I’m writing a novel

I just want to share that I am still writing although not publicly, yet.  Back when I recorded the previous post (more than 3 years ago!) I did not think I would write again, which was sad.  I can still remember and sympathize with the fear and uncertainty I felt at the time.

There were good, practical reasons to call it quits.  I had a lot of anxiety about my ex spying on me (he was always looking for things to use against me or ways to cause me heartache and continues to this day to be “that guy” in my life). So I worried that anything I said or implied might end up being the reason my lawyer was shooting me laser looks in court one day.  On some level, I was still super concerned about what everyone else thought too.

Those days may be more or less behind me now, although I am aware that the ego constantly tries to offer me feedback even when that ego feedback is unwelcome.  I’m working on my ego.  I have been wearing an emotional poultice (I am being figurative here; a poultice for emotions is not a literal thing, as far as I know at least…) for the past six months now as I (at last) come to terms with my own journey (only bits of which are recounted here), and my own mistakes and weaknesses as well as the shortcomings of others I have cared about.

They call that shadow work, don’t they?  So, yes, I am doing my shadow work.  And it’s hard.

Shadow work is hard, but it’s essential.  I will need to have done it before I can face the future.  In the old days – when I was living with this need for introspection largely ignored – I often wrote trite or emotionally dishonest stuff.  Sometimes, when I look back, I see glimpses; there were moments of realisation or confession (mostly when things got really traumatic), then the curtain quickly dropped again and I went back to being just another phony mommy blogger (not that they’re all phony, but I often was) doling out phony wisdom from the phony throne of my phony perfect (and unexamined) life.  If I ever want to write anything good, anything real, it has to come from a more open place than this: truthful, not merely truth-ish.

The other reason to smarten up (even if it smarts, which it often does) is less about any potential writing career and more about me as a person.  How do I want to live my life?  Am I ready to be honest about who, and where, I am on this journey?  Do I want to go on blaming others for my mistakes, and shaking my fist at the universe as if I have been badly used rather than taught something?  Because the truth is I’ve been taught quite a lot, and the real strength to face my life tomorrow comes from doing this hard work now, today.  It’s time to get grateful, because this long and weird journey has brought me to exactly where I am now, and where I am now is exactly where I’m supposed to be.

Although I stand by my decision to end Butterflymumma, I did transistion to a new site.  I honestly haven’t written much there yet.  Shadow work is private (non-blog) business.  I do hope, at some point, to have an entire novel wrung out of me through this process.  I have written a number of actual blog posts, tho’, and I’m hoping to start doing more of that again.  It’s nice, as a writer, to sometimes get the twin gratifications of instant publication and (nearly) instant feedback.  The new blog is here, if you’re interested.

At some point, however, the shadow work should be pretty much done, and, at that point, I do plan to have a hard look at it and see if it is something I can share publicly.  I do hope so, inspite of all the misgivings I’m having as a writer of a potentially highly personal work of fiction.  For old times, here’s a Butterflymumma style LIST of just a few of these.

MISGIVINGS:

• feeling naked and exposed as I share my deepest feelings and most profound experiences
• that concern that someone will think they know me or my heart just because they read my writing
• worry about the line between honesty and creative work (how much ‘creative license’ can I take with this material?)
• sensitivity to how I might look: a bad person, a selfish person, a ‘navel gazer’?
• worrying if I’ve offended anyone we care about (because we really don’t want to lose them)
• and, last but not least, mortification as I imagine my family and friends reading the sex scenes (yes, there are a few).

That’s all for now,

Butterfly

Le panache de grand Georges

I am now “unlocking” this post, as it were, because – in retrospect – it is funny and optimistic, despite my honestly horrible French.  As posts go, it’s neat to look back and see how I went from a negative and “outsider” mindset about learning French (posts such as Plus d’infos sur Immersion Français and “Programme d’immersion en français, c’est me frottement erroné” and even “Je dois améliorer mon français” and Other Wildly Inappropriate Things I Now Use Google For) to a much more open and hopeful attitude.  Since – in the final analysis – this blog was a story about growth (even though it certainly wasn’t always consciously about that), I think it’s appropriate to now include this update in that story.

