despite all my fine talk about wanting my children to know their "home and native land", after reviewing our projected finances and finances already spent on our summer trip, i predict we will not be traipsing back to canada next summer.

i’m not going to give exact sums, but let’s say the international airline tickets are not the most expensive aspect of the journey.

having said that, i am determined to enjoy myself this summer.

i have never seen the movie THE WIZARD OF OZ in its entirety. this fact has absolutely nothing to do with frugal blake and maureen and prices of admission to the cinema…in fact i will always remember maureen taking us kids out of school when i was in in grade two and pam was in grade four so we could catch a matinee of the sound of music. apparently i don’t get the nuances of that movie, i never understood why people thought the baronness was so mean to maria. (trivia for the day: the von trapp family emigrated to america, and set up in philadelphia where the kids went to the same school as grace kelly.)

my lack of education regarding dorothy and the rest of the crew is mainly that the movie alternatiely scares and bores me. charles remembers seeing it as a small child and being really frightened of the flying monkeys for months afterwards. i had the capacity to sit through wizard, i have seen gone with the wind many times (although i always cringe in the second half as scarlett self destructs and alienates all those around her…)and oz never held the same appeal for me as gwtw did. whereas i could sit in the living room and watch gwtw on a sunday afternoon, i could never sit through oz. not even if i had a book on my lap to distract me.

i have been distracted over the past month, as insects have swarmed back into hong kong. the fricking cicadas serenade us night and day…do they all draw breath at the same time? zzzzzzz-         ZZZZZZZZZZZZz-zzzzzz and the spider webs are getting three dimensional, sticky and you really need to run with your mouth shut. snails are larger, slimier. and one look at carys little matchstick legs will inform you that the mozzies are back.

the worst are the flying ants. i don’t know why i say worse because they are harmless, but i don’t like the looks of them. they are a dull shiny black, and look like giant ants with clear grey wings. they don’t bite, and are rather harmless, but i dislike their size and the buzzing they make as they beat against sealed windows. they remind me of the flying monkeys from the wizard of oz. they really are beautiful to look at, indeed, in an insect sort of way. i like that they don’t  bite and that is why i have never killed one. but they are creepy.

for the past month these miniature flying monkeys have joined charles and i on our morning runs. they frequent the mountain and they are our tiny chariots, leading the path. it is ridiculous to watch the tiny swarm buzzing ahead of us. why are they doing it? there is no glory in leading humans, horses certainly wouldn’t do it if it weren’t for the bit, so why are the insects? who knows, but they take an interest in our runs, and slow down when we do, careful not to fly too far ahead. it’s like they think they are incentive. ed harris for me, nigella lawson for charles sort of thing.

if they really wanted to help of course, they would scoop us up and carry us to the end of the run, or preferably, home again. but possibly for that to happen i would have to be wearing a blue gingham apron and carrying a tiny dog in a basket.  and that certainly doesn’t sound like anything that i will be wearing soon, on a run or otherwise.

what it means

i have sort of procrastinated on the question of what it means to be a canadian, because it is not an easy one to answer.

the first answer that jumps gratefully to my mind is freedom. we have immense freedom enjoyed by few countries. many countries have sophisticated cities where tolerance is enjoyed, but in canada, even in small towns, you are likely to find that tolerance.

a canadian often describes themself by what they are NOT. and often, they are comparing themselves to americans. or european french. in our defense, it is usually because the person we are enlightening has asked us if we are american.

psychologically, how does it affect someone to describe themselves defensively? reactively? does that instill pride? or to say, no that’s another province….

what does it mean to be a canadian? to have the opportunity to read the books you want, live the life you want, speak the language you want, and be encouraged to do so. there is freedom in canada. and yes, your tax dollars will go towards paying for programs you think are ridiculous, and you will wonder why your tax dollars are going towards something you will never use…but someone will, and that’s all part of canada. having your rights and beliefs respected and promoted.

what it means to be canadian is that chinese, even the younger generation of chinese will leap up and say "norman bethune"! a huge canadian hero, a martyr for china. the chinese love norman bethune.

