do moral guys really die broke

My Husband takes morality to a whole new level. it can be downright annoying. Both of us being raised in households where "doing the right thing for the sake of doing it" was almost unheard of, I find it hard at times to reconcile where all this morality came from. My father was a  used car salesman, and while he did not fulfil  all of the stereotypical requirements of that role, he was also not the most moral of people. I would say he walked on the fine line between crooked and straight. He never set out to hurt people but he also lived high and wanted to make sure that fortune favoured him. Max's father is know to bend every rule in the book and has left a long line of decimation behind him; so, I suppose when Max decided that he would do everything opposite from his father, he felt the need to walk the straight and narrow to a whole new level. as a result, he has never cheated on anything, never misused the system, never lied to make extra money and is well known as a "straight up" guy. I know that this is something that any woman should be proud of, indeed boast about and for the most part I do. however, very occasionally, I do wonder if the universe somehow has things very messed up.
the biggest Karmic mess that i have noticed in our lives is the financial fall out from following all of the rules, specifically in how it affected our ability to care for and provide for our sons over the years. indeed, how it still affects our ability to provide for our sons  and each other. Let me explain: financial assistance to persons with disabilities is based on income. when it is a child, it is based on the parents income. the government system encourages parents to either quit their job, divorce/separate from each other, lie about their income or simply go almost bankrupt trying to provide for their family. One government worker, when i questioned the logic of this plan, told me that I was choosing how I was raising my family. I told her "yes, I was choosing to work and put food on the table and not raise my son in a tent!" the fallout from this medical funding model can be devastating. I don't even have to exaggerate to make my point. I knew of at least 2 families that lost their homes, 1 couple that got a divorce on paper and 2 families who gave up their child to foster care. the irony of that is that the government pays $1800 a month to foster parents as well as paying for all of the equipment, braces and medical needs. supposedly, it evens itself out because if you spend the money, you should be able to claim it on income tax. unless, you happen to live in the no-mans land known as the middle class. I don't need to tell you where we ended up; not being able to claim a single thing and paying for it all out of pocket. my main argument with this philosophy was that it was based on MY income, not Connors'. after all, I would not have been buying all of the equipment and braces and having Dr.s appointments if Connor was able bodied.
still, we stuck to the moral high ground, believing that we were teaching our children that it was the right thing to do. over the years, we managed creatively to keep a roof over their heads, celebrate holidays and even take the occasional family vacation. I worked permanent nights while Max worked during the day. Sometimes I would work a second job to make sure that we would have enough money, believing that all good things come to those who wait.

Over the years it has become more and more difficult to support this morality; after all we have been waiting a long time!. While we followed the rules and almost have drowned in debt, co-workers, friends and even family members have worked the "system" to their advantage. While Max refused to entertain ideas of charity or inheritance, others had no such compulsions and racked up quite the savings account. while he would never take money "under the table" or pad his income tax return, while others would boast about how they bested and cheated the system.
this morality went so far as to refuse even the slightest bit of help or charity for Connor such as a fundraising dance or golf tournament. so instead, we went to fundraisers for other people. not for disabled people mind you, for over indulged suburban kids in various kinds of sports so that they could stay at Holiday Inn's instead of Econo lodge!
I  assumed that once Connor was in university and of the age of majority that the inequities would end. however, I could not have been more wrong. OSAP, scholarships and bursaries are all based on financial need; included in that assessment is the parents income and, you guessed it, based on their funding model, Connors parents made too much money. It was about this time that I wished I had of gotten the faux divorce so at least I would not have to put Max's income on the application. Instead, other students, who's parents did not worry about their consciences bothering them, lied on the applications and got the funding. We on the other hand have redone our Mortgage twice since Jarrett and Connor started university.
In 1984, Max and i enjoyed a movie called "Garbo Talks". a son was trying to find Greta Garbo for his mother. it was the mothers life long dream to see Garbo in person. in one part of the movie the son asks his wife for some money, which he knows she has. she answers him "touch the principle! that is like spitting on God". we have never forgotten that line, mostly because so many people seem to give you reason to believe that they are like the wife character. they have the money for their child's education, for sports, to be able to help the people in need, yet they would rather cheat the system out of some money instead.
So although I know that Max is right and it is better to live a moral and ethical life and that I am glad we can tell our children that we did it together with no ones help, just once, I would like to have had some of the principle to touch. after all, at this point, our oldest son just thinks that we are bad with money; not that we just never had any money in the first place.
I believe that we are actually good with money: we have a house, property, two sons that have graduated from their programs and still like to be around us and most of all we have each other and we did it all together, without once cheating or bending any rules or laws.
So as I sit here sipping cold coffee because the microwave took out 2 outlets as it imploded on itself, and I cannot afford to get another one right now because unemployement does not pay enough after knee surgery I do question slightly the wisdom of playing by the rules. they dont seem to get us anywhere. but then again,
perhaps, Max is right. it is better to take the Moral high ground that is straight and narrow, than to cheat the system and risk falling down the bad Karma abyss. But occasionally, I will still fantasise about what it would be like to be given an extra payload of cash and not have to work so darn hard for it!

