My Saturday Odessey

It is a beautiful Saturday morning here in Calgary and the parade to Bowness Park has already started. We are so fortunate to live across the street from such a wonderful place and, indeed, we spend most of our weekdays enjoying its splendour. But I won't be going there today.

Bowness Park, like the Sirens and Circe, calls loudly to anyone with ears and enchants them to bask in its glory. On hot, summery days, like today, EVERY Tom, Dick, and Muhammad responds with a pilgrimage. But I won't be going there today. No way. I learned my lesson a few months ago.

Bowness Park seems to cast its spell over new immigrants more so than any other residents of Calgary. For a new Canadian, I think spending an afternoon watching the cheeky Canada Geese hiss at runners, and listening to the echo of hooligan rafters, is a marvelous way to get acquainted with our Canadian way of life.

On this particular Saturday in May, the park was calling to me too. My husband Ken was not feeling well and I decided to take my two year old, Neal, and my newborn daughter, Ella AND our four year old labradoodle, Morley (a.k.a. the Moo) for a much needed outing.

Neal, having just turned two, and realizing that strollers were for babies, begged to go for a walk "holding Mommy hand." Well, I'm nothing, if not a sucker. I strapped Ella in the Baby Bjorn and leashed up the Moo, holding the leash in one hand and Neal's hand in the other. Yeah, I know...I'm awesome.

As we skipped and sang happily across the bridge to the park, I remember thinking to myself, "This is what life is meant to be. I'm spending quality time with my children, I'm getting fresh air, and even though I'm functioning on one hour of sleep, I'm living it up and I feel strong!" Well, little did I know that the test of my true strength was just around the corner....

A few weeks earlier, Neal had celebrated his birthday party in style with balloons. Since that day, balloons had become his new fascination...that and cake. "Bawoons. Look!" he shrieked. Sure enough, midway across the grassy field, balloons were beckoning. They were colorful and bold- a complete contrast to their owners. No fewer than fourteen black Niquab clad Muslim woman were sitting silently on a beautiful hand woven carpet. It looked like quite a raucous party. Neal, possessed with balloon wonderment, didn’t care who owned them. As far as he was concerned, those balloons had his name on them and he was Hell bent on getting one. Morley was Hell bent on getting out of there.

Let me tell you about my dog Morley. She is part labradoodle, part PUSSY cat. She gets her personality from me. She pretends to be brave, but underneath all that curly blonde hair, she's a nervous wreck. She knows her dog duties well: be cute. be loved. protect the pack...er family. The first two duties she does extremely well and she enjoys those aspects of being a dog. The last is her downfall. Oh she'll put on a show when she has too, but confrontation (like her human mother) is her greatest weakness. And I should mention, she’s particularly afraid of people in masks.

So, on this fateful day when she spied those dark veiled people, her first instinct was to run in the opposite direction. But Neal had broken free from his Mommy and was running TOWARDS them, so begrudgingly, Morley put on her "brave dog" face and raised her "brave dog" voice.

Fourteen sets of big dark eyes stared us down. It was hard to tell if they were nervous, annoyed, or amused. Actually, I don't think they were amused. Neal was determined to get his grubby hands on a balloon and Morley was determined to let the ladies know that she did NOT approve of their wardrobe choice. I'm not going to lie to you. Running after a two year old, while being pulled by a 61 lbs. dog and carrying a wobbly headed newborn, is no easy feat. But with Spiderman strength and agility, I somehow managed to swoop up Neal just as he was about to take off with the prized balloons. Yup, now I was carrying two kids and pulling a very loudly barking Morley away from the party girls....

Neal was frustrated and PO'd and to demonstrate just how unhappy he was with me, pulled out the tried and true two year old temper tantrum, complete with the infamous kicking and head bucking techniques. Ella was also unimpressed by this point and decided that she needed to declare her feelings too. She may be a baby, but when she's mad, her temper can rival her Daddy's. Morley, relieved that she could lose the tough girl act, began to realize that we were no longer heading towards the doggie park and decided she needed to sulk too. In case you're wondering, that means walking very slowly and looking longingly in the opposite direction.

We were a spectacle. The 300 m walk back to our house was one of the longest journeys in the history of man. Somehow, by the grace of God, I did it. And I vowed never to go to the park on a Saturday again.

So, this afternoon, despite the fact that I hear the Bowness Sirens calling me, we will be having a pool party in our backyard.