vertical meditiation (aka rock climbing!)

Anyone with children knows how life can be a juggling act.  One becomes extremely adept at time management and becomes picky and choosy as to how to spend those glorious moments called 'spare time'.  For me, living a life where time is precious has been a blessing because it makes me highly aware as to how I want to spend my time, and with whom.  I would rather choose to crush a workout at the gym than go clubbing, and as cruel as it may sound, I have let go of some 'friends' who aren't healthy for me.  I don't have much time for bitching and moaning.  Sorry if that sounds harsh but since time is of the essence, that is the most succinct way I can put it. ;)  Time-wise,  the two things that are non-negotiable in my life is my work, and my children of course.....  My job and my babies are like the air I breathe and bring me great joy, passion, and gratitude.  I am lucky in the fact that I can swing shifts when need be and I make sure I have days that I dedicate to just me because I firmly believe that if I don't nurture myself, everyone around me will suffer.

Lately, all I can think about during my spare time is climbing the wall.... literally.  I have this addiction called rock climbing and it's an addiction in the sweetest of ways.  Everything disappears.... time, space, worries when I'm sending a route or a bouldering problem.  I love how climbing takes over and commands my body.  My brain shuts down and I just get into this rhythm of movement, balance, power, and precision.  Perhaps I love it so because climbing is quiet........ and although powerful, it is also something that is quite still....... and this stillness, even though dangling in space, is what keeps me grounded.

I haven't had much time to go climbing outdoors but when I do, it is pure bliss.  Nature has such a way of calming the mind.  But outside or inside, I will take climbing whenever I can.  I leave you with pictures of my kids (the first pics I've posted of them in ages).  Seems they have caught the bug too.... xo

so this is what they call closure...

Just opened my mailbox and lo and behold, my Marriage Certificate finally arrived, packaged in its very governmental envelope.  You see, in order to get a divorce in this province it seems that you have to prove that you were actually married in the first place.  haha.  Honestly though, I think the ones laughing the loudest are the lawyers.... laughing their way to the bank that is.  But alas, what must be done must be done.  And this process is almost over.  One more signature and c'est fini.  And because I truly believe that I did everything under the sun and the moon to keep this marriage together, I feel clean at heart, even though it didn't work out.  Because like all great dances, it takes two to tango and I simply couldn't hold it up on the dancefloor on my own anymore. My marriage was over a long time ago.... it just took awhile for me swallow my pride and be able to admit it.  And do what was best for my own soul.  Now I am no longer stuck in limbo... no longer stuck between two worlds of legal definition.  Instead of calling it a divorce, I simply look at it as being un-married, which has a nicer ring to it don't you think?  :)

Here I am free as a bird to redefine my life as I know it.  And do my own groundbreaking, making up my own rules as I go...  and promising myself that I won't lose my way ever again.

So as I reread our names on this said official Marriage Certificate, noting the date of our union in bold type, instead of feeling pangs of sadness, I breathe a quiet sigh relief as I close off this door behind me, and for the first time in years, I feel this thing called hope.....

Ok Life, I'm ready for you.   Bring it on baby.   xo ;)

tough day at the office

There is nothing like a post-shift soak in the bathtub with a bowl of Ben and Jerry's red velvet cake ice cream to wash away the emotions I feel. Which often seem to pop up at work and percolate in my head the rest of the shift and the entire commute back until I can sort these feelings out in the refuge of my own home.  Don't get me wrong, I love my job... it's just that on some days, like yesterday, I am pretty touched and affected by the humanity I feel at calls.  And when I come home, I just yearn to be held tight for as long as it takes until I believe that everything and everyone is ok.... especially me.

