Hard to get over a good job

It has been over two years since I found out that I had lost my job with GMAC; March 31st will actually be the anniversary of the day I cleaned off my desk and left behind a career I thought I would have until I retired.


I was very lucky to have had the opportunity to work at GMAC. It was by chance that a co-worker at the Gap, my university part time job, was the wife of the Atlantic Regional Manager for the office and heard I was looking for a co-op placement. Next thing I know I’m being interviewed and offered a position. When that semester ended, I was offered a second work term, and then in my final year of university, I got a call from one of my previous supervisors asking if there was a chance I would come back part time. And part time is not something GMAC had ever done. It was great. Each step had earned me more experience, income to pay for another semester of university and I learned more about the automotive financing business. And upon graduation I was offered a contract and seven years and a couple of promotions later I found myself looking at a choice to move to Toronto or take a severance package.

I had been very spoiled at GMAC. I had a group of coworkers that were relatively close to my age and were easy to get along with. I had supervisors and regional managers who saw value in me, and at one point I was told I could easily go as high as I want in the company. Pair that with excessive benefits, thanks to the automotive union, which allowed me to reach five weeks of vacation and even a health care spending account over and above the amazing core plan.

Since losing that job, I have had three more. This third job seems to be one where I could have a future. The others offered me a future, but they just weren’t the right fit. But the job I have now gives me an environment where I feel my growth is possible, the money isn’t that bad and the benefits are standard in the industry. I don’t hate coming to work everyday, like I have in the past positions, but I don’t feel settled. Maybe settled isn’t the word, because I don’t feel like I should be looking for another job, but I guess it feels temporary.

Surely some of the temporary feeling is me adjusting to all of the changes that happened in my life in these last two years. Prior to that day I lost my job my life was pretty stable. Change wasn’t really something I was accustomed to.

Maybe part of it is my maturing into my thirties and realizing that I want to be passionate about my job. I know most people just go to work Monday to Friday and just push through the weeks and years to retirement, but I was always a kid who dreamt big and I always thought my job would be something I wanted to do.

And I can’t forget the fact that there are 28 years until I’m 60. Not that I want to be older than I am, but I want to retire around 60 (if not sooner). Is there anyway I can even stay in the accounting field for another 28 years? I guess only time will tell.

The best part of waking up... is not Folgers in my cup

It's actually William sneaking into my bed for a snuggle.

I'm not sure what it is but for the last few weeks, when I have William over night (my access is 3 days every week on a two week rotating cycle... just in case you're wondering) I am woken up before my alarm by William crawling into bed.  He has developed this habit, which I love, of coming in to snuggle for at least half an hour before it's time to start the day.

He comes in quietly, and isn't trying to stir me, he just wants to snuggle.  I can drift in and out of sleep and he won't say a word.  He just wraps his arm around me, or if I flip over, so my morning breath doesn't kill the poor child, he'll climb over me to snuggle back in. 

I usually do wake up and we'll talk or he'll go grab his Nintendo DS and we'll play a game for a bit, before we start the day.  And everytime it happens I actively think to myself that I need to take this in.  That I need to cherish this moment, because a couple of months ago I was practically dressing him for preschool while his eyes were still closed in the mornings and because in a short period of time he'll be too big to want to snuggle with his ol' Dad.  Life is passing me by, but I'm trying to memorize the ride.

All for him

Just when I think we have reached a place of calm, something triggers my ex wife to try and exert unreasonable control over my life to a degree that is unfair and leaves me in disbelief.  For anyone who knew my dad would know that he was not one to avoid conflict and to a large extent I am the same way. 

I will defend myself and give it as good as I take it.  But there has been a big change in my instinct to react when my seperation became one of a legal nature.  I learned to bite my tongue.  It's a hard thing to do and since Friday I have been biting my tongue so hard that I can taste blood.  I want to lash out and tell the world the games that are being played, but alas my focus is on my actions in our divorce to be ones I will not be ashamed of.  I will be able to hold my head high at the end of all of this.  And all for him.  I don't ever want him to learn of my actions and be disappointed in me. 

