HELLO VICTORIA - AND GOODBYE AGAIN!

I’ve been back in Canada for one week now - I’m too physically and emotionally drained to write much.  I spent the first morning here getting my car back on the road and arranging for the police check I need for my new visa. I had a 2 ½ hour drive down the beautiful island highway - without speeding - well, at least I didn’t get a ticket - with the windows down, the music blaring, singing my heart out to my favourite kick-ass girl songs!  I pulled into Saxepoint Park with Gloria Estevan’s ‘Do the Congo’ blasting, thinking my daughter would know before she even saw my car that it was me coming.  Jordyn, however, was so caught up playing with her friend’s baby she didn’t see me until I was almost on top of her!  But I did get a great big hug that nearly knocked me off my feet, and I picked her up off hers.  I opted for the hip mom response of “Cool tat, Jordyn.” - and it does, in fact, look very tasteful.   It was so good to see my daughter #3,and to catch up with her friends from school and with my friends, but the week sped by too quickly.  Thank you, Diane for your hospitality, I felt at home with you and it was so great to catch up, friend. Thank you Jan for the amazing lunch you made; I had a wonderful afternoon with you and Carol and Claudette.  Delilah, it was so, so good to see you again, girl.  I even popped in to see the ladies of the James Bay Women’s group; it wasn’t the same without Minnie who passed away recently but I did see some of the other ladies who have inspired me to follow my dreams.

I've missed my home so much and wish I could have spent more time walking by the ocean, and exploring my favourite parts of the city, but there just wasn't time. 

So now I’m back up in Comox; I picked up my police clearance today and sent all the papers off for my new Saudi visa.   Jordyn and I leave at first light tomorrow to catch the ferry from Nanaimo to Horseshoe Bay, and then we have a 12-13 hour drive to Edmonton and another long awaited reunion - daughter # 1 and #1 son-in-law! 

I’M COMING HOME - I’VE DONE MY TIME

It has been one year since my last trip back to Canada.  It has been a busy, difficult, sometimes lonely, and often stressful year.  After a year in the desert I am dreaming of my bare feet walking on Canadian soil, of smelling the seaweed and salt of the ocean, hearing the cry of the seagulls, and soaking up the sight of the mountains.  I miss my city on the sea.  I miss my friends.  But, more than anything, I miss my daughters. 

I have three daughters residing in three different provinces, so this summer is going to be a series of long road trips, which is fine with me - another thing I’ve missed here in Saudi Arabia is my car - and my constitutional right to drive it! 

My journey will start in Comox, British Columbia, where I will be picking my little Hyundai Accent up from my 2^nd mom’s place before driving down island to my hometown of Victoria.  My youngest daughter is already there visiting friends and we’ve arranged - as I don’t have a Canadian cell phone - that I will phone her when I leave Comox (thank god there are still a few old fossils like me who actually possess land line telephones!) and she will expect me 2 ½ hours later.  Last year, on my first day behind the wheel, I got a speeding ticket (“111 in an 80 zone is a little excessive, don’t you think, mam?”) going down that mountain highway ; it will take every ounce of willpower I have not to put the pedal to the medal this trip! Jordyn and I are going to meet in one of our favourite places - which also happens to have been a favourite hangout of mine when I was a teenager - Saxepoint Park.  I’ve been picturing this reunion for months.  The park is on the ocean; if it’s a clear day I’ll be able to see the mountains, I’ll hear the gulls and inhale the ocean smells, maybe even kick off my shoes and wiggle my toes in the grass - after I’ve done the most important thing of course - wrapped my baby in my arms and squeezed her tight!!   Then I’ll inspect her brand new tattoo and decide whether I’m going to play disapproving mother - “Really, Jordyn?”  or hip mother - “Cool tat, Jordyn.”  Any suggestions, moms out there?         

When I started this blog two years ago I jokingly wrote that life after children was going to be all about me.  It is more about me; I now use a good (read expensive) hairdresser, treat myself to manicures and pedicures, and have even indulged in purchases of jewelry and extravagant perfume (made in Egypt from pure oils - who could resist the fragrance of the Pharoahs?)

But life now isn’t all about me.  I may be finished raising my children, but I’m not finished thinking about them, worrying about them, and talking about them.  Children are one of the initial things women talk about when we first meet, and they continue to be a primary topic of our conversations. 

