PLEASE report me…NOW!

This weekend, while feeling terrible (the entire tribe was sick with high fevers and sore throats… a mystery illness… including this old goat) …my doorbell rang. As is customary in this place when someone is at the door literally a crowd of children run to the door and I am lucky if I even make it to the door (stepping on bodies everywhere) far less if I am able to even determine why the interruption (as the kids always get there first) occurred.  This is largely due to the fact that the majority of people coming to the door are friends of the inmates that live here. When you have the brood I do…very few people come to actually visit me.

This day was different in that the seven-year-old told me that “Mrs. Thatcher” was at my door and she MUST speak with me…NOW. Not really knowing a “Mrs. Thatcher” …I said tell the lady your mom is sick and get her number so I can call her back. The 7-year old did as I asked except only to return moments later reporting that “the woman” said she must speak with me NOW as it is very serious and urgent I come to the front door at once.

Nice. I was prostrate on the couch after several rounds of cheap medication (Tylenol and Advil) and fighting a fever of well over 103° (f)!

Well after struggling to get up and to the door I am greeted by this vision, an older, well dressed, British (?) lady very upset who was angrily telling me that she is “going to have to report me.” Now not too sure it was either the medication or the fever speaking.. so I asked to whom or what body this “vision” would in fact be reporting on me (and my ailing carcass) (?) The answer was astounding…“the authorities.” ( I wondered for a moment if the invasion of aliens as a zombie apocalypse was already upon us and must confess to being secretly excited for a change of pace from being sick!)

“I am going to have to report you…”

Having had high hopes in the past of being carted off for any number of reasons that might force a rest/vacation on my weary soul… I am not one to wave away such offers of incarceration casually. While grasping the wall (as I leaned against it) I did manage to crook my head in such a way as to see past this older women’s silhouette enough to ascertain that there were no “authorities” present that the naked eye could detect.

The thought of being treated to an incarceration where I would be relieved of my duties presiding over this tribe, given clean clothes (I did not have to wash or press) and a bed… plus regular meals and I could stay on this holiday until some jury decided otherwise…was all too tempting!!

I explained to this woman that I was in spite of my cheery disposition… I was rather ill and therefore confused as to why she wanted to apprehend me in the first place. Meanwhile in my head I was trying to account for all the natives in the house wondering if while I was languishing on the couch perhaps some inmates escaped…possibly causing havoc in the neighborhood…maybe trampling the poor dear’s spring tulip bed (?). No, seemed like everyone was accounted for. Besides in scanning for “the authorities” I had not detected any child protection agency representatives as evidenced by no unusual vehicles in the vicinity (when you send those guys to an address like this one you need several vehicles to manage the number of kids being seized).

Now this woman was a mystery.

I took a chance and told her to go right ahead and report me to the authorities. I deserved whatever she had in mind. (!!!) (Had I not been so sick I would have managed at least an evil grin!) Well she looked a little shocked that I would be so compliant and then started to explain.

PLEASE REPORT ME
“An incarceration where I would be relieved of my duties presiding over this tribe, given clean clothes (I did not have to wash or press) and a bed with regular meals and could stay on this holiday until some jury decided otherwise”

Apparently this woman felt I did not care enough about someone who lived at my house. (Now she had my attention.) Could not be the husband (although I am sure he often thinks I do not care enough about him as he reclines in bed trying to heal his ankle from his most recent surgery unable to bear any weight on this limb until at least 12 weeks have passed) but unless he is sending out smoke signals from the bedroom how would his plight have reached the ears of the woman on my doorstep? Doubtful it was any of the kids as this was Mother’s Day and it is the one day a year I am considered “a saint” in my own domain. Could not be one of them complaining…on Mother’s Day.

Now I am figuring this senior gal has perhaps mixed my address up with someone else’s…right?

No…WRONG!

Apparently this whole commotion is because my little white dog managed to get out the front door as the hot water tank technician came into our home on an emergency visit (thank goodness for him…9 kids…everyone sick and no hot water …Mother’s Day notwithstanding) to reinstate baths and loads of laundry for the faithful. All of this because of a little dog.

I think I stood in total disbelief staring…(and NOT because of the Tylenol and Motrin).

…after several rounds of cheap medication (Tylenol and Advil) and fighting a fever of well over 103° (f)!

This lady went on to explain she has a little dog and that if I am this careless in allowing this dog to escape then she will have to notify “the authorities” and I will have to “suffer the consequences.” In all fairness my little dog escapes way more often that a little dog ought or should. Then again with the numbers of kids (and friends) opening and shutting the doors in the house, playing with the dogs, taking them of their leashes (including dogs wiggling out of their collars)…just the general bedlam here…small wonder that this dog’s escape is so swiftly noticed by us.

And no, the woman did not stop there. She went to unusual lengths to describe her passion for pooches (highlighting my apparent disregard for same) and that she had noted this was the second time in ten days that my little white dog had gotten past the front door and taken off to party in the neighborhood. I was not only irresponsible, but what I was subjecting this animal to was criminal (9 kids fussing over her…well maybe). This little dog of ours loves to run. If this critter gets a chance to make a run for it she is gone like a shot and will not come back…even for treats. She cannot be caught until she is good and tired out (much like some of my kids)!  Although the moment the little dog goes missing a search party does go out after this animal.

She cannot be caught until she is good and tired out!”

I guess “Mrs. Thatcher” observed that my little dog was out a whole 20 minutes (last Tuesday to be exact!) until I went in the car to rescue the canine. The observation was completely oblivious to the jail break having occurred as the children boarded the school bus thereby necessitating readying two babies into outdoor clothing and then securing in-car seats so that I could chase down the mongrel of mine in my car. I was going to try to put the effort into the conversation to let this woman again understand NONE of this is intentional and then I simply realized this woman was likely suffering from not able to mind her own business.

I reached a new level of understanding. My chaotic life was giving this woman purpose. So be it (possibly the migraine strength now Advil talking).

