Spoiled Rotten

The fun part’s over.  The shiny delights under the tree have turned into annoying objects in need of homes on the toy shelf – preferably before I break my neck tripping on them.

Sometimes I think Little House On The Prairie Christmases would be lovely.  You know, the ones with an orange, a stick of candy, and knitted mittens wrapped up in brown paper.

Can you imagine what our kids would say about that?

My kids are spoiled.  I never meant to do it but when they complained about fast food and not getting to watch a third DVD on the way to Calgary, I knew it had happened.

My kids aren’t the only ones who are spoiled.  Remember those modern luxuries that became conveniences that are now must-haves?  Microwaves, dishwashers, remote starters, cell phones…

Yeah.  We’re all spoiled and each generation seems to get worse.  But these are advancements that improve our quality of life, we argue.  Yes, most of them do, I suppose.  We are truly blessed.

It wouldn’t be so bad if we understood that we are spoiled (I mean blessed) and appreciate it, but along with this spoiling seems to come an attitude of entitlement and expectations for more.  We’re blessed rotten.

Could we ever return to oranges and mittens?  Even switching back from iPads and Xboxes to jump ropes and LEGO would be a step in the right direction.

Why not try spoiling our kids in other ways – like home-cooked meals, bedtime stories, lots of chores, family camping trips, and saying “no” once in a while?  Ah, yes, time and attention instead of things.  Then our children would be truly blessed instead of spoiled.  They would be whole instead of rotten.  Blessed wholly – as all children should be.

Home For The Holidays

When I was single and living in Calgary, travelling home for the holidays meant an eight-hour journey through the Rockies into British Columbia.

The first year I took this trip, I put my life in my brother’s hands.  He put me in an old Chevy with a leaky radiator.  It was minus twenty-five and we crawled into Nanton just as the car died.  With cardboard in the grill we continued on, detouring around a twenty-one-car pile up, then creeping up and sliding down Kootenay Pass.  We arrived home after midnight, cold and exhausted.

The return trip was even worse.  Kootenay Pass was closed so we had to take the ferry which, due to high winds, was shut down right after we crossed.  Then we found ourselves stuck in a snow bank on a nearly deserted road.  Fortunately, three big guys in a pickup truck lifted us out.  We continued to Fernie where we spent the night trying to get warm.

The next year I took the bus.  It was a holiday-crowded overnighter and my seatmate was a clean lumberjack-look-alike whose legs were too long for the seat.  When I awoke, I apologized for using him as a pillow.  He said, “That’s okay, you can sleep on me anytime.”

You never know what might happen on a bus.  My dad learned this in 1961 when a large, white-haired woman wearing a red coat boarded and the drunks in the back began to sing Here Comes Santa Claus.  Luckily the woman wasn’t offended and the passengers enjoyed the moment.

However you choose to travel this holiday season, I hope you do so safely.  If you drive, why not tuck a shovel, candle, matches, blanket, and extra drinking water in the back seat?

Season’s Greetings, Merry Christmas, and Safe Travels to you and yours!

The Magic of Giving

My first Christmas away from home was spent in Montreal with a roommate from Italy.  We couldn’t be with our families, so on Christmas Day we went to a long-term care facility to feed those who couldn’t feed themselves.  After lunch we went from room to room, visiting, admiring family photos, and singing requested carols.

One woman scared me.  When we went to her room, she hissed with bared teeth and foul breath, “I’m gonna die!”  Fortunately, a friend who was with us knew what to do.  He removed the angel from his lapel and gently pinned it to her nightgown, explaining that this angel would keep her company.  Her face softened and peace filled her eyes.  I marveled at the difference this kind but simple gesture had made to a frightened woman.

Not many days later we found her bed vacant, and I was extra grateful that we had spent some time and shared a little joy with her on Christmas Day.

Subsequent Christmases have come and gone, filled with friends and family, parties and concerts, good food, and plenty of presents.  Still, something about that Christmas in Montreal stands out from the others.  Gifts were few and family was absent, but joy was abundant as I learned that most important lesson:  When we give, we can’t help but receive.

That is the magic of giving.  When we spread love and joy by selflessly giving to others, we feel love and joy in our own hearts.

There are so many ways to give:  donating to a food bank; letting someone ahead of us in line; inviting a widow for dinner; shoveling a neighbour’s driveway; writing to a lonely uncle…  The possibilities are endless...and so is the magic of giving.

Feverishly Fighting the Flu

Flu season is upon us.  I know because a feverish, coughing preschooler climbed into bed with me last night.

