Michael’s been pretty sick this past week and a half with a doozy of a virus that just won’t quit. It’s left him drained in the evenings, occasionally to comic effect. Yesterday evening when I asked him if he was going to band practice, he gave me this unequivocal answer. “No! Maybe… Yes. I don’t know.” Yes, that actually came out of his mouth.

(He went.) (And played between bouts of coughing.)

On Health

I’ve been wondering for a while if I have hyperthyroidism; there’s some history of it in my family. I have many of the symptoms (irritability, insomnia, fatigue, sweating, increased appetite… and did I mention irritability?) but don’t have many others (intolerance to heat, hair loss, weight loss…). I had a doctor’s checkup yesterday (you know, that yearly thing we ladies need to do) but the doctor was running a bit late so there wasn’t time to discuss signs and symptoms of hyperthyroidism, as I hadn’t done any research before going.  The only thing I already knew about hyperthyroidism is that it can make one irritable.  (Theme? What theme?)

Last night, I wondered if I should call the doctor to ask about adding a thyroid function test to the routine bloodwork he was sending me for.  When I looked at the lab requisition, guess what was already checked off? “Suspected thyroid disease, not yet diagnosed.” So, was that just a coincidence, or did the doctor notice something he didn’t mention to me? Either way, kinda freaky.

On Cold Weather

It’s been a deep freeze around here all week, with temps dropping down between -35 and -40 °C. Yesterday, I was driving home along Robert Service Drive, which runs along the Yukon River, in the semi-twilight. The sky was a beautiful dark blue, and one star (actually, I suspect it was a planet…  I don’t know enough about these things) shone brightly directly above the cliffs. The road was perfectly clear, but above the river, the ice fog rose up straight and still. Looking out the driver’s window, my eyes hit that thick fog and gave me the feeling of driving next to a wall, most jarring when one expects to look out across the water. Very eerie and very cool at the same time.

On Improvising Crafts

Halia is on a painting kick.  I have a plastic egg carton that I use to portion out small amounts of tempera paint and she goes to town on a stack of scrap paper.  Last week, I had no yellow left and was running low on red, so we improvised. I had a jar of ModPodge and figured it was a good “white base” with the right consistency. So I filled three egg compartments halfway with ModPodge and let Halia mix drops of food-colouring in. This is great for working those hand muscles AND for a counting exercise. (No more than TWO drops, Halia. No, I said TWO. THAT was four.) Then a Q-Tip in each compartment for mixing, and we had beautiful colours that dry to a glossy finish.  The only problem with it is that the pages DO get sticky. And ModPodge doesn’t easily wash out of clothes once its dried, so smock up the kids!

On Being a Special-Needs Mom

None of us has enough hours in the day. I don’t care how simple your life is, these days we’re very good at filling up every minute with stuff we “have to” do.  Sometimes I have to stop to remind myself that it is literally impossible to do it all. Yes, I would love for the dishes be done every night, the beds made every morning, and the laundry folded and put away every afternoon, but the only way I could accomplish that would be to give up on everything that makes my life exciting.

Now, Jade does have special needs. But she’s loving school so much and growing intellectually by leaps and bounds, and besides that, one day we’ll be able to wean her off the keto diet, so I feel there’s nothing for me to complain about. But sometimes, I have to stop to remind myself that there is extra work involved. I don’t just mean preparing her meals and snacks. On good days, I can make three meals and two snacks for her in about half an hour. When it’s suppertime, assuming I have the ingredients on-hand, I can make her meal in about five minutes.

But there’s other stuff. Like dragging her to audiologist and ENT appointments that start three hours after they’re scheduled.  Doing paperwork to get funding for some respite, or to cover the few medications she’s on (all of them for combatting side-effects of the keto diet). Spending literally seven hours trying to get a prescription for antibiotics to combat an ear infection, because the antibiotics must contain fewer than 100 milligrams of carbohydrate over the course of the day. And then there’s the occupational therapy activities we’re supposed to do every day. Balance, hand strength, core strength… How do you fit that in between the end of school, downtime, and making supper?  Even if it’s just for 15 minutes? I don’t, that’s how.