In the end I was disappointed that “the authorities” did not apprehend me. I could use a night or two of decent sleep, clean clothes (I did not have to wash), a hot (uninterrupted) shower and three squares a day that I did not have to shop for, cook, serve or clean up after. It did occur to me that often the 7-year-old is on the loose in the neighborhood and I have yet to have so much as one tantalizing offer of incarceration.

Who knew…the dog is missing for 20 minutes and my break might be just around the corner…thank you Mrs. Thatcher!

The Garden Goat (happily anticipating a future incarceration)

The Garden Goat happily anticipating a future incarceration

More Money in Your Pocket

Every single reader out there I know has pondered how this goat of many is able to finance everyday life. (Hey…don’t worry this is something often pondered by this goat.) The crew I preside over is based on average as eleven in numbers (inmates) and the associated costs of such a gargantuan tribe present for all meals, toiletries and sundries (give or take an occasionally few more here and there). I can wake up in the morning and be dealing out the rations only to discover some kid has brought another friend or two (sleepovers …after I went to bed…the teenagers…of course) and they are in the lineup right alongside the usual natives.

“In the end it adds up to a significant amount each month…”

Considering the bunch here (and the option of “extras”) I have had to become a professional practitioner in the magical art of grocery shopping and the more important art of financing those outings. Some days it I am sure it would be considered outright WIZARDRY!

I currently average about an extra $300 per month (minimum) as refunds in my pocket (YES, hard cold cash)!

A very dear friend once was staying for supper and thought she would help by peeling potatoes. After the first dozen or so peeled she asks “How many more do you need me to peel? I am not sure when I should STOP!” I looked at her and said “Only when the bag (10 lb.) is empty!” The look was priceless.

The children have been known to ask will they ever receive for dessert a bakery item that is “not from that 50% off rack!”~ Short answer… “NO!” The reduced rack is about as sacred to our family as the Holy Grail was to Indiana Jones! Before there are hoards out in cyberspace thinking that the children are munching down aging and moulding food …I assure you…this is NOT the case. Often items in excess are reduced (store baked too many apple pies, muffins or whatever) or there is a truckload sale. Many years I would buy birthday cakes reduced on the half-price rack and then freeze them (lots of birthdays in this joint) until one year some kid complained that they were less valued because they got a fresh cake instead of the frozen 50% off edition. Sometimes there is no pleasing the faithful. (!!)

I have thrilled in the delight the participants must feel as they check their goodies through the cash

The few times I have watched TV (not really a whole lot of time or much interest at my end) and viewed snippets of the show “Extreme Couponing” (TCL?) I have thrilled in the delight the participants must feel as they check their goodies through the cash and a $1,000 plus of merchandise is reduced to some ridiculous amount like $12.50 (albeit US dollars) and this represents three carts full!   Granted buying 32 bottles of French’s mustard for less than a dime each is appealing however not really going to go too far to nourish the army at this end other than to perhaps provide ammunition! After being all excited to test my skills in this game I then realize I live in Canada and some of this is not even available (double couponing etc.) far less encouraged.

Until I discovered something else…

A few years back I learned that there was something here (in Canada) called the Scanner Price Accuracy Voluntary Code (or “Scanning Code of Practice”). This is the link to further info (Canadian Government) at the Federal Government Competition Bureau http://www.competitionbureau.gc.ca/eic/site/cb-bc.nsf/vwapj/ct02380e.pdf/$file/ct02380e.pdf.

Needless to say once I became aware of this program I use it literally every day. I currently average about an extra $300 per month (minimum) as refunds in my pocket (YES, hard cold cash). Errors of discrepancy between signage and the computer database running the cash register calculations in a given store can result in a product being labeled as one price but being scanned at the cash at a higher amount. Many people don’t notice. In Canada if the item is under $10 you receive the item for free. If the value of the item is more than $10 you receive $10 (in cash) PLUS the item’s price will be corrected to the price as advertised. If you are buying more than one of the same item, then “FREE” item is only on the first one …if BOTH are identical (same SKU numbers). However, if you have purchased similar items (as in Tide is on sale and you purchase varying kinds and with different SKU numbers) then if these items also scan incorrectly (different SKUs) you can receive these items also for free. I have been known to walk away with four different bottles of Tide for free all because the computer was not updated to reflect the price as it was displayed in the store. (It does help if you have a photographic memory!)

“Scanning Code of Practice” guidelines (Canada)

Sadly I am thrilled knowing that because of human error I will score a certain percentage of this family’s purchases every week for “FREE.” You will either recognize me at the store as the one stumbling into people as I leave the store reading the receipt, (line by line ensuring that everything did ring in at the right price) or by the group of children nearby hanging their heads while pretending they are not related to me (mostly those teenagers).

Then again with the tribe I feed, I pretty much know the price of any grocery item and any frills purchased would only happen if they were in fact “on sale.”  Another way is to watch for mistakes is while the item is being scanned. Sometimes the difference in price is only one penny but when you can receive the item free it certainly adds up.

Since the kids seem to think stuff might taste “better” if it was not on the “50% off” rack good job most of them have no idea it was in all likelihood completely FREE!  I will say that many of my teenage offspring, (already some of them mortified to be seen with me in public just because their chronological age has reached double digits) are not too thrilled to be in earshot as I challenge the errors made when the wrong price comes up.

In the end it adds up to a significant amount each month that helps this goat keep the little goats in oats and something everyone should check out at the check out!

The Garden Goat

In Canada if the item is under $10 you receive the item for free. If the value of the item is more than $10 you receive $10 (in cash) plus the item’s price will be corrected to the price as advertised.

(P.S. Alas…as of late I have had to start taking my reading glasses to the store to ensure the item is in fact listed for less!)

Is Labeling ever okay?

