vacation

Battle For My Blood

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It all began quite innocently. It was a family fun vacation at an all inclusive resort: palm trees swaying in the wind, the sun gloriously shining above, the pool glistening invitingly, the ocean surf roaring in the background. Endless arrays of food and tropical drinks. It was perfect; divine even. That would have been the case had nighttime not arrived and THEY came out to hunt.

Day 1

After a glorious day of frolicking in the water and filling our gullets with wonderful food and delicious tropical beverages, it was time to go back to our rooms to rest and recuperate for tomorrow’s vacation fun. As my niece and I entered our room we noticed that there was a sort of cloud of insects around the light in the back corner of the room. Upon closer inspection, my suspicions were confirmed: mosquitos. I explained to my niece that she had nothing to fear as I had the sweetest blood in all the land and they would not dare bother her. For safety’s sake, I decided that we should leave the light on so that the blood suckers would stay in their corner. I chose correctly, for the following morning not a welt nor a bite was to be seen upon our tender appendages.

Day 2

Ahhhh…another great day of frolicking in the water and filling our gullets with wonderful food and delicious tropical beverages. Time to get to bed and recuperate for the next day’s relaxing adventure. However, upon arriving to our suite my niece had one request. “Could we turn off the light tonight?” I froze. Could my undying love for my niece conquer my colossal fear of mosquitos? “Sure,” I replied nonchalantly. I casually sauntered over to the dimly lit lamp, quickly calculated the number of insects in the flying fog, and prepared myself to be sacrificed.

You may think that my fear is childish and unjustified, however, what one might not know is that I had succumbed to the wonderful illness known as West Nile Virus. It resulted in my breaking out in a rash all over my body which then morphed into walking sideways, the following week, as the illness had transformed into vertigo. Fear mosquitos much Maryann? Now back to the bug-filled-suite at our sunny vacation destination.

I walked resolutely back to my bed, which was actually further away from the murderous bugs, and hoped that I might be spared from any vicious onslaught. It could happen, right? Forsooth, it was not to be.

It began during the witching hour. Shortly after midnight I heard the first bzzzzzzzzz fly by my left ear and then proceed past my right. My hand shot out in defense. Buzzing sounds came again and again from different angles. The battle was about to begin. In order not to wake my niece (who was sleeping quite comfortably and mosquito free, might I add) I turned on the flashlight on my cell phone (clever lady), then proceeded to gasp in horror at the site of the party of mosquitos all over my bedsheet, hovering by the wall, flying above my head under the canopy. There would be no sleep tonight.

I prepared myself for the onslaught. I expeditiously fished out a facial tissue from my purse and maneuvered myself toward my first enemy. She had gently landed just inches away from my left hand. With lightning speed I crushed my adversary. I would have called her my first victim, but alas, that victim was me. The amount of MY blood that came out of her tiny body was horrifying! I shuddered with revulsion and then looked around. So many of them buzzing around me! Ouch! I succumbed to the sting of a bite. That brought me back to reality. Time to wage war!

So the early morning continued with the relentless warfare: me slaying the enemy, leaving their carcasses in the midst of my red life juice, and they, happily biting and savoring my blood. My niece, God bless her, slept through the war cries and the slapping of body parts to ward off the tiny warriors.

Exhaustion hit me after 3 a.m. I removed myself from the blood spattered sheets and tiredly dragged myself to the couch. I lay there defeated. Bumps welling up all over my body. I cowered under the blanket, trying to breathe, but the C02 was overpowering my need for oxygen. Like a turtle, I popped my head out and let sleep wash over me.

When I awoke four hours later I surveyed the damage. I had mosquito bites all over my fingers and toes and arms and legs. Our routine of the glorious day of frolicking in the water and filling our gullets with wonderful food and delicious tropical beverages became a trip to the store to purchase lotions and potions and salves for my poor body. There was also a trip to the hotel’s guest services whereupon a staff member came to our suite with a large can of bug killing spray, leaving a cloud of poison in our room. He was also kind enough to leave the, now half empty, can of toxin for my future nighttime battles.

