Tag Archives: parents

Morning People Are Only People Without Happening Night Lives

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Do you ever go through body phases, whether it be you get really really achy, extremely hyper, or suddenly are having the soundest, deepest sleeps of your life and cannot physically pull yourself from bed?  Sleeps like when you were a kid…like if there were no reason to get up, well then maybe you never would?  But, the mere fact you were pulled from this slumber meant you were late to work, forgot your mascara, and will be walking in a daze the remainder of the day just dreaming about going back to bed.  I want to say maybe it’s just me, but somehow I doubt it.

I am currently going through this phase.  As per every, single, thought and occurrence I (or anyone) has ever had – I’ve *shockingly* had it before and yet every single time I find it puzzling and curious as to why I would suddenly be so tired or sleeping so sound!  I go through the usual process of wondering if I’m getting sick, could it be mono, am I over-stressed, is it that I’ve been really busy, is it the ups and downs of weather…and usually yes, it seems to go hand-in-hand with any number of these things (well, maybe not mono), or maybe, just maybe there is no explainable reason and it just is.

About a month ago I was turning into an amazing sleeper who actually woke up BEFORE my alarm clock, rested and full of energy…I actually thought “this is it, this is the ‘someday’ I always imagined I would transition into as an adult!”…You know what I’m talking about, you’ve all thought it.  “When I grow up I’m going to be a morning person”.  That fated day when your alarm clock is no longer necessary and when you lean out and open that window with a smile…and cartoon birds land on your shoulder.

But, alas, for the past 4 days I cannot wake up to save my life and find myself…horror of horrors…GRUMPY.  Now, I’m not a great morning person, but I’m almost never, ever grumpy.   I usually just get up and get ready quickly.  I don’t normally talk a lot, I’m not normally entirely awake, but almost never.. gasp…grumpy. Maybe this is because I had a super-packed weekend, maybe it’s because the weather has been so up and down it could be an amusement park ride, or maybe I really am fighting a cold.  What I can tell you is that when you are 30 and your mother decides to come in and lie about the time of the morning, turn on the light, and immediately begin lecturing you on cleaning the house before walking out the door…it definitely adds to the grump factor. Maybe that grump has just followed me into the following days.  But for whatever reason, I am still half-asleep as I sit here and ruminate.

Maybe not all parents wake their kids up this way…what a terrible start to the day!  Maybe some are patient, understanding, and always forthright, but I know for certain my parents have…let’s call them “parenting” traits I would happily trade in. I know that my mom, as long as I can remember will just time-machine herself to the next ominous sounding part of the hour.  If it is 8:11, she will say “it’s already quarter after”.  If it is 8:16 – she will tell you it’s 8:30 and depending on how bad her mood was, sometimes she will shoot right to “It’s nine o’clock” when the clock clearly reads 8:34.  It’s a trait that I’ve found incredibly annoying over the years as I don’t take long to get ready and in a small town 5 minutes can make the difference of getting there on time…so give me the extra 5 minutes of sleep any day!  It’s just an unnecessary stress that has been there my whole life long and I keep praying for it (like many other things) to just stop one day.  I continue to dream that someday, someday my parents will treat me like an adult.

Now, don’t even get me started on the other little parenting fibs I’ve been fed all these years….in some cases literally. Being a ginger, freckles are obviously a part of the territory.  Though today I cherish these little fake-tan miracles, as a kid I abhorred them.  My parents knew that I hated my freckles…my dad also knew that I hated brussel sprouts.  So, you do the math.  Using this information to his advantage would be an understatement, as he told me that with every brussel sprout I ate a freckle would disappear.  They tasted like feet, smelled like farts, and I had to plug my nose…but you better believe I swallowed those disgusting little cabbages down to rid myself of those nasty little speckles.

So, like parents, like the weather, like the unpredictability of my sleep patterns….I guess everything is bound to keep coming and going, perhaps never changing, but only resurfacing.  I keep waiting for the someday to come where my mom doesn’t treat me like a child (except for when I want her to), I don’t need an alarm clock, I’m never over-tired, I’m never unable to sleep, I’m always on time, I always have my laundry put away, and I always immediately do my dishes.  These things haven’t happened yet….I guess turning 30 wasn’t the event into “real” adulthood that I thought it was going to be.  But, as one of my favourite Creedence Clearwater Songs states, “I’m here to tell you now each and every mother’s song, you better learn it fast; you better learn it young, cause Someday Never Comes.”

The Ginga Ninja

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When My Dad Didn’t Have My Hand….He Had My Back

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So, today is Father’s Day (at least in North America).  It’s a day to celebrate those (mainly) wonderful people we call Dad…or Pop, or Daddy, or in my case Brina….really whatever floats your boat.