My six-year-old recently came home sporting a nicely designed label on his shirt. At first glance I thought that my kid had achieved some type of next level recognition in his class at the institute of higher learning…Grade One (to be exact).  With some squinting on my part (40-year-old something eyes) I was expecting to see the usual primary school accolades that regularly show up on these youngster’s homework. You know the ones:

“…see the usual primary school accolades … You know the ones…”

“Great Job!”

“Well Done!”

“Awesome!”

“Fantastic!”

“You ROCK!”

Instead …the label read “Please watch me…I bumped my head today!”…WHAT????

WOW!

Instead …the label read “Please watch me…I bumped my head today!”…WHAT????

I guess calls home from the school can be really reduced with the new label system. I might have been able to accept:

“Need special care have a small boo-boo”

“Be nice to me…I had a bad day”

“I fell and scraped my knee…I might need some TLC”

“The school nurse checked me and I am fine but could use extra TLC”

But “watch me closely…I bumped my head”? Seriously….what are these people (the folks at the school) thinking??? The only saving grace about this label was that it was adhered on the child’s shirt as opposed to his forehead.(!!) I am wondering if the rest of the first aid container at school might include “Was unconscious earlier please watch me overnight” or “Unresponsive at school please return to sender” only to be out done with “Intellectually unresponsive please investigate!”

Then again that opens up an entire list of labels a parent might like to have for the teacher.

“Watch me my head is very sore…too much homework”

“If I can’t understand what you teach in school hours don’t think my parents can teach me in non-school hours.”

“Was dropped on my head…well…the rest is history!”

“My family calls me …ANIMAL!”

“Today is a bad day… someone kidnapped my imaginary friend”

“Be careful…I am ALMOST toilet-trained!”

Better yet might be the labels one could (perhaps should?) arm a high school teacher with:

“This kid need not come to school…ever again.”

“Return to sender…only resend once mouth is sealed with duct tape”

“If this is what your family has to offer the world for the future…hope you have a backup plan!”

This label thing could likely save all of us time and therefore money…oh the possibilities!

I as a parent might choose to wear (sometimes more than occasionally)

“I am currently having an out-of-body experience…stay tuned …take a number…it could take a while!”

“I did hear you…but no…I still DON’T care.”

“Possessed…again…by Aliens”

“Whatever!! Duh!…(unless you are asking for the car)…then NO!”

“FYI…take cover I am in a VERY BAD MOOD!”

I guess when all is said and done, the label “Please watch me…I bumped my head today!” is definitely not anywhere near as scary as “Toe-tag required…please call the coroner.” Though it still leaves me wondering …are all students given the “bumped my head” label or are these labels only reserved for the children whose scholastic performance leaves something to be desired while the children perceived as having superior brilliance get a REAL call home (oh and then perhaps a label)??

A quick call to my local school regaling the receptionist with my take on the whole thing and she is horrified… “Oh I guess we FORGOT to call you and JUST gave him the label INSTEAD of calling. He is fine but really wanted a label. He did bump his head though earlier in the day but seemed okay.”  (???)

I think I will be in my corner designing labels we can all wear (and hand out) for everyday use. Can you imagine what one could “get away with” saying at work with just wearing a label??? Just saying….

Labeled “The Garden Goat”

Labeled
“The Garden Goat”

Does having baggage mean I am on vacation?

If the definition of taking a vacation starts with packing one’s baggage then I have enough of that on board to take a vacation anywhere anytime!

Well… nearly everyone I know is either just returning from or planning for a holiday. You know one of those times you get to spend (with or without loved ones) on yourself. Hopefully away from where you live and definitely away from work. My whole life I have wondered what that might be like.

Catering to the tribe that I am responsible for has not afforded me to date any time to myself in which to have to weigh the intricacies of planning one’s life away from home. Though it does sound delightful to have to ponder where on the planet to go, what to see, how long to be there. Ruminating about how others are caught up with these specifics are about as close as I will likely get to such an escape until at least the smallest members are toilet-trained.

Many folks tell me that life is about choices. On the one hand, very true and yet in another way although we may choose (or think we chose) wisely, fate will sometimes twist the entire situation regardless of the stellar choice selected at the beginning. In some ways choices is a bit like a game show with doors one, two and three…all being of equal value but different. A five-thousand dollar ring money-wise is dollar for dollar comparable to your entire street being paved in waffles (10 feet high) but I for one would prefer the ring (unless it is dinnertime around here…of course).

Life is not made to order regardless of all the appropriate check boxes being selected. Some of the greatest plans get sidetracked and some of the most random, spur of the moment stuff actually pans out. I think vacations are like that. The weather might not cooperate, the attractions were not quite like the brochure, the perfect day for the beach is the day you are sick.  Not to mention other things like losing your luggage (not baggage that would be too easy) or finding out the hotel was slightly better than a group home.

“I know several moms of little ones that would think they had died and gone to heaven to be able to spend 40 minutes ALONE in the bathroom..”

Relative to what you are used to (and what you need to) recharge your batteries… a vacation could be anything. I know several moms of little ones that would think they had died and gone to HEAVEN to be able to spend 40 minutes ALONE in the bathroom and emerge with hair, nails and relaxing bath all completed. I personally would settle for just ten minutes without the customary pounding on the door, crayon scribbled ransom notes slipped underneath, screwdrivers shoved in the door handle or shouts of “fire” as I try to forget (for as long as it takes to brush one’s teeth) that I am needed NOW….(again) by the natives.

Not really complaining…just noticing that I am content with less…and that is good thing.

A trip out to have my haircut without my loyal following is amazing. The thing that speaks the most to me is the space in my head (no… not because I was having my hair cut) but the ability to complete whole thoughts without hearing “mom….” I can only imagine that a true vacation would be hours, days and weeks without hearing “mom…” Sounds out of this world…perhaps I should plan one soon. I cannot imagine all the ideas I will have when I can be alone in my thoughts.