I have learned to allow myself to be vulnerable.  Which is scary and terrifying and liberating.  My knee-jerk reaction during times of duress is to act like I'm tough and strong. Invincible.  This has served me well in places such as my work, where command presence is necessary.  But in moments of solitude, with those who I trust and hold dear, I have allowed a bit of my softness to peek through instead of hiding behind a wall of false bravado.  I am learning to let myself be raw and feel everything even though it might be scary to feel it if that makes any sense at all.  I am learning to be ok with stretching myself to grow even if it might feel uncomfortable and not having any tangible or concrete answers I can hold in my hand.  I am able to admit that not knowing what my future holds can be scary as shit but at the same time, I feel calm and poised because I have finally let go of my past need for control, and just see how my life's story will unfold.  As long as I continue to live with my heart wide open, whatever direction the wind decides to take me, it will be the right one.   xo

sigh

.....  on days like today when I am super tired I wonder if my life will ever be normal again. Or if it was ever normal in the first place. I mean, what the eff IS normal anyway?   I know, I know..... first world problems.   Maybe I just need a big hug. 

i have a confession

I am a bit of  a scoundrel.  From the onset of my firefighting career I haven't been entirely truthful. In fact, I am a liar.   I lied to my crewmates that I'm not much of a cook.  So for almost eleven years now I have gotten away with not cooking at the firehall. It's  not that I can't cook, it's that it stresses me out to cook for ten hungry men. And quite frankly, the guys enjoy cooking the meals more than I ever could so who am I to take that pleasure away from them?  That is not to say I don't like cooking. I do like it very much when I can do it at my leisure, with a glass of wine in hand and some great company.    Today I almost felt guilty of this secret I've been keeping when I walked to the local fishmonger and lovingly carried home shrimp and steamer clams in their parchment bag. I couldnt have been prouder than if i were a child carrying a goldfish in a twist-tied plastic bag won at a fair. I have plans for my little creatures of the sea:  chili tomato shrimp with fresh cilantro, and steamed clams in a white wine and butter sauce.  So for any of my fireman friends reading this blog, I apologize. I have been holding out. I can do more than peel potatoes, make toast, and boil a pot of water.  I promise to pull up my bootstraps and make a meal or two from here on in. Won't be the same without the wine though. ;)

move over Dear Abby

A dear friend of mine asked me to speak to his son who wasn't having much luck in the dating world.  He wanted me to give him some dating advice and tips which I found quite funny and ironic since I really don't know a thing about the rules of dating in these modern times after being in a relationship for over 11 years, to which, of course you know, fell apart.  I mustered up all the wisdom I had in this area and came up with this.... guys... pay attention now........

Rule number one:  Make her laugh.

Rule number two:  Don't be an asshole.

That's it.  5 cents please.  :)
Every woman wants to be around someone who is happy, and positive, and can find the humour in even the most dire of situations.  And the 'don't be an asshole' encompasses all that icky behaviour that no one in their right mind would put up with....... jealousy, insecurity, unfaithfulness, and any douchebag attitude. Just be honest and up front.  No one should ever fault you for how you feel.  Simple.  :)  Guys, don't go looking for that perfect Barbie doll.  She doesn't exist.  And if she did, I suspect she wouldn't have too much between the ears anyway.  But who am I to say if that is the kind of gal you like.  If that is the case, then no need to read further.   If  you can love your gal even when she is wearing her comfies with nary a stitch of make-up, legs unshaved because she is too damn busy living her life, and her hair  tossed up in a messy ponytail, think about how hot it will be when she does dress up for you.

And girls, after having worked with only men my entire firefighting career I have learned through them the qualities men like so I pass them on here.....

Rule number one:  Laugh at his jokes.

Rule number two:  Don't think you can change who they are.

Again,  there's no room for insecurity, unfaithfuless and bitchy attitude.  If you're having a bad day, call up your girlfriends or your mom.  Don't dump on him.  It ain't fair.  Love a guy for exactly who he is. Hey, we all just want to be accepted for who we are, flaws and all.   Let him hang out with his buddies and crawl into his man cave when he so chooses.  Girls, make sure you have your own life, friends, and activities so you don't drag him down with neediness.  It ain't his job to make your life fulfilling, or happy, or to complete you or to feed you any bullshit lines you hear in those dumb romantic comedies.   Make him your best friend ever, so that you actually have something to talk about years down the line.  And above all, don't beg him to put a ring on your finger.  Who needs that kind of pressure?

