Cat Skinner Club

I Am A Clueless Gardener

Some people are really great at growing things. Is this because they instinctively know what to do, or because they do a lot of research? I will confess that all of my growing skills are the direct result of chance. I can’t stand doing research because I find it totally overwhelming. There’s just too much information on the internet. As it stands, I’m a clueless gardener.

I’m feeling totally daunted by our garden this year. We have to install the expensive irrigation system we bought last year, and I’m dreading adding this to the to-do list of my poor, busy, fella. WAIT!! HOLY CRAP! Stroke of genius moment over here. Isn’t Sunday Mother’s Day? I’m totally going to make that my Mother’s Day request. Keep the breakfast in bed baby, just get my irrigation system running. Ooh yeah, just like Mama likes it.

We planted vegetable seeds about three weeks ago. The seedlings are looking spindly and sad on the floor of the classroom. I didn’t think they would make it until the last frost, which I assumed was on May 24, until I finally looked it up. This handy website told me it was May 2nd. This means it’s go time, but I can’t plant anything until the watering system is all set, and until I get some compost. Will the seedlings make it? You tell me…

seedlings

Why are they so limp and spindly? Is it too much sun? Too much water? Not enough? Looks like this year will end up the same as last – with an expensive trip to the garden centre for plants! Veggie gardiners, help!

Sibling Bonds, Spidey Senses and Mortality

kyleandnoah

I have a younger brother who is a 6’7 local celebrity in Hamilton both for his larger-than-life personality, and for his leonine honour. Like me, he’s a leo, and like me he thinks he’s fabulous. I hope his fans agree.

We haven’t always gotten along. As children, we became bitter rivals when we were pitted against each other by our Nanna, my third parent who lived with us. Things got ugly, as they do with siblings, and I regret not being a more supportive and loving sister during those formative years. As I recall, I was a heinous bitch. There may even have been a near-stabbing, but I digress.

My brother and I are very good friends now. In this not-so-subtle open letter, I will tell him I want to see him more often, and I will tell him I’d like him to see my kids more often. He’s usually one of the first people I consult about new business, new ideas, and personal dilemmas.  I think I can say with confidence that he does the same with me.

Up until a week ago, my brother was ensconced in a five-year mostly on-again relationship with a woman who we were quite smitten with. I was waiting for a big announcement of one kind or another after they recently shacked up. At the time of this blog post, after my senses began to tingle (thanks to good ‘ole Facebook) and after my brother got curious, he is now a single man again.

We (the fam) were collectively surprised, saddened, and not surprised at all. Relationships, and people I guess, are funny that way. I promised Kyle I wouldn’t blog about this, but here I am. Gotta say my piece, and in a public forum no less. Please be advised, this piece is from my heart, with lots of love to ALL parties involved.

My brother isn’t perfect, and having lived with him myself, I know he’s not always easy. My own truly unique and often complicated domestic situation (see here for details, and yes that’s my boob) puts me in a position where I’m the last person on earth to judge anyone else’s romantic landscape. I felt real love for my brother’s now-ex, and I guess even now I can say that love is a battlefield, so if they ever wanted a clean slate, I’d try to clear my own slate dedicated to their relationship – if anyone gives a shit about what I think.

I just wish that people would leave the lying and hurting to the assholes that make news headlines. Evil bastards who completely fucking ruin my Monday morning, like these ones. The universe has enough cruelty in it, by its very fickle nature, and we don’t need to add to the dung heap by behaving badly.

I’ve done stupid shit to really hurt people who I truly love (Sarah, I’m looking at you here.) In cowardice and fear, when I couldn’t see a way to make all of the pieces fit together, I tried to tear apart my family with my pettiness and self-loathing. Thank fucking god for whichever forces aligned to prevent that from happening, because I went on to birth my son, and my eyes were opened.

Not everyone will get the chance to let an infant soul teach them about the true meaning of love, so we gotta pull up our socks sometimes and take the higher road, even if it’s scary. I should have walked away, admitting that I had no clue how to love my partners well, rather than act like a selfish cow. I should have headed straight to the therapists’ couch when shit got really complicated and faced whichever path presented itself with clarity and honesty.

