goofy kids

3 pipe cleaners = a ton of laughs :
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my beautiful birthday boy

Jacob celebrated his fourth birthday this weekend. :) In the previous weeks I must have asked him a half dozen times if he wanted to have his friends over for a party (because he has been to his friends' parties) but each time he said 'No, I just want Mommy, Daddy, Maiya, Nana, Grampa, Amah, Gung-Gung.' So that's what we did. What I adore about my son is how easy-going and easy to please he is. And how at this early an age he already understands that it's not the gifts or the pomp and circumstance.... rather, it's the time you spend with loved ones that matters the most. He ceremoniously cut his cakes (one from each set of grandparents) and took delight in handing out each piece. He romped in the turtle pool with his sister and watched TreeHouse to his hearts content. And fell asleep rumpled, breathless, and happy as every little boy should, holding on to his new toy cars.

I adore this little guy. From the moment he took his first breath, and 'til the day I take my last breath, I will always be so thankful he came into my life and how loving him comes so effortlessly. Raising him, like raising any child, has not come without its challenges but being Jacob's mother has shown me beauty and love that I have never experienced before. I cannot believe it's been four years already since he was born. It frightens me a little bit how quickly time flies.

Happy Birthday my beautiful boy. You continue to amaze me every day.

slow day

When things are slow at the fire hall we tend to get a bit antsy... and I hate to admit it, we start craving a good call. Last shift was a snore... we couldn't stop pacing so to kill time, one of the guys brought out his smoker from the back of his truck and we smoked 8 racks of spareribs... one rack per firefighter. Heck, if you can't get called to smoke, might as well create some. :) Paleo pals, I ate the entire rack by myself. :)


But alas, after we digested, we were still bored so what did we do to pass the time? This:
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And because I just couldn't leave well enough alone and simply had to get in on the action:
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TA DA!
The Chief would not be amused.

junk in the trunk

Because my bunker gear weighs enough as it is, I try to keep what's in my pockets to a bare minimum. However, like a woman's purse, I always end up with a whole lotta stuff that I carry around just because I'll need it. The items either get clipped on my gear or stuffed in pockets. Some stuff is essential (like facepiece and fire gloves), other stuff is a bonus (power bars, Tiger Balm)for those 'just in case times'.

Below is a picture of just some of the things I have....



Starting at the top left working counter-clockwise you have my face-piece inside the carry bag that gets clipped to the front of my coat and transferred over to my air-pack, chalk with foam chalk holder case to keep it from shattering, safety glasses with granny strings (so I don't lose them at a call) and glasses case, Tiger Balm (can be used for sore muscles but mostly to dab under my nose at really smelly calls), nomex fire hood to keep my hair and neck from incinerating, fire gloves to stop my hands from doing the same, carabiner (cuz they're just so darn handy), stethescope, pump card (I ALWAYS keep this in my pants pocket when I'm driving... it gives you the coles notes on hydraulic pumping pressures in almost any given situation), extrication gloves, holder with folding rope knife and mini screwdriver, N95 mask. Not shown are my ID tags, ear plugs, power bars (ate them), wood wedge (used it at a call to keep a door open... never found it afterwards), pen (someone always borrows it and fails to return), gum (for when breath is less than fresh during those middle-of-the-night calls). Come to think of it I should add a pack of kleenex but they get all mushy when my gear gets wet. A spare pair of underwear would be great at those scary 'holy crap' calls (no pun intended). And I could add a tube of lipstick but that might be carrying it a bit too far. ;)

Jersey Shore

You'd think that with summer in full throe I'd be spending my spare time frolicking out on the beach. But nope. First of all, I HATE the beach... sitting in the humidity all goopey with sunscreen isn't my idea of fun. So what have I been doing? Apart from working and hanging out with my children, I've been watching some mindless yet highly entertaining television in my nice air conditioned loft. My fave show of the season is Jersey Shore. I'm a tad bit embarrassed to admit that I watched every episode within the course of 3 days. Hey... I was doing chores at the same time so it wasn't time completely wasted. The thing is I love the show. As ridiculous and orange these people are, there is something really funny and endearing about them even though they don't seem very hygienic. Can your hair really be clean full of extensions and hair gel? Will any of them eventually catch a bad case of mono? Don't laugh but I actually like the Ed Hardy t's but I'd look like a cougar if I wore them. As pathetic as it sounds, I can't wait till the new season starts when they hit Miami Beach. Imagine that. Getting paid to party.
Well, they make me laugh out loud anyway. And make the time go by quickly when I'm folding the laundry. And that in itself is enough to make me love these crazy kids. Just glad they're not mine though! ;)

