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.