Small town life

Small town life can be both a blessing and a curse.  Although I was raised in a smallish city, I can empathise with those who want to flee the confines of their dot on the map as well as though who prefer to venture no farther.  I often wonder how my kids will feel when their adulthood arrives.  However, if you can hack it, there is a lot of humour to be found in small town living.  Even when you happen to be the topic of gossip.

But first the blessing.  I was at the grocery store yesterday with two kids in the double jogger and one walking beside me.  I often do this when I need to pick up a few last minute items.  In fact, I once heard myself referred to as that lady with the big stroller ... who's always walking.  At the cash I got talking with a retired teacher from the kids' school.  She looked at the stroller and asked for my address so that she could drive my two bags home.  I welcomed the offer and arrived home to find both bags waiting beside the front door.  There is something very comforting about such care.

However, before I arrived home, I hollered a hello across the highway to a friend waiting at the chip truck.  She motioned wildly indicating for me to stop.  Then, two year old in hand, she stood at the side of the road and yelled, "I hear that you're pregnant."  Except, instead of saying pregnant, she made a ballooning motion in front of her stomach.  I responded, "Really?  I didn't realise that we were having a seventh.  Have you talked to Dave?"  "So you're not?" she yelled.  "Not today anyway.  Let this one grow up a little."  After a bit more questioning she told me that someone at her work had told her the big news.  I don't even know anyone at her work.  I told her to spread the opposite rumour.

I have resolved to do more stomach crunches.

Another Story

 Oh, my.  Am I ever behind in the blogging department.  I hadn't realised that it had been 10 days since I last posted and I still haven't finished documenting our August vacation.  I have good reason, though. I just returned from a trip to Halifax with baby Sarah where I witnessed the perpetual vows of my younger sister, Martha/Sr. Ilaria.  It was a very quick trip (Sat.-Tues.) but it was well worth it.  My uncle Simon from London, England came for the vows and the tiring nature of the trip was definitely paid back by the time I got to spend with this uncle.  I will post some pictures of the vows once my mom sends me her photos.  So, back to August.

One of the delights of the beach house was that we were able to have nightly bonfires at the seaside.  The first few nights my father lit these fires; but on the last, as dad had left for Romania, Dave headed down to the beach in order to set the blaze.  I don't know if there is anything so enjoyable as a bonfire for young children.  The prospect of surviving on little else than marshmallows, hotdogs and a few chips thrown in just because your Grandma says so is, well, enviable.  And, truthfully, I don't think that I have ever eaten so many roasted marshmallows at one sitting.  I believe that my dad saw it as his nightly mission to keep the nursing mother well stocked with sticky sweetness.

 At the moment I am blogging on the front porch and the lighting is causing me to see more of my reflection in the computer than the actual pictures which I have chosen.  Thus, I sure hope that you are looking at a picture of a bonfire or a potential one rather than one of me nursing (of which Hannah took many).  Back to the bonfires.  On one side of the bonfire was the real ocean and on the other side (see above picture) was a tidal pool that would fill up like a salt water lake at high tide.  What you can see is low tide.  On the last night of the vacation, when Dave lit the ill-fated bonfire, it was high tide.

 Yes, Jacob figures in this story.  Dave headed down to the beach a little early and by the time I arrived his fire was roaring ... as only a country boy with something to prove can do.  Unfortunately, the wind was also roaring.  I exited the bush and was greeted by copious amounts of smoke blowing in all directions.  (The wind in Nova Scotia has the unique ability of blowing in more than one direction.)  It was then that I remembered the sign outside of the municipal hall on the county road.  It had a little arrow pointing to various colours indicating the dryness of the surrounding countryside and thus the risk of forest fire.  Before my days living in the country I would have completely ignored this sign.  Luckily, however, I have spent the past decade in the sticks and have begun to pay attention to these signs.  There is one on the road into our town and it had been indicating a fire ban the entire summer due to the drought.  Now, I knew that there was also a drought in N.S.;  but I am so used to thinking of that province as wet that a drought there seemed laughable.

When greeted by the smoke I said, "Do you think that maybe we should put out the fire?  It seems a little windy and I think that there is a fire ban on."  (Yes, we sound extremely irresponsible.)  It was around this point that someone noticed that the large pieces of driftwood surrounding the fire and acting as benches had caught fire.  The members of my family to whom I am blood related began to both panic and laugh while Dave remained silent and cool.  Someone said, "Quick, get a bucket or something!!"