Then I come home from having my hair cut and the three-year old races to the front door throwing her little arms tightly around my neck “Oh mommy where have you been? I missed you!” Hugs and kisses from the littlest…I am done! I totally forget my resolve.On Second thought… while I like little snippets of time to myself…I think I will gladly postpone a longer vacation until this little one is older. (Although I think I would like to increase the time in the loo by a few more moments).

Part of making good choices is to recognize one’s limitations and plan for success accordingly. Next move will be to plan a vacation in my own bathroom. I will leave the ransom note ahead of time mentioning that I have been abducted and that I gave all my magical powers to Dad, (whom they never bother in the bathroom…go figure) oh and maybe leave some delectable snack (not chocolate or anything too messy) on the counter (in arm’s reach) in the kitchen while I pursue my mini vacation.

“Next move will be to plan a vacation in my own bathroom.”

It will be revitalizing to say the least. Clean body, hair, face and clothes all on the same day! If the definition of taking a vacation starts with packing one’s baggage then I have enough of that on board to take a vacation anywhere anytime! (At the rate someone here tries to scream “fire” when the bathroom is occupied by mom, perhaps a better plan would be for me to yell “fire” call emergency services and while my progeny run all over the neighborhood in disbelief head into the shower for five minutes to myself.)

I now think I will plan such a vacation…wonder if I will have a chance to run the bath long enough to make some bubbles before the local authorities catch up to my moment of indulgence. If I get busted, I guess I will have to resort back to daily showering in the dark (before anyone wakes in the morning) for a whole three minutes and then slither out in the cold darkness, hair now frozen and damp (no need for hairspray) to my car and go to work. Where as I drive in to my place of employment I remember who is not at work but “on vacation.”

A Garden Goat with a plan.

“Next move will be to plan a vacation in my own bathroom.”

“Love is…” Valentines Day February 14th 2013

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always and perseveres.”

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 

In honour of Valentine’s Day every single parent I know is living through a very busy the-night-before getting heart-shaped things ready for the school-aged crowd. Evidence of this celebration is everywhere. The 14^th of February is the second largest card-sending holiday of the year (according to the Greeting Card Association) with an estimated 1 billion Valentine’s Day cards sent each year. Even one of the gals I work with spent time on the 13th getting Valentines for her children… 25 and 28-year-old sons and their wives/fiancés.

I got home from work and felt like someone a hundred years older than I am. Hundreds (nah just a half dozen or so) of children (granted …my own) met me at the door asking if I had their valentine cards and stuff for their classmates. Yep…I bought those months ago…except, sadly, I cannot remember the safe location I stored them in. Try and explain to a Grade One student how you cannot remember where you put an item when you have placed it “somewhere safe.” Thank goodness for the local dollar store. Dozens of red, heart shaped lollipops … (albeit a few bucks later) and my raging mid-forties Alzheimer symptoms can (hopefully) remain a secret for another year.

For many years I never celebrated Valentine’s Day as that was the day many moons ago a stranger asked me out for dinner and I turned him down. That particular day I had returned home from working all day, and getting ready to go out with a male friend for dinner and then on to a choir practice. The stranger (who had bumped into me a few times in the lobby of my apartment building) had knocked on my door that evening with card and chocolates in hand. Not being someone easily deterred the stranger persisted asking if I might be interested in “going for coffee” after the choir practice. Here comes the embarrassing part…I had to decline again because I had already accepted another invitation for just that (actually more “coffee & dessert”) with another boy I knew. Thinking that declining this guy’s advances not just once but twice would completely negate another request from this guy…but no, the stranger persisted. Was I doing anything at supper time the next night (Feb 15^th)?  The stranger caught me off guard and I answered that I had nothing planned.

So I had dinner with the valentine-chocolate-bearing-stranger on February 15^th and pretty much the rest is history. This summer we will be married 22 years! It is only in the last 3 years that we have celebrated Valentine’s Day on the 14^th…most of my married life my husband has told everyone he refuses to celebrate Valentine’s Day as that was the day I spurned him!!

You worked to restore the relationship and did not give up on people

Among the crowd I run with, this question was posed on Facebook recently ..  “why can love be like it was 50 years ago?”  I will leave it up to you to imagine the type of responses that question drew. Many answers were centered on a male-dominated world of yesteryear where women could not easily stand up to abusive men. Another answer was to say that overall empowerment women have today (as a whole) compared with the societal restrictions place on women (in general) half a century ago- have created a more balanced arena in which to play the dating game. I watched to see how the teenage /young adult crowd would answer.

One answer that stood out was “Because 50 years ago when things broke we fixed them!” So true…our relationships were mostly maintained by face-to-face time, phone calls and the occasional letter. If something “went down” (or was misinterpreted) it impacted your life immediately and had to be handled in person. You worked to restore the relationship and did not give up on people. Nowadays you can break up by text, email and Facebook and then block the person you want removed from your life. Next step is to find brand new people to fill the void left by the friend you have thrown out. Same thing with marriages, breakup, move on, shop for new relationship (wash, rinse and repeat).

…”remember everyone in life we love.”

Valentine’s Day should be a day to remember everyone in life we love. Regardless of water under the bridge. If you truly love someone you will never give up on them no matter what happens or even if they give up on you. Love bears all things.

The Garden Goat

“Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends…”

1 Corinthians 13:7-8

Heads Up!

So I entered the New Year 2013 just like everyone else on the planet (pretty much) vowing to make significant changes to my everyday life that would turn my life around in “good” ways. One of those vows was to get a little more consistent in writing this blog and be sure to deliver a new post once a week. Seemed reasonable and achievable as it was not as though I was promising to go on an extreme diet and eat my way through mountains of carrots while neglecting my true love in life.. Chocolate. No, writing for me comes naturally and this would just mean being a little more organized and focused.

“He said NO ONE really ever keeps those New Year’s resolutions.”

