"Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good..."

I waited in line with almost a thousand others last night to get my copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows shortly after midnight. I finished it tonight at 10:30.

What an immensely satisfying ending to Harry's story. Rowling spared us nothing, and yet I finished the book smiling.

"All was well."

Thanks, Jo, from the bottom of this bookworm's heart.

What did the rest of you think? Megan?

About a year ago....

...I was chanting my end of pregnancy mantra, "Give me life, give me pain. Give me myself again."

HT to Megan for reminding me of how wonderfully emotive Tori's music is.

Woman vs. nature

Anyone who knows me well knows I'm an outdoor kind of girl. I love to camp Girl Guide-style, in tents and lean-tos and quanzees. My bedrolls are water-proof and tight as a drum. I love to start a cooking fire with one match, some newspaper, pine cones and kindling. I excel at cooking on rocks heated in a fire. I make the best S'mores ever.

But I loathe bugs in all their shapes and forms. And Vancouver Island is full of spiders and hornets and bees and beetles and ants of all shapes and sizes.

There are earwigs in my backyard and three types of ants in my front yard. There are flying insects everywhere -- everything except mosquitoes.

Ugh.

Our PMQ (that's a house for all you civvies out there) has hardwood floors in the living room and dining room, and lino in the kitchen, front entry and laundry room/back entry. The hardwood is lovely, but every drip and spill on the dining room floor shows up, even after being wiped with a sponge.

My floors were filthy last night. Two weeks of visiting relatives and days at the beach and a heat wave will do that.

Last night, the ants discovered a way in my back entry. And they discovered the bounty of dried beer and wine and pop on the floor around my blue box.

The bugs had invaded my domain. And they were looking hopefully towards the bonanza that was my dining room floor.

Attack!

Out came the mop and bucket, hot water and Pine-Sol. I mopped the back entry and kitchen, teeny ants shrivelling up as the soapy water hit them. Mwahahaha!

Then I entered the dining room. And an alarm started sounding in my brain. It was using my mother's voice as a weapon.

"Cindy Marie, don't you DARE use Pine-Sol on those hardwood floors!" it admonished. "Vinegar and water mopping only, followed by a quick buffing. That's the PROPER way to clean them!"

"But, Mom," I countered in my head, "the ants are coming! I need to disinfect, and fast. Besides, my neighbour Kim cleans her hardwood this way."

"You'll leave a film on them!"

I was pondering this when one tiny ant skittered from kitchen to dining room.

"Sorry, Mom, this is war. And war is ugly."

Twenty minutes later every ant in the house was dead, and all my hardwood was gleaming. The whole downstairs smelled of pine trees.

Woman 1, nature 0.

Happy Birthday, Hubby!

The Hubby turns 30 today. Happy birthday, love, and many happy returns. I love you.

Update: An excited wreck!

Update! The realtor called about an hour after I posted the note below. Our house is sold, effective July 13, 2007. We are making a modest profit, too. Hooray! Thank you, Lord, and thank you St. Joseph for favours received.

I'm waiting for our real estate agent to call with a possible sale of our house in Yellowknife. The other party made an offer, we accepted, and the house was inspected yesterday. Now it's all a matter of the final decision.

My stomach's in knots. Sell, house, sell! Saint Joseph, pray for us!

Fun in Baby N.'s room

The boys decided Baby N.'s nap was finished.

Adventures in pebbles and baby poop

It was bound to happen sometime.

Baby N. enjoys putting things in her mouth. A lot. More than the boys did at the same age, let me tell you. We are constantly scooping stuff out of her gob, everything from pennies to sticks to dust bunnies. She always complains loudly every time we rescue her digestive system from these objects.

Yesterday, however, she triumphed. Yesterday, she swallowed a pebble.

We were out on the back step. I was hanging laundry while Baby N. sat at my feet, playing with a toy. I had scanned the step for swallowable objects when we came outside. Nothing, I thought. Then Baby N. got that gleam in her eye.