My mid twenties to early fifties were spent raising children.  My three daughters were my main focus for twenty six years; being their mother was the major role in my life.  That phase of my life is over.

Life after raising children is determining what my function as a mother is now.  It’s about negotiating new relationships with my adult children and, believe me, this is as difficult a phase as any other stage of parenting.

Life after raising children is about discovering who I am as a woman.  For most of my adult life I defined myself as Alex’s, Charley’s and Jordyn’s mother.  I was actively engaged in the physical, mental and emotional aspects of raising children; my dreams and aspirations were naturally on the back burner. It feels very strange to now be focusing on myself:  Where do I want to go?  What do I want to do?  I am following a dream I didn’t fulfill before I had children - to travel around the world.  I am following a passion that was put on hold, not because of children, but because life got in the way - teaching.  I am pursuing a new passion -writing, and I have embarked on something I have wanted to do for quite awhile now but could not afford - a master’s degree.

Life after children at the moment is mainly focused on completing this MA in Professional Writing and establishing myself as a writer.  Yet even in this most personal area where I am free to be whoever I want to be I return to that quintessential role.   When I had to come up with a brand name that describes me and my writing I asked myself the elemental human questions:  Who am I?  What defines me?  The answers were easy - I am a teacher, a writer, a feminist, a traveller.  However, my heart and my pen kept going back to the most important role in my life - being my children’s mother.  In the end I decided on an acronym of ‘mother’ (in a slightly unconventional form) with nouns describing how I - or others - see me.

So, although this blog is about my life after raising children, it is not only about me.  I cannot resist talking about my children, indulging in the occasional bout of ‘mama bragging’, or referring to the most sacred of all roles - motherhood.

On that note I would like to share an excerpt on motherhood from my book.

Motherhood

What is it, what does it really mean?

It’s guilt; plain old Judeo-Christian, woman, mother-guilt! Did I say the wrong thing?

Did I do the wrong thing?

Have I psychologically scarred them for life?

It’s fear; fear of making mistakes, fear of saying the wrong thing, of doing the wrong thing.

It’s that cold, tight feeling in your stomach when you lose sight of your child in a crowded place.

It’s that horrible, unshakeable fear that something unthinkable will happen to one of your children.

It’s pain; gut wrenching, breath taking, heart breaking pain.

It’s watching your children stumble and fall.

It’s not being able to give your children everything you want to give them.

It’s watching your children grow away from you.

It’s every stubbed toe, every scraped knee, every hurt feeling, and every broken heart.

It’s the pain of seeing your child’s pain.

It’s a pain that only gets worse as they get older. When they were little and they hurt themselves I would tell my children to go get the “bobo basket”. I would clean the “bobo”, lovingly apply a band aid and tenderly give them that “special mommy kiss”, the kiss that always made everything better. When they got older and other children wouldn’t play with them, when they were struggling to master something new and losing confidence in themselves, when a boy had broken their hearts, my mommy kiss lost its magic - I couldn’t kiss those hurts away. And every time I witness my children’s pain it tears another hole in my heart.

It’s joy; pure, unadulterated joy!

It’s when your baby finishes nursing, pulls away from your breast, sighs with satisfaction and lays her head so trustingly against your body.

It’s when your toddler wraps her arms around your legs and chirps “I lub you mommy!”

It’s your child’s small face pressed close to yours, her eyelashes gently brushing your cheek as she gives you “butterfly kisses”.

It’s your child standing tall and straight in front of you, her hands behind her back. With a flourish worthy of Houdini himself she whips her hands from behind her and proudly presents you with her latest work of art, which you accept with all the fanfare it deserves and vow to keep forever!

It’s when your preteen, who is ‘oh too cool to hang with her mom anymore’, slips her hand in yours and squeezes it tightly – in public!

It’s when your teenager actually thanks you for caring enough to give her boundaries – and for grounding her when she oversteps them!

It’s your adult child coming to your rescue, making you feel worthy and loved.

I will admit that I have been dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century. 

I like books - real ones - I like the look and the feel of them, the old bookstore smell of them, and even the sound of the turning pages; yet, I recently downloaded a free kindle on my laptop.  I needed the convenience of being able to buy  books online because I am currently located in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, and cannot easily access the required books.