Why do fevers get such a bad rap?  I find them helpful – telling me that my child isn’t faking, keeping her in bed where she belongs, and revealing that her immune system is fighting the bug.

It’s the coughing I can’t stand.  Coughing equals sleepless nights, crying, sometimes vomiting, and spreading germs.  Yuck!

The company I worked for in Calgary recognized employees who had perfect attendance.  One woman received the award repeatedly.  This was the same woman who came to work when she was ill, germs oozing from every pore.  Thankfully, corporate eventually cancelled the award and encouraged employees to stay home when unwell.

Five things contribute to me getting sick:  1) Direct contact with germs, 2) Unhealthy eating, 3) Excess stress, 4) Inadequate rest, 5) Getting chilled.  If I have any combination of at least three of these, I’ll get sick.

As a mother of young children who cough (and sneeze and breathe) indiscriminately, it’s difficult to always get enough rest and avoid direct contact with germs.  So, I have to try extra hard in the other areas, like limiting fast food and excess sugar, pacing myself to avoid stress, taking power naps when needed, and dressing warmly when I go out.

We can help our families and communities stay well by washing hands properly (it’s alarming how many don’t do this!), using antibacterial wipes on busy surfaces (like banisters, remotes, and doorknobs), and coughing or sneezing into tissues or elbows.

And for coughing out loud, take a sick day if you need one!

Holiday Traditions or Traps

Last week I suggested that if our To Do lists were making us cranky, we should simplify them.

Easier said than done, I know.

The holidays are filled with traditions.  In fact, isn’t that one of the reasons we especially love this time of year?  As wonderful as traditions are, however, they’re also the leading cause of lengthy To Do lists.

Why do we continue with traditions that no longer fill a need and just make us busy?

My sister, who doesn’t enjoy cooking, spent hours one year preparing and serving a traditional turkey dinner.  Thirty minutes later we finished eating and faced another hour of kitchen clean up.  My sister leaned back in her chair and said, “Next year we’re having pizza.”

As a child, I loved ambrosia salad (fruit, coconut, and mini marshmallows stirred into sour cream) for breakfast on Christmas morning, so I continued this tradition when I had my own family – until I realized that marshmallows hurt my teeth and made my children crazy.

Now, instead of ambrosia, we have a hearty breakfast of eggs and bacon, waffles, and orange juice.  This is a treat we all enjoy and it allows me to prepare just two meals on Christmas instead of three.  It’s a new tradition that works well for us.

Of course, there are traditions that involve more than food, but as we plan our holiday calendars and make our To Do lists this year, let’s ask ourselves:  Is this a worthwhile tradition that’s important to me, or a trap that I’m stuck in?

If the latter, it’s okay to say, “That tradition is done; it’s time for a new one.”

Deck The Halls Tutorial

This Friday marks an important moment in time:  One Month Until Christmas.

According to Facebook, some show-offs have already finished their Christmas shopping.  Others are calmly waiting until December 24^th to get started.  Most of us are probably somewhere in between, and our frantic list-making has begun.

But why stress about holiday prep when there’s a Christmas carol that tells us all we need to do?

Deck the halls with boughs of holly.  When the urge strikes, get out those decorations!  Enjoy the wreaths and candles and glittering lights sparkling against the tinsel on the tree.

‘Tis the season to be jolly.  Smile and spread the joy!  If your To Do lists are making you cranky, simplify them.

Don we now our gay apparel.  Wear it!  Now is the only time of year when we can get away with wearing those gaudy sweaters, Santa Claus ties, and earrings that look like tree baubles.

Troll the ancient Yuletide carol.  Sing!  Whether with a group of carolers, during a church service, or online with Bing Crosby and Elvis Presley, singing will fill our hearts with Christmas cheer.

The Fa-la-la-la-las I haven’t quite figured out.  I think they might be a reminder of holiday party behaviour for those who overindulge.  Beware!

So, now we’re decorated, dressed, smiling, and singing.  What more do we need?  Maybe some figgy pudding (other songs have good ideas too) and – oh yes – the most important advice of all:  taking time to tell of Yuletide treasure.  This means different things to different people.  For my family, it’s celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.

Joy to the world - Christmas is on its way!

Another Man's Treasure

I’m always a little sad when garage sale season ends.  Those signs on neon paper staked at main intersections are evidence that the weather is still warm enough to enjoy being outside.  When the signs and garage doors come down, the hibernation begins.

Fortunately, there are other places to find good deals throughout the year.  Thrift and consignment stores, pawn shops, and online sales like Kijiji keep bargain shoppers (like me) happy year round.