On Succinctness

Yep, this post isn’t it. Whoops. Didn’t mean to ramble on so. Look, I can’t even stop when I’m talking about being succinct.

Art by Anne Taintor. I totally borrowed this image without permission, so I'm linking to the store where you can buy these awesome sticky notes. (Click image.)

It’s one of those Murphy’s Law days, where it feels like anything that could go wrong, is going wrong.

I had a long list of stops to make today, with Halia in tow, so I wanted to be out the door by 9:30.

The van wouldn’t start because it never does when the thermometer dips below freezing. Stupid battery. So I hooked up the booster pack and then proceeded to break my fingers uninstalling Halia’s carseat from the back row for reinstallment in the middle row. Now that her cousin’s carseat is no longer in the van, Halia insisted we move her seat back to its rightful place.

After successfully moving the carseat, I tried starting the van again, in vain. I had to interrupt Michael’s client meeting to get him to boost the van from the truck.

As soon as I got the van started, it dinged at me to remind me the gas tank was close to empty.  I’d had to drive around for a few things on January 1st, when no gas stations were open, so the tank was getting down to its last fumes.  I was halfway out of the neighbourhood when I remembered the banking paperwork I had to take with me, so I drove home. Then down to the gas station. (Made it! Whew!) Where the van wouldn’t restart.

A gruff old guy was kind of enough to give me another boost (after I’d dropped my keys in the gas station garbage, fished them out again, and made a fool of myself trying to untangle the booster cables) and he even peered into the engine to tell me the alternator was working, but it looked like one cell of my battery had boiled.

Every month I have to go to the bank to take care of some business that is stuck in the dark ages and can’t be done online. I walked into the bank and was delighted to see there was no lineup.  One teller was just coming free, hurrah, and it was… oh no, it was the guy I dealt with last month who had no clue what he was doing and caused me to be in the bank for over 45 minutes.  I will say he was a bit quicker this month, but I’m sure the long line of customers that formed behind me didn’t appreciate that I was taking up two tellers after he got stumped.

Then there was the soaking of my jacket sleeve by the faucets at the library bathrooms, forgetting things at the grocery store, and the frightening cost of Nanuq’s medication refills, but the coup de grâce was when I decided, after all the other tasks were over, to let Halia have a snack in the van while I quickly ran into the pharmacy to buy her vitamins.  I left the van running this time, to keep it warm and to prevent the need for another boost, but when I got back outside, the van was locked! This never happens.  The van doors only lock when the van hits 30 kmph, or when it’s manually locked, and I sure as heck did not lock my kid into the running van.

I phoned Michael, who was on the road heading for another client meeting.  He had to turn around and go home to get the other van key for me, making him late for his meeting. Thank goodness Whitehorse is so small; I think it took only about 20 minutes for him to get there, maybe less, but I was freezing my buns off by the time he arrived.

Halia was fantastic through it all. I hope it wasn’t just because I’d promised her a chocolate-chip cookie if she kept her listening ears on all day. But you know, on a day like today, I’m not at all above bribery.

And I’m not above having a chocolate-chip cookie for myself, either.

This Christmas, both girls have been obsessed with all things nutcracker, since they both got to watch the local production of “The Nutcracker” ballet. That made me extra excited to hang these guys, knowing how much the kids would enjoy playing with them.

Tree-decorating was somewhat chaotic, with my two girls, their 11-month-old cousin, plus our four-year-old neighbour all in the fray.  But for the adults, it all came to a momentary standstill when Halia pointed at one of the nutcrackers and asked, “Is this his penis?”

She paused, looked at me, grabbed the string, and asked, “Can I pull it?”