I like real letters - I like choosing beautiful paper, writing  my message by hand, sealing the envelope, buying and sticking on the stamp, and putting my letter in the mailbox.  I absolutely love receiving letters, yet I don't remember the last time I did.  I love the anticipation, watching for the mailman, holding my breath to see if he will drop a letter through the mailbox, reading the message written is only have the joy, the rest comes from seeing the handwriting of someone I really care about.  The letters I have kept from my parents are so precious because I feel close to them when I see their distinctive writing.  But, I will admit to loving the convenience and rapid response of electronic mail.

I don't like traditional phone calls anymore - "What, I can't see the person I'm talking to?"  I am totally addicted to Skype - it is  my lifeline while I am so far away from home.  Talking to my daughters is a wonderful experience, seeing their beautiful faces fills me with joy.

I have ranked among the Face Book users for several years now - there are many things about it I don't like, but it is a great way to keep in touch with family and friends, and I have found old friends through this website.

I never, ever thought I would create a Twitter account - who the hell cares what I'm doing every day? - but, I have to for my course, so here I am - well and truly submersed in the technology of the 21st century.  Submersed is an apt verb - I'm flailing, drowning, sinking to the bottom! - but I will conquer it, this technology will not defeat me!

You can now follow my exciting life (not!) on this blog, and through Face Book and Twitter!

I have not posted on my blog for almost a year.  Life has been hectic and I have not taken the time, but an incident happened today that has prompted me to get back on here.  On the company bus on the way home from work today some colleagues and I were talking animatedly and feeling so happy (for a change, I might add, because life has been particularly stressful lately for most of us) that I suggested we have a sing - a - long.  I was asked - by a veiled, gloved colleague - not to sing, and when I asked why (silly me, I should have remembered) was told 'it was not allowed.'  There was an immediate, obvious shift in the mood at the back of the bus where we were sitting - from joy into despair.  I tried to shake off the negativity I was feeling after this ignorant, intolerant comment, but I couldn't.  I actually wanted desperately to get off the bus and take a taxi home, but everytime the bus stopped at a light it was never in the curb lane.  In an attempt to get a grip on my emotions I asked a friend if she had a pen, also got a scrap of paper from her, and started writing  a poem.  I finished the poem when I got home, posted it on face book, and am now posting it here.  I have met people from all over the world, from every religion and ethnicity since I left Canada almost two years ago, and most of my experiences have been positive ones.  I am not going to let this person's ignorance define my perception of the Middle East, or of the religion she professes to follow.

IGNORANCE

Wears many faces,

Professes many noble things,

Denigrates the rights of others,

Cloaks itself in righteousness,

Disguises hate with practised words,

Pretends faith where faith is lacking,

Demands conformity to its perverted view,

Spreads fear and loathing where it walks,

Cares not the damage that it causes,

Cannot raise its voice in song,

Does not celebrate diversity,

Offers malice, not good will,

Closes, does not open, hearts,

Destroys the joy it dare not grasp,

Bullies those who would be cowed,

Strengthens, does not weaken me,

Cannot silence my strong voice,

Dare not think I have been beaten,

Will not break my pride or spirit,

Has no power to touch my soul,

Because, in the end, it is only,

Ignorance.

RAMADAN KAREEM

It has been four months since I last wrote in my blog. So much has happened I can't possibly write about it all so I will just touch on the main events.

My daughter Alexandra is now Doctor Jackman. She was married to a wonderful young man on June 2, graduated from the University of Alberta Medical School on June 8, and began her residency in pediatrics on July 1^st. My daughter Charelle will embark on post graduate studies at Queen's University in Kingston in September, working on her Masters and Phd. In Behavioral Neuroscience. My daugher Jordyn survived the challenges of her gap year, growing in wisdom and maturity. She will be starting at the University of Winnipeg in September.

I recently enjoyed six weeks in Canada spending time with family and friends. I watched with love and pride as my eldest daughter and her husband exchanged their wedding vows, and as Alex walked across the stage at her graduation ceremony. I went on a road trip with each of my two youngest daughters – short trips but still very special times. I basked in the warmth of my girls' love and laughter, spent as much time in their company as I could, soaked up the sights, sounds and smells of summer in my native country and eventually, with mixed feelings, boarded a plane to return to Riyadh.

