Back to Work!

My year of government mommy pay has expired. Yes, I’m back at work. Each morning I drive my little ones to their new daycare, lunches in hand. I have to remove the two of them from my arms like a strip of Velcro; crying baby and clinging toddler. At least Nathan has an understanding of what is going down. He knows the difference between “weekday” and “weekend”. But Cecilia on the other hand, is comfortably oblivious, at least until the absolute point of removal, when she wails like banshee.

My mind is torn. Part of me is in mourning every minute of the day that I’m separated from the wee ones, the other part is elated each time I get to; eat a relaxed meal, go to the bathroom by myself and just sit and think about work things. It is a mental dichotomy to which my very soul is fighting to come to terms with.

I have to remember that I’m privileged with choice. Many Moms are forced to have one or the other life; either full time job or full time mom, with no say in the matter. Financially speaking I could have stayed home with the kids, had that been my selection. I’d like to say that I consciously made my decision, but I can’t say that I did. Time marched along, and suddenly I was back at work and my mat leave was over. Sure, I thought and thought and thought about my options, but in the end I took the path of least resistance, and returned to status quo.

I don’t feel guilty, and that is usually an emotion most prominent in the mommy-brain battle. I know my children are well cared for at daycare – in some ways I think they are better off. I’m a chemist. I do not have childcare training. Do I know how to glue macaroni pictures? Definitely not. Can I make playdough? No. My idea of circle time is sitting around a BBQ and drinking beer. Hardly fun play material.

It is not that I don’t know I’m a good mom, it is just that at home I always felt like the kids had to compete day-in and day-out with all my other duties. Now THAT made me feel guilty. Mommy, come read me a story? Not now honey, Mommy needs to fold this six foot high pile of laundry. Mommy, goo-goo-gaa-gaa (translation: I want boob). Wait a minute Princess, Mommy needs to self-medicate with chocolate and alcohol. Okay, so I wasn’t that bad, but I’m guessing you get the picture.

In the end I know things will work out. They always do. Kids grow up, go to school, I’ll go to work and life will plow-on. I know my decision has made an affect of the dynamic of our family, but hey, I was raised in daycares and I turned out okay – right?

Forgive my spelling I am dead tired.

So Yes, I am alive. I am so sorry I havent been in touch. Europe has been so insain. I hung around in Spain, Andorra was my fav, so beautiful this sweet little town in the mountains. I parted way with the tour de france there. I then went to france, spent a few hours Passing through southern france, towns right on the ocean, Montpellier, Nice, and more northern parts like Leige and Paris, where I slept under the Eiffle tower.
Then came Belgium. Have you seen the movie In Brugges? I was there, at the bell tower, eating my fritz and belgium waffles as I reminesed of the man falling from the tower and going splat, wonderful movie. I passed through Brussles on my way to The Netherlands. Oh yes, Holland the land of windmills and wooden shoes... and pot. Amsterdam was quite the experience.
In Germany I met my Bro Cory In Berlin, we visited the Berlin Wall, it was big let down so we headed for Prague. Prague was A very pretty city with the funniest tour guide ever to grace this planet. Then through Slovakia To Budapest. In budapest We did some hiking and visited the underground labaryinth of Buda castle, freakin sweet.
Now I sit, at this moment, writting you this painfully blog. I have no wit left in me as it is 4:30 in the am. Today was a small disaster Cory became violently ill and had no travel insurance. This city is limited when it comes satisfactory health care so I preped myself for a trip to the embassy, just as I was loosing all hope he regained color in his face and seemed to be feeling much better. He is doing much better now and tomorrow I think we will head to Austria and split ways. I will head to Italy Venice, Las Spezia and Rome. Ferry to Greece where I will see the sights of Athens and take a ferry to Santorini. I will Flop over on the beach and relax for the first time during my whole excursion. I have a flight that leaves Santorini, London bound and I will Finish my travels with a trip to the Stone Hedge. There you have it. feewwww I am hitting the hay and I will be dreaming of home. Love you all Jaclyn

Landing In London

Hello!

I wish you could folded up and put in my suit case, although it might get cramped with dozens of people, not to mention the excess baggage fees.

