My sister's first child, Jennifer Chapman Hladkowicz, was born on May 2, 1985. The event was one of huge importance in our immediate family, because she was the first grandchild for my parents. For me, it was an opportunity to act like the beneficent uncle by setting up a trust fund (which, by the way, I later collapsed when my own business fortunes ran into difficulty):
It was a Thursday afternoon, and I have to confess that when Mother 'phoned me at the Office to tell me, I really didn't know what to do with the news, except of course to go through the niceties of saying how exciting, etc. But now - but NOW! - that I have seen the beautiful creation, and held her tiny little soul in my arms, I am nothing but love for her! I want to protect her, and ensure that she has nothing but the best forever. Already I am planning a multitude of reasons why she should not go out with this boy or that boy, or stay out late; and why she should learn to play the piano, and go for long walks along the canal. May 8, 1985.
Visited with Mother, Lindy, Ed and the baby this weekend. Dad was away making money with Laurie Rintoul; they're building a house for a fellow in Pakenham. Doesn't seem to be doing dad any harm. The baby has two new teeth, her only teeth in fact. They're on the bottom of her mouth. September 3, 1985.
My enjoyment of children was, as is so often the case, pretty much confined to the enjoyment of them for brief periods only following their birth. Lest I be accused of levelling such a claim at my blood relatives only, I refer to an incident which took place about this time:
For someone like me who has travelled and moved about so much, you'd think I'd be good at adaptation. But I'm not. I've just returned from taking Scott McLaren and his buddy, Bruce Reid, out for dinner at I. P. Looney's and a movie (“Commando”, starring Mr. Muscle Himself, Arnold Schwartzenegger). The whole evening had me completely disoriented. They did not pause for a drink or two before dinner, but ploughed right into the trough. The music which they insisted on playing (and, I might add, replaying) on the casette deck in the car was Brian Adams screaming about the year 1969 (which I thought was rather odd, considering the boys - who are only 14 at the most - weren't even alive then!). Not to mention the movie itself, which makes Canada Packer's slaughter house look like Bambi. The only blessing was that they both passed out like clockwork around 9:30 p.m., as I was driving them home.
My second niece, Julia, took her first breath in 1987:
Lindy's second child was born yesterday afternoon around five-thirty. The birth necessitated a “C” Section, which I have always thought was a rather dreadful sort of thing. Apparently both mother and child are well. I'm having lunch with Carolyn McLaren today in Ottawa, so we'll probably take a minute to drop into see them at the hospital (the Civic, Room 4040). The child is a little girl. I think we were all sort
It was a Thursday afternoon, and I have to confess that when Mother 'phoned me at the Office to tell me, I really didn't know what to do with the news, except of course to go through the niceties of saying how exciting, etc. But now - but NOW! - that I have seen the beautiful creation, and held her tiny little soul in my arms, I am nothing but love for her! I want to protect her, and ensure that she has nothing but the best forever. Already I am planning a multitude of reasons why she should not go out with this boy or that boy, or stay out late; and why she should learn to play the piano, and go for long walks along the canal. May 8, 1985.
Visited with Mother, Lindy, Ed and the baby this weekend. Dad was away making money with Laurie Rintoul; they're building a house for a fellow in Pakenham. Doesn't seem to be doing dad any harm. The baby has two new teeth, her only teeth in fact. They're on the bottom of her mouth. September 3, 1985.
My enjoyment of children was, as is so often the case, pretty much confined to the enjoyment of them for brief periods only following their birth. Lest I be accused of levelling such a claim at my blood relatives only, I refer to an incident which took place about this time:
For someone like me who has travelled and moved about so much, you'd think I'd be good at adaptation. But I'm not. I've just returned from taking Scott McLaren and his buddy, Bruce Reid, out for dinner at I. P. Looney's and a movie (“Commando”, starring Mr. Muscle Himself, Arnold Schwartzenegger). The whole evening had me completely disoriented. They did not pause for a drink or two before dinner, but ploughed right into the trough. The music which they insisted on playing (and, I might add, replaying) on the casette deck in the car was Brian Adams screaming about the year 1969 (which I thought was rather odd, considering the boys - who are only 14 at the most - weren't even alive then!). Not to mention the movie itself, which makes Canada Packer's slaughter house look like Bambi. The only blessing was that they both passed out like clockwork around 9:30 p.m., as I was driving them home.
My second niece, Julia, took her first breath in 1987:
Lindy's second child was born yesterday afternoon around five-thirty. The birth necessitated a “C” Section, which I have always thought was a rather dreadful sort of thing. Apparently both mother and child are well. I'm having lunch with Carolyn McLaren today in Ottawa, so we'll probably take a minute to drop into see them at the hospital (the Civic, Room 4040). The child is a little girl. I think we were all sort
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of hoping that it would be a boy. But I hardly think that matters now. As long as the child is healthy (the special operation was necessary because the doctors had “lost the heartbeat” for a moment, and they were concerned about the loss of oxygen to the baby). November 15, 1987.
