So THIS is Married Life

Nothing says "Welcome to the Family" like helping in the funeral preparations for your father-in-law, just over a week after he became that to you. I sound facetious, but it's been a cruel juxtaposition of emotions from not knowing if dear Ken would live long enough to view our wedding video from his palliative care room in the nursing home (he did), to feeling incredible joy on the wedding day (also Ken's birthday), to taking "honeymoonettes" (so as to be close to home), to the heart-wrenching final moments of Ken's life.

I went to the location of our wedding yesterday to pick up some wine that had been left behind and I felt such grief that this place of happiness (I mean, I have never seen my new husband, Rob any happier), was now a cruel reminder of a moment before our lives changed horribly. It seems frivolous and callous to look at our wedding pictures. It is a time of mourning. It is a time of being supportive of this grieving man whom I did not think I could love any more than I did before we were married. It is a time to be a real part of his family and to hold my new mother-in-law in her sorrow. It is a time to step up.

Tomorrow we will celebrate Ken's life. I come from a small family and had never been in an obituary, let alone sat in a funeral home to go over planning. I had never called a funeral home in the middle of the night to arrange for the transfer of a loved one. I had been a wife before, but never has the role of wife been more apparent than in these last few days. I looked into Rob's eyes a short time ago and vowed to be by his side. Here I am.

Letter to Sears Canada President

Update April 8, 2012:

My mother got to speak with Julie from the Executive Offices last week, after I successfully campaigned on Twitter. Up until that point, neither one of us had had any success through other avenues.

Julie was surprisingly patronizing to my mother, asking her if she had ever considered hanging her sheets to dry, and telling her she would make an exception "just this once." I was stunned that Julie had looked at both my mother's history with Sears and mine, as if to see if we were "troublemakers" (well, we are now).

When told she would be refunded only half the money, my mother's response was "keep it." She eventually received a full refund, but her determination to never use Sears again was cemented by her treatment by Julie.

Oh, and that Sears wedding registry I created? Cancelled.


This is a letter I sent today to the President and Chief Executive Officer of Sears Canada, Mr. Calvin McDonald.

Dear Mr. McDonald,

I am writing to you because all other avenues have been exhausted. My request is a simple one: that Sears be reasonable in this request.

My mother purchased sheets from the Sears catalogue, an order that was one of hundreds she has made over fifty years. When she received them, she first checked that they fit the bed and then washed them in cold water before their first use.

Much to her surprise and chagrin, the sheets didn't fit. She immediately took them to the catalogue pick up store where she was told they couldn't be returned. She drove to the nearest Sears store where was told the same thing. She called Sears. I then e-mailed Sears and even tweeted. The response was always the same: "we do not accept returns on used items. You used the sheets."

In a reasonable world, one should expect to purchase, use and wash sheets without them shrinking, let along shrinking from the first wash.

I think what is most bewildering and frustrating (and yes, maddening) is that we are being given the same pat response. There is no thinking, no decision making, no thought given to what is reasonable in this situation.

We have grown up on Sears. As a child, one of the best days of the year was the day the Wish Book arrived. My mother, who is now 70, pores over the catalogues and makes frequent purchases because she believes Sears merchandise to be high caliber.

My mother's home is a show home. It's not a mansion, but it's immaculate with beautiful furnishings. At the slightest sign of wear and tear, out comes the Sears catalogue.

My mother has always prided herself on being able to get results with anyone in Customer Service. This experience has been a blow to her ego, her confidence, and her faith in Sears. She swears she will never shop at Sears again. She has thrown out her catalogues.

Customer service in so many companies has been outsourced and reponses mechanised to the point where we might as well be dealing with robots. Your mission statement says "Build customer relationships", "Make more money" and "Improve every day." I know you're doing one of the three because you still have my mother's money. Please tell me you stand behind the other two.