sleeping the day away

I  resent sleeping. it always seems to be a waste of time. somehow, just before I am ready for bed, I remember all the things that I had wanted to accomplish that day. those tasks and thoughts crowd out any possibility of drifting off to sleep. Instead, I spend more hours than I care to admit, trying to solve the problems of the world. as a veteran night shift worker, my body has become quite accustomed to going without sleep.  My husband  is of the opposite opinion of mine; he loves sleep, more than most other things in his life.Indeed, Max will tell you that pretty much any problem that you have is either cause by lack of sleep or can be cured by having a nap . If I had a cold, headache, foot pain, anything, it was because I had not gotten enough sleep. If I was angry because he left the kitchen in a mess, forgot to take out the garbage, forgot my birthday, it was not because he was at fault; it was because I had worked night shift, making me over-tired and cranky. the advice was always the same: go have a nap.
Before we had children, I thought that this theory of his was simply a way of deflecting blame in husband and wife spats. I was wrong. our children will tell you that no matter what was wrong in their lives he would tell them the same thing: you need to get more sleep. Girl trouble, boy trouble, school trouble, all could be cured by getting to bed by a decent hour or sleeping in a few mornings.
what is truly spectacular about Max's sleep theory is how he practices what he preaches. the man can sleep anywhere! laying down, sitting up, in a chair, in a bed, hammock or chair; give him a pillow and a sunbeam and the man will be snoring within 2 minutes. I have seen him fall asleep while reading and still hold onto the book while removing paint off the walls with the chainsaw noises that emanate from him as he goes off to lala land. if there was a Guinness book of world record for the most unusual places to fall asleep, Max would win. I have even found him asleep in the bathtub. You simply have to admire something like that!
when we were first together, I resented his "sleep theory"; however, over the years, I have come to admire and appreciate it. after all, it works in kindergarten. the teacher would put down the mats, have everyone curl up for an hour, and wake up refreshed and ready to learn for the rest of the day. Whole countries have embraced the concept with siestas and closures from 2-4.
So although, I resent the time that I waste needing to sleep, I do believe that this is one area in which my husband might be wiser. the world might be a better place if we all just curled up every day and had a nap. Maybe, the problem of the many factions that cannot get along is nothing more than that they are cranky from not sleeping enough. instead of soldiers, and war and fighting, we should give them a snack, put down the blankies and make them have a nap. when nap time is over, they would have a new perspective, be able to use their words and at least try to get along. it probably wouldn't work, but then no one ever got hurt from having a nap.

as for me, I will continue to spend way to much time trying to fall asleep instead of actually sleeping, and listening to the rhythm of my husbands breathing as he succumbs to his great cure all: a bit of extra sleep.

