I had one of those stereotypical useless husband type days on Monday. That's what Lynda would call them anyway. I just kept losing things. I would have lost my head if it wasn't screwed on. I had been doing so well too. Lynda had been out of town since last Wednesday - she went to Montreal to watch Kendall at a swim meet - and I had managed to keep the dogs alive, get Avery to school every day, and most importantly, I hadn't dirtied the house up too much. That was Lynda's last command... I mean wish, before she left for the airport.
Okay, I have to confess that I had to call in reinforcements. I summoned Nanny West to provide logistical and moral support during the time that her daughter would be away. Meanwhile, if Nanny was to do a few loads of laundry, wash a scattered dish here or there, or whip up a miracle or two in the kitchen, then who was I to complain? I'm just the father of her two beautiful granddaughters and the man who has given over half of his life to making her daughter's life so blissful. Nanny didn't have to help out (but I knew she would).
I'll get back to the gist of this story in a moment. I began to tell you about how I had lost a few things on Monday. Before I do, I need to tell you about one other thing that went missing on Saturday......Nanny. I was nice enough to give her the evening off, so she could go line dancing, and I never saw her again. What's up with that?! Sure, we had a few flurries, but it was just a measly 15 centimetres. Nanny said she is afraid to drive down to our house when it snows because there are so many hills, cliffs, an ocean, no street lights, and poor ploughing. What a wimp! Our house is situated on the side of a mountain and has a long, steep driveway, but when I designed it, I specifically added a "Nanny Only" parking area at the bottom. Suddenly, when she finally has a chance to use it, she opts to stay out in town. Some gratitude! I even ended up having to shovel the step myself. Nanny, you are fired! At least until the next time Lynda leaves town.
Wives and mothers seem to have built in homing devices, along with some type of special radar. I'm certain of that. That's the only way to explain how it is that Lynda knows exactly where it is that me and the kids have left our stuff. Keys, hats, boots, wallets, Ipods, smart phones, and school bags all find their way to that place called "Idonno". Lynda will always ask us where we left whatever it is that is missing and our answer is always "Idonno". Armed only with that information, Lynda meanders to some strategic place in the house and always finds our missing item. My mom possesses the same mystic ability. I'm beginning to wonder if it's a conspiracy of sorts, that wives and mothers learn to maintain a strategic hold over husbands and kids by hiding this stuff and becoming the only ones who can find it.
It's all beginning to make sense to me now. So, on Monday, when I couldn't find my coach's whistle for the power skating session I was teaching and when my Amex card never made its way back into my wallet after a trip to Costco, it had to be Lynda who hid them. Hmmmm......my theory has a glitch. Lynda was in Montreal, happily speeding through the shops of the city on a quest to find the bargain of a lifetime. Unlike me, I'm pretty sure she had a good idea exactly where her credit card was.
Perhaps I need to take my theory a little bit further. Sure, Lynda had a perfect alibi, but what if she had a partner in crime? Nanny.....it had to be her. She had to be the woman who hid my whistle and credit card.. That explains why she flew the coop on Saturday. Line dancing and fearing for her life were just clever cover stories. They thought they could fool me by diverting any suspicion from Lynda. I'm on to both of you.
It all makes sense to me now. Wives and mothers of the world are one big syndicate, working in consort to keep all children and men (who are just big children, after all) under their influence. They figure as long as we need them to find our things, they'll be the ones to dictate when, where and how things get done.
Very clever, but the jig's up. It's time for the children of the world, big and small, to unite against the WMC (Wives and Mothers Coalition). I must spread the word. I have to let my buddies know so that we can win our independence. No longer will hockey skates go missing just before Saturday night shinny. The TV clicker won't disappear on football Sunday's, only to reappear just in time for the Sunday night tear jerker. Men must take their rightful place as the dominant sex.