I have fought hard for the shared custody I have.  I am still fighting for the right of first refusal.  But I am fair and above board.  I have tried to negeotiate fair terms with my ex, instead of pulling in lawyers everytime. 

I do it all for him. 

Concrete Jungle Where Dreams Are Made Of

For years I have played with the idea of heading to New York City and taking in the sites. Well some of the sites, because really there is much more to do and see in New York that anyone could easily do in a visit, or probably even living there for six months.

Since I have taken a look at my budget and realize that going to a warm tropical island is out of reach in 2010 the idea of a long weekend in NYC is something I think could probably fit into my budget. I am someone who tends to look at hotel rooms as only places I sleep and shower, so my standards are lower than most of my friends. For that reason, I thought why not try a hostel. There are many hostels with great ratings in Manhattan with a daily cost of around $30. Sure you have to sleep in a bunk bed, in a room of probably 9 other guys, but really if I’m in New York, all I need is a bed, a locker and a clean shower. Plus, I have always envied those people who took time after high school or during the university years to tour parts of the world and use hostels exclusively. They have made enduring friendships and seen sights they couldn’t have afforded otherwise because of monetary constraints related to hotels.

I haven’t mentioned this idea to any of my friends yet, because (a) I don’t know who of my friends would be willing to hostel in their early thirties and (b) when travelling with friends I will end up seeing the things in NYC they want to see, which might not match my must-sees. Probably not a smart idea, but I am half tempted to take the trip solo and plan to meet some friends at the hostel that I can explore the city with in the evenings and during the day do my own thing.

I have started bookmarking websites to help in my planning, but really am still at the point of being overwhelmed with figuring out what my priorities are in visiting NYC, and realistic timelines for commuting between the landmarks.  Then I have to really look at what flight and my must-sees will cost and see if the cost matches my budget.

If nothing else, it gives me something to get excited about and look forward to, during the grey days of winter. Hopefully my first visit to NYC will become reality this spring.

The complainers...

There is something I don't get about my generation... the complaining about their kids or the inability to handle life with children.  I know it's not everyone.  I certainly don't...  in fact, I sit in awe of how amazing my son is and want more around just like him.

But pretty much on a daily basis there is someone on my list of facebook friends who can't stand how cranky their kids are, or doesn't want to get up early to drive their child to hockey.  Or there is the sister of a friend who had to take her daughter to emergency for an injury... an injury serious enough to head to emergency, and probably get stitches, but not serious enough to find a friend who was home to take care of her other child and to take the time to run to a community completely not in the same direction as the hospital, because she AND her husband didn't want to have to worry about both of their children sitting with them in emergency.  And this woman is the same one who calls her Mom, who lives five hours away and says meet me halfway, I need a week without my daughter.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  What is wrong with parents?

What happened to wanting to spend time with your children?  When parents had an opportunity to stay home with their kids today on a snow day, why were their thoughts about how their kids were under their feet all day, and not let's get outside and make great memories sledding down hills?  The one other day we had enough snow here for the kids to enjoy, I was lucky enough to be off for the day and had my son.  In that day we packed in hours of being outside laughing, building snowmen (as you see in the pic just prior to this post) and sledding.  It's surely a day my son will remember and I think I had as much fun as he did.  And really, maybe that is why William is a well behaved child... because his parents spend time with him having fun, instead of him acting out to try and get our attention.

Children are a blessing.  William was our miracle who came a month early and it was five years ago today.  I remember vividly seeing him for the first time and hope I never slip into the complaining trap most of my peers have.  On the day he was born I promised to be the best father I could... and five years in I think I'm doing okay... but I'm a work in progress and will strive to be better for the rest of my life.

HAPPY 5th Birthday William!

Someone is almost 5!

When William turned four he refused to accept the change.  If he was asked how old he was, at any point in the last year he would say he was three, cause it was his favorite number.  Now that he's almost five and five means going to big boy school, he's all ready to embrace the change, and this year, I'm not!  He's three!!

Oh my aching back

This week began as any other.  My alarm began to sound at 8am and I jumped into the shower.  Followed by a quick breakfast and ironed my clothes.  Nothing really out of the ordinary with the exception of my Mom being in the house. 