She dived. I scooped her up, grabbed her cheeks, pushed on them to open her mouth, and inserted the trusty swiping finger. I could see the pebble at the back of her mouth. We struggled. She screamed, pulled her head back and went gulp! The pebble was gone.

I sighed, brought her inside, and called the BC Nurse Line.

She wasn't choking, wheezing or in pain; in fact, she was sashaying around the living room, enjoying her success.

The nurse told me to keep an eye on what comes out her other end.

"If she hasn't passed it in a week, bring her to the doctor," she said.

Princess Plumber Butt passed the pebble this morning in her ritual morning deposit.

And I wonder why I'm going gray.

The Trip, Day One: Yellowknife to High Level

Note: This is the first part in a series describing our adventures on the trip south.

Our last morning in Yellowknife started well enough. The Hubby and I got up early, fed the children, then washed, dressed and diapered the brood. I started packing everything in sight in the hotel room while Hubby dragged luggage and backpacks and cooler and squeaky toys down to the Bratmobile.

We finished packing; we checked out; the children said good-bye to each Yellowknife landmark as we passed. It was 9 a.m.

"Good-bye, family centre! Good-bye, park! Good-bye, Co-op!"

We turned onto the highway. We started the big drive. And then Hubby noticed a sound. A strange, whirring sound. It was coming from the back, right-hand side of the minivan.

"There's something wrong with the back right-hand tire," he said.

We started discussing what to do. Should we turn around now, or get it fixed in High Level? Were we safe?

And then Hubby said, "Cin, where's the laptop? I don't remember packing it in the minivan."

We turned the Bratmobile around and headed back to Yellowknife.

"Hello, Co-op! Hello, park! Hello, family centre!" A. announced cheerfully.

Back at the hotel, Hubby tore apart the hotel room and found the laptop. I had put it in a "safe place" and promptly forgot about it.

From there we headed to the Chrysler dealership. The mechanic, after listening to our sob story, brought the van in right away (bless him). Sure enough, the bearings in our right back wheel were worn out.

We went to lunch while he doctored up the van.

Finally, repairs complete (thank goodness for our extended warranty!), we all piled back into the minivan and headed to High Level.

It was 1:15 pm. The drive to High Level is eight hours. I was trying my very best to be grateful we had caught the problem with the wheel and not left behind our computer.

The boys took to driving fairly well. Baby N., however, decided about two hours in that the trip was a plot to kidnap her and sell her to a baby-slavery ring. She screamed almost nonstop, unless she was sleeping or had my nipple in her mouth.

About that nipple: in order to nurse her while the two of us were safely belted in, I had to remove my shoulder strap, lean forward and dangle the breast over her car seat. That involved pushing my right ribs into the hard plastic of her seat, sometimes for hours on end. I still have bruises on my ribs from the five-day ordeal.

We reached the ferry across the Mackenzie River in the late afternoon. Break-up of the river ice had happened only a week before, and the boys were amazed at the giant slabs of ice floating around the boat. We snapped the picture above, one of the few we took on the road.

We finally arrived in High Level around 10 at night. After some Daddy-Sons wrestling, we all hit the beds with a resounding thump.

I went to sleep thanking the kids' guardian angel I forgot the computer. The mechanic said if we hadn't have turned back, we would certainly have broken down on the road before Fort Providence. And there is NOTHING on the roads between towns in the Northwest Territories: no houses, no garages, no gas stations. Nothing.

Congratulations, Stace and Trevor!

Stacey and Trevor enter together.

The vows (yes, she's crying; it was sweet.)

Stacey and me!

Stacey and Megan share a sisterly laugh.

Edit: I've finally found my camera. Here's some of our pics. But go over to Sally's blog for the best one.

Still catching up over here!

This past weekend I went to a happy and beautiful wedding, and watched my "sister" step into the world of The Marrieds, holding the hand of the man she loves.

Congratulations to you both, and many, many blessings to you.

Here's some shots from the wedding, above.

Whaddya think of the new duds?

Do you like the new template? I think it's rather appropriate, myself.