It’s not really possible to be on full holiday mode as a mom, of course. The mornings are still early, the meals still must be prepared. We have been eating well. And we’ve had a wonderful time visiting; talking late, playing cribbage, rummoli, and even a round of The Game of Life. Halia has been trying to get her fill of hugging and kissing her little cousin.  Michael even took Uncle Mikey bison hunting.  They just missed the bison, but they got some great stories, and we got some bison steaks at the Super A and grilled them up tonight.

In the German tradition, there are jelly donuts (Berliners) awaiting me. Nem is offering me a Boston Cream, and I’ve got to wrap up before the next round of crib starts.  Below, my traditional end-of-year summary, comprised of the first sentence of my first post of each month. I know I’ve been a hit-and-miss blogger this year, so I guess I shouldn’t be shocked that I missed the entire month of August.  I guess that’s what happens when there’s so much living to do.

January: It’s a shameful almost-secret that once upon a time, in the dark ages of the blogosphere, I started my blogging career at MSN LiveSpaces.

February: I wanted to tell you about Jade’s fabulous birthday party, but we all had such a good time that we totally crashed and burned the next day.

March: My throat is sore, I’m tired, and I’m vaguely achy in my joints.

April: I have news.

May: I just got Halia to bed.

June: There are so many awesome things going on in my life right now, but I’m spending a disproportionate amount of time feeling anxious and overwhelmed.

July: I’m in Ottawa.

August: (Gasp! I made NO blog posts in the whole month of August.)

September: I went to The Medicine Chest yesterday morning to have a prescription for Famiciclovir filled.

October: It’s noon and I’m still in pajamas.

November: Tonight is the final rehearsal for the concert I’m giving at the Old Fire Hall on Thursday.

December: It’s midnight.

It’s been a pretty great year overall, a year of big changes for me. I’m proud of myself for deciding to give up my government job (and grateful to Michael for supporting me) and for taking big steps with my music.  I’m looking forward to 2012 with lots of excitement and anticipation, and I am wishing you the same joy, with many blessings to come.  Happy New Year!

“Halia’s awake,” he says. “She wants you to come give her a kiss.”

“Okay,” I say, and quickly gather a few more things to stash in the fridge, just in case I am detained in Halia’s room.

When I arrive, I peer into her dim room.  She is lying still, breathing softly, blankets tucked up around her shoulders, eyes closed.  She’s already fallen asleep again,  I think, but I’ll kiss her, since a kiss is what she wanted.  I bend over her bed, kiss the peach-fuzz cheek, nose tickled by silky strands of wayward hair.

Her eyes flutter, just barely, and a tiny voice, heavy with sleep, escapes her lips.

“Thank you, Mama.”

And here is another pearl of motherhood, a moment I would love to capture, to save up in a bottle.  I’d have it in my coffee every morning, and savour that feeling all day.

Besides, as my friend (and fellow-songwriter) Richard says, “It’s nice to be creative, making something that wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for you, and it’s (hopefully) pretty, with no carbon footprint, and it might even inspire people or make them dance.”

I’ve posted a video of the latest tune I’ve been working on.  (I put it up on my Facebook fan page — have you “Liked” it yet?)  It’s so much fun to share a work in progress, so let me know what you think!

(And by the way, yes, Michael is currently in Russia. But don’t feel like you have to take the lyrics literally. *winks*)

A couple of weeks ago, I tucked Jade into bed and said to her, “I love you to pieces!”  She objected.

“You can’t love me to pieces!” she said.

“No?”

“No,” she said, “but you can love me whole.”

Yep, I love that girl.

Tonight at bedtime she said to me, “I love you in pieces!”

I laughed and told her, “No, no, it’s: I love you to pieces.”

She giggled and said, “Okay!  I love you in two pieces.”

I tried to correct her again, but it only resulted in more hilarity.  She almost couldn’t settle down to sleep, she thought it was all so hilarious.

And so did I.