And then, after brushing my teeth and grabbing another look in the mirror before heading for the front door, I felt a twinge in my back.  It wasn't caused by twisting or any sort of snap, just a twinge that felt wrong.  I didn't think much of it, because I'm not one to really have any back problems.

Then as the hour progressed my back became more sore and it effected my ability to walk.  I thought back to my weekend to see if maybe I had done anything to hurt myself.  Hmm... Friday I worked all day and went to the gym, on the way out to my car I do remember maybe a slight pinch in my back, but then I went onto dance the night away without incident.  Saturday was pretty unremarkable; I went to the mall and then spent the night vegging and watching junk reality tv until finally around 9pm I decided to catch a movie in the theatre.  And Sunday was pretty routine.  I got up, showered, cleaned the house and caught a yoga class while waiting for my Mom to come into the city.

I managed to make it through the work day Monday.  But that night I had to give in and admit the pain was not normal.  I spent the evening with Mom and William and a heating pad.  And everytime I would leave the room without the heating pad, William would grab it and hold it against my back as I walked.  Such a good helper. 

The next morning I took William to preschool and then headed to a medical clinic.  It was early so there weren't many people ahead of me.  I got in and the doctor got me to remove my shirt and could immediately tell that the right side of my back was spasmed.  He wrote perscriptions for an anti-inflammatory and a muscle relaxant.  He said if it didn't help then I should go to my family doctor and get narcotics.  I got the perscriptions filled and headed home to rest.  And by rest I mean, throw chili in the slowcooker and then spend the afternoon with heat on my back.  Wednesday morning wasn't any better.  I had to take William to the IWK Children's Hospital for his TRIGR study appointment (TRIGR is a study where they are testing children who have the markers on their genes for Diabetes and are testing the effect of cows milk in the first six months of life, on whether they develop the disease).  I then foolishly went to work and tried to get into the routine but sadly the muscle relaxants made me more drowsy and I had to pack it up an hour into the day.

I figured that heat and rest wasn't taking care of the problem, so I booked a massage.  I went in and explained my problem and asked the massage therapist to work for the entire hour on my back.  Most of the time I was fighting to stay awake, but occasionally she would hit a sensitive area and I would wince in pain.  When it was over she told me to take my time getting up and she would meet me in the sitting area outside the room.  Trying to turn over was my first indicaiton that I was in trouble.  It took me probably five minutes to even get to a sitting position.  Then dressing myself was the next challenge.  It hurt so bad I thought of calling out for help and gave up on trying to bend close enough to my feet to get my socks on.  I finally managed and walked out to the therapist who explained what she felt and recommended I come back within the week.  And as I turned the corner I remembered the huge set of stairs I had to climb to get out of the place.  It was pain beyond anything I have ever know.  I struggled to lift my feet high enough to get up one stair.  I was in severe pain and it was much worse than when I went into the massage.

Somehow I got up the stairs, paid for my massage, got my coat and headed out to my car.  I barely got my legs both into my car and then I exploded into tears.  I was in more pain than I ever thought possible.  I was at the point where I was trying to lift my legs with my hands instead of muscles because it hurt too much... and of course I drive a standard.  After about ten minutes of a self-pep-talk I suffered through the pain enough to drive home, crawl up the stairs and laid flat on the floor for hours. 

Thankfully, it was a situation where it had to get worse before it got better.  By morning Thursday I was feeling substantially better, but figured another day at home was probably a smart choice, so I wouldn't ruin my weekend with William.  And thanks to the muscle relaxants I slept most of the day away, and luckily had a friend bring me sushi for supper. 

Althought I'm not back to 100%, I am a million miles away from when I was leaving my massage.  I wish it hadn't meant my skipping the gym this week, because when I am not active my eating also takes a turn for the worse, but the rest is worth it to heal.

I now have a new respect for those out there with chronic paralyzing back pain.  It's something you feel head to two and incapacitates you more than anything else.  I just wish I had an answer as to why it happened.  I really don't think it was the yoga, since I have been doing it for almost a year, and really didn't push myself any harder in the Sunday class.  Perhaps there is someone out there with a voodoo doll I don't know about.  Haha.

