I was over at a neighbor's today for a playdate. She has a 2.5 year old boy, one of the only other young boys on a street full of girls, so she made me a latte (F - she has a Jura!) and we chatted while our kids got to know each other, first shy, and then warming up, and finally running around like only 2 year old boys can.
It turns out, in fun and possibly only because I lived in D.C. way, that she and her husband met each other while working on Parliament Hill in Ottawa (which is Canada's capital, for those of you not up on Canada's geography or politics). I don't recall exactly what they did, but it sounded important, and, more importantly, we cleared the 'we're of same political parties' background check.
She has a picture of a previous PM, Chretien, on the wall in her house. He is sitting on the steps of a dilapidated trailer next to a female teenager with a wide, dark, short mohawk and a dark tank top on. They are both laughing. According to the story, the girl was a squeeqee kid, one who cleans your windshield at when you stop for your spare change. At one stoplight, he wondered about these kids, and got out of the car, asked where she lived, and engaged her in conversation. The photo was taken during the ensuing conversation. I love that she has her idealism up there on her wall.
Now, I know Canada is a much smaller country than the U.S. - some 33.7 million versus 307 million in the U.S. I know their politics are different, and I'm enjoying getting to know this new side of our world and our Northern neighbor. There is no way I can imagine most Presidents, let alone most members of Congress or Senators, getting out of the car to engage a squeeqee kid about her life. They would be more likely to hit the locks and look down at their blackberries. Not only would their schedules not allow it (and here comes the cynical), but why would they be interested? Very few would. Some, yes. Most? No.
And I find that that is systemic across Canada, not just in politics. When we were on our house hunting trip, we were downtown on Yonge Street, the main artery in Toronto and the longest street in the world. Compare it to Times Square in New York in terms of business and traffic. There was a homeless man who was passed out on the sidewalk. In New York, most people would walk by. J and I saw two people who were calling 911 and kneeling and talking to the guy. Since we happened to be walking the wrong way, we ended up seeing the follow up, where the paramedics came and began treating the man, and the callers waited to make sure he was ok before leaving. People regularly come over to shovel each other's driveways. In the city. Just because.
I know this next part may not square with those of you who know me as a patriotic, national-anthem singing, pledge-of-allegiance saying girl, but I'm a bit ashamed to write that I feel that is a much more humane response than I suspect he'd receive in most cities in the U.S. I also worked on Capitol Hill, and I realized that it gets old looking at the same tired legislation every year, and the same people posturing about it every year, and very little actually gets done with all of those same meetings, and the same lobbyists. Then, people are so happy with you they mail you anthrax and shoot you when you go out to listen to them at the grocery store.
Ironic, right? Here we are, in the area of some of the world's greatest democracies, and the power systems are so entrenched I can't imagine the scope of large scale change happening that is happening across the Middle East right now. We can't even pass comprehensive legislation, no matter what the topic. In college, I was in a program whose slogan was Margaret Mead's quote "Never doubt that a small group of committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." I think I have lost my belief in the ability of a small group to effect transformative change, at least a group without power, money or access, and would rather focus on my little community, and where I can help. I'm not sure if that is more or less helpful, but that is what I can do.
I read today that Canada is ranked #3 in assimilating immigrants, and they have programs that lead to a society that seems [gross generalization with Pollyanna, rose-colored glasses] to foster kindness and tolerance. It is expensive. It seems, at times, to be a bit of a nanny state. Yet, they never really had an economic downturn of the same degree because they are more conservative financially and they seem to be a reasonably successful country. How and why are they so successful? More investigation is needed.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Canada is making me cynical
Sunday, February 27, 2011
A perfect day on the mountain
Missed me, eh?
I've been sidelined by a case of the flu, which coincided with a festive case of pink eye (just in time for Valentine's Day!). We also had visitors, E and H, which was a lot of fun, because it was H's birthday!
Yesterday, we finally achieved something I was not sure was possible. J kept telling me it was. We got all four of us up a chair lift to the top of the mountain.
Now, this "mountain" was only 150 vertical feet according to J's iphone ski app, so maybe it is more appropriate to call it a hill. Ontario is pretty flat. And, this lift, Little Momma, didn't even go to the top of the hill; more like the middle. But. We all went up a lift, and we all went down a hill, and it wasn't a magic carpet, and there were no tears! Such success!
S and E were even asking to continue skiing, but our lift tickets were only 3 hours, so they expired and we had to leave. E couldn't walk after we took off her boots, so I think that was about time for us to leave.
