Dim Sum Mum - Tess' Little Pieces

sunny days

grade seven brought about the avent of my first boyfriend. there had been crushes, and whatnot, but grade seven brought about a boy called sunny. not his real name of course, that would have been steven. we call him sunny not as a reflection on the sunny days we spent together (in nothern canada, very few days are sunny)...but as a nickname. not one he appreciated at the time, but a sweet nickname for a very sweet boy.

what brought steven and tessie together? let's see. we were in the same homeroom. and also, we hadn't gone to the same elementary school, so it was less awkward (note i didn't say easy) to make that, "hey i think you're kind of cool" transition (helped by note passing and the best friend).

there are always well matched couples, and looking at the tessie and steven matching critically, i think we probably were well matched. although, to be strictly fair, at that very fun 12-13 stage, good looking boys are rarer than good looking girls, and folks, steven was cute. taller than me, a prerequisite, and even older than me, tough when your birthday is in march, but there you go. his hair feathered nicely and he wore wayne gretzky jeans. obviously a match for this edmonton oilers girl.

he was also smart. he was one of the handful of kids in enrichment. enrichment kids had been earmarked as critical, creative, outside the box thinkers, not necessarily honour roll types. steven was both if i remember correctly. i wasnt an enrichment girl, i was a hard worker.

my parents liked him. my dad primarily because steven played hockey and liked the oilers, and held down an after school job. "shows character". he looked my dad in the eye when he talked with him and could carry on conversations about hockey leagues and whatever else they discussed while i was final netting my hair.

my mum liked steve because he was smart and polite and a "nice boy". i remember at their first meeting she asked some thinly veiled questions meant to unveil any possible drug use (this was yellowknife, anything was possible even in 1982). satisfied, she then looked at his bare arms and made a typical nurses comment.... "you have great veins for needles, don't you?...." he sort of looked at me and gave me a "is SHE on drugs?" look and when i provided no assistance on how the conversation should go, he smiled and said, "yes?"

just to give you an idea of what a desireable heartbreaker i was, so alluring was the pre-teen tess that sunny preferred, chose, even, to play dungeons and dragons one weekend night a week, and hang out with me on the other instead of hang out with me on both weekend evenings. (we started dating when he asked me to "go around", and we dated by hanging around, or "going out".) our dates mainly consisted of going to the movies or hanging around at my place with my best friend and her boyfriend.

lots of memories of listening to records, dimming the lights, and occasionally, my parents would display their flexibility by snaking their arm around the corner of the room and turn up the lights, just to make sure there was no "petting". and there wasn't.  air supply, pat benetar, chicago, corey hart.

we made pizza subs to help subsidise sunny's favourite maths teacher science club. we also went roller skating. unlike many boys, he was a good roller skater because he ice skated (goalie). he would attend my choir productions, tournaments or swim meets. and i was a rink rat, i admit it. i went to a lot of his games. sometimes my dad would come with me and stay for a period or two, because he liked supporting sunny.

sunny was quick witted (and tempered too,) sarcastic, we could have good laughs, particularly when they were at someone else's expense. he was a merciless mimic, and thinking about it, i bet he did a fantastic tess imitation.

there is something funny about having a romance with a person in the north...no matter your age you have to reconcile that the person with the snot frozen around their nose is the person that you want to kiss, that if you are brave to kiss outside and take your scarves off, your noses will start to freeze quickly, so make it a short smooch.

what i regret is that we rarely talked. we both were covering up a lot of stuff, going on with our friends that we couldn't talk about, because that would really mean growing up, and i don't think either one of us wanted to. it was confusing, it was troubling, and eventually, it ended. my epilepsy was becoming an issue. not that i would ever talk about it. but drugs were increasing, and so did my weight. not that he would ever say anything. not because of either of us, but because of sitautions around us. and we didn't talk for 8 years. i think i am right on this. you look back on those times together, and you think, did i know them? no.and that is sad, because he is a great person.

the best news is, that i did get to know him, over a very short period of time, about 10 years ago. just before we met our spouses, actually. it was Christmas 1996 and graeme called from the bar, and said, hey tessie, blast from the past!" and a voice screamed at me, "hey! we haven't talked in 12 years! get over here!" it was sunny, also home for Christmas. at 26 he was twice as good looking as he was at 13 and although he is AGES away from 39, i am sure his wife would say he is three times as better looking now.

we got together and talked and the stories and truth tumbled out. what was really happening in our lives way back in 1982. what was happening now. there was a little romance. it was a really great few days. and then he went back to his world, and met his beautiful wife, and i met magnificent, and here we all are.