Between leaving my job in Kuwait and starting this job in Saudi I lost four months of work this year, which completely derailed my financial plans but I should be back on track after another year here. I am still working on being away from Canada for another 4 or 5 years, possibly in the Middle East, possibly spending a year or two in the Far East.

I left for Canada at the end of the semester just as exams were starting. It was sad saying goodbye to my students, I'd grown very fond of them, and particularly close to a few of the girls. The happiness and fulfilment I felt in the classroom made up for the restrictions and frustrations I sometimes faced outside it.

Life in Riyadh can sometimes be challenging but it is interesting, the people are generally warm and welcoming, I am meeting and making friends with people from all over the world, and I am learning and growing as I continue this journey I began almost one year ago. I miss my family and friends, I miss my beautiful city by the sea, but I am excited to see where this road I am travelling will take me. I am not ready to turn around yet.

FINAL DETAILS - FINALLY!

Not surprisingly the plans I thought would be finalized over three months ago weren't. I am beginning to wonder if inefficiency and insensitivity are endemic in this field I have chosen to enter. I have had dealings with at least five recruiting companies since I began my job search last spring and I have yet to come across one that truly cares about it's employees; every single one of them has treated me the same way. The representatives seem genuine and caring at first, then gradually the contact lessens and in some cases disappears altogether. The questions I asked were unanswered, my concerns not addressed. I have talked to teachers who have been blatantly lied to, who were told they would have single accommodation, that their visa and medical expenses would be reimbursed, etc., none of which turned out to be the case. Teachers have been assured they were going into 'top notch' accommodation by recruiting agents who have obviously never left their cozy western offices to actually check this out. Teachers have had flights from hell getting from their home countries(including myself - travelling from Vancouver to Kuwait via Houston!), have walked into filthy apartments and into a work situation that does not in any way resemble the one described during their interviews. The more I encounter this kind of mayhem the more seriously I think about starting my own company somewhere down the road. In the meantime I need to work, and I want to teach, so I am eternally grateful that things finally got moving.

      I was offered a position teaching English in the Preparatory Program at King Saud University in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I have had the position since I signed the contract on December 25th, the frustrating part was waiting to get my visa sorted out. As if to prove the all-pervasiveness of Murphy's Law in my life, Canada chose the time I was looking for work in Saudi Arabia to start a pissing contest with that country regarding visas. After many false starts and disappointments, sleepless nights, a stress level I'm certain sent my blood pressure soaring, and even a few tears I finally received the long awaited visa, followed surprisingly quickly by a ticket to Riyadh.

      It was so hard not to slip into depression during those three long months I spent in England. I had nothing to do, I could see my financial goals slipping away, my future was looking decidedly uncertain - I couldn't help but question where my life was going. Seriously, was I Hitler in my previous life?! What did I do to deserve such crappy karma? What lesson(s) was I supposed to be learning from all this? Was I ever going to get to follow my passions? Would there ever come a time when I didn't have to worry about money? I have found answers to some of those questions, some I'm still working on.

      At times I feel like I wasted so much time during those months. I should have made great strides toward finishing my book - which didn't happen - I wasn't in the right frame of mind to to be creative. I should have worked out three times a day and be looking fabulous by now-not! But when I'm not so hard on myself I acknowledge that those months were not wasted. I was lucky to have the company of my youngest daughter for a month between her nanny adventures abroad. We walked, talked, laughed, explored, went on pub crawls(just small ones!); it was a wonderful time I am so grateful to have had. I had the privilege of spending more time under the same roof as my sister Sue than we've spent together in over thirty years. I had times with her (and my brother-in-law) when I laughed until the tears poured down my face. I had visits with my sister Kim - some good, some hard - all moments I'm glad I didn't miss. After six years apart I am so grateful I had the chance to spend this time with my sisters; I've learned from bitter experience that we don't always get another chance, another moment with those we love. I got to know my nieces and nephew, spent time with cousins, visited my parents' and sister's grave, and found the graves of my grandmother and great grandmother.