Being someone who often thinks I truly have “superpowers” I also often bite of more than I can ever hope to chew. Understanding my irrational exuberance (as evidenced when planning the lives of those around me) is something my husband seems to understand quite well. He said NO ONE really ever keeps those New Year’s resolutions. According to him it is more about recognizing that you have to make some changes, feeling great there is an actual day out there when your fellow humans (in droves) are doing the same and “fitting in.” Reality is, in less than 60 days there will be no trace of the enormous changes I wanted to make … so accept the reality and don’t waste the effort on something that will only fall by the wayside in mere weeks. Yep…like the great wife I am my inner voice screamed “I’ll show him.”

Not being one to  want to arm the natives where I live with anything more they can use against me there was no way I was writing down any resolutions that I was making. I would just store them in my head and then I would not have more than just personal accountability to wrangle with day-to-day. There is just something terrible about announcing to your entire family you are on a diet and being discovered and called out by the 3-year-old. “I saw mommy eating chocolate…in the bathroom BEFORE breakfast”-uh-huh…much easier to just commit your good intentions to memory.

“One of my resolutions was to be more consistent in taking the small fry skating at the arena.”

One of my resolutions was to be more consistent in taking the small fry skating at the arena. I personally love skating and now that the littlest is a little older (more importantly I have the scoop on the teenagers in my life and can blackmail them into my service as babysitters.. THANK YOU Facebook!) and can be left home, my resolution was to take my 6, 8 and 11-year-old (and their cousins) public skating once a week.

Week 2.5 into the new year and things are going well…sort of…I still had not posted a new post but in my defence I was not only doing the weekly skating but also doing double duty at the outdoor rink at the end of the street (yes in my perverse mind extra skating made my tardy blog post schedule seem almost righteous!).

” I personally love skating!”

Well this all came to a crashing head…literally. With less than 10 minutes left of public skating time, two midget skaters (oh I would say Grade three level) not too much higher than my hips (I am almost 6 feet tall) crossed in front of me. The notion to fall on them and protect myself never occurred to me. Although my husband did point that “viable” (no really?) option after the fact. No, I instead whipped around to be sure I did not fall on them and instead lost my balance and smashed my head into the ice. All I saw was white light. Thinking I might be lucky enough to be having an out-of-body-experience I was caught up in what was happening (not too clear but bright light and pain) when I heard many people and kids (shucks NO out-of-body experience… I can still HEAR KIDS) all wondering if I was okay.

Being someone who often thinks I truly have “superpowers” I also often bite of more than I can ever hope to chew!

Ice packs, more ice packs, paperwork from the arena and a drive home from my husband, I figured I am fine. Did all the “Dr. mom” checks…no dilation of eyes, no pressing need to vomit, no real confusion (beyond the normal I usually have)…if I was one of the kids I would have deemed the child fit. Three days later and I still have a headache…I write that off as everyday life. Who does not get a headache? (Rephrase…who with children does not a reoccurring headache?) After my family doctor sent me for a CT SCAN…the verdict arrived…massive concussion…off work for a week to rest.(!!)

Thinking perhaps I had scrambled the priority of what my resolutions should have been, as I wait for my large cranial bump to heal I am thinking that weekly blog posts are underrated almost as much as helmets.

The Garden Goat (and Helmet)

The Garden Goat (and Helmet)

Just CHILL

Okay…not sure about you but as a teenager I longed for a job. You know one of those things that get you legitimately out of your house (and away from some of the hourly expectations your parents had for you) with real, hard, cold cash in your pocket. Finally, I was old enough to have one. My boss was almost on the same level as God. What the manager lady said was law. I did not argue… I complied. Either I was raised to be more respectful than the current teenage crowd or perhaps it was that I was so anxious to be able to have money of my own to spend…I hassled no one. Either way, what the boss says goes.

After I moved out of home I was very determined to be on my own and totally independent. To this end I worked three jobs. One fulltime job and two-part time jobs simultaneously. Life was great. I was my own boss living on my own. Happy to be gainfully employed paying my own way in life. Thrilled to afford some of the finer things life had to offer like …new underwear, my own phone (this was before cell phones) and the odd cup of coffee. Truly by these standards one might wonder what my life was before now. I lived as one of four girls being raised by a single mom and yes, new underwear (especially if yours was still deemed wearable…only a little threadbare) was the ultimate. Since then my idea of the finer things has since been revised significantly.

“I am doing everything I can to get the “layabout” out of the house.”

Fast forward my life to today (an average goat with 9 kids and a “Nanny-Goat” to a grand-kid). I am now inundated with teenagers everywhere. Albeit some of them are my own, others are the friends of this age demographic. With many of these kids the notion of a “job” is akin to being told that incarceration or incineration (same difference) awaits them. Sort of a struggle cause they all “want” and “like” money. Just “work” seems to be a dirty word.

The excuses for those teenagers who do not want to find gainful employment include:

• They won’t hire me… no one will. (No…really? Not if you do not apply they won’t!)
• I know people that work there so I can’t. (Why? You will know everyone once you are hired.)
• That job looks boring. (How would you know… really?)
• Can’t work “there” no one has heard of that place. (I thought you wanted anonymity!)
• I need a job that lets me text all day. (Is there such an environment out there?)
• They only hire beautiful people. (Does that mean by definition…you are “not”?)

Finally in spite of it all…some company out there actually decides to hire the teenager in question. YIPPEE! Before everyone gets excited…it is only now the fun starts.

Because although someone separate to your personal being is the one employed it may as well be you. The worry that the teenager still buried in bed will and be late for their work shift within the hour somehow becomes your concern. (Note it is your forehead getting wrinkled not theirs.) The kid in question is literally oblivious as they languish around the house even though their appearance at this “job” is required within the next 30 minutes. You (not them) start freaking out (no amount of age defying night cream is gonna help you now).