it is no mistake that many backpackers sew the canadian flag on to their backpacks. they are proud to be canadian, but why? what have we done? what haven’t we done? i have some thoughts, but i want to hear yours.

tourists that feel they are seeing canada after a 5 day 4 night trip are akin to tourists who think they have seen all the carribbean islands because their cruise ship docked for five hours at each location. the stunningly awesome niagara falls, quaint victoria (it’s staid demeanor even more entertaining when you consider the whole drug culture of vancouver island), vancouver’s, coastal living lifestyle, the lush okanagan valley, the stupendous rocky mountains, the rippling wheatfields of the prairies, the surprising beauty of saskatoon, the chilling rock of hudson’s bay, the canadian shield of the northwest territories that slides into tundra, the newfoundland coastline, pei…anne of green gables, ottawa, the nation’s capital, skating along the rideau canal and then just a quick drive over to the hills and you’re into quebec. charming montreal, quebec city, the cafe cultures.

not so surprisingly, many canadians don’t get a chance to see the incredible panorama their own country offers. gas is expensive and getting across the country is challenging. many people own summer homes and spend their summers on the lakes and parts of seas that have been home to their earliest and best memories. and airfare is prohibitive. while you can get great flights across the united states, canada doesn’t offer those, particularly geared towards families. so many canadians haven’t visited outside their province.

many national magazines and newspapers don’t really cover "the nation". they have to respond to demographics, so they end up focusing their energies on mainly ontario, then british columbia, then a calgary story, then somewhere else. they don’t strive to make a "national" magazine at all. it’s hard to feel included when your country isn’t included. the big guns have a way of making the smaller ones feel that they do not count, or they are not worth counting, because they have the smaller voices. is that because advertisers have control over what sort of articles are published, or because in order to sell, powers that be want to stick with their current demographics?

canada has had some great heroes – sebastian has these cool books on canadian heroes that i love reading and i tell him about my hero, terry fox. and canada stood up to george bush and told him that the war didn’t make sense and they wouldn’t get involved. OH CANADA! on that day being canadian meant being proud.

there are a sector of canadians who would say that because canada is increasingly becoming a home to immigrants, that there is no national identity. 52 per cent of the population is apparently esl. caucausian is no longer the dominant "race". but that is a huge indicator of who canada is. what it means to be canadian. it means you can be who you are.

one of the things i love best about canada, although it is frustrating, is that they try to put people first. and their sensitivities. and their rights. makes for a loopy, ultra politically correct path, (can you say seven official languages in the north west territories? translating fees are v/ cheap)..but the idealism is good.

there are laws, but not many. for better or worse, canada does not have a pledge of allegiance. we have the national anthem, our one song of unity. we don’t have united weather, culture, religion. we are united in our right to be unique.

is national unity a priority for canadians? for citizens of any country? what about national pride?

these are very rough thoughts. thanks to the people who wrote in, i didn’t know that about the globe. doesn’t surprise me about chatelaine!

a late night adventure

yesterday was the oddest saturday the magnificent and i have had in a while. it was like a pre-kids day wrapped up in our current life. at times, it would’t have surprised me if we had all frozen in our poses and rod stirling would have walked out with an arched eyebrow.

the triumverate slept in until 8am, although sebastian was up at 7am roaring with hunger. it was pancake day, which possibly enhanced his hunger. but at 7.30, and no sound from the nursery, mc and i looked at each other and said, "Let’s go for a run". it was just like the olden days, except in the olden days we weren’t bad parents (or parents at all) who shamlessly plugged their child into veggie tales before heading off.

it was a short run, maybe 4.5 k, and when we got back, there were voices greeting us. hooray!

a couple of hours later, sebastian and i needed to go to the church to help the children’s church ministry leader create the father’s day celebration gifts we would be handing out the next day. off to church, busy busy busy, sit back and eat pizza. good times.