So long, and thanks for all the fish.

Hello Everyone!  It’s been ages again, hasn’t it?

I am writing to you today because, after all this time together, it seems fitting that I give you some heads up…

I’m not going to be doing this anymore.  I’m going to end the blog.

________________________________________________

When I started this project, back in 2012, Butterflymumma was like a life preserver to me. I remember being so thrilled – thrilled and SCARED – but really thrilled, absolutely pumped, about having a blog.  I was trying to figure out a lot of things at the time and I guess what I needed was an outlet.  I found the outlet but – in fact – started off not even fully realizing that I had anything to figure out.  I only sensed that I was going through every day with a mix of dread and plain unease.  I had some sort of malaise making me uncomfortable in my own skin and couldn’t find anything to do with myself that gave me any relief.

Then I started this blog.  And relief was found.  As Lemony Snicket might point out, even though I did not literally escape my life, I was able to figuratively escape my life for short periods of time via Butterflymumma.

Thanks to you all for reading, following, and encouraging me with your kind words, likes, and good vibes.  It made it feel like I had a reason to be here.  I felt like a real writer.  That’s been a tremendous privilege for me.

Of course, my blog woke me from my stupor.  I realized I had big problems – WE had big problems – and I changed my life, and my kids’ lives, as a result.  I escaped my marriage, which was a really bad thing, and started over.  That’s been a good change, and I’m not too confident I would have gone from there to here without the blogging I did along the way.  So, in fact, I eventually literally escaped my old life because of this blog.

I’ve been trying so hard not to say too much about my ex (not least because he is the kids’ father), my children’s problems (which seem private issues of theirs’, and no longer mine to rattle on about in the way they were when the kids were in diapers), or the legal goings-on which it would be imprudent to post to the worldwide web.  To be honest, this has left with me with little which I can say about me and my life.  If I’m going to continue to write publicly, it’s time to re-invent myself.

Life currently has left me gasping for air.  The past month has brought new bombshells, the kids are here daily, and we are falling through each week, grabbing lunches, clean laundry from the dryer, and practicing our printing as we spiral down an infinitely long vortex that is Time Itself.

Frankly, I haven’t figured that out yet.  But I’m going to.

And so, soon this blog will come down, or be purged of much of the past.  I may visit it occasionally (since it’s already paid for), or I may not.  I may start some sort of new public project.  I am contemplating a few things.  You can subscribe to Butterflymumma on YouTube now, from where I may launch my next venture. But no promises how soon it’ll be or even whether it will be of interest to old followers.  As I said, it can’t – and won’t – be about my private life.  It will likely be about my current project in life, which is becoming a bilingual Canadian.  I know!  I am shocked as well, but I started studying French back in October, and I’m completely smitten now.

Again, thanks for everything.  Wishing each one of you all the best.  If you wish to contact me, you may use the small, but still existent Butterflymumma Facebook page to send me a PM.

All for now,

 

Butterfly

My Son Booba, Super Kid

 

This week, my son is “Superhero of the Week” in the Superville (this sounds cooler in French) that is his Grade Three homeroom.  His teacher has asked me to send pictures for the bulletin board this week and he also gets his turn now for some the special privileges that go with this honour.  Along with all this, I was asked to provide a write-up – a “get to know my kid a little better” story –  that she will read aloud to his classmates one day.

I don’t write about my kids much anymore.  It was starting to feel uncomfortable as they got older.  I am more aware of their privacy and their separateness as individuals now that they’re a bit older and they, in turn, are more aware of these things themselves.  Both my kids are more prone, also, to embarrassment now.  And so – in writing this – I field tested it on my eight-year old son before handing it over to his teacher.  He laughed, and cried (me too).  We hugged.  It was a really nice ending for a day marked by flaring tempers.

So I guess it passes, and it’s okay to share.  Here it is.  For posterity, right?