I am not sure how I feel about the formality of marriage... this is due to my own bias of a failed marriage.  I think it has served a purpose and a function in history.  As to what, I am not sure.  But for me, my philosophy is to just love and allow yourself to be loved, to be kind to each other in the most respectful of ways.  You can have that without a dj spinning dumb tunes, jordan almonds, and Aunt Bertha doing the macarena.  But I digress........

I guess what I am saying guys and gals, just be your amazing darn good self.  Don't play head games.  But play nice in the sandbox.  And just be happy.  If you aren't happy yourself, you don't stand much of a chance being happy with someone else.

That's it.  That's all I've got.  lol.

crisis averted

Jacob, in his wise-beyond-5-year-old-years made Maiya a paper dragonfly at school today. He said 'I know it's not real but I did the best I could'. Maiya accepted it reverently and held it in her tiny hands and quietly said in her still lispy baby voice 'fank you Jacob'. So even though it is storming a summer thunder outside, the sun shines once again in our household.

on death....

I am still unsure as to how children perceive death and dying.  I personally don't believe in the concept of heaven where the dead are reunited with their loved ones partying it up on a white cloud somewhere in the ether thus this is not how I explain it to my children.  When they were wee, I would explain it as it's like a time out that lasts forever.  Now that Jake is older he understands the concept of the heart stopping, blood no longer flowing, brain shutting down, blah blah blah.  He sees dead animals on the side of the road and totally understands they 'ain't never coming back'.   Jake, my old soul child, gets it.  Maiya, however, being 3, and perhaps ever hopeful, thinks she can raise the dead.  With dead plants or flowers she believes that if she just sticks them in fresh soil and gives them enough sunlight, water, and love, they will flourish again.  Yesterday when I picked her up from preschool she noticed a huge dragonfly plastered on the grill of our truck.  She started sobbing and for the next hour she was inconsolable.  She kept crying "The dwagonfly.  He is dead!  He wasn't careful and didn't push the cwosswalk button so he got hit by our twuck and now he is deeeeeaaaadd!"  And she continued to wail this heartbroken song and I must say I didn't know what to do when she wanted to put him in a jar and take care of him to make him better.  I suggested we bury Mr. Dragonfly but she just looked at me like I was being ludicrous.  As in why-on-earth-would-you-do-that-when-I-can-fix-him.  I couldn't explain to my Maiya-Mew, that dead is dead and this bug's energy has moved onto someplace else.  As to where? Who the heck knows?  So like all good mothers I suggested ice cream and tv.  No and nope.  She was having none of it.  So into a nice bath we both went to wash away the tears.  It is during these moments I want to reach out and tell all my friends and family how much I love them because there will come a day we won't be part of this realm.  I think about my parents especially, who, like the rest of us, one day will die.  When that day comes I am sure I will be broken, and down on my knees because no matter how 'grown up' I am, I will still and always be their child.  And every child needs reassurance that their parents will always be there for them to make things better.  Especially in times of sorrow and need.  Which is why at bedtime, I welcomed Maiya, her eyes puffy from crying and hair still damp from the work of her tears, into my bed and let her sleep on my chest like she did when she was a newborn.

God help me when I take the kids camping next month.  I don't know how many bugs' lives are going to end up on the windshield......

duh

Apparently I have been living under a rock. Late last night we had a call where a bunch of teenagers who had taken their mom's minivan for a ride,decided to get stoned on koosh. Now forgive me if I have misspelt that word but up until that call I had no idea what that word meant. I thought koosh was some sort of exotic tobacco. But the way those kids were wigging out and carrying on I assumed it had to be something else. When the police rolled up I asked him if he knew what koosh was. He rolled his eyes and said 'it's marijuana' and gave me the I-can't-believe-you-didn't-know look. Lol. In that moment I totally felt old and out of touch. I was a child of the seventies and while I didn't smoke it back then it was called pot, weed, ganja..... So kids, here's my little public service announcement. If on a Friday night you feel like taking your mom's dodge caravan and getting high on koosh with your teenage buddies......just don't. Because in this case you will wig out, literally pee your pants and your heart will start racing to the point you are asking everyone on scene if you are dying, which of course you are not but you're paranoid so you're freaking out while the cops and the medics are trying to act professional and stop themselves from laughing at this somewhat comical scene.  I do have to admit that much to my chagrin I broke my own professional code of conduct and let out a chuckle..... when the teens asked the coppers to stop by McDonald's before they went the hospital.  Must have been some damn good weed..... uhm... I mean koosh.  ;)

tantrums

I am used to them.  Or rather, I have developed somewhat of a tolerance to them.  My children have gone through their challenging moments and I have learned the best way to deal with them is to be calm and remain cool and the eye of the storm and they spin about me.......