home again for naps. and then the kids woke up and we went with our downstairs neighbours tinya and christian (an advertisement for family beauty, this couple is incredibly beautiful, and their children, twin girls tallulah and cade, and younger sister roxie, are amazingly stunning.) the kids get along very well, and we spent a fun afternoon at the yacht club just having a good time.

got home around 7, threw kids into bed and then realised we were having dinner with our friends odila and joel. they’re fantastic, and we went to olive, which serves mediterranean food. and it was one of those nights when everyone’s food is fantastic, so we were stuffed and thrilled. odila and i are rather similar, and joel and charles, possibly because they are married to women like us, are similar in their goodnatured ways, among other things. we like being with them because they are still very much in love, and they are always touching.

we got home at 12am, and just as we are saying wow what a full but fun day, weren’t the kids great, aren’t our friends fun….and i am telling magcharles that i want to send jane in 11b and tanya flowers, he slaps his hand to his forehead and exclaims, oh kerrrrap

what’s up pussycat, i enquire rather amorously. i figure he’s forgotten something at the office, because he is leaving town tomorrow for the united states.

we are meant to be providing the flowers on the altar tomorrow at church.

we are.

yes. i totally forgot.

i guessed that part.

he calls american express. they can’t find a 24 hour florist. we get in the car and head down to lan kwai fong, the party district of hong kong which was originally a flower market. it is 12.30am. we are both v. tired people. but our minds are racing. we are thinking of visiting private clubs and offering to buy their centrepieces, going to hotels. but i know night managers, and this would never happen. it isn’t urgent enough to wake up my friend carole, who is in charge of public relations at intercontinental hotel hong kong, although i know if i did call her, she would bustle about and have a hotel centrepiece from the lobby for me within five minutes, but i couldn’t do it.

we park the car and race down to lan kwai fong. i have to say, there is the element of being on an adventure. lan kwai fong is like it is every weekend, packed with people looking for love and good times. you see a cross of people, desperate ones, happy ones, couples you know have a shelf life shorter than the milk in the fridge. you see couples out with friends, and tourists, taking in this amazing nightlife and sending pictures to the unbelievers back home. calgary tried to replicate the lan kwai fong theory back in the 1980’s with electric avenue, but having been there as an underage lass, i can assure you, lkf is way way cooler. it it much denser, there are no cars, so there are throngs of people in the streets, with banners criss crossing across the ways, little side streets. melvis, the chinese elvis impersonator.

but no flowers.

magnificent and i see that the usual flower stalls (which stay open to help men expedite their causes) have closed and we race back to the car. we decide to drive home by the graveyard, just in case the graveyard florists are preparing anything even though we know their shops are closed. or maybe they forgot a magazine at the stall and go back to get it…we believe in miracles.

we’re driving through kennedy town, tyring not to be too paranoid at the thought that our flowers could be on the next street, when all of a sudden i see a mom and pop shop, selling flowers. amazing. i hop out so they don’t close while charles is parking, and race towards them. some of the flowers are looking a little tired, but we don’t care. they are also selling bananas, shoe polish, rubber bands, denture cream, tip-exx and a few other things. but we’re there for the flowers. we grab an armful and it comes to less than $33US. amazing.

finally we get home.

of course, we have the flowers, now there is the little issue of how to arrange them in altar like decorations. we have no idea. dont’ you need foam? i have hair mousse, and we have a futon and some spray insulation…but no flower styrofoam. the internet is not much help.

we decide we are too tired, and even as we head to bed, i know that the tired and already a bit brown flowers may make it to church tomorrow, but i will not. it is 1.45.

but the flowers did make it and it was a good time for charles and i. a little adventure. a good time.

and today someone said to me, "did i see you guys out last night?" i admitted they had, thinking they had seen us leave the restaurant at 11pm.