Now there is a race to look for their uniform. “Mom did you wash my work stuff?” I yell back “what does that look like?” the answer from the basement is deafening “black pants, top and apron!” Well… let me stop and think…in the 60 loads I already wash every week…would I notice another item of black clothing? (Short answer NO) Ah… yes better watch the clean laundry for the defining “apron”…NOT. Even though you do not work at their job you are somehow responsible for locating the uniform and getting them to their place of employment ON TIME. That would almost be okay if they complied but instead you are literally doing all you can short of strangling the kid and taking the now-quieted comatose teenager to their place of employment. This scenario is exhausting (not to mention further wrinkle inducing).

When the delight of vicariously enjoying the responsibility of your teenager’s jobs involves more than one teenager…it will literally kill you. Why should I care that this kid shows up in the right dress code, at the right time with the right attitude? Too late for therapy… this responsibility is one of those things that got tucked into the blanket at the hospital when I was handed the child at birth! I am doing everything I can to get the “layabout” out of the house on time his  work… so, yah I am freaking out …mid-yell I get told to “JUST CHILL”-(??)

I am doing everything I can to get the “layabout” out of the house on time his work… so, yah I am freaking out …mid-yell I get told to “JUST CHILL”-(??)

Beyond the “getting-the-kid-to-work-dressed-and-on-time” (not to mention the “hag-like” look you have developed from all the stress)…then there is the “other problem.” Work is scheduled and this creature you gave birth to informs you that he is taking a “sick” day. First of all, the types of employment open to kids of these ages are usually fast food, specialty stores, or part time hours in retail. Traditionally NONE of these employers offer a “sick day”-the part that kills me is I know people who have worked a solid 20 years fulltime and have yet to take a sick day. Why are today’s kids SO different? (Have they all watched “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as infants?)

(Have they all watched “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” as infants?)

In the interests of good parenting the conversation goes something like this. YOU are sick? What is wrong…the sick one answers “Oh nothing.” What do you mean “nothing” you said you are calling in “SICK”? Response from the highschooler… “Yeah…I just don’t wanna work today”…Why not? “Well my friends are all hanging out later so I do not have time for work.” ARGHHH here we go again (visions of this child in his forties still living in my basement)!

“Well my friends are all hanging out later so I do not have time for work.”

The solution…I need headphones with great music and hourly applications of beautifying night cream to combat the facial ravages of my “FREAK OUT” …oh…and perhaps something more than “just” coffee in my cup. Could the teenager be right? Perhaps I should just somehow learn to “CHILL”…

Garden Goat just chilling over here….

Garden Goat just chilling over here….

A time for everything and everyone

I had another topic all picked out to rant on about and then “last week” occurred (just over ten days ago now). Those readers in Canada will realize that the week I speak of ended with a long weekend, Canadian Thanksgiving.  The week in question started off a little oddly as three people I knew quite well all passed away. Not that strange as that has happened before. However, two of these three people knew of each other and in some stroke of weird alignment, ALL…three funerals happened on the same day! I kid (no goat pun intended) NOT! Two were scheduled within an hour of each so that in the end I could only attend two of the three services.

This meant I had the opportunity within a 3 hour window to compare two eulogies detailing the high points of lives (lived in excess of 70 plus years) served on this planet. It is a very sobering experience to keep company with one’s self knowing that one has personally already lived more than half of the years in the lifetimes being celebrated and my dismissal from this earth is approaching. All sorts of thoughts swirled around in my head. What have I contributed to the earth (ya okay, beyond the nine offspring)? What if someone I knew should suddenly not be there tomorrow? Do my children KNOW how much I love them?  Are there people I want to make amends with before I go? Are there friends who mean a lot to me that perhaps are not aware of how highly they are regarded? Are there family members I want a closer bond with? Is there something extra I really want ( or need) to accomplish in this life? As I watched the immediate families and relatives at these services I gained a clearer perspective on what an impact the deceased has made (or not) on all the lives around them.

When things look like they are taking a turn for the worse or I get bad news I try to remember what I am truly grateful for.

One of the funeral cards reads with a message from the deceased. “I ask forgiveness of everyone I may have offended by my words, actions, negligence and ignorance. May it not be said that anyone be punished because of offences towards me, as it is my desire to completely forgive them now and forever.” I have been to many wakes and seen numerous funeral cards but never had I seen this. I was taken by both the courage this took to write (and admit offences) but also by the regret that must have been present in life by the writer.

Sometimes things in life do not go the way we hope, wanted or thought they would turn out. People sometimes take offence easily and I can often be “one of those.”  Life is too short for all of this. I wondered when I read the funeral card what might it have been like if some of these trespasses referred to had been forgiven in this person’s life and relationships restored while there was still time to enjoy the renewed relationship. Time stands still for no one.

On my way home from this funeral, I was in an accident (no…I am not making this up). I was turning left with the advance signal into blinding sunlight when my car and a cyclist collided. I cannot hope to ever explain how I felt. It was terrible. The cyclist was bruised and shaken but thankfully no lasting injury or broken bone. He was wearing a bike helmet (hope my kids do). He had seen my vehicle but thought he had time to continue and that when I saw him I would surely stop. He did not realize that I was totally blinded by the sun and could not have had a chance to see him. Later at the hospital I marveled at how he was basically fine after what could have been a total fatality. I told him he had an awesome guardian angel. He told me his grandmother had lived to over 100 years and the day of the accident was her birthday. I felt overwhelmed.

Fate had me at the hospital checking on this stranger’s condition at the same time understanding how really fortunate we both were. Neither of us sustained serious injuries. It was just not our time to be called from this earth.  I let the police take me home as I was too upset to want to move my car immediately. I was not charged by the police as the situation was ruled truly an unavoidable accident.

The eulogy in the second funeral quoted Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 “there is a time for everything” and I have always struggled with this passage as I never liked to have any of the good things come to an end. For example I like “there is a time for love” but when it is followed by “there is a time for hate”…not so much. Throughout the second eulogy I realized that things we think are important rarely are and things we think are not important most certainly are. In the end we are all going to exit this world. At that point many things we worry about and struggle with every day will no longer matter. What will matter is what eternity looks like and how did I use the gifts I have been given while here on earth.