The rest of the vacation was more uneventful. However, instead of wearing sunscreen I wore bug repellant and bug bite salve. No happy coconut smell there. I was a Walkin’ Toxin. The new evening routine was gassing the room with the poisonous spray then heading out for supper.

I returned home from the family trip with many memories, a plethora of mosquito bites, and perhaps, nasally ingested poison in my lungs. The battle for my blood is one that I shall not soon forget. My niece, beautiful girl, had chosen the best roommate for this trip.

Best Mom Ever…

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Happy Mother’s Day to all you mom’s out there.  Hopefully this ONE day of the year you are getting treated to breakfast in bed (without having to clean up the kitchen mess).  You are getting creations made by your children (that you will cherish forever even if they find the macaroni art totally dorky later in life).  You are getting beautiful flowers (that you aren’t allergic to).  Basically, I hope you are getting spoiled and cuddled and loved.   I hope you are feeling like the “good guy” instead of the warden of your real life prison.  You see, being a mom is THE toughest job in the world with the least amount of accolades and awards.  Why do women do it?

Now, let’s look at this one day of the year that we honour and celebrate those heroes of child rearing.  Again, I am generalizing and focusing on those women who do actually care about their children and want to nurture them and help them grow into functioning rational adults.  There are those who would tsk-tsk stay-at-home moms as they are not bringing home any kind of income or helping with financial burdens like mortgages or groceries.  But, I am betting that many a stay-at-home mom would LOVE to swap a week out of the house with you, the bread-winner, so that she could have regular sleep hours and a regular lunch hour and just any break that the working class stiff can get.

Mom’s dream:  alarm clock wakes you up.  Yeah…it’s that’s simple.  It’s not a wailing child who is wet or hungry or both that awakens you.

Mom’s dream:  At the end of the week, if the child is still alive and well, she gets a paycheck.  Mission accomplished.  Job well done!

Mom’s dream:  Dress up for work.  Wow…fancy!  No spit up on your clothes.  No food or drinks spilled on you.  What a beautiful dream.

Mom’s dream:  A civilized lunch.  Not eating up the leftovers on your kid’s plate.  You know…the half chewed stuff they didn’t finish.  A nice warm meal and you get to finish it while it’s hot.  Oh and you don’t have to share it with anyone.  Especially if there is a cookie or chocolate or something to go with it.  It’s all yours!  You don’t have to hide in the bathroom or the closet to eat it.

Mom’s dream:  Pee in peace.  OMG to actually go to the bathroom and not have someone knock on the door or have a toddler crying because you left the room.  Pee in peace.  No rushing at all!

Mom’s dream:  Talking to adults.  Yeah, no reciting the alphabet or singing rhymes.  You can talk about tv shows (not Paw Patrol or Disney stuff), but things like Game of Thrones or Grey’s Anatomy, or [insert tv show you would love to watch and talk about if you weren’t so tired].

Mom’s dream:  Sleeping.  Actually sleeping.  NOT tossing and turning in bed, running through the list of things that need to get done.  It’s not just your stuff to think about, but you have to think for your kids as well because Mother’s are preventative thinkers.  We think about worst case scenarios before they even happen because that way we can fix it when it happens because we predicted it was going to happen.  Why do they call the big purses Momma bags?  Because we have EVERYTHING in there.  That tote has more first aid items in it than a Doctor’s bag.

Mom’s dream:  not having to carry a Momma’s purse.  Our shoulder’s would be so much happier.

Mom’s dream:  telling the kids to do something ONCE and have it happen.  Yup, just ONCE.  Go to bed.  Eat your dinner.  Come inside.  Go outside.  Get in the car.  Put your toys away.  Come take your bath.  JUST ONCE!

Mom’s dream:  Hearing your child say, “You are the best mom ever!  I love you.”  Yes, that is the ultimate dream.