Friday night in Halifax

Last night I left work on time, headed to the mall to find a purple shirt and then headed home, to get my gym gear.  I packed my bag, went back out into the freezing cold and headed to the gym to do an hour (which ended up being 45 minutes total) of running on the treadmill.

I change out of my sweaty clothes, grab subway and head home, scarf down half my sub before heading into a steamy shower.  Now, it doesn't matter how many showers I have a day, it's one of the best parts of my day.  I like it hot, no cold water turned on at all by the time my body adjusts.  I took longer in the shower than expected.

Quickly check my facebook, as I decide between the two purple shirts I bought, and three of my favorite pairs of jeans until my look is right.  Add cologne, product to my hair, floss and brush my teeth and get the hell out of the house.  I stop at the liquor store, grab a bottle of gin and some mojos cause I hate mixing drinks at other's places.  Cross the bridge and am proactive and park in a parkade, because of the winter parking ban in the city.

I practically run the four blocks to South Street because of the bitter cold, wondering how homeless people would ever survive on the streets on a night like this.  And finally I arrive at my friend's place 45 minutes late; I easily would have been on time if I skipped the gym, but I am glad I stayed dedicated on a Friday night to my goals.

I get inside and the room has about 12 people all wearing purple shirts.  I quickly crack my first drink and jump into the conversations.  It's such an easy group of people to hang out with.  Everyone genuinely like each other.  There is no gossipping about each other behind anyone's back.  It's a group that just want to have a good time and enjoy each other's company.

At almost midnight we head out to a couple of bars, take in more drinks and dance for hours.   Music is pumping, people are smiling, making out, dancing on speakers... well my group are a little more tame, but it happens.  And around 4am I am just unlocking the door and dragging my tired ass to bed... Friday nights are good in Halifax!  And it's strange that here I am in this circle of friends that I didn't know a year ago.  I'm not their friend because I am someone's accessory.  I am their friend because they like me for me.  And that does more for this 32 year old's self-esteem than I can explain.

During my seperation I lost friends, who obviously were more my ex's friend than mine.  Looking back they liked me mainly because I was my wife's husband and that if it had just been me, then maybe we wouldn't have been friends at all.  It used to upset me that I was lost those friends, but now I have come full circle and have my own friends without any baggage and just out for a good time.  All part of the healing process.

If I didn't have bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck...

The statement I put into my header today is a thought I try never to allow to enter my consciousness.  There are people around me that think that way, and in fact it was something my father had paraphrased throughout the years.

I agree that coincidence can make it seem that people have good or bad luck, or that things can happen in threes, but I refuse to believe that anyone has bad luck.  I don't want to believe it.  I think if you look for the negative enough, you are surely going to find it, so why look?

I am a pretty positive person.  Sure I have down times and have hit rock bottom, but I think I tend to see the glass as half full.  I think if you live negatively long enough it can and will also affect (I never learned the affect/effect difference, so if it's wrong I apologize... and bring grammer lessons back to grade school) your health and manifest into things like cancer.  And I am not saying that everyone who has cancer has it because of negativity, I'm just saying that if you live negatively enough, your health will take a turn for the worse.

Anyway... just a random thought that crossed my mind, because my 2009 ended on a sad note, and then a missed phone call has brought some worry of a family member's health but I refuse to be that person that says... well things happen in threes so it's got to be bad... or when will it end, 2010 sucks... because I believe 2010 is actually a great year ahead of me.  I have picked myself up over the few months and I feel like I'm pretty much at full strength.  Rebuilding is going to make me better than ever; a Jeff 2.0 if you will.

Positive thoughts folks... positive thoughts.

Social Committee

So in an effort to combat my initial shyness at work (I guess I shouldn't be shy, having been here five months) I decided to join the social committee.  They were rotating members, and I have participated as a member at previous employers, so I thought why not?  It will allow me to get to know the team members better and it will force me to go to these events I tend to shy away from in my first year of employment.

Well our first meeting was last week and I learned we are mandated to have four events every year.  A spring event, summer event, a staff Christmas party and children's Chirstmas party.  Can I start by saying that it's great that we call the latter two events Christmas parties?  Not that I am intolerant of other beliefs, but if there's a Christmas tree in the room then why can't people call it a Christmas party? 