And now I’m off to write one for his sister.  She doesn’t need one for school this year, but she’s decided she wants one anyway…

Author’s note:  As usual (and as throughout this blog), I have not used my son’s given name.  He therefore appears by his customary pseudonym, Boo (or Booba).

 

Boo – Super Kid

I first met Boo at 8:35 PM on the evening of Tuesday, April 1, 2008. Although it was the first face-to-face meeting it felt like I already knew him well. After all, I’d spent the last 8 months chatting away to him as he cooked in my pregnant belly.

Still he was a surprising sight. Boo had a full head of curly brown hair – each curl tipped with gold. He looked like he’d been to the beauty salon! He looked like an 80’s popstar. His entire babydom was spent with me fielding comments as to why I had coloured my baby’s hair. I guess being born on April Fool’s Day, Booba had come with a sense of humour factory-installed.

To help me talk about Boo, I made a list of things he is:

So the first “thing he is” is this: Boo is brave. For one thing, he knew what he was getting into being born since he’d had a steady commentary about the outside world coming from me since even before he’d grown ears!  And yet he decided to show up anyway.

For another thing, he almost died the day he was born. When they finally got Boo out of me, the first thing that they did was resuscitate him. Even still, when they handed him to me I said, “THERE you are!” and his little blue eyes opened WIDE. I think he was like, “At last! Someone I KNOW!”.

Boo continued to prove his bravery and he tested the world he’d become part of. He ate handfuls of dirt, kissed worms, and knocked out a brand spanking new tooth at McKellar Park. In typical Booba fashion, he wouldn’t ice it or let me give him Tylenol. He toughed it out. He’s one tough kid!   

What else should I tell you?  Oh!  Boo is TALENTED. Booba is quite creative. He’s been a talented visual artist from age 4 and we have several of his works on permanent display at home.  We had this book called Busy Little Artist when he was quite small.  I always thought this title described him really well; he was my “Busy Little Artist.”

He’s a crazy storyteller, and most of my days end in bed with him telling me one of his “pretends” until we both fall asleep. Together we have been snakes, raptors, sabretooth tigers, aliens, pirates and more. Often he makes me young again and I am a little girl.

He’s a great singer/songwriter.  He loves being in the choir with Miss L_.

Boo is an excellent swimmer, kayaker, canoeist, and adventurer. He’s been to Newfoundland and Manitoulin Island.  He’s braved the Maid of the Mist at Niagara Falls. He’s spent 10 days wilderness camping on a canoe trip in Temagami (in Northern Ontario).  He’s swam and paddled in the huge waves of Lake Huron.  I have used his interpretative skills with cabbies in Montreal.  He’s a great (and eager!) traveling companion.

Boo has many and varied interests and is definitely what they call a “Renaissance Man”. He loves HISTORY, especially Ancient Civilizations (the Romans, Egyptians, Incas, and Aztecs), Dinosaurs, Pirates, Vikings, and tales of how the First Nations’ peoples lived before the white man came.

He loves making art, telling stories, making his own videos , riding his bike around the neighbourhood, or trying something new, like rollerblading.

He loves Sci Fi and even watches his parents’ crazy shows with them.  Shows like Star Trek and Doctor Who.  We binge-watched “Stranger Things” together in two days.

He is philosophical and interested in theology (which makes sense coming from a background of United Church ministers and other clergy).

Boo is a great architect.  He loves to make fabulous buildings in MInecraft and can be obsessive about symmetry and proportion. Sometimes we just go for a walk in the beautiful worlds that he has created.  He helps my characters use ladders.

MATH is Booba’s favourite subject. He likes reading and homework, but doesn’t know that I know this (so shhh!).

Boo is kind and compassionate.  He is empathetic with animals and is a big help taking care of our family’s pets, particularly our guinea pig, Melvin.