But, for most little girls, their Dad is the one man who will love them forever, good and bad.  More often than not a girl knows the song she wants to dance with her father at her wedding, lloonnngg before there is a wedding to even plan.  Don’t get me wrong, not every man is meant to be a father and not every father is a good man, but if you were lucky like me…then up and down, approving or disapproving, over the years I still believe my Dad (aside from my elderly male cat) is the longest love I’ve had.

I recently sat on a plane with a very successful and divorced older man; the divorce caused him to re-evaluate his life and dedicate much of it to his daughters.  He was around my Dad’s age and I was around his daughter’s age. We had a very interesting discussion about career, life romance and love.  I felt like I was talking to my dad….and in all honesty, I think he felt like he was talking to his daughter.  He pointed out that he hoped, hoped that his eldest would eventually find a partner, but that he honestly thinks he raised her so well that men are intimidated by her.

It’s funny because that is a statement I have heard over and over throughout the years. It will take a secure man to love me.  If you were raised to be successful and you excelled at many things, your standards are high and you were told not to settle, but that in turn means you very well may…actually not settle.  However, I very recently came up with a new vantage point on this.  If you have a wonderful father – warm, communicative, successful career, handy around the house, likes to cook, cleans, does laundry…and  knows music trivia….wouldn’t you measure every man by him?  In essence, maybe the fact that I haven’t settled down yet is actually because I am measuring other men by the one man I value most.

So, as a Daddy’s girl I have to say, seriously Dad…I now believe it’s your fault I haven’t settled down.  Kidding…well, sort of.  But, actually more seriously, thank you for being my Dad.  I knew that when I had my first glass of red wine in Paris with my father, I was having it with a man who would love me forever.

Happy Father’s Day to all Dad’s out there, and happy daughters day to all those lucky enough to have a Dad like mine.

The Ginga Ninja

 

The Wrong Road Too Often Travelled

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Can you ever admit that you were wrong?  In the game of life, when does honesty play it’s part…how often does a decision you made go the wrong way and do you have enough humility to see it?  Maybe you didn’t do it on purpose, but you still did it. If you did, can you fess up and admit you may have been wrong?

Or is wrong something you can simply assess after the fact…perhaps that in the moment, every moment, you react with your gut, but only hindsight helps you realize the error of your ways.  Why couldn’t we all build time machines that helped us go back to that very moment and undo the monumental thing we did to cause future worry and heartache?  Because I guess what you did was probably caused by something giving you worry and heartache in the first place.  If you reacted how you felt necessary at the time, and reacted in such a way to keep your life moving or your principles known…does wrong really ever exist?

As my dad put it, “Your whole life will be about making decisions and more decisions. Some will turn out great , some good, some so-so and  and some bad. You will only ever 2nd guess the latter two.”  Well dad, I think I’m human enough to admit that I’m guilty of second-guessing.

Okay, there is of course a grey area here.  There are actions that are certainly considered wrong (embezzlement, murder… teased hair) but most people are driven by something to say, or to do, the choice they made in that moment. Let’s be honest, even murder in self-defence, or teased hair for an 80’s party can be defended… but who can admit they may have made a mistake? How many are willing to simply utter those words,  “I was wrong”.

(And ladies, let’s be honest, those three words may be harder for a man to utter than those other three dreaded ones)

For all those with regret, or uncertainty, fear of the unknown…try to remember that every action, every thought, every moment of hindsight is simply a stepping stone, or a lesson for whatever comes next.  Maybe the right way just wasn’t marked on your map yet.

You can’t do anything about the past, other than admit your mistakes, apologize for your regrets, and realize that no matter how many wrong turns you take on the way…ultimately we all end up at the same destination.

The Ginga Ninja

Moving out, Moving in…Moving up?

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I’M MOVING”.  These must be two of the most dreaded words in the English language that can come from a friend or family members’ mouth. Especially when you’re the one saying them.  In my case, I have moved a lot.  Call it wanderlust, call it immaturity, call it financial burden, call it indecision….in the past 2 years I have moved 4 times….and that doesn’t count the mini-moves between the real moves to brother’s couches and parents spare bedrooms.

Either way, like everything in life, Murphy’s Law tends to play a part on that dreaded day.  The movers don’t show…you hoist your couch up the roof through a window from your new neighbours’ balcony…(yep, that actually happened) and you thank your lucky stars that you haven’t pissed off everybody in your life enough to have to do it alone.

Despite my somewhat cursed luck when it comes to these things, I thank the universe that I have friends and family patient enough to keep coming back through my uncertainty, new roommates, boyfriends, and various cities to lend a hand….even if that hand shines up your kitchen ware with Windex so that everything you drink tastes like poisonous soap.  Yep…that also actually happened.

Thanks mom.  Love you too.

The Ginga Ninja