A few weeks ago, we went up to Blue Mountain, a mountain about 2 hours away from Toronto. According to Torontonians, this is a little mountain compared to the other big ski resorts in Canada, like Whistler (where the 2010 Olympics were), Mont Tremblant in Quebec, and the Canadian Rockies (where J will ski later this month). They are a little insecure about the size of their ski mountains. According to me, this is a BIG mountain. It only has 1 green run from the top of the mountain. I like to say I'm a teal skier, in that I'm more comfortable on the green but I can ski some blue, depending on the location. At Blue Mountain, I am decidedly a green skier. The blues were scary. Or, as the instructor said, I need more milage. It is hard to get milage with two little ones, until they are both in ski school. Maybe next year.
But after yesterday, that doesn't seem so far away!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Trash in Toronto
I really dislike throwing things out in Toronto. It is exceptionally complicated. We have four trash cans for curbside collection. We have three trash cans in our kitchen. We can only set them out according to a complicated schedule dictated by the "Waste Wizards" of Toronto. Regular garbage at our house is only collected every other week in a trash can the size of our kitchen garbage can in the U.S. It holds one full bag of garbage.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Health Care, continued
You may be wondering, where are you?
Well, I, your Canadian investigative reporter, was investigating socialized medicine for you all back in the states. You may call it Obama-care, derisively or with appreciation, but here, I'm calling it heaven.
Last Friday, I was getting worried as E began spiking a fever around 102 degrees F. We don't typically run fevers. My neighbor who knows everything and everyone was out, and so I called another neighbor, who gave me a list of walk-in clinics in the area. I don't have the full picture of Canadian health care yet, but from what I can understand, you have your family doctor, who you see for normal sick visits and well visits. When you go, you give them your Ontario Health Insurance Plan (OHIP) card, and that is it. No co-pays. No forms. No claim sheets in the mail later. Really. You give them your green and white card, and they scan it and give it back to you, and then you see the doctor.
Ah, health care bliss. No forms. (I am really, really bad at paperwork.)
However, if you can't get into your family doctor, or it is late at night, or it is a more urgent need, there are a series of walk-in clinics you can go to. Some may be newer doctors that need more patients, or some may be to fill a need in the community (my neighbor, for example, said one had an x-ray, another was supposed to be good at stitches, etc.). The one I went to has a variety of specialties, takes up a two-story building, and also has a pharmacy in the building. Most of them also have a pharmacy as well. I am sure there is an economic reason for that, but I prefer to think that it is for my convenience.
On Sunday morning, and again on Tuesday night at 8 p.m., I took my kids to the doctor. It took me about 20 minutes or less to see the doctor each time. Each time I was pleased with the evaluation my children received, and we were able to get them medication for their ear infections at the attached pharmacy within an extra 10 minutes. This means, on Tuesday, I was able to get out to the clinic (a 15 minute drive), and home again, with medication, in about an hour. An hour. On a Tuesday night. I couldn't even get a call back from my pediatrician in an hour in the states. Sometimes it even took me that long to make an appointment.
The cost? Under $100 cash, all in, including medicine. Since we still have private insurance, because OHIP does not kick in for anyone until you have been in the province for 90 days, we will submit the receipts. I am sure that some paperwork and back and forth with the insurance company will ensue, because that is what insurance companies do.
Out of the three doctors the insurance company sent us to? 1 is dead.
- Canada Day is July 1. The confederation was not formed until 1867, making it a very new country. Surprising, eh?
- Nighttime shenanigans are calming down, but keep your fingers crossed that it continues.
- H is doing well, thanks for your enquiries. :)
Friday, February 4, 2011
In sickness and in health
Today I'm celebrating H's glow, which I imagine I can see from Canada. It's like a different kind of Northern Light! H is my sister back in the states, and she's concluding her radioactive iodine treatment for her thyroid cancer today. Tonight, she's allowed to rejoin society and eat whatever she wants, which is definite cause for celebration.
I found out she had possible malignant tumors growing in her neck after my going away party at work, the night before my last day at school. (Hint: don't open the conversation with your sister, "Hey, do you have cancer?" because she might.) J was in Toronto, and the kids were in the back seat of the van as we went up and down over the back hills of Virginia. The results were inconclusive, but suspicious, and surgery was warranted. It was a lot to handle.
Thyroid cancer is a fast-growing cancer and is fortunately one of the easier cancers to treat. She had surgery the Monday after Christmas, and spent one night in the hospital. Her scar is beautiful and will be invisible in a few months. Her thyroid was removed completely and she'll remain on medication to regulate her metabolism for the rest of her life. It was then it was confirmed that the tumors were cancerous and that she would have to have radiation treatment.
