So, They Are Canadian, Eh? And now… How To Become A U.S. Citizen

January 19, 2012 By 12 Comments

Now, you may or may not know this, but I’m Canadian.  As in, I was born there.  I haven’t lived there since I was itty-bitty – I was raised in California – which, if you know me, makes MUCH more sense, but still, Canadian, I am.

And in that weird way that famly history and culture and your own personal inter-weavings actually MATTER to just you… I have maintained my citizenship all these years.  It used to be that in order to become a U.S. citizen, you had to denounce your country of origin.  And I just wasn’t comfortable with that.  Now, that is no longer the case and hasn’t been for quite some time.  And yet…  thre is the issue of my small people.

Though we live here, smack dab in the middle of the country – where I have ties to absolutely nothing beyond the family I have created, I still want them to know, to experience, to BE….a portion of that crazy mix of who I am.  Right?  A Canadian raised in California – a girl who claims the surf, sun and sand FIRST, but is unwilling to pass up the heritage that comes with the Maple Leaf.

So, I waited until they were old enough to apply for Canadian citizenship.  I jumped through the hoops that required special pictures, notarized documents, the original copies of their birth certificates and intense applications.  And yes, fees.  I filed the paperwork away with an impatient sigh when the response from the Canadian Consulate said I could expect a response in 6 to 18 months.  Yes. EIGHTEEN months.  And I tried to forget about it.

I promised myself I would begin my own citizenship journey when the small people were officially dual citizens.

And then a funny thing happened.  Yesterday, a certified note arrived in the mail with

FINAL NOTICE 

stamped in large letters.  I didn’t want whatever it was to be sent back, so we rushed to the nearby post office….though we had never received an initial or even a second notice.  And how is this for a little shock?  When I turned in that

FINAL NOTICE (with yesterday’s date)

we were told  the certified letter had been had been waiting for us since October.

And the letter was from the Canadian Consulate.

My small people are now Canadian citizens!!  And according to the letter inside that envelope, they have been since September 22, 2011.  The poor lady behind the counter apologized profusely – embarrassed that the U.S. Post Office has been holding a letter for us for close to 4 months.  Just sitting there with it.  No notes to us.  No….. nothing.

And normally, I might be bothered, but I’m too excited to care.

Now my citizenship journey begins.  I have filled out my application. (It took about 45 minutes) But that is just step one in what promises to be an eventful process.  No, I’m not a Communist.  No, I’m not a member of the Nazi party.  No, I’m not currently married to more than one person. Nope, no felonies.

Tomorrow, I begin the process of collecting the nearly 20 pieces of documention I need to send in with that application. Should be a good time.  Then there will be pictures.  Mailing.  Fingerprinting.  Studying.  An ORAL exam!!

And then a U.S. Citizen I will be.  Could take a year.  Fingers crossed for less, right?

Wish me luck.

 

Filed Under: Don't you wish you were me?, Featured Content, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , , , ,

Driving with a Swag-ger

July 13, 2009 By 14 Comments

So, I’m excited about BlogHer – and I consider myself to be a helpful kind of girl, yes?

Waaaaaay back when I had told the Room704 crew I would be happy to help deliver party swag to BlogHer, because I am driving – much less expensive transport, ya know?

The amazing Mommentator had offered too.  And the mother-load was delivered to her house.  When I saw the AMOUNT of boxes, I thought to myself, “hmmmm – there is NO CHANCE she will get that all in her car to Chicago….I don’t care if she drives a passenger van”.  That thought was quickly followed by, “why don’t I help – we don’t live so far away from each other”. I figured that way, Mommentator wouldn’t be forced to borrow a neighbor’s semi to deliver :)

Today, we met half way between St. Louis and Kansas City and loaded up my car.  Bonus: I get real live hugs from Mommentator.

So…this is us after the transfer. (Isn’t she fabulous??)

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And this is after I arrived home.

And….after I unloaded.

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What?  You can tell they are organized by size?  And you think I’m a bit of a nerd?  Well, maybe I am.  And it will make for easy packing when I head to Chi-Town, yes?