Damn! I can't find my smart phone. I can't call the guys because all of their contact info is in that phone. If Lynda thinks I'm going to stoop low and bow down to her by asking where my smart phone is, she has another thing coming. I'll fool her. I'll play it cool. I'm not even going to pretend that I've lost my smart phone. I'll get the last laugh...I'll do the manly thing.....I'm going to play dumb.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Exposed
Here's a news flash - I'm not so private. Lynda says I must get a perverse enjoyment from exposing myself for all to see. If that's what I do, then at least I keep the exposing to words only. I'm not sure the world is ready for a pictorial centerfold spread of anything I have to offer. Those particular privates are best served by remaining as such.
I wasn't always so public. Actually, I was quite the opposite. Lynda was the first person I felt I could truly open up to and I only met her when I was in my mid 20's. Growing up, the members of my family were doers, not talkers. Mom and dad worked and did whatever it was grown ups were supposed to do. It was a mystery to us kids. My brothers, sister and I played sports, got in scraps with one another and other kids, teased one another incessantly, went to school and worked our part-time jobs. We weren't big on discussing feelings. I had no idea that many families do that sometimes or that it's a normal and healthy activity. There was something different in my relationship with Lynda. I felt that no matter what I told her, she would still feel the same about me. Perhaps it was because Lynda exposed herself to me (chuckle). I mean that purely in the sense that she shared her innermost secrets with me. It was my first real relationship. One based on trust and understanding. Thankfully, Lynda oozes understanding.
My career in the RCMP and the events that ultimately lead to me leaving the Force were the catalysts for this blog. I discovered that not only is writing therapeutic, but sharing some of the painful lessons I experienced is something that I really need to do. Giving too much of myself to the RCMP, questioning the choices of my superiors, fed up with the unhealthy competition between the RCMP and the RNC, and enduring bad decisions by several Provincial Court judges on cases of mine, all came together to create a personal fire storm. Hell, may be a better descriptor.
I didn't handle it well. Lynda was with me for the ride. These events unfolded over months, perhaps even years, and I was always able to talk to her. It helped, but I now know I needed so much more. Most life partners aren't equipped to fix such things, especially when one's dilemma is caused by things outside of the relationship.
Looking back now, given that the fog has lifted, it was a surreal ride. I'm a very average person. I would guess that most of you aren't so different from me. If depression can put its unforgiving claws into my hide, then why not you? I experienced all of the typical symptoms leading up to the point where I crashed and burned. I was as oblivious as a newborn baby. My job as a narcotics officer became difficult, so I just worked longer hours to try and get ahead of it. When exercise became difficult, I stopped playing hockey and going to the gym. Lynda and the kids, instead of being the lights of my life, became dark figures who demanded more of me than I was willing to offer. I just wanted to be left alone. I was tired, so tired.
The day finally came. I drove the ten minutes to work one morning in late March of 2008, just as I had for years. I sat in my car in the multi-tiered parking lot that overlooks the cold, brown brick of the RCMP headquarters building. I couldn't get out of the car. My mind and body finally had had enough. For the first time in a long time they acted as one. Body and mind were in self preservation mode. I had gone to the edge of the precipice, but I would not fall. Some aren't so fortunate.
I've been working my way back into life. There have been bumps along the way. I've had my share of sleepless nights, tears, long walks, morbid thoughts, what ifs, endless questioning of why me, and wondering where the heck do I go from here. The good has finally supplanted the bad. Time has a way of righting what's wrong. Time, a better understanding of life and a better understanding of myself.
Two days ago I was sitting with my psychologist, who has been with me since that day I froze in the parking lot. Second only to Lynda in knowing who I am, he said something that I've been thinking about ever since. I've been searching for a job and have had a difficult time in finding something that fits. If you've followed my stories over the past two years, you are well aware of my foray into jobs at Costco (10 days) and the provincial government (4 weeks). I'm not a quitter by nature, but I just had to get out of those jobs. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that they both have parking lots. I'll run that one by my shrink.
I digress. What my psychologist said is that I need to find a job that gives me something in return. That thing is not money, it's not opportunity, nor is it status. The things I need are to feel good about myself, to feel appreciated and to believe I'm helping. Perhaps I've always had those needs. A career as a police officer seemed to address them quite nicely, but we all know how that story ended. I'll keep searching.