There are five of us on the committee, one of which is the overweight man I mentioned in an earlier post, and he nominated himself as the Chair.  I think I underestimated his weight in that earlier post; now that I have watched a few episodes of the Biggest Loser, I now think he's at least in the 470 lb range.  And as if his size wasn't big enough, now I find that his point of view is just as big.  He definitely likes to take the lead, but unfortunately in doing so he goes in multiple directions and nothing gets accomplished.  Thankfully he was receptive to my interjections that would get us to commit to making action items.  I'm only two meetings in, and already I fear this is going to be a long year of planning.

So while discussing possible things to do for our spring event he starts talking about how much he enjoys poker and every Wednesday night he plays at Dooley's and that should be our event.  A couple of other members suggest things like Kartbahn, which is an indoor go-cart track, or a movie, or a pubcrawl, but the chair pretty much has it settled in his head that we are doing the poker and pool afternoon and is going to call to see what kind of deal he can get... and maybe they will throw in chicken wings and friend pepperoni.  Needless to say, when I am up against someone like that I tend to not allow anyone to get pushed around, and I will come up with a couple ideas, research pricing and will present it at our next meeting. 

Part of the reason I joined was because with my past employers, the social committee was really key in developing friendships within the office and allowed us to interact with management on a relaxed level, which I think facilitated a better work environment.  I know strong opinions are a natural occuring thing, but I am going to work hard, and will be the asshole if need be, to have events that everyone would enjoy and not just a small group of people. 

I'm not saying that people won't enjoy poker.  In fact strip-poker has been a lot of fun in the past.  But I think a certain amount of concensus is required or people won't show up to the events.  If in our small group of five there are three other people providing options than each of those options need equal consideration.  At least until budget comes into play, than I might have to put my foot down... cause I'm the treasurer and we all know that money is the deciding factor.

Am I really moving 4ward?

It’s been the better part of two years since my wife and I separated. Almost two years. In some ways that time has passed very quickly and in other ways the time has ticked by more slowly than imaginable.

There hasn’t been a day that has passed in those twenty months where I didn’t ask myself what-if. And usually when the what-if hits me, in my head I think out the scenario of what would happen if we got back together.

And most nights while sleeping, just before I close my eyes, or sometimes when I wake up at 4am I think, how did my life get here? How did my life that followed the path I had wanted take such a turn? How did I go from having almost everything to having almost nothing?

I don’t want to sound down, although today I definitely feel like if I don’t kick myself in the ass then I could easily slip into depression. It’s just that I think I need to get some of these thoughts out of my head. I haven’t seen my therapist in a year and I don’t want to have to call him up and ask for an appointment after all this time. So I’m going to put this in a public forum and imagine that my therapist is sitting across from me taking notes and listening.

There has been a lot of hurt caused by both sides, but over the last four months or so, I feel like I need to explain certain things to my wife. Give her some insight into my thinking process throughout the last couple of years. Maybe it will eventually be used against me, maybe it will bring her some peace, maybe it will bring us to a better working relationship as parents, but I feel like there are things that need to be said. Because after all she was my best friend and I have hurt her and if I can somehow now help her heal a bit then any risk is worth it.

I know part of me lives in a fantasy world that we can be friends again. She has let hurt and anger enter her body so deeply that she forgets who I really am sometimes. But maybe sometimes she does recognize me until some of her family stoke the fire until it’s blazing again and she pushes those feelings away. And I know part of that anger is her protecting herself; but then there are the days where we email back and forth or she shows that she cares and it gives me hope that there’s a chance for friendship.

I hate that two years ago our lives were turned upside down and we can’t go back. I hate that I lost my best friend, possibly (and likely) forever. I hate that everyday I wake up and don’t really recognize my life.

2010 started and I was surrounded by friends, most of which I had met in 2009, but I felt very alone. I made a decision in those first few hours that I was going to rebuild myself and part of that process is me dealing with the residual pain and confusion. And although I don’t want this blog to be all about my therapy, there will be entries periodically where I need to talk about the process. I hope anyone reading doesn’t mind.