We were lucky that we kept our family intact. We still carry the wounds of our selfishness, our fear, our lack of clarity, and our inability to speak our truths, but I think I can speak for all three of us when I say we are committed to working to heal those wounds each day, with each beautiful clean slate we get as we wake.

Love each other people, even if you can’t be in love anymore. Share your truth, your fear, your hurt. Make your mistakes meaningful. Learn from them, grow from them together or apart.

Our tiny light could be snuffed at any second. That is the only thing you can really count on. I’m thinking you’re gonna want to make sure your light is shining, and when it’s dim, it’s yours to re-kindle in whichever way you see fit.

More on the random cruelty of the universe, and a call to action for you my dear friends, in tomorrow’s post.

Jem, The Movie

Photo by Ryan Visima

Photo by Ryan Visima

It’s with great confusion that I have to announce something to all of you. I. Am. Old. So old, in fact, that when they announced the cast for Jem, The Movie I had no idea who anyone was. I had to Google nearly every cast member, except for Haley Kiyoko, who I knew because my kids have watched the movie Lemonade Mouth about a thousand times.

I’m also so old that I couldn’t even sit through watching my girls experience the original cartoon for the first time. The neon pink, glitter filled episodic escapade filled with BAD pop tunes a la 1983 has now become so grating to my nerves I had to leave the room. I was SO EXCITED to revisit my youth. I used to race home from school to watch each episode, and then breathlessly call my girlfriends to discuss each one. Though I still knew all of the lyrics to the songs (yikes) I found the entire show ridiculous. And I really, really tried to enjoy it.

The girls loved it. They will probably love the movie too.

Here’s the thing though. Making a live action version of Jem is another obvious cash grab targeting parents of our generation who feel nostalgic for our youth. I hated the video announcement of this film so much, it inspired me to writ this post today. Check out these three smug bastards. Not a one of them gives a rats ass about Jem, especially not the obnoxious dude shooting the toy gun through the whole thing. (Why the hell is he doing that anyway??) These guys have probably never even seen an episode of the show. Watch this, and tell me they don’t rub you the wrong way.

What a joke. As if ANYONE sending in an audition would even be considered for casting. It’s such an obvious social media manipulation. “If you have a cool mom, she’ll definitely know who Jem is.” Ugh!

They don’t care that I loved Jem so much I bought every single mannish, ungainly Hasbro Jem doll, with my own allowance much of the time, forsaking my beloved Barbies for years in favor of their tranny-like competition. They don’t care that I ached to put my lips on Rio and would secretly make out with my pillow, pretending I was Jem and the pillow was my purple-locked paramour. They don’t care that I cried when Stormer felt so conflicted about whether her loyalties lay with bad girls The Misfits or with what she knew was right. They don’t care that ALL of my “tween” fashion choices came from the show.

The directors and producers don’t care that Jem and the Holograms was my first real foray into developing my own identity as a young woman with big dreams and a love of fashion. They only care that there were millions of girls like me who now have daughters the same age and money to spend. Those daughters should be treated to role models that are fresh, and new and relevant to their generation. Hollywood is so desperately lacking in vision and imagination, production teams keep barfing up the same ideas with the dollar sign acting as the only motivating factor.

If the first appeal for our attention and excitement  about the Jem movie came from the talented young women they’ve cast, maybe I wouldn’t feel so cynical. Those girls would have ignited something that three thirty-something dudes who have dollar signs in their eyes just can’t touch. At least these young ladies have the skills to embody the pop sensations that stole my little girl heart. Guess what production team? I won’t be watching this one in the theatres.

The whole thing, if you ask me, is truly outrageous.

Jem the Movie poster

Juggling Babies

Noah isn't so sure about his Easter chocolate

Noah isn’t so sure about his Easter chocolate

Holy god you guys! All I want to do is write, and write, and share interesting content with you. I want to give you tidbits from our life, share my heart and soul, and learn you about interesting new ideas and products. I want to do so many things, BUT WHERE THE HELL DO I FIND THE TIME? Spreading myself between blogs, homeschool, and family life is like juggling babies!