C'mon, tell me what you think.

To my father

Dad,

I called you on Father's Day, but there was no answer. My guess is you were swinging a golf club. Good.

Dad, you were the person in my childhood who showed me the pleasure of a good discussion, the value of thinking on the bigger things in life. Although we have come to markedly different conclusions about all that, I was introduced to it all by you, and at a very early age! Who else would have talked to a skinny ten-year-old about aliens and eternity and the depravity of human nature?

You were also the one who helped me through the storms produced by a sensitive nature and teenage hormones. I can't count how many times I curled up in your arms at 16, 17, 18 years old and cried. Thank you.

I don't think I ever told you how much I admired your decision to return to school when I was a kid. As I watch my husband struggle to get his homework done while making time for his family, I think about how much harder it must have been for you, with a full university course load of math and physics. And yet you succeeded.

Thanks for being there, Dad, and for showing me what a man should be. Happy belated Father's Day!

Jumping on the Ickler vent

Okay, so I know I owe you about a month's worth of stories and explanations (and I will get to them, I promise), but I couldn't resist joining Sally and Megan. I need to vent my spleen on Rebecca Eckler.

Ickler is the Paris Hilton of Canadian journalist mothers. Self-absorbed to the point of mental incapacitation. She's one of these wealthy people who moan and complain about their lives all the freaking time. She's got it sooo hard. Being a mom of one spoiled brat with two nannies is soooooo difficult. (One nanny for the week, one for the weekend, mind you.)

She recently posted a time line of a typical day so you can get her hard work and motherly devotion.

Mademoiselle Eckler, try my day on for size.

5:30 a.m. Nurse baby for the fourth time that night, but wake up during the process because the sun is up. Realize I need to get up in half an hour, meaning I got six hours of sleep -- a good night.

6 a.m Get up, wash and dress (a little early -- usually up at seven.)

6:25 Eat breakfast, wake house guest, clean up mess in kitchen and dining room.

6:50 Start a load of laundry.

7:10 Kiss husband goodbye -- he's been awake since 5:50, and is dressed in immaculate uniform with shined shoes.

7:15 Check email, CBC.ca, G&M, Facebook and the HER Foundation.

7:25 Children wake up. Washing, dressing and feeding frenzy begins.

8 a.m. Chivvy kids into shoes and coats, pack diaper bag and snack, head out door.

8:16 Leave for airport with house guest and three kids in minivan.

8:50: After much swearing, arrive at airport. Have Tim Horton's with Megan and kids. Send Megan back to the North.

9:30 Potty break.

9:40 Pack kids in minivan. Head home.

10:30 Arrive at home. Carry sleeping baby into house.

10:40 Log food at Weight Watchers Online.

11:00 Clean more messes.

11:16 Baby awakes. Carry her downstairs.

11:30 Make lunch for children and self.

12:15 p.m. Clean up lunch.

1:00 Pack boys in stroller and baby in backpack. Walk to rec centre (20 minutes). Register boys in swimming lessons.

1:30 Arrive at rec centre playground. Push swings, hand out water and snacks, etc.

2:30 Pack kids in stroller and backpack. Walk up steep hill to grocery store while all three kids nap.

2:50 Pick up supper supplies.

3:10 Walk home (25 minutes), then put away stroller and backpack. Sit on front step and watch boys play and baby try to eat grass.

4:00 Start supper prep (roast chicken and potatoes.)

4:10 Kiss Hubby hello.

6:10 Serve supper with Hubby's help. Hubby and I clean up.

7:00 Free time. Read book.

7:30 Chat with neighbours.

8:00 Hubby bathes all kids. I dress and diaper baby.

8:20 to 9:55 Nurse ravenous yet sleeping baby while surfing Net.

I still have an enormous amount of housework to do.

And you know what, Ickler? Today was a GREAT day.

In Victoria!

We're here! We made it safe and sound, and didn't even kill any of the kids during the 5-day drive.

More info when we're settled.