I got the itch

Ever year around this time I get that itch... the one I so desperately want to scratch.  The itch to book a trip to some tropical location where the beaches are white... the trees are palms... the ocean is warm enough to swim in... and I don't have to cook or clean for a week.

I am trying to talk myself out of even looking at prices, but sadly I have already done so on several occasions.  I know I shouldn't spend the money, that paying down debt is the more responsible thing to be doing... but the idea of being on a beach for a week with William is intoxicating.

I am doing my best not to call a travel agent to see exactly how much it would cost for William's trip (since most carriers tease you with the "kids stay and eat free" and I'm sure it's almost full price). 

Don't tell me how nice it would be for my Mom to come with us and escape the reality of life right now either...  don't do it.

And don't tell me that I work hard and deserve one week of careless relaxation, where I only worry about which place to eat at and when to apply more suntan lotion.. or that the only papercut I could possibly get is from reading a novel.  And I already have The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown waiting to be read on vacation... and I read Angels and Demons last year in the DR and couldn't put it down.

Oh lottery Gods (I know there are no lottery Gods...) when will I win some money... I'm not asking for a lot.  Just $100,00.00 or so.  I don't need a million or 13 million or whatever crazy number it is right now.  Just enough to pay off my debt, take my family on a great vacation and have the better part of a house paid off.  See I'd even be responsible and share...

Okay... back to work for me.

Quick Christmas Post

Anyone who has learned that my Grandmother passed away during Christmas vacation automatically assumes that it ruined our Christmas, but it didn't.  This was actually one of the best Christmases that I have had in a long time. 

My sister, Annette, flew in on Christmas Eve, surprising my Mom and Grandmother.  It ended up that she could get the time off and the flight was reasonably priced so she told me she was coming and we made some plans to surprise the ladies.  Annette called from her cell phone when she arrived on our street.  I spoke for a second and passed the phone to my Mom.  I immediately went and grabbed the videocamera and then there was a knock on the front door.  I answered and videoed the reaction my Mom had when she turned around and Annette was there... and I'm hoping I got Grammie's reaction too. 

That night we had ham for supper, tried making Chocolate Martinis for Annette and Mom and then went for a drive to look at Christmas lights.  Mom and William were competing to see who had "more on my side".  Then William decided to fall asleep in the car and we continued to enjoy the colored lights.  I had planned on snacks and watching Disney's Christmas Carol with William but instead he was in bed early.  The adults enjoyed some snacks and drinks and then headed to bed. 

Annette was on an air mattress on William's bedroom floor and I was sharing his single bed (surprisingly not a bad night's sleep).  He woke up around five in the morning and wanted some OJ but went right back to sleep.  And around 7:30 we woke up, and William said he wanted some more sleep, but by 8 I had him talked into seeing what Santa had brought. 

It was great for us all to be under one roof.  Passing out presents and seeing William's excitement.  And I couldn't get over how appreciative he was for all he received, even clothes.  He kept saying how many presents Mom and Annette had bought him. 

I know that Grammie enjoyed seeing William's excitement.  She would laugh everytime he would pull a couple of gags on people (a can of chips with a snake that pops out when you open it, and a pack of gum with a cockroach on the stick of gum when you pull it out).  So there's no reason to think of sadness when I think of Christmas this year.  It was one I will always cherish because it we were all together for a change.  I guess maybe fate played a part.

Facebook might be taking over my life

I guess I could be called a bit of a facebook addict.  It was more of an issue when I was a civil servant, because I had access while at work, and less work to be done, but I still find it hard to go a day without logging in at least once and catching up on what everyone has been up to.

One thing I don't like about facebook is the fact that when someone unfriends you for any reason, including them closing down their facebook account, you don't have any notification.  I know it's probably to avoid a certain level of conflict that people may start if someone unfriends them in a time of anger or just doesn't care, but part of me wants to know who leaves my friend list.  I think it would be my need to try and correalate the reason for the departure with a recent event.  I don't like it when I lose a friend, according to my friend count, and I can't figure out who is gone.