So it is without question my children have been good practice for me in dealing with some of the more difficult 'customers' I come across in my work.

There was the combative 85-year-old male who kept trying to hit, bite, kick, and scratch us.  Believe it or not, it took four of us firefighters to hold him down in a manner so he wouldn't be a danger to himself or us.

There was the woman who would not stop yelling obscenities and spitting and us.

There was another woman who was faking her symptoms so poorly we didn't know whether to laugh or roll our eyes.  When my children do the 'fakies' I have to do my best to stifle a big giggle while act concerned.

Some days at work I feel like I should win an Oscar for the roles I have to play with patients.  But maybe it's the patients who are vying for the trophy as they put on quite the production.  Minute fender benders often produce the most comical efforts in pretend neck and back injury.  We just package them up and breathe a sigh of relief when the ambulance arrives to take them off our hands.

The other night I had some huge dude scream at me as I tried to pick him off the floor.  He was yelling to 'get this broad outta here!'.  So I did what any good broad was supposed to do:

I picked him up from under the armpits and strapped him to the stretcher.  If I had a muzzle I might have decided to use it as well.  But I am too much of a lady to do such a thing.  Booyah.

rookies

I have a soft spot for rookies.

I was raised in the firehouse culture under the 'old school' style of captains where the rookies were barked at, did not move or make a sound unless told to, and basically weren't worth their weight in the gear they were wearing until they became first class firefighters. My first two years were a struggle of self-doubt and a bundle of nerves. I felt like every move I made was under scrutiny and dissection, every mistake I made was magnified and broadcast. My first captain would have me stand out in the middle of the winter and pump water from the engine till my fingers and toes froze. He would almost make me cry. It actually got so bad that there were moments I questioned my decision to become a firefighter in the first place. I mean, what was I thinking trying to actually fit into this all boys club? I probably would have flourished under a gentler, more understanding captain. But in hindsight, this old crotchety captain did me the biggest favour imaginable: he made a fireman out of me. I would never be the biggest, nor the brawniest, nor the best.... but I learned to be very good at what I do and think things through methodically, and push myself even when I felt like quitting. Those first hard years in the school of hard knocks taught me to dig deep. In some ways, I feel like a rookie all over again. In my new position as Acting Captain, I feel the pressure even more because I have a crew I am responsible for. And if I am first on scene, I am in charge of the call and in command which can be daunting when multiple crews are hanging off your every word waiting to see what you will tell them to do. That's when I pray I don't choke and stutter under the pressure. So I have to remind myself to just breathe and be confident that I know my stuff...... and my command presence will grow with my experience, which you can't gain overnight.

So yes, I have a soft spot for rookies.

Because I know how new beginnings can be daunting. I do not coddle rookies and I am firm when necessary. And I try to be fun. But I will never ever bark at them or make them feel small. Because it is all about team building..... and not ego bashing. And whenever I have the privilege of having a rookie work with me at a fire, I make sure that the more senior guys hand over the nozzle to the rookie. Because there is nothing more priceless than seeing a rookie's eyes light up the first time he puts out his first battle with fire. This is our duty as senior firefighters, to pass on knowledge and skills to others, and I thank those who have taught and shared their knowledge and experience with me so that I may continue to learn and to never stop growing in this incredible career that still humbles me to the core.

warning: graphic

Last shift was brutal. A guy decided to take his life and set himself on fire inside his car. I was first on scene and the words out of my mouth upon seeing him were "oh buddy what did you do?". There was nothing me or my crew could do except declare a Code 5 and wait for the police, fire investigator, and the coroner to arrive. And try to console the family members who found him the best we could.

