Stuck between a rock (Sudbury) and a flat place (Edmonton)

So, my Mom and sister landed in Ontario yesterday from a week long visit here. Wasn't long enough, but it's better than not seeing them at all. And as usual, things were good and bad. Gunther Jr. was absolutely smitten with his Auntie K who would play cars with him in the dirt, and loved sharing popcorn and a movie with his Gran. And that was good. Then there was the manditory visit with my Dad's side of the family. Just because it's been 6 years (this past Friday to boot) doesn't mean we get to write that lot off. While I've been able to manage to grin and bear it for the past 2.5 years living here, my Mom and sister are quite happy with the fact that they don't have to put up with them... So joy of all bloody fucking joys, I got to put up with silent, cranky family members after a trip we did our best to cut shorter than the 3 hours we did stay. And it's like "breaking the seal" with them. The fact that I popped out of the woodwork and visited, now I'm being invited to everything from barbeques to my cousin's high school graduation (7 grandkids on that side of the family and this guy's the first one aside from me and my sister to graduate high school... I plan on rubbing that into any of them who dare say one thing bad about my Father. At least his genetics weren't warped the next generation down.)

Although Gunther Jr. isn't too happy about his Gran and Auntie K going back home, he keeps asking if we're going to visit them. A little annoying when he asks "Tomorrow?" all the time but at least he wants to see them. I can't help but remember that I didn't want to visit my Dad's Mom too often... It was always sooooooo boring! Sit on the couch, watch TV or read a book (at 3???) and don't move or talk back. Where as at my Mom's parents' place, my Grandma would give us cookies and my Grandpa would sneak us seconds at dessert. They had a park nearby and would walk us there. (There was one in the back of my Dad's Mom's apartment building, but do you think anyone would let us go there??? Nooooo.) And my Mom's parents actually talked to us. You know, "How are you liking school?" and "What's your dolly's name?" and stuff like that, things that a kid enjoyed talking about. All stuff the other one knew was through asking my Mom or Dad, and even though my sister and I answered her, she'd just ask them...

But I digress... The point? I'm just happy to see that it seems that Gunther Jr. is enjoying his family like I enjoyed mine when I was his age. Unfortunantly he doesn't have my Mom's parents for Great Grandparents... He got the chance to meet them both, but they've since passed away and he was too young to remember them. And don't get me started on how he never got to meet my Dad. Gosh, he would have loved his Gramps. But where I'm going with this is that here I am, in Edmonton, pretty much a world away from the family we love in Ontario. I traded family for fiancial stability. And while I wouldn't fault anyone for doing the same as I, I can't help but feel somewhat guilty for doing it myself.

I can't say I haven't given some thought to moving back as of late. With the housing boom out here, I can easily sell my house for double what I bought it for, if not more. Why not sell the house off, pay off the debts we have, use the remaining profit to put a huge down payment on a house in Sudbury (which for the same price, would be bigger), and live on one income? And that fills me with happy thoughts that are too clouded with dust of 3 years since I lived there. Until the breeze picks up and clears that dust for a moment and I realize that it's a bad idea.

Sure, there's family. I have my Mom, my sister, Gunther's Dad and Stepmom, all his aunts, uncles and cousins, and the only "aunt and uncle" (read = cousins that are more important to me than my real aunts and uncles) B and J. Then there's "Unkie" Paul and "Auntie" Joanne, Gunther's childhood friend and his fiance, who Gunther Jr. loves to visit when we're in the area. But really? No offence, but I left two people behind - my Mom and my sister. My Grandparents are dead (as much as their deaths should have never happened, long story). B and J are wonderful and amazing, but I talked to them more often than I visited. Skye lived in BC before I moved out here, and then 2+ hours outside of Sudbury after I left. Gwen lived 4+ hours away. Ashton and I worked different shifts... Love them all, but we all talked via email more often than in person anyways. And as for the rest of the population who bothered to keep me company at any time prior to me getting pregnant with G. Jr., they avoided me like the plague after they realized I was a "breeder". Out here? Well, I've got my Dad's family... Not like that's something I like to admit to in public but at least there's a lot of them, they're close by, and if I needed anything I could probably count on them to provide some assistance. There's my neighbours' D and C, and G. Jr. just loves their kids and C, who every now and then brings home his bobcat from work. Mikey, my co-conspiritor when I was working for the other company. Laurie, my scrapbooking pal. Gunther's friend Vern. So, more friends, less family (even if that side does outnumber my Mom's in quantity, I'm talking quality).

And then there's the job situation. If I were to lose my job tomorrow, I could find another job in 10 minutes. Would it pay as much? No. But lets face it, any money is better than none when you're unemployed. And that's something I couldn't get in Sudbury. If Gunther or I lost a job in Sudbury, we'd be screwed. And what if it gets bad there again? We could never afford to live out here in Edmonton now. We bought our house in the nick of time before the prices skyrocketed. Even apartments here are insanely priced.