I took from that a call to courage. Engage the person that will not speak to you, try to establish communication even if there has been a freeze out forever.  Basically really try to restore any fractured relationships while there is time to enjoy the mended connection. I know that it is hard but so well worth doing. Some people fade away and say they are “busy” others get left behind because I am sometimes “busy.” Others still feel offended or offend and then retreat. I found that funeral card very thought-provoking. I hope that I am able to restore any injured relationships and maintain same during my life as I move forward.

As of the writing of this we are already past Canadian Thanksgiving and almost a month before American Thanksgiving. I am reminded about how grateful I should be for the many blessings I have. I thought about how everyday life races past and each single day melts together forming weeks and then morphs again into years of memories. The time we are here is now. What counts is that the people in our lives know how much we do care while we are alive. I resolved to make time for those people who in the busyness of everyday life I have left behind as life races past.

When things look like they are taking a turn for the worse or I get bad news I try to remember what I am truly grateful for. Sometimes the things that are the smallest become the biggest. I have also realized the more often I stop to acknowledge gratitude in my life the more rewarding and meaningful my life becomes.

My list of what I am thankful for looks something like this:

• That there was a guardian angel looking after both the cyclist and myself that fateful day and no serious injuries were sustained.
• Nine beautiful and healthy kids (yes all little goats) regardless of the chores they have left unattended.
• My husband (although if you were to ask him…there might be times where I seem somewhat unappreciative of the male gender in general).
• My two-year-old telling me how much she missed me (and I only went to put the garbage out).
• The smile from my granddaughter just because I came into her view.
• Enough cream left in the fridge by the teenagers to actually have a cup of creamy caffeine without having to go out to buy more.
• One clean towel left as I enter the shower (there are days where this level of gratitude is not possible as the last towel was taken by something I gave birth to that NEEDED to use several towels)
• The neighborhood red-headed woodpecker allowing me to stalk him with my camera while he busily destroys the tree.
• The knowledge at the start of each day that I have yet another chance to make a difference on this planet.
• The awesome people I know as well as the ones I have known and have yet to meet.
• Knowledge that God has a great plan for me and that I need not worry.
• My sense of humour…without which I do not think I could ever manage!

I sincerely believe there is no such thing as “a time to NOT “be “grateful.”

When I finish looking at all that I do have… I feel very blessed and content. I am not saying that I do not have any worries (9 kids…that is a no-brainer) or things that I wish would change it just means that I try to focus on the positive more than the negative. I find that when I review what I am grateful for I end up much happier inside regardless of what else is going on around me or how people treat me.

Beside, things can change in an instant and sometimes not always for the better. So the in keeping with a time for everything it is always time to be grateful. Because by being grateful we change how we think and how well we spent what is left of our time on this planet. I sincerely believe there is no such thing as “a time to NOT “be “grateful.”

“Gratitude changes what we have into enough.” ~Melody Beattie~

I try to remember what I am truly grateful for!

A Grateful Goat

Laughter… truly is the best medicine!

I certainly know time flies. Why only a little while ago I had my first baby and suddenly it is now twenty years later. (??) They (those I live with) tell me that baby is now an adult (I better tell her that!). Twenty years make me sound ancient (hopefully I don’t look the part or I might end up as goat soap!). I just did what I thought I should be doing day after day with the baby …and voilà …here we are two decades (and 8 more kids) later (!!). So I guess the same thing happened with this blog. While I was writing here and there a whole year has gone by since The Garden Goat made her debut.

Happy First Birthday Garden Goat! Looking forward to many more of these birthdays!

People have told me for years that I should write a book. So haphazardly last September I thought I would start a blog and post the occasional rant and might eventually have enough “rantings” to possibly collect into a book (at the pace I started I imagined it would take another 20 years to complete). So I posted a few grunts here and there from this Canadian Goat. I never knew that while using the blog to discipline my inner thoughts (or demons…same difference) I would be having so much fun or that I would be meeting so many people interested in what a goat with a herd of kids has to say (and/or complain about)!

None of this fun (not to mention the escapism from my day-to-day life) would have been possible without loyal readers who tolerate my twisted sense of humour and thankfully take what I say with a LARGE grain of salt (hence I have not yet had to spend a moment in jail)! I am constantly amazed at the number of kind comments and emails that I receive. In reviewing my readership’s responses I think the ones I like the best are the ones tell me I made them laugh…”uncontrollably.” This goat is so happy to be guilty of causing laughter, smiles and fun. I have tackled a few more serious topics (again with my demented sense of humour) still my readership endures and tolerates me!

Besides as a Goat I get away with a lot. (!!!)

It felt a little odd in the beginning to just rant and then post it “out there” in cyberspace. I often wondered if it would only be the occasional alien life form stumbling around late at night on internet who might find this goat interesting. Au contraire, I have received many visits to my site by my fellow human beings! The Garden Goat continues to gain popularity…all thanks to you, my readers, (I would have said perhaps “followers” but that would just confirm my kids suspicion that The Garden Goat is some type of cult that I secretly belong to) for sharing with your friends!

One post in February was so popular it became “freshly pressed” on WordPress (chosen as one of the top ten posts for the week out of nearly a half million blogs!) and it was translated into several languages and is now available as an e-book online. (http://www.amazon.co.uk/Answers-those-questions-families-ebook/dp/B008Y90R2K)

How this Goat actually got online is all because of a very precious friend’s encouragement to write and her reassurance that I was entertaining to listen to. This gal moved away to another town and so we began emailing each other between visiting, sometimes writing to each other as often as almost daily. Many of her emails would start with how excited she was to see my name in her inbox and how hard she was laughing (out loud by herself…”uncontrollably”) at what I wrote (I did not think it was THAT funny). I loved hearing from her (always)  and to learn that the laughter I caused her was often referred to as the highlight in her day. “Promise me you are going to write a book” was something she kept telling me! (This is the same friend that decided when reviewing the birthday signs that, I, as a Capricorn was not the “Mountain Goat” but a “Garden Goat”). Without her ongoing encouragement and belief in me I doubt The Garden Goat would have ever ventured out to graze and rant on the internet.