potty mouth

Ok. I've decided it's about time I start minding my language. I've been swearing a lot and I hate to blame the fire house but together as a group, we're pretty bad. The F word is everywhere. But the thing is, it has started to carry over when I get back home and little pitchers have big ears. I don't swear at the kids of course but I did let a swear word or two slip by when I bashed my elbow when I was doing chores. Maiya is at the stage where she is mimicking everything and everyone. Yesterday, she was saying ah-fuck! ah fuck! I just about fainted... until I realized she was pointing out the window trying to say a truck! a truck! Nevertheless, I need to stop being lazy and start using proper words instead of four letter expletives to get my point across. I do have to admit that swearing at work is somehow so damn, I mean darn, I mean, so delightfully satisfying. It's not very professional though. So we have a bet going on at work now. A dollar goes into the pot everytime we're caught cussin'. I'm not sure if I'll win but I'll sure as hell, I mean heck, try. It might be a long road ahead though. Might be easier to just wash my mouth out with a bar of soap.

yours truly

Here's a picture of yours truly that one of the firefighters took after a call at work:
It's one of the very few pictures I like of myself, probably because this photo captures me where I am in my element and most comfortable in my skin and my surroundings. I wish I could bring that comfort level into my own home. Unfortunately, I have yet to figure out motherhood and I'm just making things up as I go along, flying by the seat of my pants, and learning from my children, and from my own mistakes. If you were to take a snapshot of me at home I would be a disheveled sweaty mess, sometimes feeling like a failure, feeling the pressure to get all the things I need to get done but not accomplishing half the tasks I've set out for myself. And often feeling completely worn down. (I don't get a lot of 'atta boys' at home although Jacob did offer me one of his stickers from his star chart when he noticed I had tidied the house.) But at work, for some reason I feel polished, assured, wise and in control. I feel like I have fire instead of blood running through my veins. I have no idea why. Maybe it's because work is my refuge and my haven and it's better than a five star hotel. Maybe it's because the sleepovers are even better than the sleepovers I had as a kid. Maybe it's the uniform. Maybe it's the bunker gear that gives me super human powers. Who knows? Just super glad that I'm headed back on shift in the morning because after a few days off I sure do miss the smell of diesel and smoke. That's the beauty of my job, I am at home long enough to crave being back at work. And I am at work long enough to crave seeing my little family at the end of a shift.

Off to bed. I'm on the ladder truck but gonna try to slide over to the pumper since it's a busier truck and runs more calls. Let's see what tomorrow brings. xo

pic of the day

I am at work right now missing my babes so it was nice when I sat down to open my email to find this picture that my husband sent me of the kids having a quiet moment watching tv and eating snacks.



I swear the kids look bigger everytime I get home. Can't wait to give them a hug in the morning. xo

my split personality

Besides the obvious that it is insane to run into a burning building when everyone else is running out, I think my choice to become a firefighter is a bit of an odd one. I normally hate, hate, hate driving and don't even own a car. I prefer any mode of transport to getting behind a wheel. I mooch my husband's pick up when I need to get to work. But for some reason when I get behind the wheel of a firetruck I just melt into the seat and get comfy and happy driving to calls. Maybe being the biggest vehicle on the road or getting to sound the air horn has something to do with it.

I am also a bit of a wimp. Ask my husband and my crewmates. I can't watch the news because most of it's bad. I can't sit through any type of movie that is horror related with ghosts, or vampires, or blood or guts. But I can run a call like no tomorrow even if there is puke, poo, or any other part of the body that is sticking out when it should be in.