Plus, lets face it. Sudbury's decrepit. Old, dirty, crumbling... Outside of the city there is natural beauty in the lakes and trees, but within the city limits it's rather ugly. The city began its downward spiral in the 70's and it looks like the place just stopped right there in that decade, regardless of whatever "rejuvination" has been done to the main areas. Plus, as much as I'd like to be closer to my family, they never visited much either. It was us who treked our asses over to their place, hardly the other way around.

Do I still want to go back? Yeah. And if it was worth the risk, I'd be packing right now. Doesn't help that my Mom and sister are back in Ontario and I would have much prefered them to still be here. And it also doesn't help that its bloody freezing here while its perfect swimming (in a LAKE!) tempreture out there. Mind you, I'm sure this desire of mine will die off when I'm out there next and become reminded why I left in the first place.

Saxamaphone!

My last semester of high school was filled with courses I needed in order to get the few credits I required to graduate.  So, “bird courses”.  Something a bird brain could pass.  For me, that was teaching Communication Technology, doing an art class, and music for fun.  I started off the class playing the drums, but soon learned that I have no internal mechanism with which to keep a beat.  That and there were two others looking to play, so I would have had to share.  So I switched to the tenor saxophone, partially because my music teacher Ms. Hogan said she needed more people in the baseline for the class, and partially cause I’ve always wanted to play the sax.

And wouldn’t you know it?  Me, who had never bothered to learn an instrument (save for a brief stint trying the trombone in grade school, until I realized my arms were too short to play it), find out in the last semester in high school that I was damned good at the sax.  Especially considering I’m bloody tone deaf (I can mimic, but don’t ask me what key that was) and I can’t read sheet music (I had my own notation for it which I could understand). 

Well, that was 10 years ago.  And perhaps it’s the hormonal state of which I’m living at the current moment, but I’ve been rather nostalgic as of late.  Miss home, miss spending weekends at my Mom’s place, going on this kick of music from my youth (Duran Duran, Men At Work, Quarterflash, Jethro Tull, etc.)  And it was probably not the best of ideas for me to go searching for Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty.  But damn it, I got this sudden urge to play a sax again.  The rift from that song was one I always wanted to learn to play. 

It was the next morning that, for shits and giggles, I decided to look on eBay to see what was there for tenor saxophones.  I was expecting a load of them, well out of my price range.  The average brand new tenor costs about $2,500.  Like I got that kind of cash lying about.  And sure, I found a bunch of those.  Mostly Yamahas, what I played in high school.  And then I see one with a buyout of $215 US.  Intrigued, I check it out.  And there’s a huge bankruptcy sale going on!  Shit!  Hundreds of tenor’s on sale for like $300 and change Canadian! 

So, in a few weeks, I’ll be the proud owner of a red lacquered (like you couldn’t have guessed that :D ) tenor sax.  And I’m sure Gunther and Gunther Jr. will shortly thereafter be proud owners of ear plugs.  And I of an insulated, sound proofed basement :D.  But damn, like I could turn that price down!  Sure, it’s not a Yammie.  I would have much preferred one, since I know the quality of their instruments.  But I’m not that bloody good to be that picky about my instrument.  If one of these days it turns out I can make some scratch playing, then sure, I’ll save up and get one, but until then, my $300 saxamaphone will make me happy and my family deaf.

Maybe I’ll start my own ska band.

Arrg

So, my bane of being pregnant – shopping for clothes. The stuff I have was for winter pregnancies, and let’s face it, even at -40 your average pregnant woman would like to cover up even if she’s warm. So I have sweaters, long sleeved shirts and thick pants. Not good for the summer months.

The only two choices that I really have are Thyme Maternity or Motherhood Maternity. Not doing the Old Navy route (their stuff is so cheaply made, it’ll be a shock if it lasts a week), and the stuff in department stores is absolutely hideous. You will not see me even in my house in a lavender moomoo with bows on it.

So, the other day I went off to Thyme Maternity, since it was right beside the Sony Store and they were having this event where kids could get their picture taken with some guy dressed as Spiderman (Gunther Jr. was absolutely thrilled.) And at least I walked out of there with a few shirts, more because I was desperate for something to cover my ever expanding belly. They didn’t have anything that really jumped out to me and shouted “BUY ME!”, except for one shirt. Long, tunic style shirt, that’s lopsided in the front… Doesn’t seem to matter how I rearrange the front, my right boob keeps wanting to show off more of its fleshy goodness than the left. Figures… Eh, I’ll take a seam ripper to it when I’m done, pull a pattern, and custom make myself a few later with that problem fixed. But of course, I said the same thing about two other shirts I have, and have yet to even find the seam ripper. Oh well, I can just wait until K comes to visit and get her to do it :)

Then there’s Motherhood Maternity. They should change the name to Hoochymama Maternity. And with that explanation, you can guess correctly that I found nothing there.