Booba has always been philosophical and wise beyond his years, as well as – at times – hysterically funny. One of his best qualities is his sense of humour.   I keep a log of some of the funny things Boo has said to me through the years.  Things like “I love you SO much, now that you’ve agreed with me…”,  “You smell like free cookies” (this right after I stepped out of the shower), and the classic “Mumma’s on a high propane [instead of protein] diet.”  One more: I called it Lake Huron.  He corrected me.  “It’s Lake URINE now.  They changed it after Lou Lou and I were in it.”

Boo often has really great insights into people’s character, or films that we saw.  I love hearing what he thinks about things.

Most of all, Boo is my best friend.  He knows when I really need someone to take care of me and knows he is the best one to do it.  He knows I love him more than anybody else in the world and I know that he’s the person in this world who loves ME the most. Everybody needs a person like that in their life and I’m so thankful that Booba is mine.
One last thing that Boo is is GROWING UP FAST. While that’s bittersweet for a Mom and leaves me feeling sort of happy/sad, it’s mostly AMAZING TO WATCH.  I’m SO PROUD of the young man he is becoming.

New Year, New Approach?

Before I go any farther, let me simply state:  Deej objects to every sedentary thought which follows.  I am boring his furry little pants off.  “Can we go outside now, Mom?”

I’ve been wasting tons of time this week looking at Bullet Journal and “Fauxbonichi” Journal pictures on Facebook, a time-sink that I suspect may hurl me back toward that mother of all time-suckers: Pinterest.  I think there’s a certain type of person for whom a New Year necessitates a certain amount of renewed daydreaming on Pinterest.  Sadly, I may be that type of person.

Bullet journals: They *are* somehow therapeutic to look at.

I remember being so happy when I found Pinterest.  I love Pinterest, it’s a great place for spending hours and hours doing nothing, but getting a great hit of creativity endorphins anyhow.  I’m sighing over the lost hours and potential, but – in the long run – it may be safer, cheaper and tidier than purchasing stuff because you want to make “ALL THE PROJECTS”, but then only manage to hot glue your own fingers together before giving up and going back to staring at your phone for the rest of the day.

At least I’m still feeling happy within myself (I struggled with that for a couple days earlier in the week); I am still managing not to surrender my little package of suet to another human person’s custody. 🙂 I am irked, though.  I looked into bullet planners in the first place because my many lists are disorganized and scattered around the place – scratched on business envelopes and loose leaf, as well as every other odd bit of paper that could literally be anywhere in the house at any given time.  And then there’s the masterbook – my omnipresent bound journal for whatever year, or other arbitrary period of time (usually till it’s bursting at the seams).  Everything’s in there, in basically chronological order.  There’s no index, and – because it’s entirely comprised of my hen scratches and scribbles – little to no visual landmarks to orient me.  Usually I scratch down the date and put a rectangle around it.

As a matter of course, I frequently have absolutely no idea where I put this book down. True story.

The other day I put a picture of my list on Facebook, mainly as I was proud I’d got almost the whole damn thing done that day (plus some other things, which were scratched on another list titled “Boxing Day Shopping”… it’s around here somewhere).  A friend pointed out that my listing system wasn’t very organized.  The list I was so chuffed about was literally written on the back of a business envelope.  The only legend necessary for engaging in my system is that a check means DONE and an X means SCREW IT.

My list.

BTW, here’s a change in the weather.  A few years back, using an envelope to make a list was a mark of someone with character, an efficient and organized person who believed in reduce, reuse, recycle, and was unwilling to waste the paper on something as transient as what is now gloriously referred to as a “daily”.  Now it says I’m NOT an organized but rather a scattered person.  How times change, huh?

To be honest, I do kind of feel scattered.  But also efficient, once I get going.

Anyhow, my friend gently suggested I should try Bullet Journaling and added that I could join some Facebook Groups to get inspiration.  So I did.

Inspiration?  Well, yes.  Intimidation?  Definitely and for sure.  Plus: “Obsess much, people?”  I’ve never seen such a group of busy beavers.  Their constant posts and comments immediately blew up my phone.  And I’m a bit surprised most of them are not seven or eight hundred pounds.  They must basically sit there and never get up.