during that Christmas 1996 period we went to the movies, (no our names were no longer engraved on the seats), and a former classmate jamie richard, saw us and started laughing. "together again!" and it was like we were together again, finally saying what we had wanted to then. long ago actions, events made sense.

the other day steve got in touch again. it was so good to hear from him, to see pictures of his beautiful family. there is such a special place for childhood friends. i can't remember the name of the restaurant i ate at last week, but i can still remember how many slices of cheese go on a pizza sub. there is a precious place in our hearts for those memories, and those friends.

super size them?

before we begin, i preface with this note to disbelieving, darling joe: i know the truck drivers were approving, because they were delivering to the mom and pop korean place i picked up my salad at, and were complimentary. suggested i could stand in front of them in rain or shine. but i bet if the light was green they would have not been so kind. no worries, my ego is not that overinflated.

speaking of overinflated, today, with the five week and three day countdown on until we depart for canada, i headed to fortress, the local electronics chain (a la radio shack?) and purchased two portable dvd players. dad would have been thrilled, because i ordered them a while ago and they did not come in when they were supposed to, they gave me two extra batteries for free. tres tres good news.

this is the benefit of shopping at a chain store. i could have picked up the dvd players at any number of mom and pop shops that hong kong is famous for, but having a surfeit of children i wanted dvd players wtih external batteries that could be exchanged and replaced, allowing one to be charged while another was playing. i could have also purchased a local brand, a la shinko, but decided the philips was the best bet, because it has the 16 centimetre screen. and with three faces trying to get the best angle, 16 centimetres are better than the usual nine.

as i was lugging the bag to the bus stop, i walked past a mcdonalds. don't get me wrong, i walk past mcdonalds all the time. and i notice them. i have kids, and this is hong kong. duh.

but i remembered this mcdonalds in particular because it was right near my gynaecologists office. and i remembered being in his office and right before leaving it, he would always caution me to eat my 4,000 calories per day. at least one mcdonalds meal a day, he would caution. at least one.

i remembered charles and i wondering if nutritionists couldn't see any benefit in eating mcdonalds meals, why women expecting multiples were encouraged to fast food. does that make any sense? even in the post SUPER SIZE me era, they still advocate it.

i dunno.

as laughable as it sounds, i did have good sized kids, though.

start spreading the news

new york city.

i have been to new york city once in 2000. it was after the millenium and during infertility. i was staying in a friend's flat, on west 67. west isn't east (i was to learn when my friend actually apologised for the location of her flat) but it was 30 seconds from central park. did she really think i was complaining?

i walked my way through new york city. i had taken the train down from toronto, and it was autumn. a beautiful time to be rushing past the trees and their swiftly changing leaves. the train seemed to stop everywhere and the train stations were amazing. the students swarming around poughkeepsie, the barreness of de peau and finally, the train itself picking up speed, in response to the thrum of new york city.

i walked through central park each day, and then would branch off in a different direction. one day it was to zabars and carnegie hall. another day it was exploring the east side streets while i wanted for MOMA to open. the publishing district, meat packing, the village, harlem. i think i had a guide book stuffed in my purse, but i rarely opened it. in a city like new york, there was no way of getting off course, because i wasn't looking for anything specific. i was just looking.

the best day, even for a non american, was taking the ferry out to ellis island. i didn't want to walk around the statue of liberty, i just wanted to see it, as the weary arrivals to america saw her, and all she represented, out of their bleary and tearing eyes. i spent hours pouring over books, pictures, pictures of people whose names i did not know, and whose names they often didn't recognise after they got through clearance. how many people were separated from family, relatives and ties because an immigration officer wrote down their name incorrectly?

i saw celebrities at a union strike meeting in central park. baldwins, the cast of the sopranos, many people. listened, laughed.

i bought a great pair of enzo shoes at a dodgy little side shop. i had been notified of the sale by means of a flyer being shoved into my arms and decided, "What the heck".

columbia university. black churches with choirs. a first for me.

carnegies deli and the sandwich that fed me for five days.

the park itself. strawberry fields forever. the quote from WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. the reservoir.

the day i was walking home wearing a new coat and it started to rain. i stuffed the coat into a bag, and took off my shoes, thrusting them into the bag too. walking in a black t shirt and pants. heading back to the flat, walking along the park. crossing the street and stopping.

my life has never been a film, but in this time, this respite from the infertility that was ripping me and my self esteem apart, this break from emails and internet, my life was as unreal as it would ever get. new york had lived up to its reputation. anything was possible.

