Daxohol

Daxon's Happy 4th Birthday!

So April 3rd, Daxon turned 4. Four! Next year he's be half a decade old.

It feels like only yesterday that I slashed my fingernails through the hospital bedding and launched his 10 and a half pound self into this world.

"He's huge!" a united chorus of 15 people in the delivery room declared the moment he entered this world.

Then and now, he's always been huge. A huge personality, huge love and a huge sense of humour. Of course with parents like us, how could he be anything else?!

Thursday was a wonderful family day. Gary and I both took the day off work and Daxon didn't go to school. Instead, we made a day of family fun to celebrate the day we offically became a family.

The day started off right with Daxon coming down the stairs to the livingroom and seeing a big pile of presents! He opened them and had fun playing with them for a while before we all got dressed and headed out to lunch. Daxon got to pick where we went for lunch. Of course, it was "O' McDonald's". E-I-E-I-ohhhhh my arteries!

After that we checked out a playbarn. There were birds of prey (owl's, falcons and a couple of eagles). A barn of big horses and some sheep, geese, bunnies and a few friendly loose chickens was a great spingtime reminder that life exists beyond the winter indoor destinations.

Dinner time! This time, Mommy got to pick since she worked extra hard 4 years ago to the day! All you can eat Indian Food. I was my favourite as a rotund preggo and still is my favourite today!

Then we came home to chill out, play Mr. Bucket and Basketball. I must also make note that as Daddio tossed the ball to the hoop, he let a giant fart rip and of course the ball swishes through the net. Daxon laughed hysterically and declared it, "Fartball".

That's right, Daxon's birthday post ends with Fartball.

Happy Birthday Maya Angelou!

"Still I Rise"

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops.

Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I've got diamonds

At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise

Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear

I rise

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.

I rise

I rise

I rise.

In keeping with this year's mission of NBS 2008 (NBS = No Bull Shit), I've been forced to face a very difficult thought. I've always evaluated things in my life with a Pros vs. Cons method. Except, I suppose I haven't been fair enough in subjecting my performance habits to this evaluation. The bad news is, it has officially tallied up too high in the Cons department.

I know that performing is my outlet of choice. It feels the greatest when I'm on the stage. However, it has proven to cause a great deal of heartache the rest of the time.

As a working mother, I only get so much time to do things outside of the home. What I've finally come to conclude and acknowledge, is that the busier I am with performing, the more I miss out on opportunities to socialize, see things, do things and be with my friends. Even go out on a date with my own husband.

It's with much relief and sadness that I have come to this conclusion. Along the way to coming to this, I've felt a whole array of emotions; oppressed, guilt, angry, guilt, ripped off, guilt and for extra zing, more guilt.

My soul-mate has been MORE than supportive. So much of my guilt comes from this very blessing. His role has been far from easy. He's had to take two roles, one of the supportive husband who wants to see his wife flourish and succeed, and one of a man who can't let his partner (while keeping good intentions) steamroll through life. I've made mistakes, I've learned, and he's still there to help pick me up when I fall, and hold me when I cry. Even after he's "told me so". Marriage is about give and take. I've taken alot over the last couple years.

I've seen many others succeed in the creative world. I see what it takes to get there. I just don't have enough of it. It's not talent, it's resources. Money, time, flexibility and discipline. None of those things come to me easily or in abundance.

So I've decided to stop trying to be a trout swimming up stream. Instead, I'll do what I do best. I'll be a loud, vibrant, colourful fish that stands out from the crowd all on it's own and go with the flow instead of always trying to swim against it. I don't have to give up. I just have to switch my angle, my approach and my medium to one that suits me better. I've got a few ideas. Nothing even coherent in my own mind yet, but I do feel inspired.

Time will heal the rest. I look forward to growing artistically in new ways this year. I look forward to taking more in, rather than putting more out. Change is good.

By this time next week, Daxon will officially be 4 years old. So that means, I've occupied this space here in the www for about that amount of time! So, that said, since I pay for this space here on Typepad, I have to get using it or I'm going to loose it. The thought of loosing it is not pleasant as it contains some of the most precious things I've written. It's a door that I would like to keep open, to walk into anytime I like. I'm not ready to close it.

