My mom’s dad died on Thursday morning. That is the entry I have been ruminating about. It is certainly sad, it is always sad when a loved one dies. But my coworker noticed that when I told her about it I didn’t say “Grandfather”, but my mom’s dad. I guess that is really telling. I have mentioned some details about my extended family on her, but here is more. My mom is the oldest of 15 kids. My mom will be 61 in a few weeks and I have an uncle who is 35. I am not sure how many grandchildren there are on this side of the family, but about 40. Maybe someone has counted this week. The funeral is on Wednesday – out of town. I am not going. Perhaps I sound dispassionate, and I guess I am. My Grandparents, at least my mom’s have always lived out of town. My dad’s parents are deceased. I think there are a number of reasons for my disconnect. One of them is the sheer number of people in this family. I am one of many many people and was often asked to whom I belonged. Which kid I was. I was the sensitive weird one who read a lot for the most part. My mom’s family is french-Canadian. They are a loud, raucous, card playing, cigarette smoking, hard drinking bunch. Apart from a couple of years in university, most of this never appealed to me. There always seemed to be debauchery going on at family gatherings. Someone was too drunk, too angry, sometimes someone was even sleeping with someone there weren’t supposed to. I once caught my uncle rocking his trailer with a lady friend, not my aunt. I think I was about 11 and kind of traumatized. There were also the cousins my age who were getting piss drunk by age 14 and singing Teen Angel at someone’s wedding. I did not really fit it and for the most part dreaded such familial wing dings.
My grandfather died at 85. I am not really sure why, I am sure my mom will find out more when she is there. Fifteen children. I usually give the excuse that they are french and catholic and most people nod knowingly. But truthfully, they weren’t really all that french or all that catholic. Sure, they spoke french, but they never went to church. Now that I am older I look at the size of the family as something akin to child abuse. My mom moved out when she was 16. She had to. She quite high school and not finishing has always been a source of pain and regret for my mom. She is a smart and well-read lady who has always felt insecure about her lack of education. My Grandfather was a carpenter and an alcoholic. From what I understand money was here and there, and life was unpredictable. There is rampant alcoholism in the family still. Some have recovered, some never will but there is mass dysfunction. I suppose we can say every family has their characters, their black sheep, their malcontents, but I wonder if they had stopped at 4 or 5 or 7 or 8 kids, would things still be this way. I feel sorry for a lot of my mom’s brothers and sisters. Yes, my aunts and uncles. See, I also suspect that my lack of attachment to my extended family is because of my being adopted. Real or perceived, I always felt apart from the pack. I look nothing like the other cousins on my mom’s side of the family. I always felt sort of sore-thumb-like.
My Grandmother gave birth to 15 kids. No twins, no miscarriages. My parents were infertile and both my brother and I are adopted. Makes me kind of laugh sometimes. My mom told me for a long time she never wanted kids after growing up with so many siblings. I don’t blame her. See, writing this now makes me feel all weepy and sad.
My memories of my Grandfather are few. The good memories revolve around the old “pull my finger” joke. When I was about 15 my Grandparents were visiting us and after not seeing me for a couple of years my Grandfather said something about why was I so fat and where was my boyfriend? Indeed. When I was in University I started writing them the occasional letter and sending a Christmas card every year and did so until a couple of years ago. I never got any response and it felt like a futile effort I stopped caring about. For the last little while I was doing it for my mom’s sake anyhow. I have a couple of aunts in town that I see now and again. I am certainly closer to them than any of my other aunts and uncles. But I have always felt like an outsider. Physically, emotionally, intellectually, weird. Although now that I write this, I wonder if that is a feeling exclusive to my family life. Something to stew about.

I forget to tell you that I am taking holidays from this past Friday until Tuesday the 8th. Holidays from work anyhow. We aren’t going anywhere out of town or anything, so it is likely I will be posting as usual. I am an internet whore, what can I say?
It has been a beautiful weekend here, but I have spent most of it indoors. I went to work on Saturday (I know, I am on holidays) to do a few things that I just felt couldn’t wait until I was back from holidays. I also developed a nasty cold sore on my bottom lip that hurts like a motherfucker. It is best to stay out of the sun when such a thing is growing on my face. Other stuff has been happening and I am percolating an entry about it, but I am going to bed now to gestate.

Although he didn’t take the photo, thanks to my secret boyfriend, Randy, for sending me this picture of a sign in my fair city. Happy Canada Day!