To prepare for radiation, she had to eliminate iodine for her diet for a few weeks, which is really, really hard. She lost a lot of weight and her hair started falling out because it was hard for her to eat a balanced diet. On top of this, she started a new job and she has been traveling across country.
I don't think she often knows or really realizes how I feel about her. What sibling really does? But I've been so proud of her the past few weeks. She's dealt with this with such grace, beauty and bravery, much more than I could have. I wish that we could have been with her to hug her and and make her special, iodine-free meals, but instead all we could offer was skype sessions with crabby kids.
Of course, if we were there, we'd have to wear the suits the government agents wear in E.T., so that we wouldn't be exposed to her radioactivity, and talk like Darth Vader, and we'd probably be playing Britney's "Toxic" on a loop, and we'd make lots of other funny jokes about her glow. But really, it would just be a way of expressing our worry and our love about our H going through something we'd rather protect her from. Love you, H.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Oh, Snowy, Sleepless Night
We're having a snowstorm here in Canada. Well, if we are having a snowstorm or not is up for some debate, according to learned Globe and Mail readers across Canada (please, please enjoy the comment section). We were supposed to get 20-30 cms here, along with some blinding winds, etc. Toronto District School Board cancelled school, which only the second time in E's teacher's career. The secretaries at her school openly scoffed at me when I suggested that there may be a snow day. Yet it looks like our family imported them up to Canada.
The ROC (Rest Of Canada) is not amused at Toronto's antics. This was not a reason to cancel school and work. This was a measly few centimeters. In Alberta, this would barely register. We're Canadians. We live in the Arctic. What did everyone expect? Put on your snow tires and deal with it.
Whatever. J still went to work (the airport couldn't function without him, eh?) but the rest of us have enjoyed remaining in our pajamas all morning, particularly after last night.
Shenanigans
If anyone has any sleep tips, we'd welcome them in Canada.
S and E seem to have a secret contest to see who can stay up later and make us look more incompetent as parents. So far S, who is only 2.5, seems to be winning. Last night, he outlasted everyone but me, staying up until 11:20 p.m. Our night went something like this:
6:30 p.m. bathtime and P.J.s
7:00 p.m. stories
7:30 p.m. parents settle in upstairs to wait and make sure kids go to sleep. A is with S, J is with E.
8:00 p.m. S requests switch. Seems innocent. (Key error made here.) Switch is made.
Night descends into chaos.
S is potty training. When I say that, I really mean that E is insisting that S learn, and that S is going along with it, so it really means that now S has pull ups and sometimes uses the potty, when E remembers, because I certainly don't. S is also now super particular about what pull up picture he has on at any one time, because he is 2.5, remember? A lot of fun is had by all around this particular issue, including a lot of urine on the floor.
Sometimes S decides in the middle of his nighttime party that he has to go potty, and will take off his pajamas. If we're lucky, we'll catch him before he takes off his pull up, and hopefully there isn't anything in it. Last night, he ran in and out of rooms yelling, "Naked baby style!" as J and I chased him and tried to get him to stay in his room. As soon as we'd put him in and walk away, he'd run out, yell "Strawberry Shortcake!" and run back in, as if to flaunt us. Oh, yes, S, Strawberry Shortcake is so incendiary. We couldn't even believe you'd use that kind of appalling language.
Of course, E is just howling with laughter during this evening entertainment, and no level of threats or punishments works for her, except closing her door, but that brings other problems which I won't detail here. Let it be sufficient to say that we have not watched television today, and I can guarantee that a repeat of this scene will happen, if not tonight, then again in the next week, unless someone has some magic program or tip to try. And while E is normally a rule follower, she is quite adept at inciting S to all sorts of mischief, and then cautiously joining in herself. Shortly, there are two naked kids, running from room to room, yelling "Naked Baby Style, Strawberry Shortcake" and all of a sudden it is 10 p.m. and you wonder if you will ever sleep.
E finally went to sleep after I went drill sergeant on her, and S went to bed after I held him still and he cried, at 11:15. He got mad at me and laid on top of J, glaring at me, and finally started snoring at 11:20 p.m. He, at least, stays in his bed. And at some point, E joined us at around 4:30-5 a.m., J took her back, and then she snuck back in again. I think she plots her campaigns secretly. Do they teach that in the hospital nursery? How to crawl in commando style into your parents' bed so that they won't wake up and boot you out? I'm too tired to notice her, but I would sleep better without her (sorry, E).
J said that he is going to work today because people listen to him there and don't hit him when he tells them to do something. I think that is a good reason, even if there is a snowstorm.