Here is the purchase information: [withheld in blog post]

Best Regards,

Michelle Peer
[contact info withheld in blog post]

Closing Time

Where do I begin? (cue: Closing Time by Semisonic)

Hullabaloo Party Planner for Children will cease operating on December 31st, 2011 after 4 1/2 years of offering complete, in-home birthday parties. While our sister company Bre Creative continues to meet the demand for family and corporate entertainers, the time of the big blue hippo, Balooberry (our mascot) has figuratively come to an end.

Since Hullabaloo started, my children have lived in a house of decorations and costume storage, loot bags being built on the dining room table and the sound of the buzzing embosser for invitations. All three have participated in so many ways, even by donning costumes. My partner, Rob has been with me every step of the way, driving supplies, hanging streamers, even dressing as a pirate.

It was a family run business until Hullabaloo and Bre Creative came together in January under the corporate umbrella Parallela. Since then, my new business partner and best friend, Breanne Cram and I have enjoyed this colourful ride but have also been faced with hard choices.

Finally, I'd like to recognize the support we've had from friends and the new relationships that came from being a business owner. Your loyalty and trust through the years kept us going and will not be forgotten.

Granted, the lyrics in Closing Time are about a bar closing for the night, but some of the lyrics are oh so appropriate:

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's new end."
"You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

Thank you.

He's Still Here

We've all been there. When the twinkle dust of a new relationship settles, the Disney birds flutter away and we're left with the cold, hard fact that our partner, like us, is merely mortal.

Mine is not the toilet-seat-leaving-up kind, but he does have certain habits that make me grit my teeth (witness pie crust edged tongue from over-clenching - ew) and make me mutter to myself because no one on Twitter should have to read such cussing.

Case in point: every day when I shower, I have to first push down the shower head holder so the spray doesn't hit the back wall of the shower and find its way as gentle sprinkles on the toilet paper. That's because of HIM. And every day, he moves it back up. (You'd think we were dealing with a giant here.)

I have more, and they seem petty, so I'll get to my real point. For all of my griping, mostly inward, there is this perspective: These habits are proof that he's still with me. Not in a relationship kind of way, but on this earth.

I would take shower head re-positioning, unfolded towels on rods, coffee table moved within couch reach, spandex bike wear and all the sports channels in the world (okay now I'm listing them) over the alternative: not having him here with me.

He works the night shift but if he happens to catch me in bed in the morning, he always touches the small of my back. I wait for it, half awake, every time. And there it is. Just as comforting is the daily adjustment of the shower head.

He's still here.

It's a Colourful Life

It's not until my business partner Breanne and I take a step back that we realize how crazy our lives are. In one moment we could be dressed to the nines and discussing code delivery with a client, and in the next we're dressed as clowns and high-tailing it to a gig in one of our Mini Coopers.

We have so many anecdotes, we joke about writing a book. Things like, late night phone calls where one of us says to the other "Quick! Put on the Balooberry costume and slap a moustache on him so we can show our support for Movember!" or "Damn, I'm all out of nose glue. Do you have any?" or "Come on over and let's paint each other over a bottle of wine!" or "These balloon swords are looking disturbingly phallic."

Good times, good times. I no longer remember what normal families do. In the early years of the company, our basement was full of party props we could pull out at a moment's notice. My older children helped out at parties, often dressed in costume. Their friends sometimes helped make bookmarks or stuff jelly bean "swag" bags for a trade show. On the occasional Thursday, my kids and I are still flying down the highway (as fast as you can fly in a Mini), heading to clown practice.

Ah, the photo shoots: Planking in Victoria Park (yep, we're trendy clowns), black light face painting at Elements Night Club with our whole crew, three silly clowns working it for the camera in a studio, and the birthday party of our contest winner. All so memorable.

Most importantly, we've laughed until we've cried. It's a colourful life and I wouldn't trade it for all the sleep in the world. Well, maybe some.