and walking across that street, with rain coursing down my face, a stand of hair working its way into my mouth, i celebrated the city, and turned a full circle in the middle of the street, arms open. and it could have been a movie, as the drivers clapped and honked approval. i'm not sure why i did it, i certainly haven't since, but there was something about new york that made me want to honour it, to be outside myself, to walk barefoot, carefree and admit i was having a great time.

i wonder what i will notice when i get back to new york. i wonder who i will be, what event, possibly even the rain again, will make me open my arms and circle the city.

slow or on the go

the other day i had a surplus of something i never have: time.

i left my parenting course at 11 and headed down the hill to central, knowing my next appointment was at 1am. i had a few errands to run, all in the compact central area. and being in no apparent rush, i walked slowly. i did not jog towards traffic lights in hopes of making the green light, i did not jockey for position at the stop areas so that i could be the first when the little green man pinged on and told us all to walk. i got on escalators and i didn't walk up or down them. i stopped at shop windows.

old habits die hard, it was tough to let go of habit and to cruise around, my mind a careful blank instead of wondering if i would catch the bus, if everyone else would be on time, but i did it. and it was very enjoyable. hong kong is a great place anyway, but when you take the time to stop and watch the faces, note the bags (from plastic takeaway bags holding steaming lunchboxes to gossamer string bags holding couture creations and credit card slips) and briefcases, the stride and set of shoulders...you are amazed afresh at this hong kong way.

today, i was in a rush. i zipped around people, look back alleys as shortcuts, passed everyone on my way out of the MTR. i'm not rude, but i am brisk. and although i know it is better for my mental health to be slow and luxurious, never to rush...when you rush in hong kong you really feel a part of the city. there is certainly competitiveness to get the taxi, to command control on the very inside of the sidewalk, but you understand that everyone is under time constraints, or believes they are. you would never hear someone in hong kong saying, "hey what's your rush?" because the concept of being short of time is accepted as the norm. when you rush, you are in rome, doing as the locals do.

two weeks ago, i was the rusher's nightmare, i was mummy travelling with walking kids on the sidewalk. i had one arm twisted in front of me, and then other behind me. sela and carys were in front, each holding a finger and each other's hand, while jasper got the back hand. people were streaming around me, always finding time to share, of course, but also impatient that i was moving so slowly and taking up so much sidewalk space. i am so grateful that i didn't have a massive diaper bag! the mummy walk is similar to the mummy shop, continual commentary, trying to jolly the kids on so they don't register that they are walking and not allowed to run. and assuring them you are fine, and so are they, while throwing useless trivia at them. having to stop every 20 meters or so and wipe my hand on my skirt...jasper has the sweatiest sloppiest hands.

unintentionally slow, hindered and slow, and rushed, there is part of me for each state, and i enjoy them all. i know i will miss slow-mummy when it is all over, but for now, she is my least favourite walking companion, mainly because i hate getting jostled by the hurried, and i hate not being able to throw things at the people who (accidentally) bump into my kids. (please don't give me points for not throwing items and the kid bumpers...restraint isn't what is holding me back, rather because my fingers are gripped by the victims).

incense in my eyes

i grew up with a sketchy knowledge of catholicism.

i wasn't a catholic, and didn't have any friends who attended the catholic church. i would pass the catholic church on my way to school or when i was going uptown on a saturday with my girlfriends and i would see a lot of the aboriginal ladies heading into bingo, wearing their rubber boots (that were shoes), headscarfs and skirts and thin purple jackets. i never went in to the catholic church really, until at 17 i was there for a funeral.

as i grew up, without knowing any more about catholicism, the main opinions i was influenced by was that catholicsm was full of hypocrisy, was a convenient religion and had very few real Christians. and i accepted that view. the only time i was around nuns and priests were at funerals or hospitals in crisis times, and there wasn't much of a time to get to know about their religion then.

it took me 36 years to change that opinion. i have had lots of great catholic friends, but i always accounted them for the "few great" catholics i had been told did exist.

this weekend my opinion of catholicsm was completely altered. amazingly so.

i went on a walk to emmaus, a 72 hour religious retreat of sorts. there are emmaus retreats around the world, particularly in the united states. it was held at a catholic chapel and residence in hong kong.

stepping into the grounds, you knew you were somewhere God was. He always IS with us, to be sure, but the closeness was particularly evident here. the chapel was simple, but beautiful.

we were introduced to a sister, who was one of the spiritual leaders of the weekend. she was absolutely lovely. fantastic. interesting, funny, insightful and honest. it was such a pleasure to be around her. i didn't have a preconceived notion about nuns, but this one was fantastic, and even her touch was calming and full of love, as were her eyes.