And another part of facebook that is rather strange is the ability to recognize people that are friends of friends, but because of seeing them in photos with friends, you almost feel like you would know them.  You somehow get this vibe from them that they would be a great friend, all because they know how to pose in front of a digital camera.  Strange.  What is even worse is being drunk, seeing one of these friends-of-a-friend and for some reason introducing yourself to them on the dancefloor.  What was I thinking??  At least two of the people around this friend-of-a-friend found me attractive... although one of them was a little too grabby for my liking.  Oh the fun of drinking public in Halifax.

Why do all good things come to an end?

Death has a strange way of making you realize your mortality. It has a way of forcing to look in the mirror and examine your past and present states and sometimes it can change your outlook on the future.

This week we laid my Grammie Spurr to rest. She was my last Grandparent and for me it was strange to realize that I now no longer have anyone from that generation that I am physically carrying a piece (DNA) of.

My Mom asked me if I wanted to say a eulogy at the funeral. I, of course, accepted because I figured it meant enough to my Mom for her to ask me to do it. But my first thought was whether or not there had been one for my Grandfather. I would have been honored to have spoken about him, but there is no way I would have been able to speak during his funeral. He’s the one person I will never get over. I choke up every time I think about it.

I sat at my Grandparent’s dining room table for a couple of days this weekend past and came up with portions of what I wanted to say but couldn’t get the flow I wanted and knew I needed to make myself proud of the thoughts I wanted to share. And then it all just became too much. I think the reality of it all set in and I couldn’t face the idea. The thought of my poor Mother sitting in the first pew as I read the eulogy was more than I knew I could handle. I ended up declining and allowing the minister to share some words about my Grandmother.

I will just say these few things about my maternal Grandmother. She was a strong willed woman who was the happiest when her family was with her. She made sure she always had molasses cookies in her pantry when I was young, and made the best home-made bread. She always wanted to look her best and hated to be late and believed a person was strongest when part of a family. She will never be forgotten.

Sidenote: I am always reminded when I am at my Grandparent’s house, whether through pictures or stories I hear, that life was very different in those few generations before mine. The family unit was strong but always had time for each other. The community supported each other and although they worked hard, life was simple and they had fun. I have said it before… I think this rat-race we find ourselves in today is all wrong.

Favorite Christmas Memory 2009

Christmas is still a week away and I already have my favorite Christmas memory for 2009. It actually happened last Saturday, December 12th. My Mom was in the city to do some Christmas shopping and spend some time with me getting the house ready for Christmas, and of course she made sure that she was in the city on a weekend that I had William.

That day was started early for me, with less than five hours of sleep because of a Christmas party I attended that spilled over into a bar until sometime after 3am. I was a little dizzy and probably still over the legal limit for alcohol so I wasn’t driving. We packed up Mom’s car and headed out to do some shopping and around supper time stopped at a make-shift tree lot to pick out our Christmas tree. When it was delivered I propped it up in the stand and gave it a ton of water while we ate supper and dug out the decorations (of which a huge box is still missing).

That evening we decorated the tree and snacked while a Christmas cartoon played in the background. William claimed the left-most side of the tree as his and kindly reminded me that it was his side any time I tried to put an ornament on his side. We cleaned up and then sat down to watch Polar Express, as it came on tv. It was Mom’s first time seeing the movie but one of my favorites even though Tom Hanks does many of the character’s voices in it.

It was in the final half hour that William decided to climb up in my lap and watch the end of the movie. It was nearing 11pm and we were all quite tired. And as the last commercial break came on William laid his head on my shoulder and closed his eyes. When the movie came back on, they opened; he watched the final scene and then closed his eyes again. He was out for the night.

I find it hard to believe anything else could top my list in 2009.

My new addiction

So I have an addiction, which I have mentioned on here before, but I haven’t gone into any detail. I love hot yoga and would go every day if my schedule would allow it. LOVE IT! I feel like I need to be the spokesperson for Moksha Yoga.

I ended up trying yoga back in the spring shortly after becoming friends with a local filmmaker Jake. He had been going for some time and thought it might be something I would be interested in and since my life is very different than it was a couple of years ago and I have periods of time where I’m alone a lot, I decided that I was more than willing to try something new.