Julia is quite different from Jennifer. Jennifer is more oriented to things like animals and the out-of- doors, whereas Julia appears to have a bent for ballet, dolls and fancy clothing. I recall once when Julia informed me that she had been at the Ottawa Athletic Club where she had fallen into the pool with all her clothes on. When I expressed alarm and surprise at this event, she summarily dismissed its significance by pointing out that she hadn't had her patent leather shoes on!
The combined force of family and children confronted me one Sunday:
An odd day for me. Allowed myself the privilege of sleeping in this morning. Didn't get up until toward ten o'clock. Had a quick bit of breakfast, consisting of a frappee milk, two bananas (which were getting too ripe) and an apple. Then attacked the remaining thing on my weekend list - cleaning the garage. Took just about everything out except the woodpile and what was hung on the walls, gave it a thorough sweep, then put it all back; thinking all the while how extremely fussy I am. Added to the list by polishing the only two pair of shoes (loafers) which I have worn for the past month during the extreme heat which we have had. Then came the visitors.
I had invited Mother and Dad for lunch today. They arrived as scheduled, and we were just settling into the pre-luncheon drinks (Dad and I had apple juice - I'm serious about losing some weight), when the doorbell rang, and Lindy, Ed and the two children were on the doorstep, and I remembered that I had mentioned to them that they were welcome to drop in to look at the two chairs which I had got from Louis to see if they wanted them.. Well, that was the end of the day for me. They hadn't had lunch, and yes, they would stay (notwithstanding Ed's genuine protestations to Lindy), but comforted nonetheless by Mother's exhortations, and Dad's rather huffy sentiment that there should never be any trouble in any home making room for a mouth or two more at the table (as he rested quietly). This of course put me immediately out-of-control, and particularly wishing that I hadn't after all got the damn Crown Darby and sterling and French crystal out for what was supposed to be a quiet lunch with the parents. Events for me went from bad to worse rather quickly. What with Dad encouraging Jennifer to pound on the Steinway, Julia drooling on the Persians, Mother starting to abandon the whole concept of eating as frivolous as the tail end of her vodka and tonic started to take a grip on her, and my stomach rumbling, not to mention my awakening feeling of helplessness as I wondered what room Jennifer was now in, which door she had left open, and what would be the first bit of art, crystal or porcelain to hit the floor in pieces.
of hoping that it would be a boy. But I hardly think that matters now. As long as the child is healthy (the special operation was necessary because the doctors had “lost the heartbeat” for a moment, and they were concerned about the loss of oxygen to the baby). November 15, 1987.
Julia is quite different from Jennifer. Jennifer is more oriented to things like animals and the out-of- doors, whereas Julia appears to have a bent for ballet, dolls and fancy clothing. I recall once when Julia informed me that she had been at the Ottawa Athletic Club where she had fallen into the pool with all her clothes on. When I expressed alarm and surprise at this event, she summarily dismissed its significance by pointing out that she hadn't had her patent leather shoes on!
The combined force of family and children confronted me one Sunday:
An odd day for me. Allowed myself the privilege of sleeping in this morning. Didn't get up until toward ten o'clock. Had a quick bit of breakfast, consisting of a frappee milk, two bananas (which were getting too ripe) and an apple. Then attacked the remaining thing on my weekend list - cleaning the garage. Took just about everything out except the woodpile and what was hung on the walls, gave it a thorough sweep, then put it all back; thinking all the while how extremely fussy I am. Added to the list by polishing the only two pair of shoes (loafers) which I have worn for the past month during the extreme heat which we have had. Then came the visitors.
I had invited Mother and Dad for lunch today. They arrived as scheduled, and we were just settling into the pre-luncheon drinks (Dad and I had apple juice - I'm serious about losing some weight), when the doorbell rang, and Lindy, Ed and the two children were on the doorstep, and I remembered that I had mentioned to them that they were welcome to drop in to look at the two chairs which I had got from Louis to see if they wanted them.. Well, that was the end of the day for me. They hadn't had lunch, and yes, they would stay (notwithstanding Ed's genuine protestations to Lindy), but comforted nonetheless by Mother's exhortations, and Dad's rather huffy sentiment that there should never be any trouble in any home making room for a mouth or two more at the table (as he rested quietly). This of course put me immediately out-of-control, and particularly wishing that I hadn't after all got the damn Crown Darby and sterling and French crystal out for what was supposed to be a quiet lunch with the parents. Events for me went from bad to worse rather quickly. What with Dad encouraging Jennifer to pound on the Steinway, Julia drooling on the Persians, Mother starting to abandon the whole concept of eating as frivolous as the tail end of her vodka and tonic started to take a grip on her, and my stomach rumbling, not to mention my awakening feeling of helplessness as I wondered what room Jennifer was now in, which door she had left open, and what would be the first bit of art, crystal or porcelain to hit the floor in pieces.