Don’t get me wrong, I love these journals.  I could gawk all day at all this geeky eye candy. And part of me for sure wants to log on to Etsy, buy like a thousand templates, and then go to Chapters or Wallacks (dangerous stores for me) and buy some Staedtler fineliners, watercolours and calligraphy stuff (something else I already enjoy and can waste time on!). I can totally see myself from there grabbing a sketch book or “grid-lined” book off one of my shelves (yes, already have several of these) and just going nuts.  Too bad I’m not 20 years old, single (OOPS – I AM!  That’s a funny thing to forget!) and childless however.  Two days from now my life re-starts in “no days off” busy-mode again, and it goes on like that until March break.  Thank God for Family Day.

So – yeah – basically I don’t have time to start this (if I’m being honest, I should be cleaning my family room right this second) and absolutely no chance I could find time to keep the habit up, once begun.  Right?

The reality is I’m not a doodle person.  I mean, I AM, but I’m NOT; I feel guilty if I sit and do stuff like that, and quickly get irritated and even resentful because I feel restless and was planning to vacuum or go for a walk today and so what am I doing sitting here (!).  I’m not a tidy or organized (in that, journalistic, way) person.  I’m just a list fanatic trying to keep it together who would (always and forever!) like to get more done.  My store-bought planner works decently well, it just doesn’t incorporate the listing and journaling I (sporadically) do.  On an average day, finding where I last put it down is a much bigger problem for me than any other (I’m learning leaving it right next to the coffeemaker on the kitchen counter each night helps me here.).

Because the “Fauxbonichi’s” are more about journalling and personalization, this method is appealing to me more as something I might actually love.

Another Fauxbonichi.

Last Fauxbonichi.  This is something I can maybe see myself doing.

The bottomline is I’m looking for a way to save time and be more organized.  This is a hobby, something for people who feel they have ample time it seems.  Can you SPEND time to SAVE time, like when you clean, declutter, or reorganize a drawer in real life?  If so, then this may be the help I need.  But I’d need to commit to the experiment to find out for sure.

I already have a stationary fetish and love to write, as well as to occasionally colour and draw (even had a job once at a cartoon studio), so this seems it should be no big jump.  Last night, in the hours I have already decreed should be for relaxation and not manual labour, I tested the waters, decorating my (necessary) French notes with clearance bin Ikea washi tape and my daughter’s markers and pens.

Les mois de l’année.  Doodled up and making me feel artistic, but productive? Not so much.  I did learn washi tape covers mistakes quite well when I first titled this page “Les mois d’année” with one of Lou Lou’s (quite permanent) black gel pens.  Loving the washi tape tho’, which I’ve had a while with previously no idea how I was planning to use it.   P.S.  I spent embarrassingly little time on this.  Guess I am not so patient.

The thing about this is I already KNEW les mois de l’année (one of the benefits of the Canadian education system).  But I noticed one of the things about bujo’s is they seem to be for COLLECTING and LISTING.  So that means I should devote a whole page, then know this info is saved there (like a beautiful infographic!).  A real bujo-er would have written each month spread out across their art book, in beautifully ornate calligraphy and using different coloured ink for each month. This was done in a scribbler and with my six year old’s craft supplies.  Because I’m just trying to review information here.

The other side of the pie here, for me, is that someone probably HAS done a beautiful infographic somewhere online, and I could just print it out and tape it in my book (see, it’s all the same to me).  Or – even better – I could make a Pinterest board called “Learning French” and just stick it there.

Aaand… I immediately find it on 123rf.  Somehow vindicated (and printing this off for my notes.  Mine is making me blush now.).  BTW, these caps are totally deceiving.  They are not used en franςais, unless the month is the first word in the sentence maybe.  But they make for better calligraphy I guess.  

I think this whole bullet journalling craze is a bit like the “Slow Food” movement.  It’s telling people to slow down and disconnect, at least till you’re ready to share your results on Facebook.

