I'm Baaaaaaaaaaaack

Haven't blogged in a while. So much has happened. About 2 weeks ago, my baby brother called me.

His girlfriend is pregnant. I can't help but be happy about a new baby. I love and like my brother a lot. He is super sweet, caring, considerate, passionate and intelligent. And a really hard worker, very determined. Everyone who knows him just loves him. He is no longer with the baby mama, and they don't want to be together. He had promised me he wouldn't do like the others in our family and have a baby out of wedlock. So when he called me, I could hear by his shaky voice and slow speech that he was very nervous to tell me. I told him I loved him and was happy for him and know he is going to make a great dad. And he was relieved. He said he knew he screwed up, had sinned and felt extrememly guilty. He is very committed to being a daddy. She is 4.5 months pregnant. My reply? "Well, you don't just get them pregnant, you get them 4 and a half MONTHS pregnant!" I reassured him that I love him and won't stop loving him. He was so relieved, he got choked up and couldn't say anything for a few minutes. I didn't understand why. I said, "Did you really think I would stop loving you because you broke your promise?" He explained to me that others in the family did not have the same reaction and most were angry and did not want to talk to him. I feel like that is just because they don't want him to make the same mistakes they did.

I am grateful for the graciousness that was extended to me when I fell. Now I can give that graciousness to others. Would I have been able to if I hadn't been through what I have been through? Probably. But I wouldn't have been so vocal to my brother about how I love him. The best part? He said he could feel a Jesus kind of love coming from me. Completely humbling. I felt like one teeny tiny little speck in the universe being used by God right at that moment. I am so insignificant but so significant all at the same time. I was just the vessel. I am so grateful to be able to be in his life to tell him I love him. His love language? Verbal affirmation. My spiritual gift? Encouragement. Cause he is not getting it anywhere else. Maybe my mom. But she is baby crazy. Ha ha. Apparently I need more grace towards my mom. One day at a time, Ok? Today is not her day. Tomorrow is not looking good either. The chase for a pure heart is on. Has been for a while. Ah, mommmy issues...that's a whole other blog!

I'm baaaaaaaaaack.

Ok so I am back from my wonderful trip to Edmonton. I had such a great time, it almost seemed like too soon to come back. It has been a while since I have posted anything so I guess I should catch up. Hmmm let's see.

Oh the pressure. Well, here are the highlights to my trip:
I got to see my sister and mom. When I called my sister to say I was going to surprise them, she started crying. When I got to the door, I went down to the basement where my mom was watching TV and snuck in. I said "Hello?" and she thought I was my sister. Then she looked up and saw me and started crying and shaking. It was good. Not that I want to make people shake and cry. But what a welcome. She saw my friend and started crying that she was there too. I am sure it was because she didn't want to see her. Kidding! She loves Doodle. A lot. And sincerely, which is sometimes rare in my family. Doodle has a niece that calls her Doowa. It is the cutest thing I have seen in a long time. And my nephew. My sister calls him The Little Shit, but really, he is just very active. She never says that when he is around though. I sometimes wish she wouldn't say it but it's hilarious!!! He takes every single item out of her purse, examines each piece and takes it apart to see how it works and then walks away. My sister will come upon a pile of broken items and realize that he did it again.

He isn't that bad or anything, just very active and curious. He is 2 and a half and his little brother is 8 months. He often wants to play rough with his little brother because he plays rough with daddy when daddy comes home from work,so he will put him in a head lock, or sit on him while he is having "tummy time". His little brother will scream his head off, so he will think that he won. My sister sends him to his room. It was so cute to see my baby sister disciplining her children. She is 10 years younger than me, and I had to turn my face so that her and the kids wouldn't see me laughing. I don't know why I found it funny. It's like, I used to have to discipline her and it just seems so funny now that she is doing it. I don't mean any disrespect, it's just so cute.

Until the kids see me with my face turned and my whole body jiggling!

Once they see you jiggling, they know that have gotten away with whatever. And that's how I laugh. Everything jiggles. And I hold the laugh in so much that I let out this little snort. It's horrible. My sister wasn't pleased. At one point, she ducked into the bathroom and I thought she was angry and crying. Nope, she lost control and was laughing. We stayed in the bathroom doing our snorting laugh because we were trying to hold our laughs in and when we came out, her sweet little boy made sure she was alright. Then he told her she was pretty. And then asked for a treat. Smart kid.