Ed was slow to come around to an acceptance of the invasion, but he did soothe his frustration at being contradicted by Lindy by having a drop of wine and something to eat. Jennifer was he usual uncontrollable self at the table, standing up on the needle-work, punching the heavy fork into the Bartlett place mats, and constantly leaving the table, stamping into the drawing room (unattended, except when Ed could see the fire in my eyes), and then spending five minutes pounding Julia on the face and head with the better half of an egg carton, which she continued to do notwithstanding Lindy's failing attempts at discipline. Finally, the carton was taken away, amidst screams and “I don't want to's”, and Ed disappeared into the drawing room with Jennifer and perhaps Julia, leaving me staring at the table which now had the aspect of a battle field with about as many survivors still seated around it. At which point Mother then brought in a plate of cookies (I hadn't even had the chance to finish my own meal, much less clean the table), and Jennifer was back making a smashing mess out of what cookies she could get her hands on (and she wanted them all - the whole bloody plate) and a crumbling and spitting mess out of the occasional one she put in her mouth. Dad of course was the spirited intellect as always, interjecting such helpful social tips as, “There's more to life than eating”, the full import of which I can readily say is best known to him; and when the coffee arrived, he did of course wonder aloud which car was drained of its crank case oil for this cup of restorative. Mother loved it. As did I. In fact, at this point I was just settling into a rather numbed state of euphoria, enjoying a cigarette with my crank case oil in the midst of the rabble, when Lindy, having accomplished he appointed task, put down her table napkin and announced they really should be off. Well, that of course started the whole machinery up all over again, crashing of chairs in the sideboard as adults lathered in babies began to make their way from the table while bumping one another, nearly slopping coffee, and finally leaving me sitting there, totally alone, sucking on one of the few Winston's which I still had left after Mother and Lindy had rediscovered the taste for the same, with the happy prospect of spending the rest of the day washing every bit of crystal and earthenware I own (unless of course I threw it all into the dishwasher, which I naturally do not like to do unless it's particularly late and I'm particularly drunk).
After they had all left, I began a hurried expiation of guilt, flooding everything I own with Javex, Brasso, CopperClean, detergent and Tilex. Even did the rings, which is a sure sign I've hit bottom. But after a short nap, with everything in its apple-pie order, another gallon of coffee, and an invitation from Franz, the world returns to normal. Restrained mental chaos. July 31, 1988.
But things between me and my nieces has generally improved over the years:
Saw my two wonderful nieces, Jennifer and Julia, yesterday. They showed me their beach in the basement. We were at Cape Cod, went swimming, diving and fishing. They are far more affectionate with me than originally. Partly, I'm sure, because I see them regularly, and they are no longer afraid of me. They make me very happy. March 24, 1991.
After they had all left, I began a hurried expiation of guilt, flooding everything I own with Javex, Brasso, CopperClean, detergent and Tilex. Even did the rings, which is a sure sign I've hit bottom. But after a short nap, with everything in its apple-pie order, another gallon of coffee, and an invitation from Franz, the world returns to normal. Restrained mental chaos. July 31, 1988.
But things between me and my nieces has generally improved over the years:
Saw my two wonderful nieces, Jennifer and Julia, yesterday. They showed me their beach in the basement. We were at Cape Cod, went swimming, diving and fishing. They are far more affectionate with me than originally. Partly, I'm sure, because I see them regularly, and they are no longer afraid of me. They make me very happy. March 24, 1991.
And even I was drawn into the concern about child-rearing:
My nieces are growing and developing daily. I don't like to think of all that they have ahead of them. It's overwhelming what one would like to teach them; and teach them to avoid. June 10, 1991.
At times, my patience with their “growing up” was less than exemplary:
Just wandered about the Market today. Bought some stuff for Dad. Went for a sauna. But the retirement was short-lived, because the nieces were at the house for dinner. Then followed the customary violence of behaviour and indiscretion. People jumping up and down at the table, marshmallows for hor d'oeuvres, wails and screams, dancing about, almost crashing into bookcases and tables. It was all I could do to extricate myself from it, parting with cheery waves of the hand out the car window amidst pleadings from the girls to play with the car seats, or carry them aboutonmyshoulders(which,infact,IdidwithEdafterdinner). SmallwonderI'm exhausted. June 16, 1991.
My nieces are growing and developing daily. I don't like to think of all that they have ahead of them. It's overwhelming what one would like to teach them; and teach them to avoid. June 10, 1991.
At times, my patience with their “growing up” was less than exemplary:
Just wandered about the Market today. Bought some stuff for Dad. Went for a sauna. But the retirement was short-lived, because the nieces were at the house for dinner. Then followed the customary violence of behaviour and indiscretion. People jumping up and down at the table, marshmallows for hor d'oeuvres, wails and screams, dancing about, almost crashing into bookcases and tables. It was all I could do to extricate myself from it, parting with cheery waves of the hand out the car window amidst pleadings from the girls to play with the car seats, or carry them aboutonmyshoulders(which,infact,IdidwithEdafterdinner). SmallwonderI'm exhausted. June 16, 1991.
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