I am also a loner and prefer to just hang out with my little family or just by myself on my days off. I will take a good book and a hot cup of tea to any party, social gathering, and beer. In contrast work is such a social place full of strong personalities where everything is done as a group. The only time I get alone time at work is when I am on the throne and even then I can get interrupted by an alarm call.

So for whatever reason here I am. Odd choice or not, I am a firefighter and there is nothing else in the world I would rather be. There is firefighter me, and at-home me. And come to think of it, I don't know anyone, besides me of course, who has witnessed my two different personas. And I kind of like it that way. ;)

always still my baby

I am not looking forward to the day when I am either not strong enough or my kids are too big for me to carry.

Yesterday Jacob wanted to sleep over at my parents' house. Since we live in a building, it's a treat to visit my parents' as they have a huge yard with a teahouse, deck, sandbox... all backing onto a park that has a splash pad for the kids to run around in. On rainy days, they can hang out in the carport which has basically been converted into an outdoor solarium. So I brought him over and watched him run around and play. After dinner and bath, I waved goodbye. He waved back happily. At 9:30 pm I got a phone call from my mother saying Jacob had big quiet tears rolling down his face. Jacob, was crying that he missed me and that he wanted me to come get him. So I did. I could have told him a million things, that he needed to stay, that it was too late for me to get him, that he chose to sleep over thus a sleep over he was going to have, that he's slept over a million times before so one more night wont' make a difference. But the thing is, I believe as long as his wishes are not ridiculous or far fetched, he should be listened to. And I wanted him to know that mommy or daddy will come get him anytime. Even when he's a teenager and gets drunk somewhere and needs a ride home, I want him to be ok with calling me for me to get him.

Of course he was fast asleep in bed when I arrived and although I could have left him at the house and turned back, I picked him up and put him in the car. As I carried him up to our loft, his head resting on my shoulder and arms wrapped around me, I was reminded of when I was a little girl. I used to pretend to be asleep in the car just so my Dad would carry me into the house. And carry me he did. Just like I will always carry my own children when they need me.

I hope it will be for a long, long, time. xo

whatever

I have to say that without an ounce of doubt, I am proud, proud, proud of our boys in blue. I am referring to the tireless police officers who have been watching over the city during the G20 and when some of the craziness that ensued. I have friends and loved ones who are with the force and I was dismayed at how the media chose to skew their coverage against the police. Not once did they show police being spit on, hit, or being hurled at by whatever objects the protesters had on hand. I won't even get into the verbal taunts. So what if the coppers pushed a few anarchists around. So what if said anarchists were held in a prison cage. It was probably still cleaner than the places they've been squatting in. And now the anarchists are crying boo hoo police brutality and that their rights were violated and that we're living in a police state of martial law. Sorry guys.... I guarantee no one has your sympathy. You lost us when the first window was smashed and the first match lit. Get a real job, and have a shower. There are other ways you can make a difference.

G20

I try to stay away from politics on this blog because I fear I might end up ranting for days. But I thought I'd mention the G20 circus only because my husband is gone 16 hours a day now working the thick of it. He says the G20, to put it mildly, is a huge gong show. More of a cluster f*ck really. With federal money being spent like there's no tomorrow and busloads of protesters and police officers being brought in from all corners of the earth it's chaos really. Wish the political dudes could play instruments and sing... at least maybe we could make another Woodstock or something. But alas, businesses within the security perimeter are at a standstill and let's not even get into traffic. Thank goodness I'm off shift this week and can stay in my neck of the woods and really ignore the G20 unless I choose to read the paper or turn on the news. Where we live, we've been practically unaffected by it all.

Until I heard the whirl of chopper blades over my head. Apparently it was the Presidential helicopter in all its glory.


I would have flagged him down and invited him in for tea and introduced him to my kids but I've got laundry to fold and need to wash my hair so maybe next time. It would be cool though if a common person like me could actually sit and talk one on one with the Prez. Oh the things I'd like to ask with my outside voice! ;)

girl power

I normally despise 'forwarded' email messages and delete them without opening but this one I received from one of the most amazing women I know, who has been like a sister/mother/best friend to me. She is not a firefighter but has worked for the fire service for 30 years and is the glue that holds our fleet together. I dedicate today's post to my friend, the Goddess. xo

This is for some of the strongest women I know

You are the kind of woman that when your feet hit the ground each morning, the devil says, "OH SHIT, SHE'S UP"!