Looking forward to a fabulous Par-tay, Room704.

Filed Under: Don't you wish you were me?, Funny, Recent Posts Tagged With: , , ,

Potty Training, Poop and Purple Nailpolish

May 8, 2009 By 13 Comments

Just what, do you think, these three things have to do with each other?

Clearly the potty training and poop go together, but what is with the purple nail polish?

The common denominator?  The small dude.

He is potty training. Some days he is OUTSTANDING – no accidents at all.  Other days (read Today) he just doesn’t give a damn.  He isn’t bothered by the pee down his leg (in his shoe or on my carpet). He doesn’t care that he is wet. He would prefer to poop in a pull up.  He has the ‘pee’ thing down – when he wants to, but poop – well that is a whole different story.

When I twittered today about hating potty training – someone responded by telling me that ‘potty training is the 10th circle of hell’ – I have to agree.  I have not had good potty training experiences.  I was foolish enough to think the small guy might be easier.  He has other ideas.

I was also foolish enough to think I would be allowed 30 minutes of peace to work out.

Instead – this is what walked into my room.

 

Looks a bit like war paint, now doesn’t it?

I am happy to report, despite my lack of nail polish remover (seriously?), I was able to clean his face. 

Can’t wait for tomorrow’s escapades.  Try not to be jealous.

Filed Under: Don't you wish you were me?, Good thing he's cute Tagged With: , ,

On an Island

April 20, 2009 By 8 Comments

Sometimes I feel a bit like I am floating somewhere in the midst of the Pacific Ocean.

All by myself.

Sometimes, I wish I was.  Floating by myself, that is.

Parenting is hard.  Being a Mommy is hard.  Rewarding – absolutely.  Magnificent – you bet!  Wonderful – of course!  But, still HARD.

I’m in the midst of what feels like my most challenging parenting stage yet.   The small people are almost 5 and almost 3.  And, damn, they are good at it.

The tantruming, the whining, the fighting, the competing, the disobeying, the refusing to eat, the tattling – I think my ears are starting to bleed.  I wonder how long before I’m committed to an asylum – or until I leave my husband a note in purple crayon that I’m heading for that island? (What do you want to bet he would join me?)

I think the biggest challenge is that all of these things happen daily.  I’m convinced I could handle tantrums OR whining OR tattling – just not all of them. Every day.

As I typically do when I hit an obstacle like this (well – there hasn’t been one quite like this, but, still….) I ask the people I trust for advice.

I began with my closest friend.  She is a mom too.  The good news/bad news: she has been right where I am (great for me – not the best time for her) so she understands this particular dilemma. (The dilemma is – do I lock myself in the closet claiming ‘time-out’ for mommy and make moaning sounds any time anyone approaches the door – or do I try to work through it?)  I was leaning towards the closet, but my friend always makes me feel centered and voted for the ‘work through it option.

She reminded me that this is a stage.  She assured me I am not, in fact, a candidate for ‘worst mother of the year’, and suggested I give myself some credit for the love and attention I give.  Since I can’t tackle every challenge at once – pick my battles.  And don’t give up.  She promised that continuing to help my kids work things out rather than allowing them to fight will be worth the effort.

I’m pretty sure she is right.

In the mean time, I think it is a good thing they are cute.

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(If you don’t hear from me for a while – I opted for the island route – I’m thinking Pina Coladas and Palm Trees – want to come?)

Filed Under: Can we talk?, Don't you wish you were me?, Good thing he's cute Tagged With: , , ,

My, those stirrups look good on you!

April 13, 2009 By 6 Comments

Nothing makes a Mommy feel classy and collected like visiting your OBGYN (who I ADORE, by the way) for your annual appointment with your kids in tow.

All you can do is smile, keep your arm stretched firmly in place to keep them from wandering south and mutter, ‘just making sure Mommy is ok’, when your four year old looks warily towards the end of the table and mumbles, “Mommy, what is she doing to you?”

Let’s be clear – it all started because, well, I am a moron.  And I mean a big one.