Meanwhile, I'll continue to coach chess, hockey and basketball and to teach power skating. I'll tinker around at my friend's garage, look after the houses of my neighbours, plough driveways when the snow falls, and be a best friend to my dogs. I'll carry on with chauffeuring my kids and their friends to swim club, basketball practices, curling, outings to the mall and to wherever else they need to go.
Writing this story has been an enjoyable way to spend my Sunday morning. My life may not be so private, but it's good. I can think of worse ways I could have chosen to expose myself, particularly when it's November in Newfoundland. If I ever choose to take that route, at least I'll have an excuse for the shrinkage.....it's cold out. Just ask Lynda, she's got my back.
I wasn't always so public. Actually, I was quite the opposite. Lynda was the first person I felt I could truly open up to and I only met her when I was in my mid 20's. Growing up, the members of my family were doers, not talkers. Mom and dad worked and did whatever it was grown ups were supposed to do. It was a mystery to us kids. My brothers, sister and I played sports, got in scraps with one another and other kids, teased one another incessantly, went to school and worked our part-time jobs. We weren't big on discussing feelings. I had no idea that many families do that sometimes or that it's a normal and healthy activity. There was something different in my relationship with Lynda. I felt that no matter what I told her, she would still feel the same about me. Perhaps it was because Lynda exposed herself to me (chuckle). I mean that purely in the sense that she shared her innermost secrets with me. It was my first real relationship. One based on trust and understanding. Thankfully, Lynda oozes understanding.
My career in the RCMP and the events that ultimately lead to me leaving the Force were the catalysts for this blog. I discovered that not only is writing therapeutic, but sharing some of the painful lessons I experienced is something that I really need to do. Giving too much of myself to the RCMP, questioning the choices of my superiors, fed up with the unhealthy competition between the RCMP and the RNC, and enduring bad decisions by several Provincial Court judges on cases of mine, all came together to create a personal fire storm. Hell, may be a better descriptor.
I didn't handle it well. Lynda was with me for the ride. These events unfolded over months, perhaps even years, and I was always able to talk to her. It helped, but I now know I needed so much more. Most life partners aren't equipped to fix such things, especially when one's dilemma is caused by things outside of the relationship.
Looking back now, given that the fog has lifted, it was a surreal ride. I'm a very average person. I would guess that most of you aren't so different from me. If depression can put its unforgiving claws into my hide, then why not you? I experienced all of the typical symptoms leading up to the point where I crashed and burned. I was as oblivious as a newborn baby. My job as a narcotics officer became difficult, so I just worked longer hours to try and get ahead of it. When exercise became difficult, I stopped playing hockey and going to the gym. Lynda and the kids, instead of being the lights of my life, became dark figures who demanded more of me than I was willing to offer. I just wanted to be left alone. I was tired, so tired.
The day finally came. I drove the ten minutes to work one morning in late March of 2008, just as I had for years. I sat in my car in the multi-tiered parking lot that overlooks the cold, brown brick of the RCMP headquarters building. I couldn't get out of the car. My mind and body finally had had enough. For the first time in a long time they acted as one. Body and mind were in self preservation mode. I had gone to the edge of the precipice, but I would not fall. Some aren't so fortunate.
I've been working my way back into life. There have been bumps along the way. I've had my share of sleepless nights, tears, long walks, morbid thoughts, what ifs, endless questioning of why me, and wondering where the heck do I go from here. The good has finally supplanted the bad. Time has a way of righting what's wrong. Time, a better understanding of life and a better understanding of myself.
Two days ago I was sitting with my psychologist, who has been with me since that day I froze in the parking lot. Second only to Lynda in knowing who I am, he said something that I've been thinking about ever since. I've been searching for a job and have had a difficult time in finding something that fits. If you've followed my stories over the past two years, you are well aware of my foray into jobs at Costco (10 days) and the provincial government (4 weeks). I'm not a quitter by nature, but I just had to get out of those jobs. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that they both have parking lots. I'll run that one by my shrink.