The past couple weeks have consisted of; departing Amman, Jordan after a tour of the city(I was held hostage and force fed street-vendor food), a trip to Madba and the Dead Sea (unreal! floating around on my back while hacking a dart), exploring Petra (18KM of pure torture in 100 degree heat! The hike took 8 hours!) and of course my Camping excursion in the desert .I didn't share my bed with any scorpions, But I was sharing the "outhouse" with a spider the size of a toilet paper roll. I took a picture next to the roll for the sake of the scale.

The highlight of the desert was attempting to surf the sand dunes on a card board box (the key word here is "attempting"). It was unsuccessful. I wound up just jumping down the dunes as the beautiful red sand engulfed my feet burning them as if I was walking on hot coals.

So yes, now here I am in London, a busy place,the "New York" of Europe. I spend a lot of my time lost amongst the many "tubes"(subways) that make up London's transit system.

I don't feel bad about this for 2 reasons. 1: it makes for a good adventure 2:There are so many locals who are just as lost as I am, if not more.

Today I spent my time taking in the sights of city, I wandered about, losing myself in the crowd. I found my self again standing under the wonderful Peter Pan clock! aka "big ben" The architecture is phenomenal with so much detail in Gothic style. Tomorrow I will watch the change of the guards at Buckingham Palace, and Wednesday my flight departs London to arrive in Barcelona, Spain.

I will be hanging out in Barcelona for a few days, but my main priority is Ibiza....great excuse to let loose and party after the mayhem of the East! If you choose to quit your job, sell your house, sell your car and loose your mind, please, come join me! I would love some company to share the sights, keep me safe, and hold my hand while crossing the streets of these insane freaking cities. I love and miss each and everyone of you. Jaclyn

Still Alive!

So here I am in Aquaba. The past week has been so high paced I don't even know where to start. I boarded a sail boat (felucca) to sail from Aswan to Luxor. Sleeping on the deck of the boat under the night sky was surprising. I woke up at 6 am, just in time to see the sun rise over the Nile. I was freezing my ass off! Who knew? By day the temperatures range from 95 to 104 degrees...somewhat misleading.

I must say the most epic experience of my life was hiking Mount Mosses (to North Americans known as mount Sinai). Incredible! 14km of sheer torture. Once at the peak you have never felt so close to heaven. I don't know if that is because the peak is a holy place. This peak is where Mosses received the ten commandments. Maybe it is just the most remarkable view on the face of this planet? I watched the sunset over the mountains. And wandered down the side of the mountain in pure darkness with a flashlight no better than a lighter.

From there I bussed to Nuweiba where I relaxed in a resort on the Red Sea, over looking Saudi Arabia.

Yesterday I arrived in Jordan. Customs here are really random. I went through many different customs booths. WTF? Well I should let you all go, I am heading back to my hotel to pack my bags and head out to Wadi Rum to go 4x4ing at sunset and camp out under the desert sky in a bedouin camp. Wish me luck... I'm not into sharing my sleeping bag with scorpions! xoxoxo All the love in the world Jaclyn

Cecilia; The Muncher

So how can I compete with my sister’s blogging when she is writing from Eqypt? All my stories are going to sound rather droll. Another breastfeeding story. Can you tell what my days consist of?

Breastfeeding a one year old is a whole new experience. Whatever happened to my tiny little suckler, cuddled motionless in my arms, while I stroked her newborn baby fuzz? Now I have this moving, pointing, grabbing, biting entity to deal with. I come out of feeding sessions feeling more like a momma sow nursing a litter of piglets. Yes she’s cute, and I want to feed and nourish her, but do I really want to let this thing near my boob? Not exactly. For those of you who have not yet had the opportunity to lactate, imagine bearing your breast to a 20 pound being, a cross between a gremlin and a bear cub. Here, go on, put this in your mouth. She even gnashes her two little teeth at me in apprehension. My nipples come out of the experience numbed and aching. Really, if you saw what she did to them, you’d be surprised that they are still there at all.

It is not just my nipples that have been the brunt of her mastication aggressions. Like a little reverse beaver she digs her two sharp bottom fangs into whatever she can find; the metal bathtub rail, Grandma’s antique wooden arm chair, her brother. She even randomly bites different parts of my body, like she is systematically checking my body for milk production at alternative locations. You never know when the main source might run out.

I believe I had what one might label as a Freudian experience at Superstore the other day. It didn’t dawn on me until later, that I might have been inadvertently seeking my revenge on the little muncher.

