looking at the penguins. I wished I could have taken one home with us. Now that’s a good way to keep her quiet in her room! Plus with winter coming and the folks in our apartment building never putting the heat on, the penguin would feel right at home: )

On the way back we spent a night in Ottawa and I got to see my friend from high school and her husband and we had a really good time catching up. All in all, it was a good trip.  Finally, my minor in French came in handy. Considering I haven’t used the language since 1998, I think I got along just fine.  P had decided he is ‘too old’ to learn a language and I think he found having me around rather handy on this trip!

It made all the fussing I did about having to study it with a certain professor I had in college—the one with the thundering eyebrows, all worth the while. I used to swear that storm clouds would gather whenever he walked into a room. How I blessed him this week! As usual, the jokes on me. I now want to re-read all the French novels I had—sadly they are in my nutty sister’s house. By the time I am reunited with them, the moment is sure to have passed.

Incidentally, my sister was keeping up with her Inspector Clouseau impersonation. The last time I spoke to her, her younger daughter was pleading with me to get her to stop that annoying accent already. She sounded rather pained, poor child. I can only assume that having been disinvited from joining us, she has returned to her normal pattern of speech.

In conclusion, we all enjoyed our trip. The folks in Ottawa and Montreal were very friendly and warm, which nicely countered the chilly weather we experienced. But it is nice to be back in BC--I have left all treacherous thoughts of moving to Montreal behind--I think the cold froze my flights of fancy.  Next week, we will have been in Canada for a year! So stay tuned for the year in review and never heard before behind the scenes footage…

On Your Mark, Get Set…Gosh I Stubbed My Toe

This week’s episode was supposed to take place in lovely Ottawa or Montreal(I’m assuming having never set foot in either place), but as I finally looked over our travel plans, I realized that Monday and Tuesday would be very busy and it would be impossible for me to upload from there. Long story short, I’d be on a plane, fighting to find a taxi with a dangling four year old, tripping over my own feet, rushing a cranky and dawdling husband, and then hustling to a train. 

Having no fancy gizmo du jour, I will be quite unable to type up let alone post a blog. And considering how much the hotel we are staying at is planning on charging us for washing one shirt (before taxes mind you), not even dry cleaning it, I’m assuming I’d be charged for just sitting in front of the computer, nevermind logging on. There's probably even a charge for just asking.

This week has zipped by as we were preparing for our trip. It has just been one of those hot, long, weeks that everything that could make you cranky, will make you cranky.  We realized that lots of kids the same age as our little one, Lanes, are doing fun stuff like piano lessons or gymnastic classes or taking courses in medical school or whatever it is preschoolers are doing these days.

My dutiful spouse, P, came home with a book from the community center and we quickly enrolled Lanes for an art class and a swimming class. I was feeling ashamed since it is a bit late in the day, but it’s better late than never, as was in my case. I am petrified of water. My earliest memory is of me screaming and flailing while my mom was trying to bathe me. If I had money, any therapist would consider me a gold mine.

I tried to overcome the fear before I turned 30 and started lessons. It took me one month to break my grip on the stairs of the pool—in the shallow end. My instructor was patient and had a sense of humor, and I regaled him with unnecessary funny stories to divert his attention from the fact that I was almost surgically attached to the metal ladder, and toddlers were breezing past me, pointing in wonder at the woman the size of a baby hippo clinging on for dear life.

I finally broke free and was mastering sinking when I realized after a week of throwing up nonstop that Lanes was on her way, and that was the end of my swimming lessons. All I remember is being ravenous after the class and rushing to get a big burger at the restaurant near the pool—fond memories.  Any old how, long story short, considering my fear of water, I thought it best if P took Lanes to the classes, since they require one parent be in the pool.

P flat out refused. I have seen the man swim. Granted, he looked as graceful as a rhino in a tutu, but he floated.  With this gene pool, pun somewhat intended, I was really fearful of Lanes’ relationship with water.  Adamant that she not turn out like us, I got P to go ahead and schedule her classes and I would try to figure it out from there.

Naturally, I was livid that P was not, in my opinion, stepping up to the plate. He dislikes water, but does not have my innate fear of it. I get paralyzed with fear and it’s all downhill from there—I literally get choked up. I was scared that this might endanger Lanes, especially if I go into panic mode. And then there is the whole other side issue of me in a swimsuit—not the best look for me.

So I spent most of the last twenty four hours scolding P in my head, because he was not there to listen to me rant on account of doing errands. For some reason, my anger made me crave some fast food, which was not readily available to me and this made me even crankier--I think I badgered the meat loaf I was making. After dinner, when I was giving him reason number seventy two why he will hear about this when he is eighty, he finally said that when he was younger, a Tibetan monk told him to beware of water.

Okay, first of all, I have no idea what a Tibetan monk was doing in P’s parents’ living room. Second of all, the other things he told P was that he has the ‘nose of a king’ and he will ‘marry a queen’. So here’s the thing. P’s nostrils are upturned, so much so that not only can you see any bat in the cave, you can also hear its echo. And as for the queen, have we met? I am sarcastic, neurotic, and sleep deprived. The closest I come to royalty is that on many an occasion, I’m a royal pain in the rear.