For every tired mom with babies and toddlers you remember the morning sickness, the tiredness, the back aches, the swollen ankles, some even had bedrest.  The labour…OH DEAR GOD…the pain of actual birth.  Then the joy of that little bundle, so helpless in your arms.  YOU…mom…were the one that swore nothing would ever hurt that little angel in your arms.  You kept your promise.  The sleepless nights.  The multiple feedings.  You cherished that bundle and watched it grow.  It went from crawling to walking to running.  It went from cuddling and hugging to cutting the mommy-cord and wanting to be free.  Mom, you kept your promise.  No matter what, you would stand on the sidelines with your overprotectiveness because you made a promise, a long time ago to that little one, and you would never break that promise (even though some days you would want to end that kid’s life yourself).  You both survived.

From infant to toddler to tween to teen to adulthood.  No matter how grown up, that child will always be mom’s baby.  These kids will have children of your own which just doubles the babies in mom’s life.  Every mom knows that your child will grow up, but it never really does.  As moms we celebrate the accomplishments and their grown up lives and are happy that they’re happy because that was always the main goal…their happiness.

So, on this one day of the year that is called Mother’s Day, most mom’s don’t want stuff.  They want their child, the one that never grew up (but actually did) to just smile and hug her and tell her that “You are the best mom ever!  I love you.”

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!  To all you wonder-mom’s out there.  You have persevered in a thankless job, with no pay increases, no vacation time, no punch out clock, and best of all, absolutely no manual to refer to.  Kudos to every single one of you.  You’re doing it right if you’re doing it with love.  That’s all that matters in the end.

 

Here’s your life…what’s your hurry?

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Spring is in the air, that musty grass smell after being covered by snow.  The birds are chirping (quite loudly, I must admit) and there is this noise in the neighbourhood of children laughing and giggling and riding around on their bikes.  Spring is about renewal as everyone knows.  When others create their “New Year’s resolutions” in January, I wait until springtime to unveil to myself what my New Year’s persona is going to include.  After careful planning, intense deliberation, and weighing all the pros and cons I have decided that this is the year I will learn to slooooooooooooooow dooooooooooooooooown.  I am welcoming in my Year of the Snail.  How did I come upon this fascinating conclusion?  Sit back and relax while I tell you story.

Our tale begins with a middle-aged female, who, after years of dreaming and looking at pictures and requesting travelers to bring her postcards from their various vacationing destinations…finally got to travel to this place they all called “SOUTH”.  It was a wondrous place that this lady had heard about, where the sun continually shines, the water is pure majestic blue, the sand is soft, and there is nothing to do but smile and nap and do this bizarre action called “relaxing”.  Yes, so many very strange terms that the woman had never experienced before and yet here she was, ready to take this indiscriminate journey SOUTH.

Many tips and tricks were shared with the naïve female and her Wiseguy husband.  What to pack, how much to pack, where to go, what to do, where to eat, what to eat, health measures, first aid measures…her mind was overflowing with worry about this travel and if they would really be prepared for this overwhelming adventure.  After packing (over-packing truly), they spent a sleepless night and more tiresome day venturing before sunlight to the place where the metal birds fly you to this SOUTH place.  As tires touched ground at the destination, a tear slipped down her warm cheek.  She was SOUTH and it was like heaven on earth.

They stepped out of the plane into warm air.  No hail or snow, just glorious sunshine and palm trees.  She stared in amazement at the beauty of it all and had a hard time absorbing everything she was seeing.  “So this is SOUTH,” she thought and a calmness washed over her.  There was no fear of the unknown.  There was no more worry about what was packed.  For some strange reason, she knew everything would be wonderful here.  THE END.

THE BEACH

Yes, it’s all true.  I, the victorious lady in the story, was treated to a trip to Punta Cana in the Dominican Republic (Thank you Most Awesomest Wiseguy husband).  One of many hot places that we here from the North call SOUTH.  Truly a great experience with wonderful people to meet and also lots of quiet time to relax.  No thinking about shoveling snow.  No thinking about work.  No thinking about cleaning or chores.  Really, somehow your brain gets re-set to think about what is really important in life:  remember to have fun and enjoy this ride called life!