If you've never seen a burnt body, I hope you never do. It is ghastly. And I didn't sleep very well that night in the dorm. Because every time I shut my eyes I would see him , what was left of him. As odd as it sounds, I was thankful and comforted by eight snoring and farting men around me while I lay awake struck with insomnia. My blissfully asleep crewmates made me feel safe and I reminded myself the images in my mind would fade with time, and counted the hours till shift was over so I could hold my children in my arms and tell them 'I love you' a thousand times over.

tears....

.....of joy.

I was called an angel on earth by a woman regarding the work that I do.

Not sure why I felt this surge of emotion but if this is the work that the Big Guy Upstairs has given me while I walk this planet then I will take it.

So I continue to promise that at every call I will muster up all my courage and give my commitment and compassion to each and everyone I meet. I have no idea really how a small town girl like me ended up in the big city doing what I do but I guess this is where the wind blew me and some huge inner voice told me that this was my calling.

Thank you to everyone who has helped me to get here.

heat

As much as it kills me to work when it's hot and summery out, I love being at work when it's hot and summery out. Especially on those hot humid nights when all is still and quiet. When it's just you and your crew and the firetruck cruising the streets you feel like you own the town. That sweaty feeling we get wearing full bunker gear while doing our job (while joe public in their right minds are wearing shorts and flip flops) makes you feel like you've earned your keep.

We've had unseasonably warm weather this past week and I'm on cloud nine. I can't be unhappy in the heat..... Which is perhaps why I became a firefighter. There is nothing that makes me feel more alive doing what we do. There is no better and crazier feeling than standing in the middle of a fire and feeling like you are somewhere halfway between heaven and hell. Soon as we punch in at the beginning of a shift we hope the alarm sounds and we can feel again what it's like to stand in the middle of a blaze of glory. To touch it for a sec before we put it out.
And wait for the next one so we can feel the heat once again.

keep your mouth shut

One thing that I never ever say at calls is "He/she/it is going to be fine" because that is between that person and their god and the team of doctors or their insurance company to decide. How can I say they will be fine when I don't know their history, their life story, how they deal with things? And what their pain tolerance might be? How can I make a promise like that?  I have seen people walk away without a scratch after  being extricated from a car that looked like a crushed soda can.  And I've also seen people perish from a small bump on their head when they tripped on the sidewalk.

Another thing I never ever say to someone who is grieving is "I understand". Although well intentioned, the only person who can understand the pain is that person.  I'm particularly sensitive lately when I hear these words uttered at calls. In fact I cringe. Partly because it brings me back to the tough time when my husband and I split. As I signed the separation papers my dragon-lady lawyer touched my arm and said "I understand".  I pulled my arm away and said "Oh do you?  Are you a mother?  Do you know what it's like to have to sit your children down and explain why Daddy isn't living here anymore ". I really wanted to tell her to go F herself but my mother raised me better than that and my lawyer was just going through her lawyerly routine and I was just a number and a damn big number if you knew what lawyers charge these days so I didn't want to take up one more moment of her condescending billable hours.  Bollocks. My pain is my lawyer's gain.

I also hate it when men, upon trying to pick me up say "I get it. I am divorced too". Uhm. No.  You have no freaking clue. Get your head out of your narcissistic ass.  Because first of all if you knew me well enough to even make that dumbass comment, you would know that I am separated and not divorced. Even though divorce is pending and imminent.  And what makes you think that your break up is anything remotely similar to mine?  What makes you think you can get close to me because you happen to think we have that horrible common denominator. Sheesh.

