Birthdays and other milestones

Watch this space for a love letter to Tristan. I really really wanted to post it today, on his birthday, but that’s just not going to happen. My handsome, smart, loving and perfectly wonderful baby is five years old today. I still can’t believe it.

And on the subject of I can’t believe it, last night at around 5 pm the sitemeter counted the 100,000th visitor to blog since February 2005. Wow!

More later, I promise!

You can’t get there from here

Link surfing is a wonderful thing.

I can’t even remember where I was, but I caught sight of something about a lunar eclipse on March 3. Turns out it wasn’t visible from here, only in a wide swath on the other side of the planet through Europe and Africa. Disappointing. I love stuff like eclipses and meteor showers and the northern lights.

Then further down on the same page, I was reading about the solar eclipses for later this year. (Did you know that there are two lunar and two solar eclipses every year? A lunar eclipse is when the moon travels through the earth’s shadow, and a solar eclipse is when the moon comes between the earth and the sun.) Unfortunately, the solar eclipses for this year will only be visible in eastern Asia and South America.

And THEN, I saw that there will be a total solar eclipse ON MY BIRTHDAY next year, AND it will be visible from Canada. Now that’s way wicked cool.

Except, I kept reading and found out that it will only be visible from the very northern tip of Canada, through Nunavut. And I noticed that the path of totality runs right across Alert, Nunavut, which is the northernmost settlement not only in Canada, but in the whole world. It’s a mythic sort of place, this northern outpost, and I started to think about how I’m always saying that I haven’t seen nearly enough of this gorgeous country of ours, and how I’ve always wanted to see the far north, and an embryonic plan started to hatch in my busy little brain.

Wouldn’t it be way wicked cool to make a family vacation out of going to Alert for my birthday to see the solar eclipse? It’s north of the Arctic circle, but it would be high summer, so not only would the temperatures be moderate, but there would be 24 hours of sunlight – and then an eclipse. Really, could you imagine anything cooler than that? It’s Canadian, it’s astronomical, it’s my birthday: three of my favourite things. This was obviously meant to happen.

So I set out to find out how to get to Alert. And that’s when I started to grasp just how big this country of ours is, and that north as I know it really isn’t so very north at all. I mean, Alert – that’s seriously North. Let’s put it in relative terms. Iqaluit, the capital of Nunavut, is just over 2000 km due north of here. (By comparison, Miami is just about the same distance due south.) Well, Alert is DOUBLE that, more than 4000 km due north. In fact, it’s only about 800 km from the North Pole.

Map courtesy of www.theodora.com/maps, used with permission.
Embellishment courtesy of Beloved.

Not only is Alert north, or should I say NORTH, but it’s isolated, and kind of desolate. Just about the only thing that’s up there is a Canadian Forces Base and an Environment Canada weather station. But neither the northness nor the isolation deterred me. I live in a generation of extreme vacations, after all – I never imagined there could be a populated place in this country that doesn’t have some form of tourism. (Okay, so ‘populated’ is a bit of a stretch – according to Wikipedia’s citation of the Canadian 2001 census, Alert has a permanent population of six.)

Typically, all of this actually encouraged me rather than discouraging me from my summer holiday plans. I spent quite a while googling various combinations of terms and surfing travel sites only to find out that for all intents and purposes, you simply can’t get there from here. And even if you could get there, it’s not exactly a tourism hotbed.

Nothing comes up, for example, when you search on “hotels in Alert” or “tourism Alert Nunavut”. And the closest you can get to Alert on a commercial airline is to Iqaluit, about half way. If you’re curious, it would cost a family of four somewhere in the neighbourhood of $6000 to fly to Iqaluit from Ottawa in August. That’s not including the charter flight up to Alert, which seems to be of the principal that if you need to ask the price, you can’t afford it.

Sadly, I think Alert is now off the table as a summer travel destination. Lucky for me, it’s currently -42C with the windchill right here in Ottawa, so I can have my very own Arctic experience simply by waiting for the bus.

Children of Men book club

A couple of weeks ago, I posted my 10-pages-in book review of PD James’ Children of Men. At the time, I mentioned I’d read the book to be a part of today’s Barren Bitches Book Club tour. The idea is that each person who participates in the book club submits a question to the group, and then everyone answers five of the questions on his or her own blog.

With the birthday festivities of the weekend, I didn’t get the chance to devote much time to this, so I’m going to cop out and answer only three questions. It was hard to choose only three!