I Telecommute with Clothes On

For almost eleven years now I've worked from home in Waterloo for a company in Toronto. I am one of many employees of this company who telecommute from all over North America. We program and consult from our desks, attend client meetings on the phone, and travel to the client as needed, which isn't often.

We don't visit each other's cubicles or gather around the water cooler, but we communicate often through phone, e-mail and video conferencing. Technology has enabled us to share information in this very visual work we do.

About ten years ago, Maclean's magazine had an issue with a clearly naked woman lying on her bed, covered only by her laptop. The subject was telecommuting. I was so angry at this portayal of work at home employees and felt the cover hurt the movement toward more employees of this nature, so I wrote to the editor. The letter, indicating I was fully clothed and fully engaged was published.

Here we are ten years later and still the daily commute continues because management feels work must be done in person. Industries where employee performance and accountability are easily measurable are not taking advantage of the tools available today. Offices are still leased and all of the expenses associated with having that office are eventually passed along to consumers. Don't get me started on the environment.

So while resources are being sourced outside the country, wouldn't the real savings be in setting up more "fully clothed" and "fully engaged" telecommuters?

Sanity Saver: The Meal Plan

If you're a parent, we've visited the same hell known as "meal time." It's that time when coincidentally, you just want to go to sleep after a long day rather than think about what to make for dinner, wonder if you should have defrosted something, and then stand at a stove as your children in constant rotation ask what's for dinner, cry "ewwww!" and then ask if it's ready yet.

I don't claim to be the most organized person, but with a full time job, a small business, three children and a house, I can be cut a bit of slack. Thanks for that. Now I'll share my sanity saver: the Meal Plan.

My Meal Plan is a four week schedule of what's for dinner. The important part here is that I didn't create it alone. I sat down with my children and asked them what their favourite foods were. Mine are older, so we didn't get too many outrageous requests, but I still had to use discretion so not everything was slathered in cheese.

I took the list of suggested entrees and sides and made my four week plan. Then I posted it on the friedge. Because my children were involved in the process, they have automatic buy-in. Now they go to the fridge and squeal when they see what's for dinner. My shoulders have come down an inch. My shopping list is virtually created for me each week.

We do stray from the schedule sometimes if I'm away at dinner time or if the children want a special "eat out" night, but now I'm ready in advance of a meal. The energy draining question of what to make, followed by the usual rejection by the children has been eliminated.

Bon appetit!

What is a Single Parent?

We hear the term "single parent" and it creates a Pavlovian response of sympathy, as in "he or she has it tougher than everyone else", but really, what is a single parent?

Is it the parent who has single-handedly raised his or her children with no financial or other support from the child's other parent? Is it the the custodial parent who has his or her child most of the time while the other parent has access to the child and provides child support? Do we even need to differentiate?

Raising children with both parents present in the same home is challenging enough.
Now take away a parent and suddenly morning and bedtime routines, appointments, homework, clothes shopping, extra curricular activities, illness, etc. all fall on one parent, for the most part. Now take away a parent altogether and now there are no breaks for the remaining parent (which blows my mind) and no financial support. Add to that no second parent with whom to field questions of health, morals or education.

I know some parents in the last scenario who do it all and I don't know how they are still sane. Some say they prefer it that way but it certainly can't be an easy life.

My own situation has my children with me for half of the week. I miss them terribly when they are not with me but I'm also given that "down time" from parenting to do extra work, chores, errands, etc. The downside is that having a routine is next to impossible, as the children just start getting reminded of their responsibilities when they are gone again. All family business must be addressed in half of the time, leaving little time for just being a family.

Even though I have a partner, he entered into my children's lives when they were older, so the business of raising them (when they are with me) has fallen to me. Still, I don't feel I qualify or have "earned" the title of "single parent."

What is your definition and understanding of a "single parent?"