Last Yellowknife post

We're desperately "pre-packing" our house right now. (Yes, I typed "we"!) Although we don't have to pack the house, we do have to separate what we're bringing in the minivan from everything else, and it's a lot of work.

Things are good. We're settling in as a family again. Hubby and I are learning to parent together again, too.

We met Hubby at the airport, signs and banners waving. When he stepped off the plane, I didn't recognize him. He's lost 30 pounds! That was a shock.

It's good to be together again. I missed him desperately.

This will probably be my last post until Victoria.

Goodbye, Yellowknifers! It breaks my heart to leave such wonderful friends. I love you. Know I pray for you.

Come visit!

M5 W1 D5: Thoughts on my last night alone

I have been alone with my three children for four full months and five days.

Tonight is the last night I will put them to bed on my own in a very long time. The Hubby returns tomorrow.

My feelings are a stew right now, but the stock is certainly gratitude. I'm so grateful to the friends who watched my kids and cooked me meals and cleaned my house. Grateful to my parents for listening to me moan and complain. Grateful to my in-laws (both sets!) who helped me during a tight financial squeeze. And to the staff at the MFRC, who were an unfailing help and support through this, the longest, hardest and most accomplished winter of my parenting life.

To all of you, thank you a million times over. Please give me a chance to return the favour; call me anytime you need a hand.

And thank you, God, for giving all these beautiful people to me as my family and friends.

As for the other feelings floating in that stock? Excitement, certainly, and elation. But also some nervousness and fear. Will we fit back together as a family easily, or will we squabble and fight? How has he changed? How have we? Can I let go? Will the kids be royally ticked off and show it? I'm expecting the worst, but hoping for better; after all, we have a very long drive ahead of us.

If you're the praying type, drop one for us tomorrow, will ya?

M5 W1 D2: To my mother

Mom,

Although you are an entire country away, you have been my rock and strength these past two years.

In the midst of your own health concerns and worries, you pulled me through mine.

In the midst of your own concerns this winter, you helped me face four months alone with three small children.

You listened. You let me cry. You gave me encouragement and advice and sometimes a verbal spank.

And you did it all over phone lines and through computer screens.

I have always admired your strength, your fierce will, the way you raised us.

Thank you for my childhood. Thank you for still mothering me as an adult. Thank you for refusing to be my friend, and insisting on being my mother.

I love you very much.

Happy Mother's Day.

M4 W4 D4: The adultness of life

I was a very sensitive child. Oversensitive, really. I always had intense emotions. I was wildly happy, deeply sad, overwhelmingly hurt. I also had an uncanny ability to sense a person's true mood, even when they were faking another one.

This was not easy on my parents. I was always bursting into tears about something, out of sadness or happiness. I realize now it must have been intensely stressful.

A. is the same way. His goldfish died on the same day that we sold the tank of tropical fish (angelfish, a gourami, and sundry others. Yes, we had two tanks of fish!) Losing all of his pets on the same day was just too much for his little heart to bear, and he sobbed about it for 20 minutes, curled in my lap. Then he looked at me and said, "Loving is hard, Momma."

Oh yes, it is hard. A.'s first lesson in the adultness of life: Loving is hard.

I've been watching that happen around me this month. Friends struggling with love and family and loss.

A family that attends our church lost a son to suicide this week. My heart is broken for them. How inexpressibly awful. And yet they pray and hope and struggle to work through this grief. My admiration for them knows no bounds, as well as my sadness for their son and for the disease that took him from us.

I've also been watching three sets of friends struggle with married love. I'll say no more about that here, except I love them all and am praying for them.

In my own family, my grandmother saw her heart doctor in the past two weeks, and was greatly relieved she would not need another heart operation. But my mom and I want to shake her because she would have been fine if she'd listened to her doctor rather than a cab driver. The doctor told her to take her meds. The cabbie told her not to. She listened to the cabbie. So now she is on a much "tougher" drug for life.