There are days when the girls are at each others’ throats all day long.  And there are days where they are inseparable best of friends.  Here’s what they were doing today while waiting for the first party guests to arrive.  It might be a bit long for those of us used to 30-second clips, but the whole thing makes me smile.

I didn’t know Michael was filming, or I’d have stopped putting dishes away.  No, I wouldn’t, but I’d have been quieter about it.  Oh, and it was Jade who put The Four Seasons in the CD player, by the way.

Tonight is the final rehearsal for the concert I’m giving at the Old Fire Hall on Thursday.  I am thrilled and excited and totally battling butterflies.

Once a month from September to May, Jazz Yukon holds “Jazz in the Hall”.  It starts with an “educational vignette” by Steve Gedrose (who used to have a jazz show on CBC radio), then there’s a 45-minute set by a professional local jazz group.  Then there’s a jazz jam to close off the night.  This month, I’m the featured act.

The butterflies are pretty significant because not only am I being billed as The Professional Act of the month, but the whole concert is going to be recorded and videotaped.  That ups the ante right there.  I’m trying not to think about it too much, though, and just focus on have a great live gig.

Fortunately, I have a fantastic band to back me up.  Dave Haddock on guitar, Anne Turner on upright bass, and Ken Searcy on drums, are an ah-MAZE-ing rhythm section.  Plus we’ll have Colleen McCarthy for a trombone solo on one tune and Lisa Preto on flute for another tune.

I am singing all Julie London tunes; she’s the one who first recorded “Cry Me a River”, which I recorded as a demo this past summer.  If you Google her, you’ll find YouTube videos, of course, and lots of pictures of her in all sorts of fabulous gowns.  I wish I could have a costume change between each song!

So, if you’re in Whitehorse, come on out to a great night of jazz.  If you’re not in Whitehorse, send some good vibes my way on Thursday night, would ya?

I buckled and unbuckled Halia, then did it again.  And then again.  One cafe couldn’t find the receipts right away so I bought a macaroon as a treat to share with Halia while we waited.  After I got it, the server said, “Oh, it’s not vegan like I thought.  There’s dairy in it.”  Too late, I had already bought it.  Halia had to go pee (of course) so we rushed to the bathroom, me stressed out that my parking meter was going to run out.

We stopped to give a busker a twoonie and he smiled and gave Halia a bag of Cheetos.  I let her have a few before I realized they have wheat AND dairy in them.  Argh.

Back at the van, I breathed a sigh of relief that there was no ticket, as the meter had run out a couple of minutes earlier.  I plugged the meter and we ran down for a 5-minute visit to Arts Underground.  It’s the last day of my friend Jesse’s art installation there and I hadn’t had a chance to see it yet.  It was a quick visit because I still had restaurants to get to and had to run home before Jade’s school bus arrived.  I was glad I got a chance to see it, though.

I let Halia have a 30-second ride (for 10 cents!) on the mechanical horse.  She loved it.  Then it was back into the van.  But what was this?  A $25 parking ticket!  There were still 7 minutes left on the meter.  Furious, I re-buckled Halia and we drove over to City Hall to make a complaint.

The gal there couldn’t do anything, but put me on the phone with bylaw so I could talk to them.  The bylaw receptionist said she’d get the bylaw officer to call me when he got back to the office.

I had to skip the rest of the restaurants because Jade’s school bus was heading for home.  I stewed about the ticket on the way home.

At a red light, I looked at the ticket again and realized the time on it was 2:50 p.m.  2:50 p.m.?  That meant I got the parking ticket between the first time I plugged the meter in the second, in the five or so minutes that the meter had expired.  I just hadn’t seen the ticket on the window when I put the next quarter in.

The worst feeling, when you’ve been righteously angry and indignant at someone, is the realization that the only person you have to blame is yourself.  Or at least, the almost-three-year-old whose bladder needed emptying at an inopportune time.

*sigh*

I’m still waiting for the bylaw officer to phone me back.  I guess I’ll have to serve up the humble pie.  It goes well with Halloween treats, doesn’t it?