My Eyes Are Up Here

Interesting conversations on Twitter tonight around gender stereotypes, many centered around this thought provoking video from MissRepresentation.org. What is our responsibility when it comes to how gender roles are perceived? Is it our fault if our children grow up to believe men are more capable than women when we are inundated day in and day out with that very message? How much control do we have over our children's thoughts when as soon as they are out of our sight they see through all forms of media that women's bodies are the prize?

I grew up believing a man would be my protector and it's been a hard feeling to shake. I am surrounded by images of what my body should look like and only feel I am lacking when I frequent celebrity news sites showing "post baby bump" and "red carpet" pictures or leaf through magazines with endless photoshopped images.

The thinking is that the media and not the people are to blame, but is that accurate? I know that media and marketing push us toward what they think we want to think and feel but which came first in this scenario: the images of toned bodies with large breasts and full lips, or our desire to see/be those things? Futhermore, if we continue to be consumers of the movies,agazines and products that objectify women, can we really blame the media?

I observed a man tweeting that he was incensed to have been left out of a campaign by a large grocery store whose target demographic was women (who, incidentally make 80% of buying decisions). I agreed with him but also thought "if women are so powerful, why are they not using that power to say 'enough!' to gender stereotypical marketing?"

Now let's look at our children who from birth are exposed to the pink or blue world. Is there any hope that our own daily defiance of what they are exposed to as they just try to fit in will have any effect? How exhausting the effort seems to battle image after image from TV, internet, stores and magazines. I may have to quit my day job and don a unitard to battle each inference that my daughters can't be anything or that my son should open his mind to a woman's intelligence rather than her body.

Wealth is Relative

This week I attended the She's Connected Conference in Toronto. It was by invitation and I was grateful for the experience, not only because of the new and renewed friendships but because I was reminded that material wealth is relative. We were surrounded by brands, drove in a hands-free parking car, and received tons of swag. I was surrounded by smartly dressed women with a varying array of electronic devices.

I think it was the shoe party where the first stark contrast in economies hit hard: a friend stood at the back of a two storey shoe store where music blasted, price tags daunted and a roped red carpet let in only the invited. She was crying because of the helplessness of trying to give aid to a homeless women who not only refused the bag of food offered, she ensured she placed it in front of the shoe store for her donor to see.

Back at the hotel, as we stood outside, we were approached by a raving homeless man who stood two feet from our faces, wanting a cigarette. Normally I would have complied, but I didn't feel safe and told him to go away. With that, he snatched a lit cigarette from my friend's hand and walked away, daring us to call the police. I walked past the shiny new cars to tell hotel stuff what had happened.

While the two worlds of "have a lot" and "have nothing" were glaringly apparent, there was also the world of "woah is me." That world is occupied by those of us who look at what we do not have, instead of looking at what we have. We say we have "no money", but we have our electronic devices and our cars. We had enough to travel and stay in a hotel but not enough to buy the gorgeous shoes or purses.

When we compare our wealth to what we do not have, we are frustrated by our lot in life. We need to find ways to make more money. It is an endless, fruitless pursuit because we will never have it all.

If we compare our wealth to what others do not have, we can almost feel ashamed of the abundance in our lives.

I'm going to work on adjusting my thinking to realize all that I do have, instead of dwelling on what I do not have. It will be a monumental shift in thinking but one that will allow me to enjoy my reality instead of pining for future wealth. I'll bet just one year from now it won't matter that I didn't buy that fringed purse but it will matter that I spent more time with the people who are dear to me.

She's Connected Conference Bound

Admit it, fellow conference attendees: your first thought after hearing you were going to the She's Connected Conference for Digital Women in Toronto after the intial "squees" was "what will I wear?" followed by "I have to go shopping!" followed by (and here's the ticker) "I hope I'll be accepted."

Now ask yourself this: how many men, upon hearing they are going to a conference hurriedly mark their calendars with all of the dates they WILL go to the gym, decline the dessert menu whilst sucking in their gut, and examine their faces for blemishes?