And what is it with maternity underwear? I’m one of those women who like the full belly pants. Low rise is alright for this stage, but when I’m as tall lying down as I am standing up, nothing feels better than that whole big elastic panel holding things. So, all my jeans are that style, not this new fangled “low rise” style where you’re lucky if the playground isn’t exposed to the elements or you’re not sporting a second form of cleavage. And so, it was natural that when I got underwear, I got the full belly kind. Sure, they look like granny panties, but I figure I don’t have to play sexy for Gunther, as he already seemed to think that a number of months prior ;) Now, all they have are low rise and thong underwear.

Let me tell you my opinion of thong underwear. Aside from the fact that when I’m out shopping with my underwear purchasing sister, I like to tease her that “Hey, look! Underwear, 2/3rds off!”, I have never had luck with the buggering things. Either the back part is way too short, the middle is way too thin, or they’re made out of a material that chafes like hell. So, I don’t bother. I’m a lover of the “boy short” style underwear myself. Good coverage, low on the wedgie scale, and comfortable. And when I’m having fun trying to get in and out of sitting and lying positions, like I want underwear that rides up. But no one seems to carry the good ol’ granny style anymore. At this rate, I’m contemplating going commando for the last few months.

You’d think by now I’d know that I dislike the average clothing store. If I was any good at it, I’d design my own stuff, and market it to the world of women pissed off with the choices of outlets and shops across the country. Hey! Look! Underwear that cover your ass! Shirts that don’t show off every extra pound you’re carrying! Pants that don’t need to be hiked up every 5 minutes! Maybe I should change careers :D

Bout time something went right.

20 weeks. The halfway point. And so far, so good.

This past Friday, I had my first appointment with my new OBGYN. A short Irish man who is very disarming and a close talker (you almost feel like he's going to give you a hug). And rather interesting. Complimented me on my Doc's. Was impressed with Menerva Jr's name (her name is that of a Celtic Goddess). And was adamint that I was NOT going to go through the same bullshit I did when pregnant with her. He set me up with appointments with specialists, has got me on a 2 week rotation of visits now with a note to his schedulers that if I call with an emergency appointment, I get in, ran a number of tests on me to determine if there were any outstanding problems at the moment, etc. So, it's a wonderful change. Him, coupled with my family doctor, I'm actually much more comfortable and calm than I thought I would be. Do I trust everything? No, and they both are aware of that. But so far, they haven't given me reason to doubt their judgement.

Had a big scare on Sunday though... (TMI and icky stuff proceeding for the next few lines. You've been warned.) I went to the bathroom late that morning, and noticed a big glob of bright red mucus staring back at me when I sat down. Blood + mucus = cervical effacement in most cases. And let's face it, I'm only 4 and a half weeks shy of what happened with my last pregnancy. So off to the GNH I ran, went through emergency and was immediately sent up to the L&D ward to be monitored by the doctors and nurses up there.

The GNH was the first place I went to with Menerva Jr. It's close to where I live, and so a natural choice, but they were very nice when I was there the last time... And they were this time too, even telling me that if I so much as think something's up, head right back and they'll do everything they can. Turns out that whatever happened was just a freak thing. The "escape route" (as my Mom likes to call it) was still closed up, and they figured it was just a delayed reaction to the internal exam I had that past Friday. But not once did they make me feel like I was overreacting or being silly. That's good, cause every time I went to the doctor I was seeing when I was pregnant with M Jr, that's what they made me feel like... And look where that got me?

Then this past Monday, I had my routine halfway ultrasound with a stipulation that they check and double check cervical length. And that was the first thing the woman did - over 4 cm. Perfect. And then the bun. Everything's measuring spot on, all development is 100% normal. Got to see all the fingers and toes (saves me from counting them later), and the defining point... It's a boy.

Another boy. Am I disapointed? Not really. I kinda had a feeling I was carrying a Gunther the III instead of a Menerva the III. I was not so secretly hoping for a girl. But you know what? He's healthy, he's growing and active, and it looks like he'll be staying put for another 20 weeks. So that's the thing I'm most happy about. Gender is inconsiquential. I had a 50% chance, right?

So, a boy... Already got a name picked out (email me if you want to know), and now I feel comfortable enough to go out and get those things I don't have from Gunther Jr's infancy anymore. I have a box full of baby clothes that's sitting in K's basement, but it's not worth getting her to ship it out here.

20 more weeks to go. And so far, all's good. I'm liking the change.