P.S. Canada Day is actually July 1

fabulous link courtesy of mimismartypants. Octodogs!

After Dan’s comment yesterday about fries and gravy, I had to make sure that everyone who reads knows about poutine. The Canadians should, but for anyone else who doesn’t, you need to know. Poutine is standardly made out fries, cheese curds, and hot gravy on top of it all. It turns into a gooey, yummy, life giving mess. I high recommend finding some or making some. You could subsitute the curds for regular cheese I suppose, but it isn’t quite the same. Go here for more on poutine. French Canadian food of love.

Dear other pregnant women at the clinic today,
Get a fucking babysitter for the two hours you have to be here. Spencer and Justin (dustin?) are NOT CUTE or amusing, but annoying and loud.

Dear nurse who brought me an ice pack,
I love you, are you married?
Dear blue haired lady at the pharmacy,
Hmm. Interesting about the frequency of your bowel movements. Check out the long line behind you granny and get a move on!
Dear husband,
Thank you for bringing me ravioli in a can (my favourite) while I was in bed with the ice pack. Maybe we can have some sex this month.
Love,
Jen

The ultrasound went well. I am measuring 7 weeks and 2 days. I would have had to pay 15 bucks to get a picture of the bean, and as I have said, I am trying not to think of it as a baby yet, so I didn’t get a picture. Trust me, it looks like nothing anyhow. Once I am passed the first trimester I will post some grey blobby picture for y’all to admire.
This afternoon I go to the diabetic clinic to get checked out. I was up late last night filling out my diet record and blood test charts. So much homework! I guess if I did it everyday I wouldn’t have to make it up the night before. I should have maybe used different coloured pens to make it look more authentic. Oh well. Thanks for all the nice comments lovely internet people! Here is a link to a 7 week ultrasound, this is more or less what we say this morning. http://www.amazingpregnancy.com/weekbyweek/ultrasounds/7.html

Thus I have been not very bloggy as of late. It is Sunday night, I long for some new tv show on Sunday nights to dull my mind before Monday and another workweek. It has been cold and rainy here all weekend, contributing to my blah. We did rent Adaptation on Friday night which I liked except for the ending which was kinda’ weird. Nicholas Cage was brilliant though. Saturday I went for a blood test, napped, and went to a party in the evening where I had too much ice cream. I have no self-control. See, most people are telling you about parties where they drank too much beer, I had too much ice cream. I live the high life baby! And had some high blood sugar to prove it. Mark read the entire Harry Potter book in less than 24 hours. It is now on my beside table. I read and layz’d about today as well. I didn’t even do a load of laundry. Tomorrow I have my first ultrasound. I am excited because we will likely be able to see a heart beat. I am also cautious because until I am at least past the first trimester I am trying not to think of this bean as a baby. Bean/grape/raspberry for now. I also go back to the diabetic clinic tomorrow to be checked out. I was hoping not to gain any weight until I was at least 12-13 weeks, but my jeans were cutting off blood flow yesterday, so I may already be changing. Blargh. I felt like I was in junior high and had to pull up my Rainbow jeans with a clothes hanger.
It better stop raining soon, or I will have to cut a swathe through the grass to get to the garage. Last year drought, this year, swamp. It is hard to complain though considering the last several years of drought we have had. sheesh, I am exciting. Are you asleep yet?

And if you have lots of time to waste. Mock the things that people in my province have named their children last year. “Precious, Heaven, and Starlisse” for girls, just to name some.
http://www3.gov.ab.ca/gs/information/vs/top10_names.cfm

I realize I have been lack of content lady as of late. The thing is, if I emptied my head it would look something like a big pile of worry. The worry is mostly made up with making through to the end of my first trimester and my blood sugar and insulin shots. Interspersed with the worry would be staying up too late reading one of my true crime books from jared and enjoying my flowers/weeds. Repeat.
I have also been toying with the idea of going to Vancouver for a weekend as a wee holiday. Yesterday I was pretty gung-ho, but today I feel all worried and want to just stay home and gestate in safety. I would love to go to Las Vegas or something for a few days, but the thought of visiting your health care challenged country while in my delicate state is too worrisome. See a theme here?
Tonight we are going to have cake to celebrate Niece 1’s 7th birthday. We didn’t know we were invited until last night, so I am going to run to Old Navy after work and pick her up a little outfit or something. What the hell can you buy kids these days? They have freakin’ everything.
I have made no progress on my Canadiana CD, but it will be forthcoming, I promise.
And FYI, it is currently 29.65