All Tangled Up

What a tangled web we weave, when we're plotting to take some leave! The events of this week have pulled at my heartstrings, loosened my purse strings, undone my apron strings, and have seen some damage to my spouse, P's, hamstrings.


P, who hasn't quite mastered the art of perfect timing, decided we should take a trip to the mother land.  This means packing and going over the gift list (imagine what happens if we forget to get a lace doily  for our great grand aunt twice removed). 


It seems that the only thing that triggers my memory of who needs what gift is getting back home from the store. I can not tell you how many shopping trips we have been on this week--if we got frequent flyer miles for that we'd be sipping pina coladas in Hawaii for free this Christmas.


Invariably, we are going to run out of gifts or forget a third cousin's nephew's grandson somewhere. Oh well. My presence is my present! Any old how, in between all this madness, I have to plan and book venues for my four year old, Lanes', birthday party next month, plus wrangle and cajole her into going to her kindergarten orientation.


What does my brilliant spouse do in the midst of this madness? He finds a townhouse he wants us to move into--three days after we return to Canada. By moving, he envisions us (which means me since I'm the unemployed one--apparently mothering doesn't count as work) packing and lugging stuff.


Luckily, after a reality check, and by that I mean my soliloquy on the virtues of applying logic, he realized that indeed this would not be feasible. Considering we have to give our ghetto fabulous apartment one month's notice before we leave, it is really unwise to let them realize that we are gone for most of that time. 


Who knows what or who we will find in the living room? I'm looking for a stealth exit so that no one is on the up and up that we are away--although I guess I'll be missed in the laundry room, elevators and parking lot.  Mercifully, P was left to call back the townhouse people and say we wouldn't be moving in.


Meanwhile, Lanes graduated from preschool! I'm so proud of her but she is so sad to leave her friends as none of them are going to her kindergarten. At her orientation at the ''big kids school" as she calls it, I was fighting back tears as we roamed the halls and I saw all these, well, big kids, walking around and doing their thing.


Besides wondering why some kids were roaming the halls randomly, I started to feel fearful at letting Lanes loose in this unknown territory. She looked like a little prawn in a big sea. How will she survive without me or a little help from her friends?


Deep down I knew that she will adapt and move on and I will be left twiddling my thumbs, but I was scanning the outside of the school for places that I could lurk so I could spring into action should she need me. At orientation, many other moms voiced their concerns and turns out that they have a room we can hang out in, should we want to be near our offspring.


Although she flailed and hesitated, I think I piqued her curiosity by taking her there. She didn't click with any of the other kids yet, but they looked as dazed and not thrilled to be there as she did. Oh well. Kids are resilient after all. I'll just buy some camouflage and sit behind a tree. Time for me to let go a little. Sniff sniff.


In between all this madness, I had to go to my homeopathy doctor again. The good news is that my liver is doing slightly better. The bad news is that I'm going around town sporting seven tiny band aids in my ear. They clash horribly with my skin tone.


Inside each tiny square shaped band aid is some sort of herb or seed or something. I'm supposed to press them several times a day to give myself acupuncture or acupressure or something like that. I forgot and scratched my ear like an angry cat and one came off.


P gasped in horror and I quickly stuck it back on. If it's put back in the wrong place, I hope I don't  get hairy toes or flatulence or something equally appealing. Time will tell.


I'm also supposed to melt five pellets of stuff under my tongue three times a day. P beamed with wonder and delight when he realized that I am rendered speechless, quite literally, by this medicine. Suddenly, he has become a big fan of homeopathy and waits til those times to tell me things he is likely to get in trouble for.


Sadly for him, I have now figured out how to talk ventriloquist style. As I type this he is in ignorant bliss, complaining he has done something to his leg and underneath is foot. There was a big mark like a bruise under his left foot but turns out Lanes and her markers were the culprit.


With that I must sign off and get some pain medication for P and I have to rest up because I have to run to the store yet again tomorrow. Musings from the motherland next week...