Many of my day-to-day challenges are made easier when I see the funnier side (or I would have given up years ago). Although another friend did tell me it would take her more than just a few hours/days to be able to laugh at a few of the disasters I seem to attract! It would likely take her several years!(!!)

How this Goat actually got online is all because of a very precious friend’s encouragement to write and her reassurance that I was entertaining to listen to.

Not too sure what the next year will bring. (My children shudder at the thought.) Some readers have pondered why I am known still only as the Garden Goat (people have actually noticed this might NOT be my real name…No seriously?). The answer is that with the size and age of the tribe I preside over…I would be scared to lay my head down at night should one of my offspring (specifically the teenage crowd) be able to be identified in a story worse yet because of this be branded by his peers/brethren as “NOT COOL” – I might need to increase my life insurance (!!) Ergo my pseudonym is my identity.

Besides as a Goat I get away with a lot. (!!!)

So as I put a cloven hoof forward into new another year of Garden Goat adventures I hope to continue to be accused (and delightfully guilty) of causing you, my loyal following and new readers alike to laugh…uncontrollably.

Happy First Birthday Garden Goat! Looking forward to many more of these birthdays!

So as I put a cloven hoof forward into new another year of Garden Goat adventures …

MAN UP!

 

Over the summer I had the opportunity to take most of my tribe to an amusement park. Not normally something I have ever really done much in the last twenty years with the exception of once about eight years ago. For some reason the creatures I gave birth to think that  riding the most dangerous, mind-blowing insane ride is a thrill they must have… regardless of outcome.

Yes, albeit thrilling…just happy to not be calling the coroner besides it reminded me too much of my personal life (minus the antidepressants I long for!).

Not totally insensitive to the thrill of the ride, my gang managed to convince this old goat to go on one of the more tame roller coasters. Yes, albeit  thrilling…I was just happy to not be calling the coroner besides it reminded me too much of my personal life (minus the antidepressants I long for!).

It completely confounds me that when the same creatures are sick (at home) and one must attend to the weak of stomach ANYTHING that causes the gastric volcano to erupt must be avoided. At ALL costs. Not so with rides. The more severe the warning, the more nauseous the result, the better they liked it. I have children who would howl in such disgust should a sibling cover their person (and/or worse their clothes) with any projectile liquid originating from within another’s body (the worst being the contents of a sibling’s stomach contents).

But this is somehow totally different at an amusement park. “Mister-all-of-18” who is totally “grossed out” at having to clean up a frying pan after scrambled eggs is busy laughing (while covered in the sibling’s throw up) basking in the notoriety that it was his decision to take his poor 16-year-old brother on too many dizzying rides.

The more severe the warning, the more nauseous the result, the better they liked it.

I asked the idiot question of the child that was now almost comatose from dehydration “why AFTER you were sick the FIRST time would you ever consent to going on ANOTHER ride with your brother?” Little did I know that plain old common sense was invoked and the rationale was to “MAN UP!” Now the same boy, still covered in vile stomach contents actually assured the offending brother (the spewer) of the safety of yet other death-defying rides with this statement….“OBVIOUSLY there was no MORE DOWN THERE to worry about…it already came up.!”

Clearly these two have spent NO time taking care of sick children or they would have known that when it comes to throwing up there are those so talented that repeat performances are infinitely possible. And such performances often leave the observer wondering how after numerous retchings could there possibly be anything more than a few drops to expel. (??) Those (who toss their cookies) are able to consistently deliver copious amounts of liquid regardless of the volume of past performances (even if only moments prior). Before this gets just too “gross” the idea is that while abdominal volcanic eruptions regularly deem that a sick day be taken for school apparently similar eruptions do not mean a cessation in going on freaky rides. (???)

For some reason the creatures I gave birth to think that riding the most dangerous, mind-blowing insane ride is a thrill they must have regardless of outcome.

At first I had no idea what had happened. When you travel with the numbers I do often we split up the older kids and the younger ones as these kinds of theme parks gear the rides by the age group. The two older boys went together when we got there to explore and have fun until supper when they would be expected to help out with the younger group. We would rendezvous at the van (in the parking lot) at suppertime for a picnic lunch. Well suppertime came and when I approached the van the sight in the distance before me said it all. When you drive a 12 passenger extended van it shines as a beacon above all the other vehicles in the parking lot. As I get closer to the van I notice two running shoes kicked aside and a crumpled pair of jeans (complete with belt) and a rolled up shirt strewn on the pavement near the back tires. Briefly considered the possibility that some prison inmate had escaped and was holed up in our vehicle.

Nah.. discovered the owner of the clothes (my 16-year-old son) stretched out on the back seat wearing only his boxers because he had thrown up so much from the rides. The patient was not interested in any food and wanted Advil for his headache and dizziness. I told the man-child inmate to remain in the van, sip some water slowly and to rest while waiting until the end of the evening when we would be back at the vehicle to load up and go home. Minutes later this same kid was dressed in a new set of clothes and ready to go for “round two.” When I asked “why?” (again)… I was told that he was going to “MAN UP” as it he did not want to “WIMP OUT!”

Speed up the calendar. School has started the same man-child now has the sniffles and does not want to go to school. When I suggest that he “man up” and not “wimp out” just take cold medication and go to school (you know like I might have when I was younger)…I get told to “get real!” Apparently at school they “understand” children better than the parents and know that kids get sick and can’t function when they are sick. Who knew? Thinking of sending the holiday pics to the principal… (!!!)

The Garden Goat (still without sufficient medication)!

 

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