we met a father, and he was the most delightful and interesting man. he explained to us some of the "mysteries" of the catholic church, things that i had passed off as part of the ceremony and left it to that. but the reasons behind the ceremony were beautiful and meaningful.

i loved getting to know catholicism a little more intimately and i loved getting to know catholics better. i think there would be something incredibly comforting about knowing whatever catholic church you walk into around the world, the mass would be the same. even if you didn't know the language, you would still know the words. and could respond in your tongue. you would know the rituals.

i think it is amazing that catholic church has remained itself since its inception. since the protestant reformation there have been thousands of church splits, but not in the catholic church.

show me a perfect church, and i will show you a church empty of people.

i am adding to my reading list a book about catholicism. i want to know more.

i had a fantastic weekend. i even took the time to cry. and listen, and not just to others. to listen to what i needed to understand.

and when it was all over, magnificent and i went out for dinner and talked about it. a perfect ending.

no school today, there is a typhoon going on.

for some people, knobody for instance, who knows far more about hong kong and world weather than i ever will, typhoons are serious business. for the 32 people in the philippines that THIS typhoon killed, typhoons are deadly.

for hong kong residents, typhoons are a lot of rain, the wind that destroys the time consuming hair arrangement, a day off school, a day off work, the wind that blows plants off your balcony, the rain that falls in a seeminly horizontal line, the loose bamboo leaves wrapping around your face as you stand in the streets waving for a taxi and watching people rush out and grabbing empty taxi doors as they are still moving. typhoons are rarely dangerous, though.

there is a slow build up to typhoons. we have known this typhoon has been coming for several days. since our sunday morning. the weather gets close and hot and breezes flare up and pass over, as it gets closer. maybe some light rain.

typhoon signals are weird...charles and i have been here for a typhoon 10 which was a walk in the park, yet have watched some typhoons that were never rated higher than a 9 cause buildings to sway, branches to snap off trees, cars to be left stationary in three feet of water.

sebastian is very interested in typhoons, and yesterday spent a great deal of time telling ladies at the supermarket that typhoons are dangerous and you need to be at home when the typhoon gets rainy and they shouldn't go to school. this morning, the typhoon level was at one, and so sebastian got all trussed up in his uniform. and right before he popped into the car, the level was raised to three, and so we got him infront of the television and asked him what number he saw.

three, he responded.

exactly, it is typhoon three. what happens at typhoon three?

we make cookies!

anjali is here, as are adam and annie, and they have made cookies and cards for a sick friend, and they are currently playing school in the playroom. an aberration though: superheroes are at school and saving the school from bad people that spiderman, superman, supergirl, barbie and mr incredibles and batman need to extinguish (four kids, each boy takes on two superhero identities, the girls are happy being an interchangeable barbie and supergirl), charles is at work. i am getting a deadline done. jasper is vomitting again. i caught sela and carys doing somersaults in their cots.

the typhoon is mighty, but it isn't strong enough to upset THE ROUTINE.

i got an email yesterday from an internet galpal. essentially she said that i had converted her.

only in the fourth paragraph of the email did she detail what i had converted her to.

i am no tom cruise with the scientology gig, no madonna and kaballah...but as the email went on, she still didn't state what i had converted her TO. she alluded to it several times, stating that i really promote this on my blog and she had wondered what the big deal was, and now, she was watching. addicted. her words.

i was tres concerned, because i KNOW that i do a lot of wiggle promotion on this site. could i have converted her to the wiggles? i only know this person from the internet, could a normal person be enchanted with the wiggles, nay, addicted? if so, what sort of person were they? could jeff murray anthony and greg appeal to the adult audience if there wasn't the promise of child silence attached to it?

thankfully i didn't have to ponder this one further. it turns out this brilliant girl has gotten addicted to

yes

THE AMAZING RACE.

i was chuffed. any time i can bring phantastic phil into someone's living room i am pleased. and we're down to the final three, with the finale this thursday evening. bye bye mojo. i actually thought jo looked a little like jude (not my jude, the other one, jude law) from some angles. didn't mind saying goodbye to them.

don't mind going public in saying that would be ecstatic if the hippies pulled it off, but somehow i don't see that happening. i like rayo (ray & yolanda), we just have never gotten to know them. but she has great legs and they're picking up speed. so we'll see.

as for the frat boys, they're growing on me. their comments last week about gold leafing parties at college really made me laugh. plus, they gave the hippies some flip flops, which they didn't have to.

i really don't mind who wins, but id love to see the hippies pull it off. anyone, when they're faced with eating a big bowl of deep fried crickets and grasshoppers, who can come out with a statement like, "hey, i ordered the pad thai!" and "dude, you've got cricket on your face", is very worthy in my book.

i struck zero for two for mother's day, anyone else not get hold of their mum? but tried, really?

i tried calling yellowknife, but the lines have been bad (AS YOU KNOW MUM) and the one time i did get through, nathan answered the phone and said, "yeah, um im just talking to my mum". so i did try, but didn't actually get to talk to my mum.

and before that, i tried to call gran, but she was out gallivanting, as one does at 91 years of age.

magnificent and i are going for dinner and a massage tonight. cannot wait. yay.

with all the sickness we've had racing through our lives these last months, you can forgive me for not being too sympathetic or interested when sebastian, while washing his face the other night, declared, "i think i will be sick tomorrow."