Cecilia uses a soother (what my three-year old calls a “sou-sou”). Once a nickname has been entered into your mommy brain, it would take a nuclear bomb to get me from using it. “Baby want her sou-sou?” How lame is that? I digress. So Cecilia uses a sou-sou, and I have a little leash thing that attaches to her shirt with a metal clip to keep her from experimenting with gravity and throwing it over the edge of her stroller.

When I went to clip the sou-sou onto her shirt on this particular day, I clipped it onto her nipple (over top of the shirt). For the first few seconds, I don’t think she knew what happened. She was just looking at me like I had just dropped the bomb on her. Then the screaming started. Poor little thing. I quickly detached the offending device, but the damage had been done. Her little nipple was all bruised and sore. I felt really bad. It is only now that I was thinking that perhaps I had been acting on a subconscious level. I mean, how many times has she made my nipple bleed? Countless. How many times has she grabbed my nipple and attempted to sheer it off with her razor sharp finger nails? Many. Many times.

So, yes, I’m sorry. Like any good mom, I felt bad for hurting my baby. You are all probably thinking, “what a terrible mom”, and I sure as hell felt like crap after that experience. But something inside me thought, “hey, maybe this will be a small preparation for her future breastfeeding experiences?”

Greetings from Egypt!

This place is truly amazing!

I arrived in Cairo sleep deprived and starved but safe and sound. My first night consisted of getting to know the busy streets of Cairo. It was a late at night, the city never sleeps! Day one I visited Islamic Cairo. I attended a church (saint Marinas coptic church) where the holy family resided for 2 weeks when they fled jerusalem, It was a beautiful tiny little place.

Then I went to the highest point in Cairo to absorb the unbelievable view of the polluted over populated city. There are so many buildings that have been left unfinished. The Mosques and churches tower over the houses surrounding them, making for a spectacular sight.

The city of Cairo has a population of 25 million people and at and given time there are 10 million cars on the road. Don't worry about my safety out here as a tourist, worry about me crossing the street! The taxis are formula one drivers in ancient little cars. I saw my life flash before my eyes many times in my 3 hour excursion to find my hotel.

I visited the pyramids! The views of all 9 pyramids from the Sahara on camel back is breath taking! I have many pictures I will post when given the opportunity.

Last night I boarded the train to Aswan. I was traveling first class and that doesn't say much, because the train was more like a subway with a bed. The train took 14 hours, one of which we were with out power in the dead of the night in the club car of the train surrounded by foreign speaking men and a cloud of smoke. Most scary movies begin with a scene like this.

I arrived in Aswan today and visited the temple of Isis, the goddess of love, this temple is only accessible by local motor boat. I finished my day off having dinner with a local Nubian family on Elephantine island. Words will never describe the way these people live; their beautiful simplicity.

Wrapping it up, I miss you all and wish you were here to share the big and small wonders of the world!

xoxox Love Jaclyn

Jaclyn to Egypt and Beyond. . . .

As you may, or may not know. I am preparing to leave the country for a few months to explore all the wonderful nooks and crannies of the earth. I will be traveling through the middle east and the onwards to Turkey and Europe. I am departing Vancouver on Tuesday June 16th. I will be sure to keep you all informed during my journeys and hopefully I will have the oppertunity to post some pix along the way.

Holy Holden!

I am in Holden, Alberta. This remarkable town has a population of 300. Lucky me - the entire population is in the bar tonight! However, for some reason, no one is putting out any cash-o-la so business is slow.

This town is so small and desolate, I don’t have the internet! If that’s not bad enough I don’t even have cell reception. So here I am blogging away in my "text edit" program. I will just copy and paste this bitch into my blog.

It is my first time here and the management consists of an older man and woman. The man is sweet. After getting off the road and arriving 2 hours early, he insisted I come down for dinner. He handed me a menu and within ten minutes he had my order in front of me. The best meal I have had in 2 weeks: perfectly cooked eggs (over easy) 4 strips of bacon and home-style hash browns (the chunky potatoes. yummy!) He reminds me of an uncle; a gentle soul. I’m referred to as sweetie or dear. He greeted me in the lobby of an ancient hundred year old hotel, with warm hands and a warm heart.