(No, Hannah did not fly a kite during the event; I just liked this picture.)  The little boys, Joe and Ben, ran back up to the house to find buckets.  They quickly arrived back at the beach with the smallest buckets possible.  They might have successfully doused a match with what they had found.  I was looking around for sand to throw on the flames; however, the beach was entirely composed of small rocks which, in the circumstances, were quite useless.  The wind kept on blowing and I began to worry that sparks would fly into the bush which was only metres away. (Oh, yes - that's why I included the above picture:  proximity of bush to fire.)  I thought, "This is how forest fires start:  idiots start them.  I didn't know we were idiots.  I had suspected that we had traces of idiocy but now I know the truth.  We finally have a vacation and now we burn down both the bush and the house.  I'm so embarrassed.  Why does everything have to end this way?..."  I tend to catastrophise.  Dave's thought process was probably more like, "There is a fire.  I will put it out.  There is no need to worry.  What is wrong with her family?"

And then there was Jacob.  Man of action.  Boy who will save the day ... or at least make an attempt.  Jacob is that particular brand of intellectual who, while possessing an inordinate amount of intelligence, tends to fall slightly short in the common sense department.  While the little boys responded to, "Quick, get something to put the fire out!!", with pathetically small buckets, Jacob took things one step farther.

He put himself on the line, sacrificing himself for the greater cause.  He remained calm, cool and collected.  He ran to the water where he plunged his head into the icy saltiness and filled his mouth with the Atlantic.  He then hurried back to the fire and emptied the contents of his mouth onto the flames.  He then repeated this process over and over again until the fire began to ... remain exactly as it was.  It was my mother who noticed Jacob's interesting attempt at volunteer firefighting.  Dave looked puzzled as he watched his firstborn and asked, "What are you doing?".  I, on the other hand, understood exactly what Jacob was doing and felt somewhat proud.  The rest of the family just looked on in pee-inducing laughter. Never before had I witnessed such a charming yet completely useless attempt to put out a fire.  His elephant-like attempts at flame dousing warmed my heart and did the same to the flames.

And that's the end of the story.  Dave, despite the family into which he has married, put out the fire.  I believe that he first cleared the area of us before he was able to make any headway.  He even checked the beach a few times before bed to make sure that all was well.  Jacob, on the other hand, felt no need to brush his teeth that night ... or for a few nights thereafter.

A quick story

 I promised some stories in my last post; so, I have chosen to start with the one illustrated by these photos.  During the last few weeks of August we were privileged to vacation with my parents and younger sister at a beautiful beach house in Parrsboro, N.S.  Parrsboro is on the Bay of Fundy (world's highest tides) and boasts many natural attractions including acres and acres of blueberry fields.  The beach house was a last minute booking and thus my dad was only able to stay the first few days before he had to make an early departure to accompany a group of students to Romania.  These photos were taken as the beloved Grandpa was bidding adieu.  Above is Grandpa finishing the loading of the vehicle while Joseph walks over for a hug.

 And then I ask all the kids to gather around for one last photo with their grandpa.  They begin to arrive.      Notice that Joseph has something in his hand that he is putting in his mouth.  At the time I didn't notice this.

 Notice that everyone is smiling like good photo kids while Joseph is missing his characteristic grin.  In fact, he seems to be turning in towards his grandpa in a considerable amount of pain mixed with, What have I done?

And that's where the photos end because a mother must relinquish the camera when one of her children begins to scream in agony because he has a fishing bobber (see below) attached to his lip.  Sorry that the picture is so big but the size is illustrative as one can see that there is a little spring-action hook inside the top red attachment.  Thankfully this hook is not a barbed fishing hook. Thankfully I deduced very quickly that it was spring-loaded and thus easy to release.  Thankfully it had been sterilised by sea water...  (a minute possibility). Thankfully Joe's tetanus shot is up to date.

Because Anne-Marie K. told me to post pictures...

 These pictures are all teasers:  they have stories behind them or, umm, in front of them - meaning they indicate stories yet to come.  The above, though, is simply Hannah on duty; which she seems to be, a lot.

 And there's my sister whom I once held just like Hannah and Sarah in the first picture.  Except I was a lot chubbier and darker.

 Sarah:  yes, she still exists.  My MIL says that Sarah looks just like me in this picture.  I'm not so sure.  She actually reminds me more of my sisters.

 There is a real story behind this one.  If I forget to tell it, remind me.

 Yup, we went somewhere very windy and I attempted a blogger profile shot but blogger won't let me change my photo.  Consequently, I am destined to be forever pregnant.

Hannah having a moment's rest.  See, we do let her off duty.