1. Some of the most memorable passages were those that described how dolls and even kittens came to take the place of babies for people after Omega. In all of these scenes, it is women who are pushing dolls in their strollers or taking kittens to be christened. Why do you think P.D. James chose to only portray women in these scenes? How does this fit with your own experiences of how men and women cope with infertility in similar or different ways?

One of the things I found striking about this book is the detachment of the protagonist, Theo, through the first half of the book. (Especially in contrast to the second half.) He seems detached not only from the global tragedy of the crisis of infertility, but from his own life. It’s especially obvious when he talks of the accidental death of his daughter Natalie, beginning with the horribly abrupt way he introduces the subject: “Today is my daughter’s birthday, would have been my daughter’s birthday if I hadn’t run her over and killed her.”

Back to the point, I do think this detachment is reasonably representative of men coping with infertility. While there’s no doubt infertility is equally painful and difficult for men and for women, I think men are much more stoic. I think that women internalize the infertility and make it a part of their identity, of who they are, to a much greater extent than do men. Maybe this has to do with the fact that women tend (sorry, painting with very broad strokes here) to identify themselves as a mother first, when men tend to identify themselves based on their accomplishments or employment. Finally, I think it has to do with the fact that infertility is such an emotional issue, and women are simply more open (again, generally speaking) to expressing their emotions than are men.

2. In describing the world’s “universal bereavement” over it’s lack of children, the narrator tells us, “Only on tape and records do we now hear the voices of children, only on film or on television programmes do we see the bright, moving images of the young. Some find them unbearable to watch but most feed on them as they might a drug.” How is this like your life dealing with infertility? How do you cope when you are confronted with images or reminders that are painful to you?

I pulled that quote out in my book review, too, because it resonated with me. I’d say I’ve passed through both points on that spectrum, both needy for the companionship of the children of my friends and acquaintances, and unable to tolerate them. In the darkest times, I remember being unable to visit our friends in their child-filled house in a child-friendly neighbourhood simply because I was too full of fear that it would never happen for me. There were times when strangers holding babies and pushing strollers in the mall made me cry just by virtue of being there.

For me, though, the hardest part was not the children but the pregnant bellies. Actually having a child was a mythical thing that I may or may not have been able to achieve and that I yearned for in a vaguely abstract way, but I ached to be that woman with the beautiful round belly. It was especially hard because a very good friend was pregnant at the same time we lost our first baby and went through the unsuccessful IUIs and made the decision to finally pursue IVF.

Even now, two beautiful boys later, I still find myself on a bad day with an unsettled sense of resentment when I see strangers with new babies. I think of the baby we lost in November, the baby I expected to arrive in May, and I feel a tug of regret.

3. The Omegas are portrayed as cruel, self-obsesssed and cold. Do you suppose that’s a function of the way they were raised (as the last generation of children) or something inherent in them? Do you think that infertility has an effect on parenting?

To answer the second question first, I used to think about the effect infertility had on me as a parent a lot more than I do now. I don’t think it has affected things like discipline or how I treat the kids, but I do think it had, especially back in the earliest days, a huge impact on the guilt factor. On the very worst days, deep in the dark of night when my nipples were bleeding from a poor latch and Tristan wasn’t gaining weight and I was exhausted and terrified and my life was suddenly inside out, I keenly remember being wracked with guilt about not being beautific with joy after finally having the baby I wanted so badly.

And to the first question, I do think the author intended to insinuate that the Omegas were a product of an indulgent upbringing. Theo observes,

Perhaps we have made our Omegas what they are by our own folly; a regime which combines perpetual surveillance with total indulgence is hardly conduicive to healthy development. If from infancy you treat children as gods they are liable in adulthood to act as devils.

I think this is an interesting reflection on how central to our lives our children have become, and how parenting in the 21st century seems to be largely about overscheduling children with activities to make sure they are challenged and engaged for the maximum number of hours possible each week. While I’m quite guilty of making the boys the centre of our family, rather than equal partners, I hope that as they get older we’ll be able to restore a bit of equillibrium so that everything is not entirely about them. (Some day I’ll get around to writing a whole post about this, instead of flying past it in one quick paragraph, as I’ve been thinking a lot about it.)

And now, a message from the Barren Bitches Book Club organizers: Intrigued by this book tour and want to read more about Children of Men? Hop along to more stops on the Barren Bitches Book Tour by visiting the master list at Stirrup Queens . Want to come along for the next tour? Sign up begins today for tour #3 ( The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger) and all are welcome to join along. All you need is a book and blog.

Coincidentally, The Time Traveler’s Wife was the book that was the genesis of my 10-pages-in book reviews, and one of my favourite books of 2005 – perhaps even of all time. Highly recommended reading, and if you’re reading it, why not join the book club tour?