      I did actually work out sometimes and I walked - a lot - including a few strolls down memory lane.  I went to Birkenhead as often as I could and walked all over that city where my parents grew up and where they are buried. I found myself really missing my mother; there were so many things to remind me of her, so many places I remember going with her. Even after all these years I still miss my mom - wish I still had her to turn to when I'm lonely and frightened, when I need someone to advise and reassure me.

      I was so frustrated and worried by the delays in getting my Saudi visa but in the end I was glad I hadn't left England sooner than I did. One of my mother's cousins died a week before I left and it meant so much to me that I was able to attend her funeral. Like several others of mom's cousins Iris was more than just a cousin; she was a like a sister to my mother. She and her husband Richie were there with us the night my father died, they helped make my mother's funeral arrangements; they have always been there to support us in our losses and celebrate with us in the good times. Iris is one of the four cousins I always call as soon as I arrive in England. I always make sure I see her and Richie when I'm there. Unfortunately the visit we had in December was the last one I would ever have with that generous, loving, special lady. After everything she has done for my family it was important for me to be there for her family to show my love and respect; so I ceased to question why I had to wait so long to get where I wanted to go. There is a reason for everything - we just don't always see it.

      So here I am in the land of Sinbad and Alladin and magic carpets! I used to dream about this part of the world when I was a child, now I am living in my third Middle Eastern country and can truly believe I will realize my dreams of travelling extensively in this area and in Africa. Settling into my apartment is a challenge, but one I will have to conquer. My kitchen - which used to be a hallway - is half the size of the tiny gallery kitchen in my apartment in Victoria and is not equipped with hot water! The window in my living room opens into an air shaft so it lets in very little light. We have not been provided with a table and chairs so must eat and do schoolwork on our laps or the coffee table. I was extremely lucky in Oman and Kuwait to have 'western' bathrooms with a bath tub installed but my luck has run out. Here I only have what is commonly referred to as an "Arab" bathroom; there is no tub or even a shower stall - only a drain in the floor. Every time I have a shower the floor(and sometimes the toilet and sink) gets soaking wet and has to be mopped out. I really thought that would drive me crazy and I wouldn't be able to handle it, but it is surprising what one can get used to, cleaning up afterward has just become part of my shower routine. Doing laundry in the old-fashioned washer is a bit challenging but I only do that once a week so I'm surviving. I'm keeping my ears open for a better apartment to come empty in the building but they all have their own problems and we all just have to deal with the situation as best as we can.

      I really like my two classes; the girls are eighteen to twenty year old science students (our campus also has medical students.) who are completing a preparatory year in English before beginning work on their degrees. I am a woman and the mother of three daughters; I love the audacious spirit, the bubbly conversation, the unique energy and enthusiasm of the female species. These beautiful young Saudi women are no different from my young daughters and their friends in Canada. They are bursting with ideas and enthusiasm, they are bright and energetic, they are passionate and generous. They were a little wary of me at first, which is understandable because they have had several teachers come and go over the past months, but once they knew that I would be with them until they finished the semester and realized that I truly care about them they welcomed me in true Arab fashion - generously and without reserve! After three weeks of teaching my girls I can truly say that I have not had a bad day. I have had moments of exasperation, a couple of instances of speaking strictly to some girls, and have had to compromise on my usual tolerance of noise level in the classroom, but I have not once left the campus feeling disheartened or defeated. The girls talk - a lot! They talk in Arabic when they should be talking in English. Sometimes they are tired and unmotivated. Sometimes they are preoccupied with an upcoming exam in another class and not giving my English class the focus it deserves. But always they are respectful and responsive to my requests(okay-not always the second I ask-but eventually!), and never are they rude or ignorant or deliberately disruptive. There is not one girl of the forty eight I teach who I dislike. After some of the absolute crap I had to put up with as a teacher in the Canadian public education system being with these girls is a breath of fresh air.