"that is so cool. you guys have so much energy. and such a great life, going out, partying during world cup, i bet you stayed at the pub until the match ended!"

if only they knew. but i certainly didn’t tell them.

tck

Charles blogged about the Dedication of Sebastian, Jasper, Sela & Carys on Sunday. You can find Charles blog here along with the text of his Testimony and pictures of the kids!

i’m reading a book right now on third culture kids. a third culture kid is a child who has spent a significant portion of their developmental years away from both of their parents home country and culture. if we moved to canada tomorrow, none of our four would be considered tck. after six years, probably.

there are many positive aspects to living overseas for the children and i appreciate them so much. one of the BEST is that my children are colour blind. they don’t have chinese or indian friends, they have friends. amen. fantastic stuff. sebastian certainly has a better sense at four of the globe than i did at 10 which is good. he is certainly more aware of global events and they are more personal. earthquake in the philippines? did it hurt baby melissa?

however, what does he know of what it means to be canadian? (tomorrow, we touch on what do canadians know on what it means to be canadian). what does he suffer being so far away from relatives and his home and native land? he doesn’t remember the one time he has seen real snow. he has never skiied.

earlier this year it was suggested that we no longer exchange christmas presents with a member of the family. if i didn’t have kids, i would have said, super great idea, let’s do it. as it was, i suggested that we continue. my main reason for wanting the kids to keep receiving presents was this: the hong kong side of the family was the only part of the family they wanted to stop sending gifts to. they weren’t stopping purchasing gifts, just gifts to people they weren’t with at Christmastime. us.

that my kids aren’t with their family at Christmastime is mc and my own fault. i felt badly asking that the gifts continue but i don’t want my kids to ever find out that they were excluded because they weren’t around. or to feel they weren’t thought of because they weren’t around.

many canadian families live provinces away and see their grandparents and aunts/cousins as often as my kids see their relatives. i suppose it should make me feel better that this fear of distancing our children from their relatives and roots has been going on since laura ingalls was writing. today it doesnt.

the dalaimumma

the other day i took jasper to an appointment at the queen mary hospital. food played a major part of the waiting room experience so jasper was fairly good natured and as he was rambling around the place looking for people who would give him less healthy food than the stuff he was none the less eating, i noticed a couple walking in. new parents with fresh babies. one baby per parent. twins. how unusual i thought and started watching them.

they had obviously given this twin thing some thought, because they were on the ball. the mum, who was carrying the little boy, had the blue bag and the blue blankets and the blue rim around the bottle and the blue soother. the dad (who was wearing blue….should we report him?) was carrying a either girl or boy who had been appointed the colour green. they had two baby bjorns (which contained the babies) each had a baby sling slung over their arm and were each pushing a baby stroller. they were either hiding quads somewhere, or they were covering all their bases.

it threw them for a loop when mum bent down too low and the soother dropped out of blue’s mouth on to the floor. she rummaged around in her bag and when she couldn’t find a spare soother, tried to calm her child by patting it. i of course was mentally screaming SWADDLE THE KID, SWADDLE THE KID, but what can you do but watch. blue started howling, and if i was that mother i would have popped that soother into my own mouth (thereby sanitizing it) and thrown in back into blue’s mouth. but that was not to be. she hissed at her husband, who found a gerber soother (i recognise the gerber soother because they are the same ones that sebastian used to use) and handed it to her.

SOOTHER CLIP! i felt like screaming, but stayed silent.

his bag seemed to be full of the nappies and wipes, green’s medical stuff and bottles while hers was extra clothes, blue’s medical papers, extra blankets, rattles (ignored), basically all the stuff that could be classified as nonessential. he was constantly rooting around the bag and i felt like advising them either to put the bag between them (ding dong!) or to pack individually.

this couple was out of their element. one baby is tough enough, but two? should i say something? i have experience in this matter. yet if i said something they might think (correctly) that it was powerfully obvious that they needed help. but solidarity among parents, right? i want these people to sleep at some point.

i approached them. didn’t ask if the kids were twins, or if the adults were first time parents. didn’t immediately explain that i have triplets, because sometimes that comes across that because my volume of children is higher, i must automatically be a better parent, which is so not true. but i had a good leeway question, i asked if they had joined the mum’s of multiples club here in hong kong.