Why do we do this to overselves, Ladies? We're all on the same team, after all. We are the queens of multi-tasking, and day after day we get 'er done! Let's take a moment over the next couple of days to put aside our hang ups and our fears and enjoy the time away from our daily stresses. Most importantly, let's NOT compare ourselves to anyone else. Instead, let's take a deep collective breath and take in, I mean really take in each other.

We don't get many chances like this. Let it not be seen through a haze of uncertainty and self-consciousness.

P.S. I hope you like my shoes. ;-P

One Commiseration Coming Up!

In Alexandria Durrell's blog Cool blog. Fierce bite. she writes of feeling overwhelmed and then produces an impressive list of tasks in a day in the life. Alex (also known as @Clippo on Twitter) asks for commiseration. This is my Day in the Life:

Wake up to blessedly quiet house.
Make instant coffee because Tassimo pods are all gone.
Clean up dog's accident in the dining room because she doesn't like going out through her doggy door in the rain.
Tweet and Facebook - excellent for networking and said commisserating. But try explaining that to family and friends who miss you.
Husband-to-be returns home from night shift and raises eyebrow at me sitting in garage in robe, smoking, sipping coffee, laptopping. (We like to repeat this ritual every morning.)
12 year old daughter asks me to sign form.
16 year old son says his bus pass expired.
Remind children of wart doctor appointment after school.
Shower. Skip shaving legs if romance unanticipated.
Start work as Senior Consultant either from home (most days) or after two minute drive to office.
Feel hunger pangs and wish Boost had been purchased.
First meeting of the day.
Receive reminder that time tracking was not completed from week before.
Hullabaloo and Bre Creative inquiries start to come in via e-mail and voicemail. With quotes, schedules and invoices to be created after the workday has ended, I remind myself of the intranet I promised I would build to eliminate these manual processes. Add said task to neverending To Do spreadsheet but do not fill in completion date.
Call mother and answer e-mails while dog barks madly in background at mailman's nerve to show his face again.
Work, work, work.
Respond to travel plans for upcoming client meeting and realize the dates collide with children's extra curricular activities and social media event. I'll deal with that later.
Attend next meeting that runs over lunch. Inhumane but sometimes I can whip up a lunch, all the while checking that my phone is on mute.
Work, work, work.
19 year old daughter texts me that I'm not answering my phone. The phone I'm on for my meeting. Will I drive her to the student housing office? This is the child who moved out a year ago to be independent.
Father calls to ask if I've printed the photos from a photoshoot a year and a half ago. I have not. He says "no problem."
Time to run to the children's wart appointment while monitoring e-mail and phone calls. Mental note to book annual physical while there because I can never get through by phone.
Children ask to buy chocolate bar after "horrible" wart treatment. I throw debit card at them as I respond to a call and remind person that he or she should have been treating his or her feet. Oops.
Race home to make dinner using handy dandy new menu schedule, only to find key ingredient a.k.a. "food" is missing. Order pizza and hope it arrives in time for music lessons departure.
Miss business partners calls and BBMs regarding upcoming gig. She wings it and says I would be more than happy to dress like a freaking princess and do balloon twisting while singing Yankee Doodle Dandy and roller blading on a snowhill.
Back home from music lessons and realize that vowed daily after dinner walk with dogs did not take place.
Son takes shower and uses my towel.
Daughter is reminded to empty dishwasher.
Son wears said towel to take out garbage and recycling.
New neighbour meets him on driveway and asks if he can use our internet to look up a number because he's locked out.
I go over to new neighbour a short time later to apologize for son saying he didn't know our internet password.
Open daughter's door and see her cleaning out rat cage. That cage gets more love than her room.
Creep into son's room to find mountain of abandoned towels intermingled with guitars and random pop cans.
Uncork the wine and greet it as "Honey."
Realize I still have quotes to write and party supply shopping list to create.
Stare at bleak kitchen cupboards and vow they will meet their destiny with my paintbrush.
Cook husband-to-be's dinner that he'll consume in the middle of the night at work.
Retire to garage for some down time where DH2B will swear in the morning I've been all night.
Tweet and Facebook my little heart out until the late hour signals it's bedtime. Then stay up one more hour.

