Yelling at the Radio

Trying to write this afternoon. Not getting much accomplished. Can’t blame Stephen Harper for everything, can I?? I’m so thoroughly caught up in today’s news that instead of polishing metaphors in this story, I’m composing letters to members of parliament. This morning, Stephen Harper visited the Governor-General and asked for and received a prorogue, which means the operations of the House of Parliament are suspended for seven or eight weeks, at which point, the Conservatives will likely have to face a vote of confidence on the budget they say they’ll introduce at that time. In the meantime, they’re planning a full-on, well-financed publicity campaign, and lots of polling. (Haven’t heard a peep in that plan about reconciling with the opposition). Apparently, that’s how you get the pulse of the people: you poll them. Guess what–I’ve never once been polled; but I do vote. That’s how you actually go to the people. You hold an election.

Nobody wants one. 
Brrr. It’s cold out there today, bits of snow falling, icy sidewalks, dim skies. CJ screamed all the way to school in the stroller. He plays strange, now, with adults who are not related to him. The pout and hesitation, the crumpled face and widened eyes, the whimper, the yowl and crocodile tears flowing picturesquely down his cheeks. As soon as he’s back in my arms again, he ceases crying, then quickly turns to check on that Other Person, to see whether they’re still there. Yup. Then back to Mommy, burying his head in my shoulder. Then checking again. He’s a tightly wound little fellow, all kicking legs and flinging limbs and excited energy. He’s going to need a lot of outdoor time as he grows. Sports. I love how he’s drawn to children about Fooey’s size. He approaches them quite differently than he does strange adults. I think it speaks well of his relationship with his big siblings. Fooey sang to him the whole way to school, to try to calm him down; and sometimes it seemed to be working. She loves to make up topical songs.
Maybe she can make up one for me with the word “prorogue” in it. A verse with, “Calm down, Mommy, and stop yelling at the radio,” would hit the spot too.

Cooperation Over Conflict

Well, not much has changed. Parliamentary crisis, I mean. Just waiting. Stephen Harper was on TV tonight addressing the nation and sounding not one teeny tiny bit willing to change his tone to conciliation. He probably thinks he IS being conciliatory, for heaven’s sake. Stephane Dion had his usual trouble with English, but I still like this guy. Cooperation over conflict. Listen, if someone’s willing to try that mode of operation, let’s go with that.

At our house, we like to strive for cooperation over conflict. I get that it’s hard. I get that sometimes even three-year-olds cannot bring themselves to say those really powerful words: “I’m sorry.” I get that sometimes six-year-olds are “just so mad, I couldn’t help myself, Mommy!” I get that sometimes seven-year-olds “don’t know why” they did what they did. I get that these emotions belong to all of us, even as we grow older and attempt to grow wiser. Sometimes sorry really sticks in my throat, too. But you’ll never even inch toward cooperation if you can’t take responsibility for at least part of the trouble you find yourself in. That’s been my mantra around the house these past two days: yes, I get that you’re upset with (fill in the blank) because it’s not fair … but let’s think a little harder here. (I am now thinking of a specific incident, walking to school, and having to share the sidewalk with a lot more snow, and therefore the kids plus stroller plus me are getting squeezed; Apple-Apple was infuriated because things had changed and she didn’t like it). Let’s find a plan that will work for everyone. It won’t be perfect. You might not get to do everything you want. But you have the power to make changes, even small ones, to better your lot. And hitting doesn’t count as power.
Babe’s awake. I’m outta here.