"i didn’t know there was a thing" he admitted, while she said that she had heard of it but didn’t know how to get in touch with us. i took down her number, and asked about the babies. talked about their birth, they started explaining to me about multiples and having twins at queen mary, which to be fair, i know nothing about. i mentioned that i had jasper there and they asked if he was my only one, and at this point, i said that there were three more, and that jasper was a triplet.

they could have gone hostile, but they didn’t. instead i became the dalaimumma. questions flowed left and right as to how, when, where, who and why. i gave them the very truthful answer that once your kids have left that stage, you forget how old they were when it happened. or when it should happen. and that they should not be concerned if their four week old darlings were or were not doing anything. unless they were not filling their nappies or eating. those were the only pre-requisites. i think i lost some credibility in their eyes when jasper dropped some apple on the seat and i didn’t mind that he picked it up and ate it, and when he put a car that had been on the ground into his mouth. lax parenting, germs and all that. to each their own, right?

they were a very nice couple and talking with them made me so glad that sebasitan came along before the triplets. thank goodness we had the experience of one kid and were relatively easy going before the three came along. soon after jasper and i were called in to see the dr and by the time we got out, they were gone.

never found out green’s gender.

4000 calories a day

i can remember the hour when i was told to eat 4,000 calories a day.

for most of my adult life i have restricted myself to 1500-2000 calories a day, with "the day & week before" limiting myself to 1000-1200 cals per day. (this was also in the olden days before we really looked at carbs and thought they were a bad thing).

4000 calories a day. what freedom. so different to being pregnant with young sebastian, where i gained 17 lbs and ate more broccoli and cheese. they tell you that being pregnant is not an excuse to go crazy with the food, and yet here i was, being told to go insane with my eating habits.

i imagined myself eating 10 snickers bars and a wedge of soft cheese a day and calling it quits, but very quickly into the pregnancy, the idea of 10 snickers bars did not appeal to me. i didn’t have morning sickness, but wasn’t very hungry. how awful was this. the one time in my life that i was meant to be eating all the sauces i could, i didn’t have the stomach for it.

one way i managed to meet my calorie requirement was to drink SLIM FAST shakes with and between meals. they are meant to be meal replacements, but they were just beverages. they were so thick, i remember that in order to drink them, i had to use a straw and they needed to be icy cold, stored at the back of the fridge for at least 24 hours.

my trailer park tummy also gave the thumbs up to stauffers microwave macaroni and cheese. kraft dinner was not acceptable, but frozen macaroni and cheese apparently was. i think i ate that meal at least six times per week. with ketchup. no wonder my children were "massive".

in a perfect world i would tell you that i have never been able to stand the smell of stauffers since the triplets were born, but that’s not true. the other day magnificent was travelling and the kids were at a party and i was shopping and actually bought a frozen stauffers macaroni dinner. and ate it. i didn’t even need to check the instructions on how to make it.

just recently i have been quite bored with 2,000 calories a day, probably because i have been going to a number of goodbye lunches, and therefore have to scrimp calories at breakfast and dinner, which isn’t a lot of fun. and it has been raining to such an extent that i am not running or walking, because that’s just what i don’t need, a big slip or accident right around now. so food, or lack of it, is on my mind, and those days of trans fat triplet tess i almost am thinking of sentimentally right now. almost.

death and distance

i got a call the other day from my girlfriend marie. carys’s middle name is marie, and she is named in honour of this friend as well as many of the other wonderful marie’s who have touched my life. since i have known her, and it has been a while now, she has been stalwart and loving, one of those divine women who you want beside you when the chips are down, and who probably is.

she left a message. her father was dying. soon.

by the time i called her, her father had passed away.

thankfully, both my parents are living. i have no idea what she is going through. but my first instinct is to get on a plane and be with her. but realistically, would that be a good idea? my being there would probably be more work for her. i don’t drive, she would need to collect me from the airport because she doesn’t let her friends take the airporter into town. i know the code to her home, (she sends me the code change every six months) but she is barely going to be there. i don’t drive, i don’t know many of the people who will be sympathising. besides making cups of tea and giving hand and feet massages, would i be of much help to her?

i don’t think so.