I visited a friend that lives close to my sister. She is Canadian and so is her husband....no accent whatsoever. Her little 3 yr old boy comes into the living room and says (in a perfect British accent), "Mummy, may I have a snack?" It took me a minute to think about her and her husband and if they have taken a trip to the UK recently. Nope. Not that I knew of. I listened to her son a bit more as he went on about Spidamon (Spiderman) and toe-mase the Twain (Thomas the Train). Then I asked her if she realized she gave birth to a little British boy? She said "No, no, it's more like Elmer Fudd." He just has a slight speech impediment, is seeing a language counsellor or whatever they are called. Let me tell you, it was the cutest thing ever. I wanted to take Elmer Fudd and cuddle him and tickle him, but he thinks he was born as Spiderman and it's hard to hug a little British boy who is stuck to the side of the wall and climbing up it. Probably so politically incorrect to post this, but it touched my heart. Definitely one of the highlights of my prairie trip.

Extended grease to others. And grace too.

I got a flat screen TV, a new couch, side tables and a huge shelving unit for $100. It was an amazing deal. My living room is full of furniture now. Can't even walk into the living room. There is so much to do and here I am on my laptop in bed. I am giving my previous furniture away. The TV has been spoken for but the shelving unit hasn't. There is also a kitchen table, and a majestic couch set.

By the way, cell phone guy's sister requested to add me to facebook. I really like her a lot. More than I like her brother, but it seems weird to be all like, "hey wanna hang out?" The parents have come into my store and let me know how great their son is. The daughter is super cool though. She is married or has a bf or something and has pics on facebook of costumes and places she has gone. Also when I sold her her piece of equipment, we had a great time. We are around the same age and get along great. I don't want to date the guy just to gain a really great friend. However, I don't want to befriend the friend and leave the guy out in the cold. He has come in a couple more times and it is clear that "just friendship" is not in the cards. And my non-attraction to him won't let me even flirt with him or lead him on or anything. I made it clear I was not interested. It was horrible. But free-ing. I don't think he is going to give up easily cause he came back like, 3 more times. Asked if there was any chance. I was firm (almost rude) and very direct. Then the parents showed up. Aaaaaaaaargh. I am not sure which is more difficult, being the person to say no and having to keep say no, or being told no and being so determined. It's awkward. Also, I don't think he is a Jesus lover. Which is fine with me for friendships, but not so much for relationships where I could potentially end up arguing about beliefs. Been there, done that, no more of that.

Speaking of Jesus, there was this facebook status of a friend of mine. It read...How is it that one of the most thoughtful conversations I have had about grace was with someone outside the church?

Totally. I agree, although I think his status is more of question form.

When I was little and my mother tried to explain grace to me, I thought she was talking about grease. My dad would cook bacon and then pour the leftover bacon fat into a can and it would congeal and go white. So one day I came home from school and told my mother about something my brother did while at school that he got in trouble for. My mother picked up the can of bacon grease and was holding it in her hand while telling me that sometimes we need to give grace to others and love them the way they. Of course in my 7 year old mind (no, I never really grew up) I thought she was talking about the grease. When my brother came home after school, I got the can of grease, walked over to him, told him I loved him, went to hand him the can of grease, and accidentally spilled it on him. He called me stupid, so I called him mean and ugly. My mother pointed out that we look alike and asked me what I was doing? I said I was trying to extend grace and love. I don't remember what happened after that but I wasn't in much trouble.

Bob

Had coffee with a man today who has been doing business with my dad for more than 25 years. He presented an opportunity to me that I have been seeking for a long time (3+ years). Totally stoked. He is a bit older than my dad, and like my dad, has the spirit of someone much younger. We chatted for 2.5 hours at a coffee shop about business and ethics and financial products. At one point, I made a corny joke and he said "Ah, you really are your father's daughter." I replied, "Yes, but my jokes are not as lame as my dad's." His 5 minutes of laughing at me told me they were. Said he misses my father and hasn't seen him in a while and is going to visit him next time he is in Alberta. I miss my dad too. I need a really good joke before I go visit him though; I don't want my jokes to be as lame as his. Heh heh.

Random Family Memories

BUBBLES

One time (in band camp...hahahaha, just kidding), when I was very little, my mother was taking a nap. Everyone was in school or at work and I was supposed to be napping as well. I couldn't sleep so I decided to get up and give my mom a gift by doing some dishes. I put the plug in the sink, squirted lots of dishsoap into the sink and turned the water on. It was taking a while for the sink to fill so I went to watch cartoons completely forgot about the water filling up. The living room was in a completely different part of the house. As I was watching TV, I felt this water on my hand. I looked down and saw this puddle of water creeping towards me, coming to get me! I ran into my mom's room and leaped on the bed from the doorframe and let out a little scream. My mother woke up and told me to go back to sleep, so I climbed under the covers with her and told her I was going to take a nap in her bed. She asked why my feet were wet. I told her the water was coming to get me. She had a concerned look on her face, sat up in bed and saw the puddle of water around the bed. She screamed and asked me what happened. I just shrugged. I couldn't talk, I was scared the water was going to come and get me! She later explained to me what I did. I thought it was funny at the time. Ok, it's still funny. I actually called her and reminded her of this today. She said "Yeah, real funny!" She spent the day using towels to mop up the mess and squeezing them into the tub.