I digress. What my psychologist said is that I need to find a job that gives me something in return. That thing is not money, it's not opportunity, nor is it status. The things I need are to feel good about myself, to feel appreciated and to believe I'm helping. Perhaps I've always had those needs. A career as a police officer seemed to address them quite nicely, but we all know how that story ended. I'll keep searching.
Meanwhile, I'll continue to coach chess, hockey and basketball and to teach power skating. I'll tinker around at my friend's garage, look after the houses of my neighbours, plough driveways when the snow falls, and be a best friend to my dogs. I'll carry on with chauffeuring my kids and their friends to swim club, basketball practices, curling, outings to the mall and to wherever else they need to go.
Writing this story has been an enjoyable way to spend my Sunday morning. My life may not be so private, but it's good. I can think of worse ways I could have chosen to expose myself, particularly when it's November in Newfoundland. If I ever choose to take that route, at least I'll have an excuse for the shrinkage.....it's cold out. Just ask Lynda, she's got my back.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Saturday Morning Musings
I dropped Kendall at swimming just before 6 and I'm hanging out at
McDonalds until she's done at 9. She's swimming 5 k today. That's 5000
meters or 500,000 centimeters. Wicked! Next week, I'll just drop her
at the harbour in St. John's and she can swim back to Outer Cove.
After all these years, I'm still never 100% certain if it's Mc or Mac. I certainly don't wish to upset the Irish or the Scotts. Another thing..McD's is repositioning itself as a coffee house to compete with Starbucks. It has all of these fancy coffees (and the prices to match) and Wifi. It even has comfy chairs and fireplaces. It seems they forgot one important thing...electrical outlets. How's a guy to spend anytime at the "office" when his computer is dead and can't be recharged.
Congrats to me on the arrival last evening of my niece, Charlotte (no middle name yet) Nixon. Jan and baby are doing fine. I told her I'd stand in for Bill at the delivery if he couldn't make it. Turns out he was there. Good thing too. I couldn't find my old catcher's mitt.
The elderly gents, who hog the comfy chairs here every morning, are talking about a shootout that took place last night. After 15 years of living in the Toronto area its a conversation I heard many times. The difference between is that these townies are talking about the Ice Caps game going into overtime and not bullets flying up in the Jane-Finch corridor.
I'll call Bill soon to see if he needs any help today. I suspect Jan and Charlotte won't come home until tomorrow or Monday. With Maggie, 5 years old, and James, 3, Bill will have his hands full. Three kids! Bill is no spring chicken either. (Jan is still young. She hasn't yet reached cougar status.) W hat a tangled web Bill has weaved for himself. With Charlotte's arrival, my advice to him is to leave Jan alone. If he gets those urges, he should do the manly thing and spin his own web.
After all these years, I'm still never 100% certain if it's Mc or Mac. I certainly don't wish to upset the Irish or the Scotts. Another thing..McD's is repositioning itself as a coffee house to compete with Starbucks. It has all of these fancy coffees (and the prices to match) and Wifi. It even has comfy chairs and fireplaces. It seems they forgot one important thing...electrical outlets. How's a guy to spend anytime at the "office" when his computer is dead and can't be recharged.
Congrats to me on the arrival last evening of my niece, Charlotte (no middle name yet) Nixon. Jan and baby are doing fine. I told her I'd stand in for Bill at the delivery if he couldn't make it. Turns out he was there. Good thing too. I couldn't find my old catcher's mitt.
The elderly gents, who hog the comfy chairs here every morning, are talking about a shootout that took place last night. After 15 years of living in the Toronto area its a conversation I heard many times. The difference between is that these townies are talking about the Ice Caps game going into overtime and not bullets flying up in the Jane-Finch corridor.
I'll call Bill soon to see if he needs any help today. I suspect Jan and Charlotte won't come home until tomorrow or Monday. With Maggie, 5 years old, and James, 3, Bill will have his hands full. Three kids! Bill is no spring chicken either. (Jan is still young. She hasn't yet reached cougar status.) W hat a tangled web Bill has weaved for himself. With Charlotte's arrival, my advice to him is to leave Jan alone. If he gets those urges, he should do the manly thing and spin his own web.
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