I have saved hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars shopping at these types of stores.  One year I made a list of the things I had purchased second hand.  Then, with the help of friends, I estimated what those items would have cost new.  I found that I had spent less than one-tenth of the retail price.

Why don’t more people shop second hand?  Don’t they like 90% off sales?

Besides saving huge amounts of money, there are other reasons I enjoy shopping second hand:  I feel better about my kids staining a $3 outfit or breaking a $2 toy rather than a $40 one.  If an item looks good after being used previously, chances are it will continue to hold up under wash and wear – unlike some new items.  When I feel like shopping but don’t have the time to invest walking through large malls, a thrift store offers a one-stop shopping experience.  And, I like helping the environment and charities.

Why am I telling you these things?  No, don’t shop second hand.  Go ahead and buy new.  Spend the big bucks.  You’re worth it.

But feel free to donate it later for me to enjoy at 90% off.

Free To Choose Freedom

It’s getting colder but I don’t want to wear a hat; if I catch pneumonia I’ll just blame the government.  Or maybe I’ll call the town office and yell at someone.  I can do those things because I’m free.

Some would say that freedom is “doing whatever we want”.

Imagine if we had no traffic laws and everyone drove however they wanted.  Before long we would be confused, delayed, frustrated, or dead.  That doesn’t sound like freedom to me.

Some laws, regulations, guidelines, or commandments may initially appear to hamper our freedom but they actually safeguard our ability to make future choices.

This week we will remember those who defended the freedom we enjoy in this great land.  Those people fought on the ground, in the air, and on the seas.  Many died, and many returned home with memories they wished they could forget.  But they were successful in their quest; those who threatened our democracy were crushed and our freedom was preserved.

Why did they hunker in miserable foxholes, or shiver in frozen cockpits?  So I could watch horror movies, ogle pornography, drink myself into oblivion, or waste hours surfing the Net?

Yes.

But that’s probably not the best use of my freedom.  Neither is yelling at town workers or refusing to wear a hat.

Those we remember each November fought to keep us free.  How we use that freedom is now our responsibility.  Will we make choices that keep us – and those around us – as free, and safe, and happy as possible?

Observing a minute of silence this Friday will be easy.  Truly honouring our veterans and fallen heroes by making choices to better ourselves, uplift others, and strengthen our communities is the challenge.

Blood: A Love-Hate Relationship

There’s something I find even scarier than Halloween.  Blood.

Red, thick, oozing, warm – there’s something about it that makes me feel weak.  And queasy.  And then my brain goes fuzzy…and…

Okay, I’m back.  I am grateful for my blood.  It keeps me warm and pink and – alive – which is a good thing.  Usually our blood is kept nicely hidden, concealed in veins, arteries, and capillaries where I don’t need to think about it.  It’s when it comes out of those places that I have a problem.

Maybe it’s not the blood I dislike but those sharp things used to take it from me.

Why do I hate needles so much?  Blood tests don’t really hurt.  It must be the sensation of the tourniquet, the fist squeezing, the vein locating, the disinfecting…

Oh no.  Deep breaths.  Head down.  Head between the knees.  I can’t bend that far!

I’ve tried thinking positive thoughts.  Once I made it halfway through the test, sitting in a plastic lab chair with my arm outstretched.  Then everything went gray.  Suddenly the black, skid-proof mat on the floor looked awfully comfortable.

Now I don’t even try to be brave.  I walk straight into the clinic and announce, “I need to lie down.”  As soon as the technician comes into the room with her tray of evil equipment, I look the other way and start singing Amazing Grace.

My brilliant brother-in-law, the PhD, has the same problem I do.  He was told that it was due to a medical condition affecting individuals of higher intelligence.  Yup, that must be it.

If you don’t have a problem with blood and needles, I hope you know how lucky you are.  Please donate regularly.  To those who share my aversion to blood, may I suggest learning the words to Amazing Grace?

Password Blues

I hunched over the terminal in a responsibly paranoid manner, hiding the keypad with one hand and clutching my wallet in the other as I entered my personal identification number (PIN).

That was twenty years ago when I had one debit card and one PIN to remember.

Then along came personal computers and the Internet – with e-mail, online banking, eBay, Amazon, PayPal, Facebook, MyFamily, and a host of other websites. Suddenly I had not one password to remember, but two dozen.

Sternly we are warned to commit this confidential information to memory rather than writing it down. Sure, that’s not a problem at all. I would use the same PIN and password over and over, but I’m sure that’s a security risk too.

Here’s an idea: Why don’t you write down your PINs and passwords in a little booklet and I’ll write down mine, and we won’t look under each other’s mattress?