The woman, who may be somewhat bipolar and cock eyed, can’t decide if she likes me or not. Upon arrival I was given "the cold shoulder" but before my first show she was very affirming and warm telling me "you will do great". Then, after getting off stage to the raucous hoots and hollers from the small crowd with 55 bucks in my pocket, she proceeded to ignore me.

Even though she didn’t seam to be paying attention to me, I had a strange feeling that her one cock-eye was on me the whole night, even though she was preoccupied with the drunkard at her bar ordering his 20th bottle of Kokanee. People with a cock eye always intrigue me. With their wandering eye, they can delve into a conversation with one person but are still aware of their surroundings.

I am working with two other girls. I won’t name names but lets just call them “Bambie” and “Veronica”. Bambie enjoys talking about Veronica’s drug habits, even though they have only known each other for an hour. I don’t disagree that Veronica seems slightly sketchy; sniffing away and making multiple trips to the bathroom, (let’s seize this opportunity and use the appropriately termed “powder room”.)

Bambie seems slightly sketchy herself, talking at an incredible rate of about one hundred words per minute, saying “I hate strippers” and “I am going to school full time” and “I work a full time normal job” and “I am engaged to a marvelous man in Florida” and “I was so done with this industry 3 years ago” and “This is not me” and “This is not my life” etc. etc.

Is this woman present? Like here on earth? What bubble is she living in? We are here, in this ancient hotel in Holden, Alberta rippin’ it up for these cowboys. I’ll admit that sometimes I lose my self in a daydream of a different life or foreign lands. It doesn’t last long as I am quickly jerked from my reverie from the loud, growly, drunken slurs and cheers of the small town crowd.

Be It Resolved that getting a boob job is a better way to enlarge your breasts than breastfeeding.

Most people are probably not aware how similar boob jobs are to breastfeeding, at least when it comes to cause and effect. You want big boobs? Pump out a little suckler and in no time your depressions will become swollen double Ds. Throw down a few grand and a surgeon will cut you up, inject some fluid and call you Dolly Parton.

Trouble is, what's the best method? Sure breastfeeding doesn't cost you anything, unless you count the cost of the child itself, which runs at around 1 mil these days. Now, if you are think you might only want big knockers for a short period of time, perhaps breastfeeding is the way to go. If you're like me, once you ween your little one, your luscious grapefruits will soon become bananas. I believe that breast augmentation (what a lovely euphamism) is reversable, but you will probably have to pay for that.

Jaclyn and I have an intimate relationship with the boobjob/breastfeeding comparison. While I was nursing Nathan, Jaclyn came to stay with us to recover from her surgery. We were both up in the middle of the night, swollen mammories and shared ice packs. Yes - a boobjob will keep you awake for the first couple days after the surgery, which is not the case with breastfeeding (unless you have strong tranquilizers.)

Don't get me wrong - I'm pro-breastfeeding. There are all those lovely benefits (weightloss, hormone highs, appetite of a pot-smoking hippy, etc), but perhaps it is not the ideal way to grow your titties.

Soooo, just to give you all a "taste" of how close my sister and I truly are, I have Posted this picture of me trying my sisters Breast milk. 

 XOXO Jac

Hello!!!

 I would like to take this opportunity to introduce myself.

 Some May know me as Jaclyn, others may know me as "Jac The Ripper"

 I am 23 years old. I live in Vancouver B.C. Although more than 50% of my time is spent in foreign exotic locations such as Calgary, Red deer, Fort McMurray , Grand Prairie, Nisku, and Holden Alberta.

 You may ask "What do these places have to offer a 23 year old female?" After all 70% of the population in such regions are "oil riggin pigs" And my answer to you is "MONEY!"

 I am a "Stripper" (my mother prefers to call me a exotic entertainer but I dont feel the need to over-glamorize what I do)

 Thats right. I travel to small towns and provide these "oil riggin pigs" with their exotic entertainment. I strip down, get naked, peel it all off, and I rip it up, Night after night after night.

 I should tell you "Jac The Ripper" is my stage name. It is a condensed version of "Jaclyn the Stripper". Get it JAClyn THE stRIPPER?

 By day I am just Jaclyn, born and raised in small town Whitehorse, Yukon. I grew up camping hiking skiing and other outdoorsy activities....