So all that said, here's one of many installments on the latest in my angst and glory. Believe me more is on it's way. I've already started writing it.

My job is very awesome, however, as is the nature of project contract work, it will come to an end in June. This living project to project stuff is a bit too stressful in the long run. The downsides are that I have no benefits and I have no idea where I will be in 6 months, therefore making it impossible to plan for anything. It's really unfortunate, because I adore the work. The very fact that I get paid to make a difference in the world I live in (no matter how small), is a great feeling. I am actively encouraged learn and grow and make use of my time researching, and educating myself on such a wide variety of topics. It's crazy: Popular Education, Hate Crimes in Canada/Ontario, The Ontario Human Rights Code, What's happening in my own city with respect to social services and projects, and of course peppered with a "healthy" and "constructive" feminist attitude. Bliss I tell you.

Now don't get me wrong, the weight of the subject matter can tend to leave me feeling overwhelmed sometimes. I affectionately refer to that sensation as "Issue Suffocation". Case in point, one day I spent my morning in one workshop absorbing statistics and facts on Hate Crimes and in the afternoon finding myself swallowing down the giant lump of disgust in my throat in a service provider resource workshop on Woman & Child Abuse. Yeah, at the end of that day I hugged my husband and child and soaked myself in a bath. However nothing washes away that sort of day.

So anyway, at the present time, I'm in this bizarre career purgatory. I'm either over qualified or under qualified. With no real way of being able to do what is necessary which is go back to school. For a bit I thought I could go back, but no...not for at least another year or two.

Then there is all that creative junk in my trunk that could keep me busy 24/7 till the end of time, but doesn't reap enough money to live on. To add insult to injury, it is in this three ring circus industry that I have formal education in. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME WAS I THINKING?! My diploma I paid thousands and THOUSANDS of dollars for that I will never break even on. That really pisses me off ya know. That I have enough of a foundation and momentum in that department that I could work as hard as a little hamster slave, endlessly running and running to generate electricity to power a 250 watt bulb, but I would barely make enough profit to feed the hamster! But all the entertainment newspapers and consumers will say "Wow! What fantastically shiny bulb you've got there! Way to go!" Does that make any sense? So where does all this leave me? Blabbering on about hamsters and light bulbs?

Confused and pent up. Unable to do what I need to in order to get even STARTED on the base of what little (in comparison to what others want or have) that I want - a house, an RESP for Daxon and bit of savings for my retirement (because the CPP will be gone by that time and I'll be left to fight for dumpster scraps from the yellowed fingers of others of my selfish, blissfully ignorant, in the moment generation) And god forbid I ever have enough money to get out of the province of Ontario and see any damn part of this "world" I keep on hearing so much about.

You what's sad? MY SUITCASE has been more places than me! I'm not lending it out anymore. If you can afford the trip, get your own damn suitcase, or take me with you.

I'm nervous, and a bit angry and I'm just wanting to cuddle on the couch and read stories with my boy because at least then I'm in my own soul's "buttercup".

Have I mentioned I'm going to be 30 in a month? Tick-tock bitch. Tick-the f**ck-Tock.

If you know me, and you're reading this, my guess is that you might be thinking that I should just shut up and stop being so self absorbed and stop obsessing about the looming future that I have no control over anyway. I agree whole-heartedly. If you don't know me, well I'm shocked your still reading this.

I think I just found a chocolate in my purse...yay...

I was walking all around the house tidying up, re-arranging things and moving things around. Then I notice that Daxon did a great job of eating all his supper.

Me: "You're a great eater Daxon!"

Daxon: "You're HOT mama!"

I stop dead in my tracks. I look at him, fighting back the urge burst out laughing, or to just say thank you.

Me: "Ummm...what?"

Daxon: "You're playing hot and cold! And you're HOT!"

Me: "Oh, wow, thank goodness...now I just have to figure out what it is I'm looking for."