That's a Day in the Life! How about you?

Announcement: Manager of Operations

Was it four years ago that Hullabaloo Party Planner for Children was born? We have become a two owner, six helper company with diverse offerings and a strong following of repeat families. This growth has required us to take a look at how to best manage the activities at Hullabaloo with the acknowledgement that we can longer do it alone.

We are thrilled to announce the promotion of one of our party hosts, Cathy Lapar to the position of Manager of Operations for Hullabaloo. Cathy has proven her tireless energy, patience and flexibility again and again. The decision to move Cathy to this position came to us easily and at a time when we needed someone else to coordinate the birthday parties so we could focus on the growth of the business. That business includes our sister company, Bre Creative.

Hullabaloo Party Planner for Children will be known as Hullabaloo Birthdays going forward. The focus will be on what has been this company's strength: providing in-home birthday party packages. All other activities, custom events such as corporate family picnics and Christmas parties, charitable events, family reunions, wedding receptions, etc. will be moved entirely to Bre Creative.

We hope you'll join us in wishing Cathy great success in her new role!

9-11 Means Act Now

Recently I hosted a birthday party for an adult friend. It was a Hallowe'en theme and I thought a fortune teller would be a nice touch - that is, until I went to pay her for her services for the evening. I myself had not had a sitting with her, but she felt it necessary to warn me. I pause here to remind the reader that the "foretelling" was neither requested nor desired. Nevertheless, the seer went on to tell me that having met with several members of my family, she needed to tell me that something horrible was going to happen in the next little while.

I'm going to share that I'm suspicious that she may have been looking for me to book a session with her. I was certainly incented, after hearing that. Who wouldn't want to know more. But clearer head prevailed the next morning and I have no inclination to follow up. It's not that I believe or don't believe in fortune telling. It's that I already know that horrible things can happen at any time and without warning.

This brings me to 9-11. I don't consider myself the sharpest knife in the drawer, so others picked up on the incredible irony of the date of the attack on the US before I did: 9/11 or 911. To me, both the numbers we dial in an emergency and the events that unfolded 10 years ago mean the same thing: Act Now.

Do not believe you have days, weeks or months ahead to right a wrong, spend time with your family or start that business. Act now. Imagine life without yourself or any one person in it and do now what you thought you had a lifetime to do. This is the procrastinator's nightmare: the thought that there isn't actually all the time in the world to take action on something. Act now.

If the fortune teller is right, I'm about to face something horrible. Let it happen with my knowing that up until that moment, the business of living was well run and profitable.

The Fine Art of the ASVP (you heard me)

I have long lamented on my own behalf and the behalf of countless parents the ridiculousness that is the RSVP. It is incredibly rude and discourteous, especially in this age of multiple communication channels, to not respond to an invitation to a party. By not doing so, you are leaving the party host with uncertain numbers and I don't just mean number of people attending. It costs money to have a party. A maybe or no reply at all means you or your child may actually show up and allowances for this must be made.

I thought failing to RSVP was the greatest crime.

But then there's "ASVP", which I made up and is intended to mean "Arrivez, s'il vous plait" or "why don't you do us all a favour and actually show up to the event you said you were attending." I can't tell you the number of loot bags, uneaten pizza slices, etc. that are a result of party guests who do not follow through with their promise of attending. Don't even get me started on wedding guests and how much their absence costs.

Life happens, especially with children who can go from sunny and happy to barfy and miserable in a matter of minutes. To the parents, we offer our sincerest hopes for a speedy recovery and total understanding. But hell hath no fury like the party host who was given a definite "yes", only to be left with a definite "I don't respect you enough to even offer an excuse why we didn't show up."