Random Family Memories

We used to live on a farm. My parents would commute to the city to conduct business in their real estate practice. After one of my brothers was born, my mother stayed home and my father went out to work. He would often be gone late and get back when the kids were in bed and it was sometimes solely up to my mother to discipline. My older brother was always getting in to trouble. While my dad would sit and talk us kids and make us never want to do that thing again (I think it was mindgames...or maybe programming?) my mother would take out the wooden spoon. I never got the wooden spoon, but my older brother got it so many times, I can't even remember what he did wrong.
One time, my brother did something REALLY bad. And we all followed. So my mother had us sit on the couch and she was going to give us the wooden spoon one at a time. My brother leaned over and she gave him a wack on the bottom. He looked at us and cracked a smile. Then a bigger smile. Then a toothy grin. Then he opened his mouth and laughed silently. He was trying so hard to hold it in. Nothing is worse than an angry woman who has just been laughed at. He was shaking a bit, so my mother stopped and looked at him. When she found out he was laughing, she wacked him a good hard one. The spoon broke, so she grabbed another one. That one broke too. She gave up. She came back later and read us a story.
She laughs about it to this day. That was the day she decided to not to use the wooden spoon anymore. I don't remember ever getting a spanking. I was probably a good little angel...ha ha ha, yeah right ;)

And now for something completely different

I am very fond of Ms. Pacman. I love the cute little bow and the 4 goblins that she runs around getting after she eats the big dot. As a matter of fact, I think I was addicted to Ms. Pacman. That's right, I used the word "was" because I have cut it off completely. You may notice that my blog page is a bit different; I removed Ms. Pacman from the main page. Reason? Firstly, addiction...once I realized, it was easier to cut it off. But the other reason (and it's very odd) but I was speaking with my mother today. She has depression and fears she is losing her memory. She went to her friend's house and then when she came out, found she had spent $150 and had a pile of Avon makeup (if this has ever happened to anyone, maybe you can relate). She remembers going into the friend's home, doesn't remember my father picking her up after or how she got home. She has recently starting taking anti-depressants and has been on her current ones for 3 weeks. She called her doctor and he told her this isn't usually a side effect. Today when she was taking a nap, she had a horrible nightmare that there was a pacman running around in her head eating memory tape. She said that she woke up and was thinking of me which is what prompted her call. No more Ms. Pacman for me. I feel guilty when I play it. Nothing like a mother's guilt trip (even if it's not on purpose) to break addiction. I did NOT tell her I had been playing Ms. Pacman.

Completely Normal Childhood Memories

I was married once before. To the A&W Root Bear.

Background note: I used to say how I love things, such as "I love this book" or "I love my Strawberry Shortcake house." My brother would respond with, "So, why don't you marry it?" And I would then say, "Maybe I will."

One day, there was a sale on at The Dub, where we would go as a family on a regular basis. The bear as a hand puppet was being sold for 99 cents with the purchase of a teenburger. I had to have him. As soon as I said I loved the puppet, my brother and I went through our routine. (I love this bear. Maybe you should marry him. Maybe I will.) However, I had no idea that my family would actually plan a wedding between the bear and I. They invited neighbors, friends, family, church family, aquaintances, everyone! I think there was even a cake, music and a celebration. Someone (my sister I think) came and told me to put on a very nice dress, so I did. When I came out of my room with my dress on, there was an aisle set up and my brother was the puppet and the priest all in one and conducted the ceremony. I remember thinking how crazy all these people were, but they kept telling me to marry the puppet, so I just went along with it. I was 5. I don't think we were ever divorced, which is good because I don't want the kids to come from a "broken" home, just a crazy one.

Completely Normal Childhood Memories

My little brother didn't get a haircut until he was 6. He had thick, blond, wavy hair and was often mistaken for a girl (kinda like Rene and Celine's son). I felt really bad for him. It was embarrassing. Sometimes, late at night, I would sneak into his room and cut his hair when everyone was asleep so it wouldn't appear to grow even longer. I would gather it into a pony tail and snip off what looked to be an even amount. I don't think my parents ever knew. I was 13. He now buzzes his hair once a week. He looks a little more masculine. Not much more though.