I was grateful when my husband introduced me to the wonderful world of point-collecting credit cards. As long as we paid them off each month it was a great system – a couple hundred dollars worth of merchandise to collect now and then, and all that was required was an easy signature – no PINs or passwords or bending over keypads.

That worked well until recently, when the encoded chips on credit cards appeared. So here I go again, more PINs to remember since the booklet hidden under my mattress isn’t much help when I’m at the grocery store.

I suppose I’ll manage somehow, after I take contortionist classes and learn how to shield the keypad while discreetly searching for the PIN scratched on the bottom of my shoe.

Ghosts and Goblins or Gratitude

The boxes of candy treats have been in stores for a month. Why do they put them out so early? So I will buy them thinking I’m ahead of the game, eat them all, and have to buy more?

Now that the decorations and masks have joined the lollipops and bubble gum, I can no longer ignore the fact that Halloween is on its way. Still, I try to avoid the aisles where the mini chocolate bars tantalize me and gruesome masks peer out over the tops of leering skeletons.

No, I’m not a fan of Halloween. I don’t mind happy Halloween, but I don’t like scary, disgusting Halloween.

When I take my children trick-or-treating, there are some houses they are afraid to go near. One year a live spirit drifted back and forth on a front porch; other yards have zombies coming out of graves.

Isn’t Halloween mainly for children? Why do we want to scare them so? It should be a time for our wee ones to get creative and dress up in fun costumes, have some treats, and play some games – not a time to stock up on enough nightmare material to last the coming year.

I like Halloween better now that the fall time change takes place in November. Things aren’t quite so scary in the daylight.

At least for the next week I will try to push thoughts of Halloween out of my mind and concentrate on a holiday I can fully appreciate: Thanksgiving. The autumn harvest decorations are so much more pleasant than the Halloween ones, cheerful and rustic, reminding us of our plentiful blessings. Happy Thanksgiving!

Something Old, Something New - First Article

Hi, I’m Kathryn. I’m not the “something old” referred to in the title, but I am a new columnist with Town & Country. I’m happy to be writing again (I wrote for a paper in Fort McMurray) but I’m sad about something else: The calculator I used since Grade 9 just died.

Sharp EL-531A was a trusted friend. She added certainty to my life, subtracted doubts from my mind, and multiplied my abilities. We divided hard tasks between us. She was a stickler for accuracy and I appreciated her for it. It was balancing the family budget that killed her.

Now I have a shiny new calculator. At least I waited until EL-531A was gone before I replaced her.

My husband wants to replace the Zenith TV I bought fifteen years ago before we were married. Whatever for? He already has a nice TV. This one is for the kids’ videos and they don’t care what it looks like.

Why are we so quick to replace perfectly good old stuff? Is the new stuff really that much better? I liked VHS. When I stopped a movie, it stayed right where I left off—and I didn’t have to worry about fingerprints and scratches. I also liked cassette tapes. Walkmans are much harder to send through the laundry than tiny MP3 players.

Technology advances so quickly we could buy some fancy new gizmo every day. That’s not good news for our budgets or for the environment.

My grandma used to say, “Fix it up or wear it out; make it do, or do without.” My grandma was smart.

We’ll get a new TV some day—when Zenith goes to where EL-531A has gone.

O Canada Lifts Spirits - Letter to the Editor

I took my children to their assigned classrooms this past Wednesday morning. When they were settled, I stopped at a table near the entrance of the school to pay the required fees.

It was then that I began to cry. I wasn’t sad that my children were back in school, nor was it the amount written on the cheque that misted my eyes.

It was the music. And something else.

As I leaned over the table to write the cheque, the principal’s voice came over the PA system welcoming students back to school. Then, as is customary each morning, our national anthem flooded the speakers.

I put my pen down and straightened as the woman taking the fees also rose to her feet and began to sing. All the parents nearby stood respectfully as O Canada filled the air. True, most of the parents weren’t actually singing, and I had to stop when the words switched to French, but I still enjoyed the music. And the feeling.

Hearing our national anthem does something to me. Stirs something inside. Uplifts my soul. Swells my heart. Could those feelings be – patriotism?

I must admit, there are times when I fear for our country, fear for the decline of patriotism in our communities. Sometimes the chitchat and lack of respect that is apparent during formal ceremonies and the singing of our anthem is disheartening. But that wasn’t the case last Wednesday.

Jane Fonda said, “When I'm in Canada, I feel this is what the world should be like.” Standing there with other parents and administrators, I thought, “This is what it feels like to be part of a great country, a great community.”

I blinked back the tears and swallowed the lump in my throat as I silently added one more reason to my list of why I love this town.