So, which way is better for me?  Clutter is a whole other issue I’m hoping to get a grip on in 2017.  Do I really need a new hobby and a boatload of new books and supplies?  Should I really be spending EVEN LESS time trying to clean up and de-junk?  Maybe a Pinterest board, with its virtuous virtual only existence, is just right for someone in my shoes.  I mean, if I am already questioning the point of the exercise…

Feeling stumped and depressed (just a wee tiny bit) by Inspiration Overload today,

Butterfly

P.S.  Crazy List Lady HAS, in fact, got a list of 2017 Resolutions.   Hopefully I’ll get to posting that in a few days. TTFN!

Saludo!

Still chilling at home.  May write next week.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.  Hope you enjoy this little touch of our home till we talk again.

Saludo!

It’s just life

It’s not 2016, people, it’s just life.  It ends.  That’s gonna happen to us all eventually.

– my friend Graham

Today you are You, and that’s truer than true!

Dear Santa, Define Good

Life is pretty good.  I don’t collapse when they leave.  They come home again, safe and soon.  We are meeting our needs okay.  School is a focus now and we are improving.  I found a couple genuinely useful tricks that are helping us get more sleep during a season that’s just so dark it feels like you might as well stay up anyway.

Dear Santa, You can define “good” if you like, but – honestly – this is good enough for me.

I know I need to get writing in there properly again somehow and I’m not quite sure yet where I’m going with that.  Still trying to sort out my new relationship to this blog.  I’m now completely uncomfortable with the number of @yahoo.com, @op.pl, @mail.ru and @email.silkbeachtowels.com folks who have recently followed by email.  Could it really be that there are that many people with comfortingly western sounding names all together at the same provider in Poland and who are all sincerely wanting to follow me by email?  Since I doubt it, I’m now in the business of deleting folks.  Yep, I’m now taking active steps to have fewer followers.  You read that right.  So – if that’s you –  Bye.

I suspect a scam at work and really think that these are somehow malicious follows.  I don’t know how that works exactly, but – if Russian hackers are able to manipulate American public opinion sufficiently to control the outcome of an election – then maybe the day when I should become less blindly trusting of my unknown audience has finally arrived.  I fear now that all our online lives – our random thoughts, snippets which betray where our sympathies lie,  the jokes that reveal our sense of humour, our Facebook comments – I fear that all of that stuff is being compiled now to build profiles of us with malicious intent.  Think China and having your credit bureau score based on your political opinions and weekend drinking habits, or the Trump transition team going through Department of Energy emails for indications of employees’ beliefs regarding climate change science (yes, I said science.  Ooh.).  I’m terrified for all those people being purged.  It feels like having some measurable level of common sense has become grounds for being dragged into the town square and dealt with by an ugly mob nowadays.

Instead of thinking too hard about any of this stuff, take a moment and enjoy looking at this beautiful snowy tree, with its blossoms of light.  Breathe deeply.  The air is crisp and cool.

I know this stuff is happening, and I know that I can’t really thumb my nose at it all because – like most people – I really do have something to lose.  I have people I love, whom I can’t risk having an alt-right militia rounding up if Mr. Trump ever decides the best way to control Canada from now on is to simply run it himself .  Lately the only thing that comforts me on this (invasion) score is that guy is going to have so much trouble with dissent in his own country that he may not frankly find time to run next door to borrow a cup of Canada (or some of our water or clean air…!).   What more likely ought to be keeping me up at night lately is the fear of what Donald Trump could mean for global economies, for the environment, and for stability of the world order.  It’s also worrying that this insane trend he’s part of emboldens “alt-right” political thinkers in this country (shout out to Kellie Leich here!  Please leave!), who want to import this American style rhetoric and its attendant intolerance to our nation.

My kids are scared.  Lou Lou asked me why Donald Trump was fighting with his “wife”, Hillary (she decided they must be married after she heard somewhere that Hillary was at Donald’s wedding).  Are they getting a divorce, like you and Dad, she asks me.  Booba is ready to defend both our friends of Muslim faith, as well as each and every child of colour at their school. Both my kids have become hypersensitive to any hint of bullying behaviour at recess.

