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My friends made fun of Shawn when we had two girls, and then three. And then we rescued our dog Kira, a girl, and got our dog Katie, another girl. There was no getting around it, the women ran the household. Estrogen trumps testosterone. Girl power reigned supreme.
And we liked it that way. My girls talk about everything and anything in front of the boys. So much so that Shawn Michael, my delightful 16 year old, doesn’t even bat an eye at the mention of periods, cramps, tampons, and being endlessly dragged into bra stores at the mall. Actually, I think he likes that last part. I keep telling him what an amazing partner he will be some day, after being raised in the warm bosom of a bevy of females. It’s true too, he’s one of the most sensitive, plugged in, compassionate and caring PEOPLE I know, let alone young men.

So we moved and kids got older and grew up. Keisha moved out, Liam moved out, Ash moved out. Kira passed away and then Katie. And now we have myself, Shawn, Kathryn, Shawn Michael and Kermit. And Cole.
Who is Cole?
Oh, he’s Kat’s boyfriend. A sweet, lovely, overgrown puppydog of a boy, and he spends a lot of time at our house.
Now it’s three against two!
I wish I could say that I don’t like it and that the boys are being stinky smelly boys and exerting their power over pizza orders and choice of programming but in truth, I like it. He is one of those kids who just….effortlessly fit in to our world and we have claimed him as one of our own. So, I wish I could say I don’t like it, but, it’s nice to have back a small bit of the chaos we had when the house was fuller. Watching the two of them is like getting a glimpse into a not so distant future when the kids will come home, god willing, for holidays bringing with them their partners and one day, their own kids.
It’s going to be a weird holiday for us this year. No extended family is coming, Liam can only come home for a day, maybe two, and Keisha can’t come home at all. And while Shawn and I have time off, the younger kids will all have work schedules.
But I like it.
I don’t mind this shift in the force. After all, life is change. You can either roll with it, or fight against it, but it’s going to happen whether you like it or not. I choose to embrace it.

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I never thought I would be taking tests and talking back to school in my forties, and yet, here I am. For the past year, I’ve been re-teaching myself french. It’s been an interesting project to say the least. I probably *could* have worked a little harder, but, considering I’m doing this on my own, I’m actually fairly proud of where I’ve gotten. Tomorrow morning, I am taking a french oral exam. The same one government employees of the province take to determine at what level they can communicate in our nations other official language. I’m nervous as hell, but I’m also excited that I’ve come this far on my own.

There’s more.

Back when we lived in Ontario, I was just *starting* to entertain the notion of doing some further education. But then the move and the starting over and the finding work and all those other things happened and it was put on hold. This year, I applied to a program at the local college. I was wait-listed. That was okay. I mean, at the time I was kind of upset about it but, you know, part of being an adult is accepting things you cannot change and learning how, when and where to keep pushing. So, I applied to a different program at a different college. This one wanted me, right away. The only problem? They needed my transcript.
That doesn’t sound like it should be a problem, right? Except that I didn’t graduate traditionally. Instead, like the very scared teenager I was, I dropped out of school with only months to go before my graduation (because I was pregnant and my life got complicated, fast) and continued my studies on my own. Which *would* have been straightforward, BUT, that I was a terrible student in high school. I cut class a lot. I didn’t try. I cared more about my social life then my academic one and it showed. I did not have enough credits, even if I had stayed out that last year, to graduate. A funny thing happened when I became a mom, though. I got this tremendous drive. I did courses through adult education programs. I did night school classes. I did correspondence through the school board. Want to know what happens when you do classes from three different venues, over four years, both before and after a marriage so you have two different last names?? It becomes nearly impossible to track it all down.
I’m still working on gathering all the missing cogs to my educational wheel, so the second program had to wait, because a full transcript is mandatory for that program and I don’t have one at the moment.
So. Left with some mild depression and disappointment, I did something else. I decided instead of all these college programs, I’d apply to university.

And I am in.
Starting February, for the first time in my life, at 42, I will be an official University student. It’s super daunting and exciting and, well, weird a bit, but I am very happy about it.
So there you have it. I certainly didn’t go through the milestones of life in ANY kind of conventional way, but then, I was never much of a conventional gal. I like making my own moves, in my own time, in my own way.
Feel free to start sending donations towards my education, folks.
I’m about to be a student. Again.

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