Please, for the love of civilization: if you say you are attending, do us all one little favour and ASVP.

This Isn't Your Feel Good Post

I never liked the expression "there but by the grace of God go I." It suggests the those who were victims of some horrible misfortune did not have God watching over them. Likewise, people who say they were "lucky" that the same tragedy didn't strike them would suggest others were "unlucky."

Grace and luck have nothing to do with being alive and healthy. Ask parents of children with cancer. This is where you tune out because no one wants to hear about cancer and certainly not cancer that ravages and often steals our children (myself included). Maybe if we don't think or talk about it, it won't happen to us. Where's that wood to knock on?

We hear a lot about fundraising for breast cancer with its bright pink and talk of "boobs." Men's health has a fun event like Movember where men grow moustaches for the month of November to raise money and awareness. These have been extremely successful charitable causes because as adults who face adult cancers ourselves or with those we love it's politically correct to make "feel your boobs" or "bend over" jokes, if it means people are getting checked.

It's very difficult to apply the same campaigning to childhood cancers. No one, not one person wants to see a child with cancer, let alone think about it or try to turn it into a catchy, quirky fundraiser. Better not to even allow the thought of the possibility of this striking home to enter our minds, or it could become our own horrible reality.

How about this new thinking: prevent childhood cancers by THINKING about them. Better still, find out what you can do to help. September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. Today, I'm thinking about Darrel and those he left behind when he was only seven, and I'm hatching a plan. Stay tuned.

Change is Scary. Being Forgotten is Scarier

You might think I eat, think and breathe children's parties around the clock (okay, maybe I do), but there's a whole other side to me. My English degree only made me annoying to the friends I corrected, so at age 27 I went back to school and became a programmer. 17 years later and over 10 years into my current job, I was offered a position with the same company that would take me away from coding and into ... the Customer Success Team (gulp).

There has been stress in my new role as I am having to quickly ramp up my knowledge of the software and what is expected of me. But the greater stress by far has been leaving behind a job I felt I was really good at, and with it the clients and co-workers I took pride in having nurtured solid relationships.

As I help to transition others to my clients I have this feeling of protectiveness for the clients, like I need to impart exactly how they need to be treated. Maybe I shouldn't leave them. Maybe I should stay in my comfort zone and keep them "protected" at the same time.

Or worse - what if everyone is fine without me and life goes on?

Right now I feel like the conquering hero, doing knowledge transfers and jumping in as needed. But eventualy my co-workers won't need me anymore and the phones that rings with my clients at the other end will be theirs.

Change is scary. Being forgotten is scarier.

First Day of School? Not Here

While I am thrilled to see the first day of school and the end to the day-long complaints of "I'm bored" (strangely no one understood my response of "I'm not Julie, the Cruise Director!"), this is also a melancholy and guilt-ridden time for me and for many divorced parents.

This kind of guilt first started when my youngest daughter started school and her newly separated Dad and I united to take her for her first day. We both snapped pictures of her standing proudly in front of the name of her school. It wasn't until I got home that I realized the camera I borrowed my boyfriend had no film (remember film?). I took it as a sign: a sign that I was being punished for depriving this little girl of her unified family.

Nine years ago, I was once again in the position of being a separated parent but this time (through lessons learned) it was amicable. My estranged (weird word) husband and I were determined to have as much security for our three shared children that you could possible have in two houses on streets that touched.

The arrangement has always been that he has the children for the first half of the week. This means every Sunday night, all day Monday and Tuesday, and every Wednesday morning I don't see what they are doing and how they are faring. It also means I always miss the morning excitement on that first day of the school year.

I see the school buses go by and I look at the proud pictures parents post on Facebook and Twitter and I am sad. I know it's the life I "chose" but to all the parents who say I'm "lucky" I get a break (from my kids) I say "It's not 'luck' to miss half of your child's life. It's not 'luck' to miss every first day of school. But it is my good fortune that I have them in my heart each and every minute."