"God only Knows" how I wound up here in my Nisku hotel room, blogging about Stripping.

 Its time for me to wrap it up. I am on stage in 15 minutes.... Oh decisions....  Should I wear my Race Car costume my "Elvis" or my dominatrix?

It was very nice to meet you all!

 Much love and kisses

 Jaclyn aka JAC THE RIPPER

Be Nice To Nathan

Lately, I seam to spend every evening asking my husband why I find it so difficult to be nice to our 3-year old son Nathan. He is intelligent, sweet, loving and cute as can be. So why do I feel like I’m being followed around by my own personal red-headed version of Jar Jar Binks? My husband tells me that only something produced by my own genetics would know so intimately which buttons he needs to push.

Take the other day as an example. It was after lunch and Nathan was poking his head up over the window sill, looking out at the decaying late winter vegetation.

“Mommy, why is there a muffin crumb up in that tree?”

“That’s dead leaves Nathan.” I replied, my hands deep in sudsy water.

“Why is it dead leaves Mommy?”

“Because its still winter sweetie.”

“But why is it still winter mommy?”

“Because its February.”

“But why is it February Mommy?”

“It just IS Nathan.”

“But why, mommy why? Mommy, you’re not saying anything. Why, Mommy, why?”

Ever seen a 3 year old have a temper tantrum over the fact that a bunch of dead leaves in a tree was not a muffin crumb? I have.

Earlier that morning, I woke up to find Nathan standing on a chair pushed up to the counter, six previously unopened one liter juice tetrapaks before him. He was carefully tasting from each one in turn.

“I’m having my juice mommy,” he joyfully announced as a stream of liquid cascaded down the front of his jammies and pooled around the bottom of the chair.

When I signed up for his parenting gig four years ago, I never expected that I might be irritated by my own progeny. Frustrated, yes, worried, yes, but irritated? Irritation is reserved for the obnoxious offspring of “other people”. You know, the ones who obviously don’t discipline their children properly or why would they be screaming for the box of fruit loops in the grocery isle? Irritated by my own child, never! Or so I thought.

Now I stand, watching my 3 year old holding his uneaten sandwich over the floor, like a cheesy ransom note, while I say, “Nathan, please don’t drop your sandwich on the floor.” Guess what happens next. And screaming for the fruit loops? Can we say grocery store melt-down? Everytime.

The day would go on, my mood and temper rising up the ramp of impatience like peanuts on the conveyer belt to the crushing machine, when finally I am broken like a stale cracker under a bare foot. I yell at him over something minutely meaningless, like him forgetting to flush the toilet. Much screaming and yelling in sues, with Nathan inevitably spending much of the rest of his day in “time out”.

At the end of the day, when I am tucking Nathan into his bed, he reaches for me, wrapping his thin alabaster arms around my neck and whispering in my ear, “I love you mommy.” I almost cry, thinking of how many times I said the word “No” that day. Finally, I feel the knot in my eyebrows unfurling.

Perhaps it is my behavior that needs to be nudged in the positive direction. The next day I stick little post-it notes all over the house with the words, “Be Nice to Nathan” written in washable purple ink. One on the bathroom mirror for those nights that he screams while I comb his hair, one on the fridge for when he decides to grab the box of cheerios from the pantry and make a run for it. I put them everywhere. Little yellow reminders of the hug at the end of the day. Telling me, this moment is fleeting, chose your words softly, as he will only be my little 3 year old Nathan once.

The First Blog

This is a blog about Jaclyn and Emily, two sisters. As I'm the scientific one (Emily), I feel the best way to summarize our relationship is in point form:
Similarities:
Brown Hair
Five Fingers, Five Toes
Unconscious habit of tucking thumb into fist
Love of Sushi

Differences:
Blood Type (one of us is adopted)
Occupation (Stripper and Mom)
Height (midget and Goliath)
Skin Type (Whitey McWhite and Dark Coffee Bean)

The idea is, we can use this blog to post tidbits about our differing lives. I can blog about motherhood, and Jaclyn can blog about stripping.

We also have a radio documentary that was made for CBC Radio's now defunct program Outfront. It is called "My Sister is a Stripper" and can be found at the following url:
www.cbc.ca/outfront
Follow the links to "Past Shows" and look us up at the beginning of April, 2009.