Last week was Spring Break.  So, naturally, I assumed today would be the day to return to school.  I even believed this as friends told me their kids were off.  I assumed and believed WRONG.  However, the enlightening ‘there is no school today moment’ did not happen as I packed a lunch box, weaseled Coop’s feet into his shoes, or grabbed the backpack to head out the door. 

My you-have-got-to-be-flippin’-kidding-me-moment came as I approached the school and there were NO cars in the parking lot – save for the one lone Yukon pulling out.  (I’m not alone!) And yet, I circled the school, just to be sure. 

I then sat in the parking lot to Twitter about it – certain there would be another mother who understood – or at least someone who could make me laugh about it. I also posted my faux pas on Facebook – I figured my friends could use the Monday Morning laugh.

And, yes, they laughed.

And, I proceeded to my appointment.  God love my doctor for letting the kids come back with me – and for being so darn quick at the whole miserable thing. 

The good news is – the kids do not seem to be scarred by today’s episode.  At least they haven’t mentioned anything since we left the office.  Of course, that really means nothing.  My daughter could decide to reminisce about “Mommy laying on that table with no pants on” at our next neighborhood BBQ.

Wouldn’t that be fun?

Stop laughing.

Clearly, I am scarred.

Filed Under: Are you kidding me?, Don't you wish you were me?, I'm just sayin' Tagged With: , , ,

14 hours is just too long

March 30, 2009 By 5 Comments

I’m getting ready to do a little (or a LONG) recap of our amazing weekend on Jekyll Island, Georgia, but first must address something.

I will NEVER do a 14 + car ride with my family again.

I joked about being a cruise directoron the way down.  We took a leisurely 2 days to get to our destination.  However, the captain (AKA my husband!) decided we NEEDED to power through and get home yesterday.  And, for some reason, he figured it was reasonable to expect the 2 and 4 year olds (and his mom) to ‘hold it’ instead of stopping to go to the bathroom.

Clearly that is not an option. Clearly. CLEARLY.  And yet, there was exaggerated sighing and eye rolling every time a small person said, “I gotta go potty.”

And, of course, there was the vomiting incident.  Poor little guy. And the 30 minute detour we took to find a place to clean him up.

And, it certainly doesn’t help your pace when your husband gets pulled over for speeding. The kind Highway Patrol officer gave us, I mean him, a warning.  (I think he could smell the vomit).

We began our journey at 10am and arrived home at 12:30am. My legs are still adjusting to life on the outside.

The good news: I finished an ENTIRE book – and it was a great one: The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan.  I fell like Kelly and I could be friends.  The book was that good.

Be back soon with wedding details and pictures!

Filed Under: Are you kidding me?, Don't you wish you were me?, Funny Tagged With: , ,

Destructible

February 24, 2009 By 3 Comments

You just might have one: a child that gets in TO EVERYTHING.

I do. And , yet,  I didn’t recognize this as a pattern.  Until today.

cooperafter

His name: Cooper.  His M.O.: coloring on anything and everything, his own skin included. He has also been known to break toys, dig into his big sister’s makeup, throw anything vaguely resembling a ball and take the stuffing out of couch cushions.

However, after spending 20 minutes getting marker off the couch this morning and a good hour on my hands and knees coaxing fluorescent orange marker out of my carpet this afternoon, I am confident this is a permanent part of his personality and am none too happy about it.

His AKA: The Destructible.

cooperbeforeSure, he’s cute.  Or, he is sometimes. maybe that is part of the problem.  The sweet face hides the Destructible within.

It is getting to the point that I am afraid to go to the bathroom lest he discover a Sharpie (Heaven forbid! I think I have hidden them all at a girlfriend’s urging).

Admittedly, he always fesses up, but still, I’ve become a slave to white cloth and water. If you ask him where he is supposed to color/draw/write, he will throw up his tiny little hands and yell, “On pay-purr!” with such conviction you think there is an invisible elf who is the true culprit.

I think this may be payback.  I could never truly empathize when a mom friend told horror stories about a devious child.

Hmmm…and now I have one.  Interesting.

Filed Under: Are you kidding me?, Don't you wish you were me?, Good thing he's cute Tagged With: , ,
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