provincial checkpoint
something i hadn't dreamed of
thankful there's no guns
We were planning a trip to Manitoba in August - but the checkpoints at the provincial borders are still up. I remember reading about WWII and thinking about Germany and Poland and Austria and being thankful that we were here and how hard it would be to mandate closures and set up checkpoints.
In 2020 it happened.
This morning, I'm a bit freaked out about that. How simple it was. How quick it was. How effective it is. And what if it was for more nepharious reasons.
Monday 29 June 2020
Sunday 28 June 2020
things you do not know
don't clutter your mind, like mine
exhaustion rolls in.
Instagram is a funny thing. My curated experience shows my husband and I walking our dogs in a conservation area - me jokingly explaining about my hound dog taking off.
What it doesn't capture is the headache I woke up with. The argument we had at 11 that he was bored and wanted me to "feel better quicker". It didn't capture coming home and going alcohol shopping with Jesse, while he explained how the fighting he grew up with has influenced his relationships. The fighting because I married someone with a vindictive ex and a mentally ill child and created a unfortunate amount of chaos for kids who didn't deserve it. It didn't capture the pizza we ate outside while drinking gin, the laughs, the visit and dinner with Jordie and Ben. It didn't capture Bob having three accidents today - of varying degrees, and me internally fretting that even our small trip to Winnipeg might be in jeopardy.
Or that moment, standing in the washroom, helping - when I realized that his independence was on my back. And resenting him in that moment, but also realizing how big and unfair that is. All the obligation and grief to carry.
And what if I took and step back and didn't want it on my shoulders. What then?
Snap another picture. Write another haiku. Drink more gin and laugh out on the patio. I don't know what tomorrow brings. I wonder how I will cope.
don't clutter your mind, like mine
exhaustion rolls in.
Instagram is a funny thing. My curated experience shows my husband and I walking our dogs in a conservation area - me jokingly explaining about my hound dog taking off.
What it doesn't capture is the headache I woke up with. The argument we had at 11 that he was bored and wanted me to "feel better quicker". It didn't capture coming home and going alcohol shopping with Jesse, while he explained how the fighting he grew up with has influenced his relationships. The fighting because I married someone with a vindictive ex and a mentally ill child and created a unfortunate amount of chaos for kids who didn't deserve it. It didn't capture the pizza we ate outside while drinking gin, the laughs, the visit and dinner with Jordie and Ben. It didn't capture Bob having three accidents today - of varying degrees, and me internally fretting that even our small trip to Winnipeg might be in jeopardy.
Or that moment, standing in the washroom, helping - when I realized that his independence was on my back. And resenting him in that moment, but also realizing how big and unfair that is. All the obligation and grief to carry.
And what if I took and step back and didn't want it on my shoulders. What then?
Snap another picture. Write another haiku. Drink more gin and laugh out on the patio. I don't know what tomorrow brings. I wonder how I will cope.
Monday 22 June 2020
fucking piece of work
i have been described as worse
but not to my kid
Now I'm mad. Jordie went to her in-laws yesterday for father's day. It's been rough for her, since she supports BLM and her brother-in-law is a cop, and her mother-in-law and brother-in-law are too stupid to see the nuances and differences between being pro-BLM and anti-police. Suffice it to say, working for her husband's mother while challenging the status quo has not been easy.
So yesterday. Her mother-in-law pulls up MY facebook and proceeds to dissect it and says to Jordie, "come on, you have to agree that your mother is a fucking piece of work".
Yes. Because I support BLM. And post.
Bitch, game ON. I'm about to live up to being a "fucking piece of work".
i have been described as worse
but not to my kid
Now I'm mad. Jordie went to her in-laws yesterday for father's day. It's been rough for her, since she supports BLM and her brother-in-law is a cop, and her mother-in-law and brother-in-law are too stupid to see the nuances and differences between being pro-BLM and anti-police. Suffice it to say, working for her husband's mother while challenging the status quo has not been easy.
So yesterday. Her mother-in-law pulls up MY facebook and proceeds to dissect it and says to Jordie, "come on, you have to agree that your mother is a fucking piece of work".
Yes. Because I support BLM. And post.
Bitch, game ON. I'm about to live up to being a "fucking piece of work".
Sunday 21 June 2020
how many alarms
waking myself from slumber
always needing more.
It's 6:08 on a Sunday morning. The world has already sinned against me.