One of my life's mentors, a childhood friend of my father's, is very very sick again. His cancer has returned, and he's too sick and weak for chemo. This man has now had cancer three times in his life. I'm praying for a miracle at this point. His mother's prayers produced one when he was a teenager. He is one of the kindest people to ever walk the Earth, and we will all have lost something if he leaves us early.

Loving is hard.

And yet, with all this, my life continues with its busyness and happiness. I have always felt deeply, but then the feelings move on. Happiness is never really far. I wonder if I am essentially shallow.

But then I remember the quote another blogquantance recently posted, from Albert Camus: "In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer."

I have always had that invincible summer. God willing, I hope I never, ever lose it.

M4 W3 D6: The big dates

It's all official.

I'm having a massive garage sale Saturday, May 12, 8 to noon.

Hubby arrives home Thursday, May 17 (two weeks.)

We leave for Victoria in our minivan the early morning of Saturday, May 26.

Our house is for sale -- anyone want to buy a house in Yellowknife?

And now the roller coaster ride begins.

Hands in the air, people!

M4 W3 D5: The big news

Acting Sub-Lieut. Hubby called tonight. I am happy to announce he has signed a lease on a personal married quarters, or PMQ, for our family. For you civvies, that's a house.

And what a house! Four bedrooms, a front yard, a back yard, living room, dining room, kitchen. Only one bathroom, but who cares! It sounds like an enormous palace to me!

For those of you who do not know me in real life, Hubby, the three children and I live in a single wide trailer with two bedrooms and a small addition. The computer nook and the front porch/mud room comprise the addition. There is a small square of grass in the front and a small rectangle on the side.

The new house is two streets away from the public school in which I have already enrolled A. It is a brand new school, and I can walk him there every day. It is also close to the MFRC, where Little I. will be attending pre-school twice a week.

There is a maple in the front yard and little flowers poking up through the grass.

Hubby is finalizing the details of his moving leave, so I can't post much about that until tomorrow. However, the children and I will see him very, very soon. And then we will be headed to our new home.

The final lump of sugar in this sweet news: We will be in Victoria in time to see one of my "sisters" marry the love of her life.

"Rejoice to the LORD always, and again I say rejoice!"

M4 W3 D3: Size eight and other amazing moments

On Monday's weigh-in, I met a new weight-loss goal: 20 pounds lost. Whoopeee! My reward to me is some new clothes, so Baby N. and I went shopping this morning while the boys hung out at the MFRC.

Having lost 20, I expected to go down in size. However, I was realistic: I'd been squeezing myself into size 13/14 pants and XL shirts before Weight Watchers. I expected to be a size 10 and a L shirt, and I was very excited about that.

I arrived at Reitman's (the only decent store in town that caters to women who are not teenagers, whippet thin and/or rich) and picked a bunch of size 10s and L shirts off the racks.

I tried on a large T-shirt and size 10 jeans, very excitedly noticing how easily they zipped. I looked in the mirror. The jeans were TOO BIG. So was the shirt.

I started to cry a little bit. The saleslady asked if I was okay. I turned to her and said, "I have been overweight since I was 19 years old. I started WW 2 months ago and have lost 20 lbs. This is the first time I've bought clothes and a 10 is too big."

She looked at me, smiled and said, "I knew the 10 and the large were too big when I hung them for you. I was wondering why you chose them. You still see the old you, but honey, I see you as you are, and you are a size 8 and a medium shirt."

I cried a bit more, and she gave me a big hug and went looking for clothes in the right sizes.

I bought two pairs of size 8 jeans and five size medium shirts. They all fit perfectly.

I was hoping I'd hit a size 8 at the end of my journey. Looks like I will really be a 6/7. I haven't worn those sizes since high school.

I came home and calculated my body mass index, or BMI. It's 25, which is the highest end of "normal, healthy weight."

I am no longer obese. I am no longer even overweight. I am NORMAL.

I am in shock.

*************************************

There is some very exciting stuff happening on the Big Move front, but I can't say anything about it until tomorrow night. Things will be more final then.

Hubby is in Victoria, busting his butt to get himself settled and our nest ready. More info tomorrow night!