Keeping this up

I am going to keep this blogging up for so many reasons but mostly because it really serves as a chronicle of our family life.  In this age of digital cameras it seems as if we take a million pictures but fail to print any of them; and, if they happen to get printed, then putting them in an album becomes item no.6 on a to-do list that was written when the third baby was 18 months.  He is now 6 and a half.  So, blog I must.  There is one slight problem, though.  Apparently I have exceeded my picasa web album quota.  They tell me I need to purchase more space.  Such things are beyond me at the moment; so, you will have to wait for pictures.  We all look the same - just a little bit taller and a little bit older.

If anyone is wondering about  the baby:  Sarah is a wonderful baby of the type I had heard tell but didn't believe would thrive under what I always thought was a meager milk supply.  Apparently I am not the problem; more the hearty appetites of the boys.  Anyway, she is lovely and peaceful and makes one wonder why in the world everyone wouldn't have six children if only to have her.  Who knows?  Maybe she'll turn on me tomorrow.

The twins have entered grade 4 which is the first grade that I really remember, probably because we had just moved from Ottawa to Halifax when I entered gr.4.  Hannah is loving her teacher as she "does art all the time".  I guess that is why she asked for ten glue sticks on the school supply list.  Jacob walked home today reading a book and walked clear past our driveway until I called him back.

Benjamin is in gr. one and comes home everyday with a prize from the treasure box for being quiet.  I don't know if his teacher realises that she is going to go broke rewarding Ben's lack of words.  Perhaps I should tell her that his kindergarten teacher encouraged us to practise his conversational skills over the summer.  Yesterday he brought home a foam football and then he mistakenly let Joe play with it.  Joe bit off the end.  Consequently, when, or if, Joe brings home a reward he will have to give it to Ben.  Poor Ben.

Joe is still in kindergarten although he is unsure whether or not he is in junior or senior.  I am unsure as well.  I asked him with whom he played at recess today and he got this really pathetic look on  his face and said that he had no one to play with:  "I just sat there sadly and cried."  Except that when he said sadly it sounded like saddlely and all I could think of was him sitting on a saddle crying at recess.  Don't worry about him, though.  I don't believe that the tears were long lasting and the saddle part probably only lasted moments.

Isaac adjusted beautifully to Sarah's arrival except that his vocabulary disappeared and soose, bottle, blanket etc. all became "Sarah".  I don't want to wonder about the psychological meanings of this language modification.  And, Sarah, well, Sarah is screaming blue murder on my lap.  Apparently, she can read.

Back from break

If you have bothered to check this site at all in the past while you might have noticed that I took a blogging hiatus.  The summers here are very busy with all the kids and both parents at home.  Projects that politely waited the school year suddenly need doing once July rolls around; vacations need to be taken; newborns need to be fed; older kids need to swim; and the house calls out for general care and maintenance.  So, we spent the summer ripping up carpets, painting floors (yes, a poor fix for an expensive problem), painting walls, painting trim from other summer paint jobs, putting up clothes lines and so on and so on and so on.  The house looks good but we are all tired and, strangely enough, ready for the rhythm of the school year.

Today was Joseph's first day of school (senior kindergarten).  I brought him for his 9:10am interview and was greeted by his teacher who was wearing the exact same dress as I was wearing.  I imagine the transfer of authority from mother to teacher will be aided by this wardrobe detail.  Joseph was incredibly subdued.  For those of you who know him, please pause to pick your jaws up off the floor:  I was amazed too.  He was asked to find his name on the wall and after pausing momentarily at Jane he easily found Joseph.  He excelled at his colours (only confusing pink and purple) and moved on to identify one quarter of his numbers including one which he mistook for the letter p.  I decided not to mention that I had attempted to homeschool him.

Sarah decided to finally move her bowels after a number of days just as Joseph began to draw a self-portrait complete with bones but no arms.  His teacher pointed out that one can't usually see one's bones and he grabbed the green marker and quickly scribbled a t-shirt with only one side glance at the new authority in his life.

Isaac remained at home with a friend of ours who was visiting from Texas, Fr. Mike Minifie:  an old friend from Dave's seminary days and the best man at our wedding.  Amazingly Isaac cooperated in this babysitting venture; the previous day Isaac dove from the backpack carrier when Fr. Mike attempted to help with child carrying on a hike in Algonquin Park.  Instead, Fr. Mike walked with Joseph who kept saying, "This is the most boring hike ever."  Then we thought that we had lost Joseph and, once found, Fr. Mike said, "Well, that went from boring to briefly terrifying to pretty uneventful in a matter of minutes."

So, I promise to keep updating and upload pictures of our now three month old, our vacation down east and many other summer adventures.  Life passes too quickly.