Seeing my own children, in the relative safety that is Canada, this anxious about their surroundings and this full of uncertainty about their future has been heartbreaking.  It took me a couple weeks to get used to it, during which time I adjusted to our new political reality by burying myself in satirical humour online, as well as indulging in other sparkly diversions like shopping for home decor items and binge-watching Netflix’s “The Crown”.

Like I was saying, you can either think about the election or – instead – think about the warm glow that is this lighted snowman next to these colourfully lit boxwood shrubs.  😀

After the election I didn’t sleep for several days.  It felt like someone had died.  I’d fall asleep, then quickly wake up and check my phone to see if Trump as president-elect has somehow “unhappened” while I was out.  Maybe it was all a dream, like that season of Dallas that one time.

Tonight I was supposed to write a one-page bio of myself for my new therapist, whom I’m seeing in hopes of improving my abilities as a parent.  I was reticent and uncooperative, writing mainly that one page summaries were for obituaries, not bios, and offering up that my quote of the moment is “Opinions are a dime a dozen, validation is for parking, and loyalty is not so much a word as a lifestyle choice.” (badly and broadly paraphrasing this And I Quote).  Inspite of this, however, I like this psychologist man, and may even tell him where he can find this blog if he wants to actually read some writing I put at least a little bit of thought into.  I’m trying to take the sessions seriously, and I’m reading the book he’s recommended (it’s called Mom’s House, Dad’s House).

Should you choose Mom’s house, this wreath awaits you at the door.

In addition to this, I’m back up to teaching five students now.  One of the moms organizes my paperwork in lieu of payment (we barter, an exchange of talents), so my home and life are starting to declutter themselves without me having to resort to any more hissy fits amongst piles of crumpled receipts.  I’m seeing a French tutor once a week (very slowly making some progress on this, but liking it more than I would have even a year ago, which is something).  I’ve subscribed to a couple of good periodicals, which I mostly enjoy reading online.  The dog is still here and I’m still walking him, despite the fact that I am battling a wheeze and a rattling cough right now.

In terms of the dog, I’ve discovered that it’s better to be respected than loved.  We’ve begun running our family like it’s a wolf pack lately; I am the alpha in our pack hierarchy.  We are all better off for realizing this.  We get things done with much less arguing now, although I do find the need to howl the odd time.

The kids seem better adjusted than before.  Lou Lou no longer complains about going to her father’s.  We’ve managed to establish some homework structure (always feel calmer and happier when we are doing or have just done our homework and reading – great feeling when the big rocks are already in), and Booba has accepted it, mostly with grace.  They continue to swim and I hope to add some new activity in the New Year.  Booba sings and is in the choir (and sticking with it) this year.  Occasionally he will go to the piano and play a bit (nothing formal, but playing of his own accord, which is golden).  We recently discovered chewy 1.5 mg Melatonin pills and have since started going to bed at 9:30 on school nights.  Having the house quiet – with no “in-bed-but-acting-super-hyper” nonsense going on – is a wonderful thing.  It’s beyond words.  Melatonin is a wonder drug.  Who knew?  Maybe we’re all genetically missing something in that department, I don’t know.  It seems to help us.  In addition to taking a supplement, we sometimes listen to Sleep With Me podcast to clear our minds and lull us off to dreamland once we’re in bed.  Lou Lou in particular seems to enjoy this new habit.

A new rug, cabinet, and light fixture were some post-election therapy for my dining room.

We went to see Santa, even though Boo is no longer a believer.  We got a real tree this year, plus – for the first time – put some lights up outside which make our home a fairyland at dusk.  For good measure, some pics of said fairyland are scattered through this post.

Well – on that note – it’s my own bedtime.  My eyelids are getting heavy.  Tomorrow is another busy day.  Therapist and French tomorrow, as well as another business meeting in between.  Life keeps me busy now, affecting my writing negatively, but an improvement in mood and efficiency overall.

All for now,

Butterfly

In Flanders Fields

Important today more than ever, and beautiful.

The Futurist Family

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