I told him based on the outcome of the other two predictions, he has nothing much to worry about. Furthermore, he should have just told me this was his concern without letting me go on a one woman rampage about the whole situation. Surely all the muttering and stealth mean looks could not have been good for my health. He said what can he do, men are from Mars, women are from Venus, and that’s why he didn’t explain himself.

Like he is from Mars! As usual, he must have been talking while driving because when I went to Mars to try to figure him out, I realized that he was happily setting up shop in Uranus instead. Typical P behavior. End of the story, I’m hoping that maybe Lanes and I can bond and I can overcome my fear. I have a month to get over it any old how. P will take her to the art class, and by the looks of the plaster magnets they were coloring today, it will be good—for P. Ha!

I must sign off and check my list twice for the trip. The packing and unpacking seems daunting. I hope it is all worthwhile in the end. I shall report back on the two places.  Considering P’s penchant for announcing we are moving to places (first moving houses, and then to Canada), I’m half afraid to sleep on the trip in case he says ‘so guess what? We are moving!’.  You never know—until you know. More of about our trip to the gorgeous East coast next week…

Alone Again, Naturally

Tis the day after the holidays, and we came back to our house

But it was silent and foreboding, not even the neighborhood louse

Was smoking and lurking and daring to dare

Poor mommy had to cheer up a Lanes without muttering a swear…

Our apartment is deafeningly silent.  It is void of my aunt’s constant chatter and my uncle’s laughter at my four year old, Lanes’, antics.  Our Lanes has been uncharacteristically quiet now that her geriatric sidekicks have left.  She muttered that she was sad she had no one to play with in her room.

I offered my services, but I was diplomatically rejected (and I was a little dejected that  I was not considered ‘fun’).  She gave me a slightly patronizing, quizzical, sad look, which I am sure will be akin to the one she will give me when I drop her off at college and announce that I have decided to go back to school with her. Such are my plans. Unless her father beats me to it.

Knowing that it will be difficult for Lanes to bid adieu to our guests, we accompanied my elderly relatives to the US.  They stayed with my sister for three days before flying off to the motherland. We stayed a week, or more like ten days, with my sister as her daughters were on holiday.  Since Lanes hero worships her ‘big sisters’ we thought it would be a good diversion for her.

I stayed up far too late every night I was there, mostly because I just didn’t want the day to end and I wanted to spend time with my nutty sister, even though she tends to drive me up the banana tree.  As with moms, we seem to only have time to discuss and reflect after the three girls are in bed. One night, she was surfing through the menu of a French restaurant and started reading the reviews in French.

She found it funny to translate them into English with a French accent (even though her terribly long-suffering spouse and I, her unwitting and unwilling audience, can speak the language).  She sounded like Inspector Clouseau on crack. I was half waiting for her to bust into Lanes’ room and announce ‘arrezt ze bebe’.  Seeing how irritated her new accent made me, she made it a point to speak like that for the last three days of our visit. I guess she didn’t want me to miss her too much when we left.

Lanes cried most of the way up to Canada. I had to pry her away from her cousins, who looked equally doleful.  The only thing that cheered her up as we dragged her across the border was the prospect of seeing our really nice friends in Surrey, who we had not seen in ages.  They were really sweet and invited us to dinner and that cheered all of us up, even though we were pooped and were probably not the most entertaining company as a result.

This morning, Lanes was back to preschool.  We were both super sluggish, I have no idea how we even got dressed and ready.  She had somehow meandered into our room and I was dreaming that a baby hippo was sitting on me. When I woke up in the morning, I realized it was because Lanes was sleeping on top of me. No wonder I call her half a camel.

As it is, I am still in a post-holiday daze. I have to force myself to get into the routine of cooking, cleaning, laundry, running after Lanes down the hill after school, dashing to the supermarket, only to forget what I was going there for, dodging neighbors, getting myself into trouble. The usual. I am so brain dead, I barely can string words together for this blog. 

If Lanes and I can get through today, we will be back on schedule. It was very lonely and quiet coming back from school today by myself after having got used to being flanked by my aunt and uncle and their lectures on road safety. Having lunch alone again, will also be a challenge. I shall have to add chocolates to my menu today. Any excuse.

Next week, we are thinking of running off to the east and exploring Canada a little bit. My diligent spouse, P, is a guru when it comes to actually making use of air miles. In between a little tweaking and many phone calls to various airlines, we got some good deals to go to Ottawa!

We are thinking about going to Montreal as well. Maybe I should invite my sister, since she is so enjoying her ‘parlez Français’ phase. Maybe we can leave her there then? But then she is very handy in raising my very low blood pressure levels, so I might have to bring her back. I shall put it to her, but if she answers the phone saying ‘mais oui oui’, the deal is off. 

I must go and fight the urge to take a nap since there is laundry to be rescued and dinner to fixed. Hopefully, as the week progresses and our travel plans take shape, I'll shed this funk I seem to be in. Next week's blog is from Ottawa! Hopefully...