Yesterday, I did father's day here with the kids. It was good, and Bob felt loved. But a couple things happened that I will need to process before I'm fully sure how to handle them.
1. Bob's wheelchair failed yesterday and we got stuck outside in the sun. There's a small setting that needs to be reconfigured, but suffice it to say the shocks got locked and he couldn't go over a door frame. In the hot sun I had to bring him his lift, lift him, switch wheelchairs, get him inside and then bring the lift and 400+ pound chair inside by myself. I was exhausted. Fast forward 4 hours and the kids were here. He was going to go back outside, having theoretically figured out how to bypass the error and wanting to try. I said that I didn't want him to, that I was still exhausted from the first time and to just sit tomorrow (today - volunteering) out. He refused, and the kids backed him up. I reiterated to the entire family that I was fucking exhausted, and didn't want to take the risk. No one listened. At some point, I'll have to figure out how to get Bob and the kids to understand that I'm not saying no to limit him - I'm saying no because it's always me with the risk and consequences and I'm exhausted. I actually thought about this in the middle of the night - wondering at what point I'd actually have to leave.
2. Lesser, but just as insulting, I made penne alla vodka for dinner. Everyone approved the menu, but then gave me a hard time for the "butt load of tomatos" in it. The kids only ate noodles, like they were 3 and 5 instead of 25 and 27 - and then Bob commented that the sauce was 'watery'. I got up, took out all the tomatoes, and blended them with my nutribullet into the sauce. I came back to the table, and commented that I had taken their feedback. I'd love to hear a thank you, occasionally.
I'm exhausted. Too exhausted. I sit down and hear, "chris...." - I spend my day picking up dropped things, fetching things, emptying urinals, and helping him to transfer. I spend my nights listening to snoring, emptying urinals, and changing sheets. Yesterday, his PSW stood in the washroom, ON HER PHONE, while i hooked up the lift and got all the stuff to help Bob switch chairs. I worry some days that I actually might lose it - either drop to the floor crying until all this is fixed around me - or just pack a bag and leave. I'm actually up hours earlier than I need to be today because Bob's PSW didn't want to reschedule another client.
I'm not sure what today holds, besides a nap. In the next few minutes, and not caring about my scheduled volunteering today.
waking myself from slumber
always needing more.
It's 6:08 on a Sunday morning. The world has already sinned against me.
Yesterday, I did father's day here with the kids. It was good, and Bob felt loved. But a couple things happened that I will need to process before I'm fully sure how to handle them.
1. Bob's wheelchair failed yesterday and we got stuck outside in the sun. There's a small setting that needs to be reconfigured, but suffice it to say the shocks got locked and he couldn't go over a door frame. In the hot sun I had to bring him his lift, lift him, switch wheelchairs, get him inside and then bring the lift and 400+ pound chair inside by myself. I was exhausted. Fast forward 4 hours and the kids were here. He was going to go back outside, having theoretically figured out how to bypass the error and wanting to try. I said that I didn't want him to, that I was still exhausted from the first time and to just sit tomorrow (today - volunteering) out. He refused, and the kids backed him up. I reiterated to the entire family that I was fucking exhausted, and didn't want to take the risk. No one listened. At some point, I'll have to figure out how to get Bob and the kids to understand that I'm not saying no to limit him - I'm saying no because it's always me with the risk and consequences and I'm exhausted. I actually thought about this in the middle of the night - wondering at what point I'd actually have to leave.
2. Lesser, but just as insulting, I made penne alla vodka for dinner. Everyone approved the menu, but then gave me a hard time for the "butt load of tomatos" in it. The kids only ate noodles, like they were 3 and 5 instead of 25 and 27 - and then Bob commented that the sauce was 'watery'. I got up, took out all the tomatoes, and blended them with my nutribullet into the sauce. I came back to the table, and commented that I had taken their feedback. I'd love to hear a thank you, occasionally.
I'm exhausted. Too exhausted. I sit down and hear, "chris...." - I spend my day picking up dropped things, fetching things, emptying urinals, and helping him to transfer. I spend my nights listening to snoring, emptying urinals, and changing sheets. Yesterday, his PSW stood in the washroom, ON HER PHONE, while i hooked up the lift and got all the stuff to help Bob switch chairs. I worry some days that I actually might lose it - either drop to the floor crying until all this is fixed around me - or just pack a bag and leave. I'm actually up hours earlier than I need to be today because Bob's PSW didn't want to reschedule another client.