LOVE YOU, GIRLFRIEND!!!!!


NOW YOU RE ON THE CLOCK!!!!

Make every day count girls. We know who really rules the world and keeps the peace.

note to self...

...no matter how much in a rush one might be, always, always take the time to make sure you've packed the proper gym attire. I did not and realized all I had were my fave cargo pants that my husband bought for me so I rolled them up and decided to do my workout plan of heavy lift day of front squats.

Bad idea.

Halfway through my workout I literally lost the seat of my pants. A half dozen heads jerked in my direction upon hearing the loud rip. Nonchalantly, I finished my sets even though I was mortified. Thank goodness no one was directly behind me or they would have injured themselves busting a gut laughing. Oh well... it's all in the name of a killer squat. Thank goodness I was wearing my oh-so-modest granny underpants and not a thong.

puh-lease... enough already

Sigh, I'm not sure if it's because the guys at work regard me as just 'one of the boys' but the locker room banter is starting to get on my nerves. There is only so much I can take when it comes to hearing about their female conquests and what they woulda/coulda/shoulda done with her. And they refer to the 'hers' as if they were a piece of meatloaf. Oddly enough, it's not the young guys who talk like this... it's the guys who are the seniors nearing retirement and it creeps me out. One guy who I actually really respect as a firefighter has gone as far as calling me a 'groundsheet', 'babe' and 'hot' thinking it was funny. Totally pissed me off and I told him so. I guess this is one of the downfalls of being a female firefighter... no matter how much the guys treat me as one, I'm really not one of the guys, nor will I ever completely be. I'm not a prude but there are days I just want to plug my ears and scream 'la la la la la.... I can't hear you!'. A few years ago at one particular fire station the guys were a bit piggish and started putting up scantily clad photos of pin-up girls all over the common areas of the fire station. So while they were down for some shut-eye in the middle of the night I swapped them for poster sized photos of some serious hunky chiseled dudes... ha ha... when they woke and saw the posters they seemed to walk a few inches shorter. Immature I know but made me feel better anyway. Besides... I'm entitled to some eye candy too. ;)

trouble in paradise

Well, last shift there wasn't a lot of love going around. We were all bickering like an old married couple and I was praying for a huge fire to get us out of the station.

You see, our resident chef decided to go on strike. Seems like he was feeling under appreciated for all the meals he's been cooking.

I don't blame him really even if he can be a kitchen nazi at times (do not ever ever add or alter something to his creations... you will lose your knuckles!). He plans all the meals, makes sure they're healthy and keeps it at a five dollar price point. Some of the guys have been bailing at the last minute and getting Subway Subs or Harvey's. Which means he gets stuck with all the leftover food and then we have to absorb the rest of the cost. Even though I don't blame the chef, I was irked last shift because I was STARVING and looking forward to a great meal and felt like I was being punished even though I have eaten and partaken in every meal without fail. But he said that he couldn't play favourites and had to prove his point this way. We all ended up managing our own meals but it was touch and go for awhile. Hungry troops are not happy people.

I bet you he was feeling like an under appreciated wife. Maybe for tomorrow's shift I will bring him a bouquet of flowers or something to smooth things over. Or at least get him an apron that says "Kiss the Cook".

I know squat

And again the Coach has a quote that totally cracks me up and totally rings true at the same time:

The full squat is a perfectly natural position for the leg to occupy. That’s why there’s a joint in the middle of it, and why humans have been occupying this position, both unloaded and loaded, for millions of years. Much longer, in fact, than quasi-intellectual morons have been telling us that it’s “bad” for the knees.
— Coach Mark Rippetoe


The squat (and all its variations), is my all time favourite workout excercise. In fact, my babies were home-born whilst I was in the squat position. OK... waaaaay too much information. I'll stop right here. ;)

it's all in the head

I stumbled across this quote by Rosa Parks that I love, love, love:

I have learned over the years that when one's mind is made up, this diminishes fear; knowing what must be done does away with fear.