Life should not centre on work and bills.  We always make those our priority and they usually lead us to fret and stress and sleepless nights.  Breathing in and out (which we are very lucky to do on a daily basis) and actually taking in and appreciating beauty and the good things we have around us are what makes us happy and makes this “life” thing worth living.

I officially welcome you to the Year of the Snail!  Try it!  Live with less rush!  (Factoid:  a garden snail travels approximately 1.3 cm per second).  Breathe…in…breathe…out… and appreciate what you have.   Don’t overthink or overplan everything.  There may not be any roses to stop and smell, but sometimes just listening to your breath, and knowing your alive is oftentimes the most valuable gift you will have today.  Here’s your life…what’s your hurry?

“For fast-acting relief, try slowing down.”  ~Lily Tomlin

Pork and Beans and the Prized Nugget

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Schools of thought.  I myself have been on both sides of the fence depending on my age and/or necessity to explain or justify what I’m doing.  Sometimes my own thoughts just don’t seem as intelligent or convincing enough so why not borrow from the tried and true?

Too many chefs spoil the broth OR many hands make light work

Absence makes the heart grow fonder OR out of sight, out of mind

The pen is mightier than the sword OR actions speak louder than words

I could go on, but you get the idea.  What got me pondering and processing proverbs?   This weekend was one that I had been happily anticipating for a few days.  Social calendar full, beautiful weather, and Wiseguy not working.  Trifecta! Perfection!  Or so we thought.

Earlier in the week I had learned that a lovely lady had passed away.  She was only 51.   (Yes, for you youngins in your 20s that’s old, but we middle agers find that to be baby status to old age).  It came suddenly and unexpectedly in the form of a heart attack.  After some tears and hugs and grieving at the funeral home I again began to look forward to my happy weekend plans and enjoy life again.   Three days later another life jolt.  Another beautiful,  young woman in her 50s had passed away.  A kind and happy person who enjoyed life and made others feel happy, comfortable when you were around her.  The question you can’t help but ask is why?

When the week was done, I looked in my rearview mirror of wisdom to try and decipher what it all meant.  Death is shocking.  There’s anger and guilt and fear and mostly denial.  Death is so final.  Death is also illuminating.  My thoughts and beliefs on death have changed many times over the years.  Maybe that’s where the wisdom kicks in, or maybe, I find more comfort in disbelieving what I had learned before.  If this was your last day on earth how would you feel and what would you do?

What about life itself?  Is there a purpose?  Is there a meaning to our lives?  We wonder how we really fit in.  We promise to take time for ourselves.  We see family at funerals and PROMISE to call and visit because the mortality punching bag hit us hard.  And then, we go back to “life“.  Work.  Pay bills.  Buy necessities.  Maybe a few days vacation.  Is that life?

As I age (gracefully, of course) I look more at children and their approach to life.  Take a 3 year old and watch them get upset when they don’t get what they want.  Tears.  Tantrums. They know.        They deserve more.  Why do we adults accept that we can’t have better?

Each person derives a message upon hearing about the death of a loved one.  Each person goes through the stages of denial and guilt and anger to final acceptance.  It’s an emotional journey that can either leave you emotionally drained and looking consistently at the sadness and unfairness in life or it will lead you to finding a new sign or life message leading you to a happier more fulfilled life.  Which side of the proverb are you on?

I am trying to find positivity in the negative.  I believe that this is a sign to live life to the fullest.  When asking why people have to die and leave us, I remind myself that we don’t know how long we have here on earth and that we do need to take time to have fun.  We assume that we will wake up the next day. I am starting to rethink my life.  I am in the baby stages of redefining the living of my life by actually making myself follow my dreams to their realization.  No more giving up for fear of failure.  I will be grateful for that first deep breath in the morning because I know I am alive and my surrounding world is full of adventures that I need to explore.  I will let myself float in the pool of happiness around me.  I will love myself and share that love with others.  I will live and love and know that when my time comes I will be grateful for this thing called “life”.