Prorogue, and Other Words You Didn’t Think You’d Need to Know

Calm morning with Fooey and her playdate actually playing together, while CJ napped long and hard (he woke at 6am crying, perhaps from a nightmare, and couldn’t settle after that). I cooked a tomato sauce for supper and shopped online. I keep meaning to blog about our attempts to continue to source local food without the help of our summer CSA box, and Nina’s buying club, but truthfully, I haven’t been able to find satisfactory replacement. It feels very cobbled-together. As mentioned before, I often order groceries online for delivery (for a modest fee), but the supplier isn’t particularly locally-oriented. The main pull of that service is the delivery of bulk items not easily hauled home in the stroller, not to mention the convenience. It’s a huge time-saver. Aside from that, we’ve been using the Saturday Kitchener market as a local-food source; but when Kevin’s working on the weekend that’s not feasible (no, I’m not heroic enough to take the bus with four children to the market in order to haul home fresh meat, carrots, eggs, and cheese!!!). I also frequent our local organic store, Eating Well, in uptown Waterloo; but they don’t always carry local foods either. The big grocery store within walking distance has improved recently, often labelling local produce as such. There should be a variety of local vegetables still available despite the cold weather … hot house tomatoes and cucumbers; those tough greens; carrots, potatoes, beets, turnips, cabbages, winter squashes, onions, leeks (??), help me out here, I know there are more. Parsnips, sweet potatoes.

Cold cellar update: The onions we so carefully stored this summer did not all survive … we lost a few to rot. I think the basement is too warm for their liking (they aren’t in the cold cellar because they aren’t supposed to be stored with potatoes, which we have in abundance–those are doing fine). We also have a whack of garlic stored in there, and a giant pumpkin that needs dealing with.

But, really, what’s on my mind tonight is this parliamentary crisis. I actually started to feel anxious about it tonight. I fear Stephen Harper’s ruthlessly divisive nature, and worry he will say and do anything to stay in power, even if it means inflaming incendiary tensions between fellow citizens–gee, not “even if”; I think for him that’s a means to an end. Right now, he’s painting a whole bunch of people (the majority of voters who voted) as commies and separatists, and claiming a coalition government would be illegal. It’s not. It’s not necessarily a great idea, but that doesn’t make it illegal. It’s hard to imagine this unlikely coalition coming together without being goaded into action by Harper’s tragic personal flaw, which is his utter lack of grace. He couldn’t quite believe the election hadn’t handed him a majority. And he behaved as if it had. Instead of seeking common ground between parties and creating stability (in everyone’s best interest, including his own), he kicked a little sand.

I thought I’d be all for this coalition; but I’m not, exactly (not exactly against it, either; horribly waffling). I think they’ll have a tough time getting along with each other, which will make it hard to create and sell coherent policy, and that could really turn citizens against the left. It would require us all to be quick studies in how coalition governments work (likely messier than what we’d become accustomed to with that string of majorities), and I’m guessing Canadians won’t have the patience for that, what with this full-blown “Global Economic Crisis.” (Is anyone else really really sick of that phrase?).

My best-case scenario would be that this stagnation jumpstarts the move toward proper proportional representation–genuine electoral reform. And that Stephen Harper steps aside as leader, say, tomorrow, and the Conservatives present us with someone who is conciliatory, gracious, and eager to work with opposition parties. If the infuriated, abusive, downright frothing at the mouth Conservative MPs I’ve been hearing on the radio are representative, that’s a fantastically tall order. (Jim Baird??? James Moore?? Even Tony Clement sounded like he might blow a gasket). I hear Jim Prentice is the best they’ve got.

The coalition has gotten along in theory and in practice so far; but let’s be brutally honest, the divisions are plenty, the Liberals are in the midst of a leadership race; it would be crazy hard to pull off long-term. If Harper doesn’t personally step aside, they’re the best chance we’ve got for stability, and they should have the chance, but … Yah. I’m a little anxious. We’ll see what happens tomorrow. It seems to be changing by the minute.

The good news is that the American ambassador to Canada (Wilkins) doesn’t even plan to brief his president (W.) on these goings-on; so it’s small potatoes in a world of crisis.

Gotta Dance

Fooey in the car this afternoon (an announcement): “I’m going to watch Magic School Bus all by myself. I want some alone time. No one disturb me.”

