No place like Home

Well, happy Monday.

There are 11 days, six hours and 35 minutes until Mommy comes home. And today we begin the first week, since she left, with nothing on the schedule. Swim lessons are over, so there is no built-in excuse to leave the house; no place to go.

I am considering preschool for Sonwun, which begins either this week or next. I got a phone number from one of the mommies at swimming lessons Friday. She tells me it's a good program and that the leader, or supervisor, is a great lady. I will call her today.

I have mixed feelings about preschool. On the plus side, it will give Sonwun a chance to mingle with munchkins his own age. It will give him a chance, as swimming did, to participate in group activities, learn to share, learn to cooperate, learn to get along.

On the down side, I will be putting my boy into "the system" where I do not have complete control over what he does, what he's taught, what he eats and so on. It's a little unnerving. Not that I believe they plan to feed him chocolate frosted sugar bombs, lead him in a rousing version of Hail Satan and then teach him to make fake Gucci purses for the black market. I believe they save all that for Grade 1.

I'm just not sure I'm ready to let go, even if it is for only a couple of half days a week. I'm not sure I'm ready to just drop him off somewhere and leave. This feeling is aggravated by the fact that I'm in a new city and I don't know anyone. I don't know the kids who will be there, I don't know their parents, I don't know the teachers or their backgrounds or anything. It is very, very difficult to entrust my child to this system, based on one recommendation by a woman I've met three times and don't know from Eve.

All that being said, I will be looking into it. I will take him a few times, probably hang out for a while until he settles in and then make my decision. The other option, and the one I'm more comfortable with, is to wait out the two-week pool closure and then put him back in swimming lessons.

But I know my comfort level isn't what's important here. What is important is Sonwun's social development.

Unfortunately, he does not have what I had growing up. I had a safe neighbourhood, complete with a dozen or so kids around my age. My parents were comfortable opening the door in the morning and sending me out, secure in the knowledge that every parent in the neighbourhood knew who I was and would keep an eye on me. They would be there if I got into trouble; they would snitch on me if I did something I wasn't supposed to do.

We don't have that here. I am only just getting to know my neighbours. But I don't KNOW them. I would not be at all comfortable with them welcoming Sonwun into their homes. In fact, I would probably call the cops if they did.

Once again, it's the RCMP lifestyle. Move to a new town every once in a while, try to adjust, make new friends and find a way to make life as normal (whatever that means) as possible for my kids.

Anyway, it's a new day, a new week and, this morning, I have to take Sontoo in for this 18-month vaccinations. At least it's a start and another excuse to get out of the house.

Cheers.

First Impressions

Unloading day is behind us. Today is unpacking day and all is well so far.

Woke up this morning at 4:45 a.m. courtesy of Sontoo. The sun was pretty much up over the horizon, having disappeared last night at around 10:30. And the first thing I did was head off to Tim Horton's for a couple of coffees. Why? Because I can. After spending eight years in a Horton-less town, I will probably be drinking a few gallons a day for the next little while, until the novelty wears off.

Anyway, met a few of the neighbours yesterday. And, for the most part, they seem great. Across the street are Dave and Cathy. Each of them dropped by for a few moments during the day. He stopped in to let us know that garbage day is on Tuesday and that he actually considered taking the rails off our porch, prior to our arrival, as a practical joke. I like the way he thinks. He also let me know he's converted his garage to a man-shed, complete with beer fridge, TV and pool table. I really like the way he thinks.

Cathy had stopped by earlier with her two chocolate labs to sniff our dog Sabra and vice versa. So our dog is making friends, with the notable exception is the German Shepherd in the backyard behind our house. Sabra and that dog exchanged a lot of loud and vicious insults yesterday, but both seemed to respect the four-foot fence separating them . . . for now.

As for the cat, Oliver, he spent the day hiding up in the drop ceiling of the basement while the movers unloaded. We didn't see him all day, until the workers left and the wife and I were out on the front porch taking a well-deserved break. And then there he was, walking down the middle of the street. We had no idea how he'd escaped. But the doors had been open all day and we'd been busy.

We called out to him gently, not wanting to spook him. He stopped and looked at us, then continued slowly walking away. The wife slowly followed, calling out. Each time he heard his name, he stopped, looked and then continued up the street.

Obviously we were concerned, as Ollie has been an indoor cat from the time we brought him home. He does not understand The Hood and the roving gangs of cats in Thompson that would surely steal his lunch money and beat him senseless.

I joined the slow-speed pursuit up the street. While the wife stayed on his tail, I circled ahead, four houses up the road, to cut off his escape. Ollie found a utility trailer in a driveway three houses north of ours, climbed in and settled quite comfortably. While the wife held his attention, I snuck up on him and then gently called his name. He turned and slowly came toward me. I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck (as I didn't want to lose him or get scratched) and handed him off to the wife.

All the way back to the house, she held him and spoke soothingly, but Ollie was clearly upset with the situation. The fur on his back was up, his tail was four times its normal size. His adventure in the hood had really spooked him.

When we made it back to the house, Sabra was waiting at the door. In an effort to ease the tension, the wife put Ollie on the floor and said "Look Ollie, it's your buddy Sabra."

The cat took one look at his "buddy" hissed like a steam engine and then left skid marks on the hardwood floor as he bolted up the stairs. We thought this was a little strange. And so, on a hunch, I went downstairs to the hole in the drop ceiling where Ollie had disappeared earlier. I called out. And I heard Ollie's faint meow and then the sound of his paws in the ceiling as he came toward me.

As quickly and quietly as possible, we slipped the neighbour's cat back out the door.

In our defence, it really, really, really looked like Oliver. Same colour, same size and, hey, he did respond when we called. He walked like Oliver and even acted like Oliver (with the exception of his reaction to Sabra, but, in retrospect, I guess that was understandable).

We're just hoping that no one saw the wacky new neighbours stalking a neighbourhood cat, grabbing it by the scruff of the neck and hauling it back to their new home before traumatizing it with an introduction to a strange dog.

Anyway, today is a new day. The unpackers are expected at around 8 a.m. We're all looking forward to an end to this little moving adventure and the beginning of our new life here in Thompson.