Pork and Beans.  (Stay with me here, all will be explained.)  I think it is the simplest explanation to my conundrum.  Have you ever had a can of pork and beans? I remember reading the label and thinking there would be numerous chunks of bacon with the beans.  Can opened and contents extracted.  Hmmmm, one little wee piece of bacon and MILLIONS of beans.  This can of beans was like our weekend (told you I’d explain it).  Our disheveled weekend plans became a blessing in disguise.  You will have many experiences in life that all seem the same and monotonous, like the beans and one prized “nugget” of pork experience.   That one nugget, that one day, when everyone’s life coincides in togetherness and love is as large as the full moon.  It’s magical.  Wiseguy and I did get to spend time with people we love.  We did to get to appreciate and feel good about life with the people who are still with us.

Moral:  There will be sad times in your life.  Cry, be sad, hurt, grieve.  It’s a process.  Then move on.  Change your way of life.  Stop living with the simple monotonous beans of life.  Go searching and experiencing numerous and exciting prized pork nuggets. (My analogies, you must agree, are not conventional but then, neither am I.)

For those who have lost loved ones, I understand, I feel your loss, and can only give momma hugs. Words cannot heal what you have lost, but the good memories to follow will.  XOXOXO

 

 

 

 

 

I’m back!

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Did you miss me?  Maybe yes, maybe no, but let me tell you why I have not been blogging my little fingers off.

Wiseguy and I went to Europe.  No, it was not a last-minute decision.  We had booked our tickets back in February and the day had finally arrived for us to fly away and have a wonderful vacation in Europe.

Normal people book the summer off and jet away.  They take at least 3 to 4 weeks to enjoy the historical beauty of Europe.  In case you haven’t realized it yet, Wiseguy and I are not “normal” people.  I prefer the title of “unique” people.  As such, Wiseguy and I decided that we could really only be away for 10 days.  So it began.

We landed in Munich, Germany.  We drove for 8 hours down to a cozy little village in Croatia where FIL was anxiously awaiting our arrival.  After we unfurled ourselves from the mini car…ahem,  I mean “compact” car….we sat down and enjoyed our arrival.  We had driven from Munich through Austria, Slovenia, and into Croatia.  It was a looooooooooooooooong, but beautifully scenic, drive. 

The next morning we awoke to the sound of chirping birds…and the occasional crowing rooster.  We sat outside and enjoyed our new surroundings.  The panoramic mountains off in the distance.  We breathed in the fresh air.  Mind you, every once in a while you would get that one swirl of wind that would bring your nose to attention.  The smell of fresh manure from the neighbouring cows.  Mooo to you too!  I had a buddy goat that lived next door to FIL’s house.  (He belongs to the gypsy clan.  Yes, FIL’s neighbours are gypsies.)   As I would look at my goat friend he would baaa aaaaah at me.  Basically he was telling me to leave him alone while he grazed happily on his breakfast of grass and weeds. The neighbours also had two pigs of a variety I had never seen before.  One was black and the other was black and white.  The black and white was wasn’t speckled or striped.  His head and front two hoofs were white and then, I guess he got hit with paint or something, because his back half was black.  Unique right?  They also had a horse and old wooden buggy like they had on Little House on the Prairie. 

Honestly, being in Europe is like a time warp.  You have the modern stores in the cities but you drive 20 minutes out, village way, and BAM… farms and farm animals.  Nothing has changed.  The houses are the old cement and brick houses.  Some of them are old wood paneling.  The large vineyards there have been passed along from generation to generation.  Old ladies are wearing the babushkas on their heads and they have the trademark large, roundish black skirts with navy blue aprons.  They wander through their fields picking weeds out by hand.  Time warp right?

I will slowly share my adventures in Europe with you.  Traveling through Europe and taking millions of pictures to share with my family, was wonderful.  But being home and being able to hug and hold my family…that’s the best trip of all.  Welcome home!