Thinking Suicide? Picture This.

When I was in driver training, we watched a very powerful movie about a guy who drove drunk and died but throughout the movie he witnessed the aftermath of his death. He saw his funeral, his grieving family - we all felt his regret over his actions. But it was too late to do anything about it. He was gone.

Now picture this: you are suicidal. You think the world would be better without you, or no one wuld really miss you, or the pain of being alive is just too much to bear.

So you take your life.

Picture this: someone had the horror of finding you.

Picture this: news of your death spreads and for a short time there is "glory" in the remembrances, the eulogies, your Facebook wall is covered (oh, but you can't respond and eventually your profile may or may not be taken down), there is shock on Twitter and like the morbid fascination with a car accident people are suddenly following you by the thousands (but you can't follow them back).

Picture this: every person who ever loved you is now left with an emptiness that will never be filled; regrets over things said or not said, things done or not done.

Picture this: those closest to you are left to deal with the clean up of your financial matters, your personal items, your unread mail.

Picture this: if you have children, their lives will be forever and horribly altered. They will still find joy but it will not be as full. They may blame themselves or wonder why they weren't good enough for you to stay. Holidays will be a painful reminder of your absence.

Picture this: life goes on without you. Oh sure, people will still remember you fondly, but many will also feel betrayal and will push you to the far reaches of their memory. You will come up fewer times in conversation. Past memories of you will be largely replaced by new memories of a life that continued despite your death.

Picture this: family events, parties with friends, new foods, new technologies, new relationships, new births, new movies, new songs, new rainbows and sunsets: all these will continue to occur because life stood still for only a moment when you died.

Now picture this: you reached out and people helped you remember that no matter what space you occupy in this world, you are invaluable. And your life found new meaning and new hope. And so you stayed. Thank you for staying.

Crisis Numbers:
1-800-273-TALK (US)
1-800-232-7288 (Canada)
911

Warning Signs

7 New School Year Resolutions

I used to welcome a new semester or school year, way back in the day because it was a fresh start: a chance to right the old wrongs, to be relieved that the old burdens were gone and to have a new determination that this was going to be my best set of classes ever!

Shiny new binders, a stack of paper, pens, a geometry set (we never used the triangle ruler) and highlighters sat at the ready. My handwriting in the first three minutes back to school was stellar!

Now as two of my children prepare for grades 7 and 11 (my eldest is in university), I feel the need to make resolutions to help make this their best year ever, but it isn't just about school supplies: it's also about being healthier and my being better organized so they are positioned for success. Here is my list:

1. Homework at the kitchen table: this way I am right there if they need me and I can keep an eye on their progress. It'll also be a nice bonding time and I can use that time to do make ahead meals and baking. (envisioning awards show where I get shiny medal)

2. Walks after dinner. This is great stress reliever and calorie burner. I won't feel as bad about what my kids are eating (but it will be great - see point above) and they'll sleep better too.

3. Adequate socks and underwear WILL be at the ready! I already disposed of "sock mountain" in our laundry room - the pile of orphaned socks.

4. This year my son will learn proper grammar and spelling. His handwriting will improve to the point where it is legible. I swear this to you on my English degree. His other marks were 88 to 97 so he's got the smarts, but if he can't communicate he'll struggle his whole life.

5. Books. We are a family sadly lacking in books. I woke up this morning realizing I have set a bad example in this area although I used to be an avid reader - before life set in.

6. A meal plan. I had a lovely four week, rotating meal plan that I abandoned over a year ago because the kids were being so picky and I got so busy. It's coming back and these teens are going to be part of the planning, preparation and clean up!

7. After school snacks will not all be store bought garbage! I will slice a cucumber, put peanut butter on celery and place them in open view and wait.

That's MY list. What's yours?