Although I have certainly been afraid, I don't think I have felt true fear at work where my blood stops cold and I'm unable to move. I have, however, been in situations where the 'holy sh*t' pucker factor came into play. I have experienced that fight or flight response where my body just kicks into high gear and does what it has to do to get me through a call and time moves at warp speed but also stands still. Coming off the high of adrenaline rushes, I have had the shakes so bad in my arms and legs that I could barely drive the truck back to the station. The jolt of the alarm bells waking me in the middle of the night would leave me slightly nauseated because my body would be in shock from sleep state to warp speed emergency mode. And I didn't sleep for three nights straight after a particularly sad and devastating call. I think I was more affected by my work in my rookie years simply because my body and my brain were figuring out how to adapt to these new situations. As I gained more experience over the years, what used to shake me up doesn't make me blink twice these days. The human mind and body are amazing... put them into states of duress and they will find a way to get stronger. Where my initial years were about proving myself outwardly (as in trying to prove to everyone that I was good enough, strong enough... that I belonged), these days it's about improving myself inwardly (through self-reflection and self-actualization). It's nice getting to that place of knowing.... knowing who I am and just allowing me to be exactly what I am in this moment and not being so hard on myself when I think I'm coming up short. It's so simple and true... the biggest fears and challenges are in fact all in our heads... once we realize that there is no monster under the bed, we can set the bar a little higher each day.

feminist?

I was at a call this morning and a bystander in the crowd congratulated me for being a feminist. Perhaps this gentleman was paying me a compliment but to be honest I was taken aback.

I've never thought of myself as a feminist. I've never thought that by being a female firefighter I was different or making a social commentary. I became a firefighter because it's what I love and everything that I've ever wanted in a career. I didn't take this job to prove a point.... I simply wanted this job because that little whisper of a voice inside me started to shout and tell me that I can do this because it's what I was made to do. And there wasn't any doubt that I could do it well, female or not. There are days at work that I forget that I am a woman, because the lines have blurred with familiarity and I'm just another one of the hundreds of firefighters on the department.

I've always associated feminists as the long-haired-placard-waving-hippy Gloria Steinam types of the '70's who fought for equality and causes they believed in. Me, I've always just flown by the seat of my pants doing what my heart told me to do along the way without thinking things through too much and as a result forged my own path.

So I'm not sure if I would define myself as a feminist in the traditional sense. But as a child growing up in the seventies, maybe I did pick up on the 'movement' subconsciously because I never thought that there wasn't anything I couldn't do based on my race or gender. And because of these women I have reason to give thanks for being able to hold down the job that I have and raise a family at the same time. And for not having to make a choice between the two. Or being criticized for making the choice. And getting paid exactly the same as the guy sitting next to me on the truck. And I should also give thanks that my beautiful, wide-eyed daughter will have the opportunity to make the same choices and be anything that she wants to be without anyone or anything holding her back and grow to be that fearless warrior that each and every woman has inside of her. xo

ice cream remedy

I have yet to figure out if my relationship with my crew is more akin to roommates or old married couples minus the sex. Just by constantly working and being together, we get to know each other quite well, in a bickery, intimate way. I don't know if it's the humidity but we've all been a bit grumpy with one another. Every call we had seemed to be the farthest from where we happened to be and traffic for some reason had no clue that when a fire engine is coming down the street lights and sirens you must PULL OVER AND STOP. PLEASE!!! That and the fact that we ran 5 calls after 11 pm didn't help.... especially since they were to the same place and all false alarms. I dragged my poor arse home trying not to fall asleep at the wheel.... and I slept my day off away..... from 9 am to 2:30 pm!

We all have our quirks and our moods and our idiosyncracies. Some days what one might find utterly charming, the next day it might be completely annoying. I can be abnormally sensitive to my crewmates moods. The guys know this and if I can't remedy the situation with a smile or a hug, then after the next call, while the truck is out, I'll make a stop for a huge tub of cherries jubilee ice cream. That and a big pot of coffee and us enjoying a break and some conversation gets us back to our cheerful selves in no time.

We had a big rain last night so things have cooled off, and hopefully some of the tempers..... We're back on shift tomorrow. Maybe I'll bring in a tub or two of ice cream for extra insurance. xo