Surprises--I prefer predictable or Predictable: one of the best qualities

Recently, our neighbours family had a surprise birthday party for her. it was a lot of fun and she seemed genuinely happy that we had all gone to the effort to make a special surprise for her. gratefully, on my 50th birthday, my family knew better. I do not consider surprises a good thing and I have had way to many of them in my lifetime to confirm this theory.
My father was the master of surprises. I do not remember him having a job for more than 4 years. Indeed, most of the time he only lasted one year, only to come home and tell my mother that he had quit his job for one reason or another.I think the most colossal of his surprises was the mothers day that he drove us to Baldwin, Ontario, under the pretence of "buying" my mother a lovely antique wash set for their room. In fact, we were there to look at a piece of real estate that he wanted to invest in. that in itself is not surprising; the fact that the real estate was an airport! that was surprising! As a 14year old, I could not understand why my mother was not ecstatically happy over this idea. As a wife and mother, I owe her an apology. I would have killed my husband for something like that. Sadly, it wasn't until quite late in his life that we came to the realisation that he was actually, bi-polar and that it was the reason for most of his erratic behaviour. this would have explained much had we known when he was younger.
When it came time to choose my own mate for life, I knew one thing: I wanted predictable. No surprises! I wanted to know what my husband would do in any situation and not have to worry about being surprised. I had survived enough surprise and drama for an entire lifetime in the first 20 years of my life. I did not require anymore.
Max is as solid as a rock, both in body and spirit and I am happy to report that there have been very few things that he has surprised me with. Many might describe this as boring; however, I consider predictability one of his best qualities. Both Max and myself had childhoods with very few predictable outcomes, and while his stolid behaviour may bore some women who crave adventure and excitement, I have come to depend on that predictability more than anyone could ever know.
However, life on its own will throw you a few of those surprises; one of which is having your child diagnosed with a disability. I must say, even I who had known max for 14 years by the time we were told Connors prognosis, was not sure how he would have reacted to being told that his son would never walk, never run, never play hockey.
I wasn't sure, but, I should have known better. Max, solid and strong, found a way for Connor to walk, run, climb rocks, swim, do Jujitsu, play music and yes, even play hockey. In fact, Connor scored more goals in Electric Wheelchair hockey than Jarrett did in Ice hockey!
What I could not have predicted was how well Max did it all. He had no experience with the disabled or the sick. His life had been spent in sports competition. to say that Max's family are competitive sports nuts would be an understatement. For him to be given the task of raising a severely physically disabled son compares to a music teacher having a deaf child. But, predictable is one of his qualities and he rose to the challenge.
I am grateful that although we were surprised by Connor's diagnosis, and in fact, by everything Connor has done since then, that when I chose my spouse, I knew that surprises were not a good thing. That the safe, solid, predictable man was the one to go for. after all, Connor has given us more than enough surprises over the years to deal with, as well as, I am sure, many more to come.

For now, I am sticking with predictable, it is Max's best quality!

the power of optimism

Before the boys were born there was a sweet joke going around. A mother had twin sons. One was a pessimist and the other an optimist. the mother found it extremely difficult to deal with such different personalities so she took them to a psychologist to see if she could cheer one up and bring the other down to earth. The Dr. suggested that for the boys upcoming birthday she fill one room with toys and another with manure. she was to give the room with toys to the pessimist and the room with manure to the optimist. when their mother looked in on the boys the pessimist was sitting in the room complaining "this is not what I asked for, these toys are right...etc. then she opened the room of manure, only to find her other son digging joyfully through the pile of poop. she asked  the boy what he was doing and to her surprise, he answered "with this much shit, I know there has to be a pony in here somewhere!"
Once I had my sons, it was not too hard to figure out which one would be looking for the pony. Connor truly embodied the expression: Making the best of a bad situation. I recall a camping trip to Niagara Falls, where we rented a cabin at the KOA. behind the cabin about 10 feet away were the train tracks. you can imagine what the cabin felt like when a train went by, which they did about every 2 hours. Connor, who was about 6 at the time looked at the train rumbling by and said "look mom, they even have trains here!" with such exuberance it was hard not to share his joy.
it was this optimism that has kept us going through good and bad over the years. all of the naysayers and worry warts could not get him down. If there was a play, he tried out for it--never mind if the venues or stages were not wheelchair accessible, we would find a way. if there was a wrong in the school he would right it. He ran for student council and won changing their policy on "safe spaces" and starting a gay straight alliance.
when he got to University, I was sure that the room of manure was finally going to catch up with him. This was the first environment that he had ever been in where he was not the only "wheeley", and needless to say there were more than enough of the pessimist twin to fulfill the role. Indeed, at one point he asked me "why am I not as bitter as everyone else about my disability?" to which I answered, I suppose because we are not bitter about your disability so why would you be?.

The gloom and doom attitudes almost got the better of him. for a year, in an effort to conform and fit in, Connor became old and bitter; I lost my optimist, and to be truthful, I was lost without him. I am neither a pessimist or an optimist; I am a realist. however, us realists need some optimism in our lives to keep us going. after all, reality bites and is quite pessimistic at times.
Finally, Connor gave up the sham of trying to be life bitter in order to fit in and became his sunny self again. He told me that he just decided to not give a damn about people being so dark and twisty with their expectation that he should be the same and that they would just have to accept his cheerful self.
See, there was a pony in all that manure.Leave it to Connor to find it!
Oh and my pessimist? while Jarrett has cheered up over the years, especially when he remembers to eat so that he doesn't get grumpy, he still sees a cut as a "gash" and EVERYTHING is a crisis!
 but I can only conquer one mountain at a time.

The bitch is back--Elton might have been on to something

According to the oxford dictionary a Bitch is defined as:noun

• 1a female dog, wolf, fox, or otter.