I had not tried yoga before, but had some idea of what to expect. The part I didn’t expect was that hot yoga was so hot. I believe I was told the room is held at 98 degrees, 50 percent humidity. So when you first walk into the darkened studio and lay down in savasana to calm your mind and wait for class to begin, you already can feel your heart rate quicken, as your body adjusts to the heat. And during the class you sweat unlike anything you can imagine. I’m talking drops of sweat dripping constantly off your body. More sweat than I thought was humanly possible.

The first class I went to was a 60 minute class and from the completion of the class I knew I was hooked. I loved that once you entered the room and went through the series of postures your mind has no time to wander to other topics that can distract you from the rest of your day. While in that studio you have escaped the reality of your life and are brought back to basics; listening to your body and focusing on breath and balance.

And here I am almost a year into practicing and I still cannot get over the improvement in my body. Now, I haven’t lost much if any weight, because that really hasn’t been my focus, but I have noticed toning in my arms, my hips are more loose and my posture overall has been improved, most dramatically while sitting at my desk at work. I also love that you only push yourself as much as you want. There are no expectations put on you, although if you’re like me you push yourself a little harder in some area every class. And another thing that keeps me going back is that I feel it in my muscles every time I leave the class.

So, I certainly endorse hot yoga. I have taken a number of friends to the class already and have at least four more who want to give it a try after the holidays. One of my closest friends was going thru a very emotional break up and couldn't keep from crying and I took her with me.  As I drove her home after the class she told me that it was exactly what she needed, An hour that she didn't think about her ex.  And if anyone reading this has a Moksha or similar hot yoga studio around you, I ask you to just try it once and see what you think (but drink a ton of water before you go).

Doesn't get more wrong than this...

So it's now 11pm and I just finished watching the season finale of The Biggest Loser.  It's not a show I watch but there was nothing else on tv to watch and I wanted something easy to watch as I ate pizza.  Isn't that terrible?  A McCain frozen, throw in the oven pizza.  Probably the same type of thing those contestants did for years, that got them to the 400 lbs and their spot on the show.

Now in my defense, the reason I'm eating so late is because I worked until 7pm, was home half an hour before heading to hot yoga for the 8:30 class.  I sweated my ass off and pushed myself hard enough that I already feel it in my arms and back.  So even though not ideal to eat this late, or to eat pizza versus a salad or soup, I kind of earned it and will not be on my way to the Biggest Loser.

My favorite picture right now

Refusing to agree continues

I was going to vent on here today, but I’m striving to be a good person, so I will take the pill I was just given and choke it down as best as I can . I just got word from my son’s mother that she had been in to see her lawyer today and signed some papers. She was trying to circumvent needless stress on my part, since I have a lot of studying to do for an exam tomorrow evening, by giving me a heads-up.

I think that she thought of this, because of an under-handed move she made early in our separation, and maybe was trying to avoid a repeat. Back last summer she had her lawyer contact me with some of the worst words I have heard throughout this whole process, in essentially diminishing my rights to my son to six days a month, the day after I had driven her and my son to the airport to fly away on vacation. The day after she had made me promise that we would go on family vacations together. That was the letter that forced me to take legal action to ensure my rights and my son’s were looked after in regards to access.

Anyway, back to today. I thanked her (we were using email during this conversation), and told her that if it was anything bad then let me know and I would avoid my lawyer’s calls or emails until the end of the week. Then my desk phone rings. My heart sinks; obviously I am not going to like the words I am about to hear.

She tells me that she had just signed off on some paperwork that my lawyer had been working on, and they sent back a revision. She then told me what the revision was. It is in regards to our son. It was a section I had added whereby she would agree that we would each have to ask the other to take our son, if we couldn’t be with him, before finding someone to babysit him. It’s essentially right of first refusal.

I am not going to go into my thought process right now or how it makes me feel. It’s probably fairly obvious how hurt I am from this topic appearing on my blog. All I am going to say is that I know I am a good father. I have learned lessons from those in my life and I strive every day to be a better Dad to my son. The circumstances are not ideal, but I do the best I can and first right of refusal should be default, not something written on a piece of paper witnessed by lawyers.