"oh really" said caring mother.

"yes" continued beautiful dreamer. "and then i will eat ice cream just like madeline when she had her tonsils out at the hospittle."

"well, if you're sick you will be in bed getting better," said concerned mother.

"i might not be sick" conceeded son.

but i actually was a little worried about him. and even more so when the face got pastier and the shadows underneath the eyes seemed a little more apparent.

one day after school, he went to annie's house for lunch and then instead of playing at her place until it was time for the playground, he came home.

"what's up, kitten?" i mildly inquired.

"i don't want to play." he told me.

his forehead was quite hot, not burning up, but still hot. but the best indicators of his sickness level came from his mood. he wasn't whinging, he was very quiet, sitting on the sofa waiting for me. i finished up my call and after giving him some tylenol and water, looked at him and said, "okay kitten, in a perfect world, what would you do right now."

this is a great question when kids are sick. sick kids aren't much into creativity. it doesn't take much to fulfill their wishes. so when sebastian answered,

"you would read me books and we would eat some apple"

i truthfully responded, "we can do that."

and we did.

read in slow speed

i wish there were more hours to spend on the blog. not mine necessarily, although learning to put links to all the blogs i like reading would be a good thing to do.

instead of reading the daily offerings from the blogs i like each day, i usually end up reading a week or months posts when time allows. and even then, i probably don't leave a comment, especially when i feel that someone else had said what i wanted to express. (i can usually rely on boulder to voice what i was thinking pretty well, thank you for that miss bee.)

and then there are the people who write me, or post comments, that i usually do not write back. i know they understand, and when i can i send them a quick note, but there are only so many hours a day i can spend infront of the computer. and that's not a lot.

are there shortcuts to reading blogs that you want to share with me? confessionals? you can send those to my email or post them here. any suggestions on how to be most efficient with reading other people's blogs, when you comment, when you dont...i'd love to hear them.

how many blogs do you read per day? week? how many comments do you leave? if you don't leave a comment, why not?

nadia comaneci times deux and the couch potatoe

fridays are a full day for the triumverate. playgroup in the morning tires them out, and i am tired tired tired of a weekfull of parenting by this point. it has been a long week, and knowing the weekend is coming, which is in this case means no charles and tonnes of social obligations, means no rest for the weary is ahead. there are also other details, sebastian said something really hurtful, and takes so long eating his lunch that i have to veto his playdate with adam and annie and order him to have a nap instead. terrible mummy. i sit down and do a bit of reading.

after lunch and nap, everyone gets up and a friend, harry comes over to play for a bit. today, i went up to visit harry's mum while the kids played here. oh how grateful i am to have help. and then at 4pm, i announced to the kids, "it's time for gymnastics class!" and they started yelling and running about the place. disciplined sebastian for the 801th time this week for saying a hurtful phrase, and wonder why i even bother.

off to gymnastics.

i watch them climbing, feet bare and teeth gritted in determination as they climb up a ladder, tongue poking the side of their cheek as they walk a bench, eyes looking downwards as they find their way from the box horse to the ground, the nervy laughter before they jump. the girls are so enthusiastic, and even though lazy jasper would rather be watching everyone, he has fun as well.

the kids love gymnastics and i love this class as well, because i see them moving and climbing and challenging themselves and falling and achieving and i know, despite the tiredness of a long week, how incredible this is. how amazing my children are. seeing the triumph on their face, i remember that these kids know struggle. and determination. the parallels are too obvious to go into, so let's just say despite the fact that i race around for an hour, i leave gymnastics a refreshed mother.

i need that time. it all seems so worthwhile to see them there.

it also makes me feel good, becuase in the guesswork of patches that make up the parenting quilt, i know that i have struck gold with gymnastics. they love it. other things, they're not so fond of. gymastics, they love.

i love that they're happy there and that they try really hard while having a good time. i love that i try so hard too.

so despite several slips, the judges have awarded tess a 10.

which means i should be asleep by 10pm.