Ok. Rant over. Whew.  Glad I got that out of my system.  lol

DRD

One of the most panicky calls I've had so far when acting as Captain was not a raging inferno but a pretty straightforward medical call. And what I mean by straightforward was that the dude was DRD. As in dead-right-there. We walked into the house, police were already present (said officer coolly mumbled to me 'oh yeah he's done' ). My crew assessed the gentleman and although his body was still warm because he was still in bed under the covers, rigor had set in his jaw and he had lividity on his back. So, I called in a code 5 (obvious signs of death) to dispatch saying we wouldn't be performing any defib protocol. You can imagine my horror when the paramedics arrived and examined the body and turned to me saying that the lividity looked like bruising and his jaw wasn't all that stiff. They were glaring at me as they proceeded to hook up the 12 lead. I knew the guy was dead. I mean I thought he was dead. But self doubt had me going and now I was unsure. I was inwardly freaking as the ECG spit out the reading.

As selfish as it sounds, I never wished until this moment for anyone to stay dead.

Because I would never live down the guilt of failing to provide CPR and due care.

Turns out we made the right call. He was dead. Massive heart attack in his sleep. Although never a happy situation, probably one of the better ways to go.

a gift of healing

One of my dearest girlfriends sent me this poem she came across and I had to post it because with all the changes in my life, the words were so powerful and appropriate.......


After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul,
And you learn that love doesn’t mean leaning 
And company doesn’t mean security,
And you begin to learn that kisses aren’t contracts
And presents aren’t promises,
And you begin to accept your defeats
With your head up and your eyes open
With the grace of a woman, not the grief of a child,
And you learn to build all your roads on today,
Because tomorrow’s ground is too uncertain for plans,
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
That even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul,
Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure...
That you really are strong,
And you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn...
With every goodbye you learn. 

Thank you my Michelle. You have been such a source of strength and one of the most incredible women I know. It is such a joy to be your friend. xo

uhm excuse me sirs but your place is on fire

Question: How drunk do you have to be to stay inside your one room apartment when your kitchen is on fire?

Scenario: We barrelled through the door to find not one but two men having a little party amongst themselves. Dude 1 was sitting in a chair drinking beer and rockin' the tunes. Dude 2 we thought was dead. But once my crewmate started to drag him out his eyes popped open and he immediately reached for two beers. Meanwhile we were trying to evacuate Dude 1 but he wouldn't leave until he gathered up his 40 of vodka and two more beers.

I have never seen anything as funny and somewhat sad. This place was full of smoke and they wouldn't leave until they saved their booze.

I guess you have to be pretty wasted to sit and watch your kitchen burn and not feel the slightest urge to leave. My next question would be what time do you have to start drinking to be completely bombed by 8 pm?!

Life is always interesting that is for sure. I'm just glad the smoke alarms were working and no one was hurt. It could have been a bad, bad call otherwise.

just another day on the trucks...

A bit blurry cuz it was taken by phone but how cute are we here? lol.
Just hanging in the back of the truck on the way home from a call... me and one of my favourite crewmates. He's 6"6 and comes in handy when you need someone to get up on a roof without a ladder or something out of the top cupboard.

phew

Surviving! For all the ups and downs I have been going through I am happy to say I am still moving forward and growing, rather than curled up in the fetal position on my couch which is where I would often rather reside. It could be the lack of sunshine this winter that has caused my melancholy blues the past few months but I think I am still recoiling from all the changes in my life. And as such, I have gone into a bit of a hibernation mode with my feelings and need for extreme privacy. Which is why I took down my blog for awhile because I worried that I had become a source of "entertainment' for some. But I realized that I needed to write, and get my thoughts and feelings out, otherwise, they would just keep swirling through my head at 3 am during an attack of insomnia. So here I am. Back. More or less unscathed albeit with a battle scar or two. Sadly, the battle is usually with myself. lol. Like not ok with being single, then knowing the world is my oyster. Feeling like I'm the best mom in the world, feeling like my kids deserve more than I can give..... Feeling like a rockstar at work, feeling like I don't know a thing. Feeling like I understand the word called 'love'. Realizing that I have no clue. But if I am to be honest with myself, I do know love. Perhaps I don't know romantic love, but I do know LOVE. It's all around me and it's in me. And it's unconditional. I didn't understand it until I learned how to love and heal, forgive myself, and really, really take care of my mind, body and soul. Sounds so silly and simple but it's true. I can only love someone as much as I love myself so it's my time now.

Another rambling post but hey..... it's been awhile since I've written so gotta start somewhere.......