It’s been a grey day, and it almost seemed that the sun didn’t shine. Dim light. Late November light. That closing in ahead of the winter solstice. Last night, Kevin and I went to a neighbourhood Christmas party and it was darn fun. I haven’t gotten dressed up for well over a year, and had to plunder the attic in search of party-ish clothes (not that I needed to wear them; it was all a matter of wanting to). I wore a black Lida Baday strapless top with this shruggish sleeves-only sweater (no idea what it really should be called), bought in Toronto almost a decade ago. My one and only designer purchase, ever. I still remember going into the store on the Danforth near where we lived at the time and laying out a fair wad of cash for that overall outfit, which included a balloony ballgown-type skirt that didn’t seem right for last night’s bash; I went with an old lined wool black-and-white checked skirt.

It was definitely a rush to apply makeup (approximately a once-yearly event), fluff hair, adorn self. Mostly, I love my mama-self disguise–that’s not the right word, though. It’s not a disguise, it’s a true emanation of myself, the jeans and turtlenecks and zip-up sweaters and frumpy winter hat and last-year’s-maternity coat and rarely brushed hair and rushing out the door without even a glance into a mirror. Mostly, that’ s a very satisfying me to live within. But this other me was delightfully escapist for a night, like going on a full-body holiday. The dancing was the best part. It takes a little time to get really relaxed and uninhibited, I find, but ultimately there’s so much release in moving one’s body to music.

Baby CJ did wake, but his grandma was able to soothe him till we got home, hours later. We found them cuddling on the couch together at about one in the morning.

Right now, I’m baking a huge batch of peanut granola that smells fabulous. Tomorrow Albus is back at the dentist first thing in the morning, and it’s a writing day, assuming everything pans out. We are in the midst of some crammed weeks, with Kevin working weekends, and seemingly endless appointments, dental and otherwise; and then Christmas will be upon us. After lunch today, the kids and I played some songs on the piano, including carols. I bought a beautiful advent calendar yesterday–made in India; Ten Thousand Villages–that you fill yourself, so it’s reusable from year to year. I feel like really celebrating Christmas this year, inventing new family traditions and solidifying others, while remaining faithful to a more-with-less philosophy. These seasonal events take on more significance the older I get (maybe), or the more I feel our family to be its own unique entity in the world, with everyone’s voice adding to the mix. I want to embrace where our family is at, right now, and not waste an ounce of this togetherness. It’s such great fortune to share our lives in relationship with others.

And sometimes you’ve just gotta dance.

Early Bird, Wha?!

This is the second day in a row that I’ve made the choice to hop out of bed, brush teeth, and start the day earlier than required. I’ve never been a morning person. Bed has always called louder than anything else, so the thought in my head this morning as I stood looking at bed, still in pajamas, debating, was, “Why aren’t you calling me?” Habit made me hesitate, confused; is this what morning people feel like? Like extra sleep wastes time that could be spent awake? The sensation was unfamiliar, baffling. My instinct was not to trust it. But then I thought, maybe this is some new and entirely unanticipated early bird phenomenon working its way into my system. And I went cheerily off to floss.

Maybe that tincture from my naturopath is working miracles. Maybe the new haircut has me feeling bouyant. Or maybe it’s CJ turning eight months. (He’s eight months today! Insert a paragraph of exclamation points here signifying immense disbelief). Maybe it’s moving that much further from the exhaustion and blur of those early baby days. Maybe it’s getting out to a reading, and then, later, for a drink. On a Friday night. Maybe it’s all this walking we’re doing. Or the great enjoyment I take from my kids. Or something hormonal. Who knows.
But I’m going to make a pot of coffee right now and savour the grey morning. As soon as I’ve moderated the smallish battle (ah, siblings!) going on behind me.
[Have to add a PS. I just re-read and edited this post about four hours later, and must note that though I may feel fabulous at 7am, I really really should not be writing for any form of publication at that hour. The post was full of errors and repetitions and clumsy rhetorical attempts. Brain not quite up with body, at that hour, apparently.]

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About me

My name is Carrie Snyder. I work in an elementary school library. I’m a fiction writer, reader, editor, dreamer, arts organizer, workshop leader, forever curious. Currently pursuing a certificate in conflict management and mediation. I believe words are powerful, storytelling is healing, and art is for everyone.

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