Our new blog is exciting, and fun, and the focus is sharper. It’s easier to come up with material for a parenting blog, because the inspiration seems to be everywhere, but here is where my heart lies. Here where I first started dreaming, here where I first imagined the family I would one day thrive in. Here is where I can relax, but right now I feel like the well is a little dry.

I’m missing this place of my universe, and all of the fun new tricks I learned working on the new blog are begging to be applied here. I need to find some kind of time management key to the universe. I can’t freaking wait until Tim Ferris has kids, so he can tell me what the hell to do.

Meanwhile, know that I love you, and I miss you. If you want to be a big help, please send me some topics you want me to write about. Or ask me for some advice, preferably not on multi-tasking.

Kisses on your nose,

Mommy

Genetic Mutations and Summer Vacations

carmenguitar

Auntie Carmen, at Christmas, serenading Noah

What a ridiculous backdrop my life plays out against sometimes. In the midst of launching new businesses, seeking out new schools, dreaming of camping in various Niagara utopias, celebrating birthdays and watching my beautiful children become infused with the electric energy of spring, I’ve been working on a project that has made my heart so heavy, I find myself waking in a cold sweat each night.

For those of you who have been with me here from the start, you will know how many loved ones I have lost to cancer. For all of you, I will tell you that the people I knew intimately and lost were only the tip of my family’s dark iceberg. At my last physical, my doctor recommended I get screened for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genetic mutations. Just over a week ago I sealed the envelope containing my family medical history and sent it off to Princess Margaret hospital.

And now I wait.

Remember when Angelina announced her double mastectomy and the world suddenly knew that you could be screened for a genetic mutation that is almost always linked to certain types of cancer? Well, that’s what I ‘m talking about here. In families where there are multiple occurrences of certain types of cancer (breast, ovarian, and colo/rectal cancers) geneticists look for a mutation in the BRCA1 or BRCA2 genes. If this mutation exits, the odds of that person developing cancer are STAGGERING.  Here are some details from the cancer.gov fact sheet on the BRCA1 and 2 mutations:

A woman’s lifetime risk of developing breast and/or ovarian cancer is greatly increased if she inherits a harmful mutation in BRCA1 or BRCA2.

Breast cancer: About 12 percent of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives . By contrast, according to the most recent estimates, 55 to 65 percent of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 mutation and around 45 percent of women who inherit a harmful BRCA2 mutation will develop breast cancer by age 70 years.

Ovarian cancer: About 1.4 percent of women in the general population will develop ovarian cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, according to the most recent estimates, 39 percent of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 mutation and 11 to 17 percent of women who inherit a harmful BRCA2 mutation will develop ovarian cancer by age 70 years.

You can read the entire fact sheet here.

What will I do if Princess Margaret Hospital thinks I’m a candidate for testing? I will get tested, of course. And then what? How do you not put the cart before the horse in situations like these? I know if I test positive, there isn’t much I won’t do to increase my chances of good health. Watching so many people die from cancer has been one of the aspects of my life that has most shaped the way I live. I realize I have very little say in such matters, but I don’t want to die before I’ve had a chance to see my children grown, or before I’ve had the chance to hold my grand babies. If information and knowledge give me any kind of power over my own health, I’m going to take advantage. Meanwhile, I’m fortunate enough to be so busy chasing my little people, I don’t have to dwell on the possibilities each moment.

I could die tomorrow. Any of us could. That’s a fact, isn’t it? What do we do but try to immerse ourselves fully in each little moment we get today?

So, I’m planning day trips, and summer excursions. I’m taking even deeper breaths from the sweaty head of my just-from-a-nap little boy. I’m dreaming of lazy, warm afternoons with good food and good friends, and I’m imagining the musical laughter and grace of three amazing Japanese gals who will be our beloved guests in August. Those things are real, and tangible. I can count on them, and they are precious jewels that glitter at the bottom of an often murky lake.

I love you guys, and I’ll be sure to keep you posted.