• 2 informal a spiteful or unpleasant woman.
• black slang a woman (used in a non-derogatory sense).
• a person who is completely subservient to another.

• 3 (a bitch) informal a difficult or unpleasant situation or thing:working the night shift is a bitch

• 4 informal a complaint:my big bitch is that there’s nothing new here
  
  I have frequently been described as a bitch as I am sure many women of my age and profession have but in my case it has become something more. Indeed it has on many occasions gotten me into trouble. I have very few filters between my brain and mouth; some would say I have no filters! and I am fearless in defending what I believe in, whether it be a principle or a friend, I never give up the fight. I used to think that this was simply open, honest communication, until I learned that you can only engage in open, honest communication with people who actually took the open, honest communication course. all others simply see you as an insulting, argumentative bitch!as you can imagine, this has led to many conflicts in my life. Indeed, I have come close to losing a job, family and friends due to my vehement defence of something I believe is right or fighting for what I think should happen. Max is not the male equivalent of "a bitch" and that has frequently led to the inevitable question, "what is a nice guy like that doing with a BITCH like her!" Many can shake their heads and say, no I am sure that isn't so, but it is! I have even been asked to my face over the last 35 years and even by members of my own family. So knowing all this and knowing that life would be so much easier not to be a bitch, one might question that if I am aware of this, why would I not do everything in my power to change? After all, life is quite simple and pleasant for the non-bitches of the world. the answer is actually quite simple; all the things that go into making me a bitch are also the things that have allowed me to be mother of a child with special needs: my quick wit, loud voice and tenacious ability to fight for what I believe in were the tools I need for the job of being a mother to a child with cerebral palsy.it is not for the faint of heart. things that come natural for other parents, are a continual battle for those of us who have had the role thrust upon us. Inclusion, accessibility, understanding and accommodation, all have to be fought for, and it is not a war for the faint of heart or the quiet of spirit. The path of least resistance has no place in raising a disabled child and if you were not a bitch when you started the journey, I can almost guarantee that you will be by the end of it. if your child is to receive the care, attention and education that they deserve, you will have to fight for it; sometimes, over and over again. all of the things that got me into trouble in my "other" life, were the very tools that I required to acquire all that Connor deserved. The school system and health care system do not cater well to those who just "go along". it truly is the squeaky wheel that gets the grease. If someone is willing to settle for the bare minimum; that is what they will receive. Bitches never settle. Connor has told me on several occasions that EA's, teachers, attendants and even his friends are "terrified" of me. I find that somewhat hard to believe but I do think that they have learned to be wary of me and know that I am a she-wolf protecting her cub if I believe that Connor has not been treated as fairly as the rest. as a result, in nursery school, grade school, high school and university, Connor has always achieved everything that he could.

  

  Perhaps that is where the application of the word towards women came about in the first place. Men realised that you do not mess with a woman protecting her babe. The problem is that a child with special needs requires so much more protection, in so many different ways and for so much longer. And so, I go on being the bitch. the one who speaks her mind and fights for what she believes in, even if no one is listening at that moment, I know that if my bitch-skills are needed to fight the good fight they have been honed to perfection. it may not, on the surface, be something that I should crow about. But, it is that survival technique that has gotten us this far and will take us even farther. Therefore, I remain "the bitch" and darn proud of it!

Books: my lifelong love

I love books.  I know that this is ironic coming from someone who is writing a blog, but I love them. I have tried to embrace the new technology of e-readers; yet, there is something about books that remains deep in my psyche and being. They have stood the test of time, something that our technology of today has not. the first printing press came into existence in the 1500's changing the face of the economic world and society in general. where books before the press had to be handwritten and therefore only for the wealthy or for state, books became available for the common man. there is something deeply sensual about reading a book. it is more than the story itself; it reaches us on all of our senses: sight, smell, hearing, and touch. we see the pages, we smell the paper and ink and sometimes we smell the places the book was before. we hear the pages turn as we finger them and turn them. books are deeply ingrained in our society at large. Expressions like, "a real page turner" do not translate themselves as well into the e-book world. I believe that books will always be with us. My rationale is somewhat flawed on this point and based solely on fiction, science fiction to be exact. In almost every movie or series of the future, with all of the other changes that is predicted, the book remains. Kirk gets one as a birthday present in Star Trek, the library exists still in Logans Run. the books are the constant, the anchor to the past and the straddle to the future. Max and I have discovered a used book store near our property, in Powassan where you can fill a bag with books for $8.00. I leave there sometimes thinking that I have gone to heaven, my bag of books in tow.