      The English instructors here all work with a team teacher sharing two classes. For the unit we are currently working on I am teaching the reading and writing components so I plan one (100 minute) lesson from that text and teach it to both our classes and my co-teacher teaches the listening and speaking components. Each unit we switch roles, and we teach that curriculum three days of the week.  There are two other subjects the students have in English, each one day per week. One is Self Learning, which gives them interesting topics to work on while improving independent study skills; there is a department that handles this curriculum and plans the lessons, the teachers just have to teach them. The other subject is called Continuous Assessment and this term the girls were working on the writing process, from brainstorming to final draft. Again, most of the preparation is done by a separate department and given to the teachers to present to the students.  I teach Self Learning to one of my classes and Continuous Assessment to the other. We don't have to mark the students class work and these two subjects have minimal formal assessment so the marking work load is hardly a burden. Still, amazingly, I have heard teachers complain! After all the preparation and marking, all the student and administration demands and drama I had to cope with in Kuwait I feel like I have died and gone to heaven! We also have to provide cover for absent teachers but whereas in Kuwait I never knew when I would have to do that(and could do it several days in a row) here we all have one day per week when we have to be available and would(except under extreme circumstances) only cover one class that day. Of course I am benefiting from being part of an almost complete staff quota. Those teachers who started in September when the university was severely understaffed regularly taught three and sometimes all four classes each day. I am aware I could be in the same situation next fall if I am still here. There are two shifts at the university, am(which is from 7-3) and pm(from 8-4), which is my shift. Our bus(which is actually just a large van)leaves our apartment building at 6:50 sharp(if you miss it you have to find your own ride to work and will be docked pay if you are late) and usually arrives on campus around 8:00, depending on traffic. I have the first three hours free for planning and admin stuff(my office hours for students who need to see me/get extra help are from 8-10 but teachers only rarely have students come during that time). We do have to attend professional development sessions sometimes during the morning but(unlike some teachers) I have no complaints about that, the training is relevant and usually brief. My first class is from 11:35-1:25 and my second from 1:50-3:20. We sign out at 3:45 and head for the bus that takes us back to our apartment. The day flies by - especially when I am with my students - I am in my element there and thoroughly enjoying being in the classroom again!

      There are definitely challenges to being a woman over here. I am already used to wearing an abaya(the long, black, sort of over-coat women have to wear over their clothes) whenever I go out. We have to wear our abayas and a headscarf when we walk between the bus and the small building we first enter on campus. In there everyone, including the students, removes their scarves and abayas, then we cross a small courtyard and enter the preparatory building. I wasn't told before I came here that we weren't allowed to wear pants to work(could have saved myself some of the expense of excess baggage if I had been!). I thought we would be able to because the campus is all women, but the girls are not allowed to wear pants so I guess it wouldn't be fair if the teachers wore them. When we go out(and we are strongly encouraged from going out alone)we wear the abaya but as foreign women we don't have to wear head scarves. However some women have been told to cover their heads when they were in public so I have been wearing a scarf loosely around my neck in case I need it! Those of you who know me well can appreciate how much of a learning curve this experience is for me! I know I am really going to miss the freedom of coming and going as I please, and the exercise and stress relief walking outdoors gives me, but there are several women in my building who like to walk so we go out together most evenings. It isn't the same as at home and already I miss my mountains and ocean, but at least I get outside for some fresh air and exercise!

      Obviously the big plus that brings most of us here is the money, which is pretty good. My accommodation leaves a lot to be desired but it's free. Transportation to and from work and two shopping trips per week are provided(and taxis are quite cheap for trips we want to take by ourselves). This first month has been expensive as I had to buy things for the apartment - this is the worst supplied flat of the three countries I have been in in the Middle East - many of the things teachers buy should be provided by the company. In future, though, I will only have to pay for my groceries(which are a bit more expensive than I was expecting, but still my only major expense), my daily cappuccino at the campus cafeteria(under $2.00 so a justifiable treat!), and maybe a supper out on our Thursday shopping trip. So I will soon get caught up on my financial plan which went awry during three months of not working!

      Those are the final details - and then some! Despite the detour of three months in Kuwait(which , although it was the wrong setting for me, was not a wasted journey), despite the frustration and stress of finding another teaching position, and despite the challenges I have encountered since arriving in Riyadh I do not regret leaving the safety and comfort of home. Challenges are good; they shake us out of our complacence. Change is good; it provides us with an opportunity to grow. Meeting new people, experiencing new environments, conquering challenges and adapting to change is sometimes difficult and frightening; it is also rewarding and exciting. It is an adventure - it is not for the weak of heart.