i will ask if she wants me there, and i will go if she says yes. but i suspect the airfare would be better off if i shelved it into the marie and tess holiday fund. and i can see the reason, but i feel really shallow doing so. i will contribute money to whatever charity the family suggests, but nothing replaces being a friend in need. and i feel like i have failed her.

this is a girl who came to visit me at midnight in an emergency room, and told me everything would be all right. when i smiled and said, "Except the food", she grinned, slipped out and went to an all night store for some fat free blueberry yogurt and cheesies for me to consume.

she is not afraid to call when she needs me, and this is so good, because i know i matter to her. that i make a difference to her world. that the blessing of me being so far away is that she has someone to call in the middle of the night when sleep eludes her.

but i do wish i were closer.

months ago i wrote about five year old jacob duckworth, an incredible little boy diagnosed with cancer who has evaded death thanks to a series of miracles. these last few weeks his earthly battle has yet again become very perilous. i know if i were his parents i could show the love and support, but i am amazed at the joy they have found. how they are a family, giving all four of their children love and attention and support.

http://www2.caringbridge.org/fl/jacob/

jacob’s mother is praying for a miracle to extend his earthly life, yet is in full recognition and acceptance that her son for the first time in two years may be very close to being healed. the joy and sorrow that must cause her.

Gymnastics Pictures!

Please click here to see the latest pictures of The Terrific Trio at gymnastics, or go to the Photo Albums at right. Enjoy!

no laughtrack? that’s sad

you arrested my development.

i rented it on a whim. i saw jason bateman’s face and said, "you’ve got to be kidding." saw the words "dysfunctional family" and thought, "let me be the judge of that!" went home and haven’t stopped laughing.

i hadn’t been so addicted to a show since cold feet. 22 minutes about a family. michael batemen is the good boy and the newest ceo of the financially strapped family company. he rides a 10 speed. dad is in jail and the mother doesn’t want to get him out. liza minelli guest stars. one brother is such a mother’s boy, "he left finger scratches down the edge of the womb" and the other is a professional magician. michael, the bike rider, is the only responsible one, and his 14 year old boy, george michael no less, in love with his cousin. it’s that sort of a show.

oh so dysfunctional and divine. this sit com is so clever that everyone finds something different to laugh at. while mc is laughing at magician GOB’s curse at the mother, i am snorting at the way she salutes her empty glass. and i mean really, henry winkler as the family lawyer?

arrested development, a fantastic show. it isn’t an "inside" show, you don’t need to know a particular city, era, or party…you just have to have a family. interestingly, i laugh louder at this show that magnificent does, because the bluth’s family of dysfunction is closer to the lyons style than the caldwell. this is not to say that papa frugal blake is in jail…but the insulting, and laughing, and sarcasm that pours out of AD could very well be picked off the floor of the lyons den. those bluth’s go for the jugular, and are very funny in the process.

immediately i notice there is no laugh track. what a huge risk. no prompting the viewers to let them know they should be finding this funny. no bolstering their intellect … "hey did you get this one", the laugh track takes up too much precious air time that the bluth family could be using to insult each other. time is precious to the bluth’s, just as daddio, who, as of season one, is still in the clink. (and recently made a yarmulke out of the sole of his shoe…he is nothing if not enterprising). each episode ends with a teaser stating, "on the next arrested development"…and features scenes that never occur, but which wrap up episodes nicely and save so much time, allowing the bluths more opportunity to insult and let each other down in the subsequent episode.

wondering how this show could be kept so well under wraps, i do a google search on it. and learn it was cancelled. how could that be? critics seemed to love it. it won awards. it is better and more clever than most things on television. why did it get pulled?

i am certain the absent laugh track had a lot to do with it. viewers don’t have the self confidence to watch a show that doesn’t have a laugh track. with a show as cleverly written as arrested development they couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be funny. with insults flying as acerbically (and under the breath and behind the back…just like with your own family), they aren’t always clearly audible and timed perfectly for audience reaction.

i’m stunned. i am still on season one and i am mourning the bluth’s already.

no laugh track, fewer laugh lines for tess.