I'm not sure what today holds, besides a nap. In the next few minutes, and not caring about my scheduled volunteering today.
Tuesday 16 June 2020
cash, deposited -
i am richer than i think -
copays less scary
Sometimes, you forget how valuable benefits are. Bob just got a wheelchair and the copay was $7557.18 - and our benefits covered it in full. Crazy. You think of your paycheck every week, and sometimes your bonus - but imagine getting a bonus that large. I'd be pretty excited.
And so, that's how I'm viewing this - a bonus. A gift. Extra and added value.
i am richer than i think -
copays less scary
Sometimes, you forget how valuable benefits are. Bob just got a wheelchair and the copay was $7557.18 - and our benefits covered it in full. Crazy. You think of your paycheck every week, and sometimes your bonus - but imagine getting a bonus that large. I'd be pretty excited.
And so, that's how I'm viewing this - a bonus. A gift. Extra and added value.
Monday 15 June 2020
morning sun over grass
streams of new light bringing warmth
a day begins here
Good morning. I always mean to sit and write, but then I do not. I plop myself down but then check facebook and gmail and twitter and next thing I know it's too late to blog. Or I'm not as restless or annoyed or whatever it was that prompted me in the first place.
This morning, though, I'm here at 6:30. I've been up 45 minutes - and will be back in bed shortly. I hate 6 a.m. PSW arrival days. I don't know how I'll ever go back to waking at 5 to be in the office at 7 - if I ever go back to work.
I'm exhausted, though, for different reasons. In the last two weeks my well pump has died, I've had car problems, and I've been scammed by a chinese company. My husband has fallen almost every day, not accepting his limitations. I'm not sleeping well, worried about life and Bob and everything else. After attending the BLM protests I realized how many of my friends and famly were low-to-high key racist. My work is a bit chaotic with people coming and going and things changing.
I need to have some time off, by myself, to rest and restore.
streams of new light bringing warmth
a day begins here
Good morning. I always mean to sit and write, but then I do not. I plop myself down but then check facebook and gmail and twitter and next thing I know it's too late to blog. Or I'm not as restless or annoyed or whatever it was that prompted me in the first place.
This morning, though, I'm here at 6:30. I've been up 45 minutes - and will be back in bed shortly. I hate 6 a.m. PSW arrival days. I don't know how I'll ever go back to waking at 5 to be in the office at 7 - if I ever go back to work.
I'm exhausted, though, for different reasons. In the last two weeks my well pump has died, I've had car problems, and I've been scammed by a chinese company. My husband has fallen almost every day, not accepting his limitations. I'm not sleeping well, worried about life and Bob and everything else. After attending the BLM protests I realized how many of my friends and famly were low-to-high key racist. My work is a bit chaotic with people coming and going and things changing.
I need to have some time off, by myself, to rest and restore.
Sunday 7 June 2020
i am exhausted
and cling to sleep's last moments
experience loss
It's been a rough couple of weeks. Emotionally, physically, maybe even spiritually. It's covid, it's racism, it's loneliness, and then my freaking well pump goes and we have no water for three days. It's finally back on, the water, but the pressure is low in the bathroom and I have to keep hearing about it. I don't particularly like it either, but sometimes you just have to deal with something instead of complaining.
I'm not sleeping well. Bob is snoring, and not snoring like deep sleep but snoring like a mack truck is bursting through our room. I wake, to empty his urinal or do some other manual task, and then lay there for what seems like hours - riding wave after wave of his snoring so that I can fall asleep. And then I wake up and do everything again - trying not to be resentful or too tired or too critical..
I need a break.
and cling to sleep's last moments
experience loss
It's been a rough couple of weeks. Emotionally, physically, maybe even spiritually. It's covid, it's racism, it's loneliness, and then my freaking well pump goes and we have no water for three days. It's finally back on, the water, but the pressure is low in the bathroom and I have to keep hearing about it. I don't particularly like it either, but sometimes you just have to deal with something instead of complaining.
I'm not sleeping well. Bob is snoring, and not snoring like deep sleep but snoring like a mack truck is bursting through our room. I wake, to empty his urinal or do some other manual task, and then lay there for what seems like hours - riding wave after wave of his snoring so that I can fall asleep. And then I wake up and do everything again - trying not to be resentful or too tired or too critical..
I need a break.
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