Tristan’s recipe for a successful birthday party

It’s the fifth anniversary of my due date with Tristan. To celebrate, we had a party!

After considerable angsting on the subject of birthday parties earlier this year, I think I’ve stumbed upon a winning combination.

Take eight boys, ages 3 through 6, and give them some hula hoops.

Add a bunch of foam cubes and a high platform.

Throw in a trampoline, a rope that swings, and a a balance beam.

Make sure there’s some pizza, and of course some presents.

And of course, the icing on the cake is a cupcake cake.

A good time was had by all!

Outnumbered

It is becoming increasingly obvious that I am outnumbered, a single XX chromosome in a sea of XY chromosomes. Not only are my babies getting bigger, but they are exhibiting more of their inherent boyness with each passing day.

Evidence of the first part:

This is the curtain rod in my living room, held in place by one of those anchors that pops open like an umbrella after you shove it through the hole.


Note the damage to the drywall. That’s about a seven inch divot. Despite these industrial-strength anchors, the boys have still managed to pull the curtains half off the wall. Would this happen with girls? I suspect not.

Evidence of the second part:

Simon and I played outside today. After watching for a while, I eventually had to join in to try for myself the game that kept him occupied for the best part of an hour: scrounge around the side of the house for fallen icicles, impressive in size from the mid-week thaw, and smash them to smithereens on the bricks. We must have pulverized 20 lbs of ice. I can’t believe it kept him engaged for as long as it did, but the very best part was the evil giggle that burbled from him every single time he smashed a hunk of ice to bits. Wanton destruction not only sanctioned by but actually accompanied by Mommy – he was in heaven.

Evidence of the third part:

As I type this, I’m curled up on the sofa while Beloved and Tristan are a few feet away, playing the Cars video game on the Xbox console Beloved just rented from the video store.


They’ve completely forgotten I’m here, father and son bonding over a video game. Tristan, not even five years old, has already beaten his father in at least one race. He holds the game controller like he was born with it in his hand.

I have this sneaking suspicion this is only the beginning…

Sesame Street

As seen first at Phantom Scribbler’s place and soon thereafter throughout the Interwebs:

You Are Elmo

Sweet and innocent, you expect everyone to adore you. And they usually do!

You are usually feeling: Talkative. You’ve got tons of stories to tell. And when you aren’t talking, you’re laughing.

You are famous for: Being popular, though no one knows why. Middle aged women especially like you.

How you live your life: With an open heart. “Elmo loves you!”

Feh. Elmo? To be frank, Elmo annoys the shit out of me. I’d rather be Bert, or Oscar. Maybe Maria. Even Mr Snuffleupagus would be better than Elmo. Heck, anyone from the 1970s Sesame Street would be fine.

We are loving our vintage Sesame Street these days. I’ve said before that my mother is convinced I graduated magna cum laude from university because I watched two hours of Sesame Street every day when I was six years old, and I’ve always had a soft spot for it.

It was Andrea who got me looking on YouTube for vintage SS clips. We started here (still my number one favourite), and worked our way through the Ladybug’s Picnic, the Pinball counter, the King of Eight, and this classic with the aliens and the ringing telephone. Simon and I have spent many quality hours with the laptop perched between us, watching these gorgeous old clips.

For Christmas, Beloved bought me the Sesame Street Old School DVD set, and it quickly became a family favourite. Maybe it’s the comparison with some of the drivel that’s on TV now, maybe it’s the rose-coloured glasses of nostalgia, but holy crap are those old episodes ever good. I may have to stick a fork in my eye rather than endure another hour of Tom and Jerry or Scooby Doo, two other old skool favourites the boys have recently taken a shine to, but I could watch those old Sesame Street clips for hours and hours. I only wish there were more of the old episodes available.

And speaking of pirated clips of childhood joy on YouTube, if you’re of a certain age and a certain geeky disposition, this clip of Luke Skywalker, C3P0, R2D2 and Chewbacca on Pigs In Space is worth watching at least once!

Suddenly it’s 1977 all over again. (Yikes – that was THIRTY years ago. Man, I’m old.)

Say something – anything!

Sorry, I still don’t have much for you today. I’m still feeling crappy, and still working my ass off to get my Very Important File done at work. And even though I usually love my job, this week I’m feeling frustrated and demoralized. I’m sick and working extra hard and frankly am not feeling the love from the people we are working hardest to satisfy.

I have some ideas for posts percolating, but simply don’t have the time to crank them out just now. By the time the wee beasties are in bed, I don’t have the energy to turn on the computer.

This too shall pass.