Say it Ain't Joe!

A few weeks ago, I described how Ciaran and I literally laughed one of our neighbors out of the house, which wasn't one of my proudest moments, but somehow oddly appropriate at the time.

Well, it seems we're Ciaran is hellbent on alienating more neighbor folk - this time making no secret of his utter dislike for Joe, who lives across the street.

Now, if Joe was a cantankerous old man who yelled or called the cops on kids playing outside his house, I could understand my son's anxiety, but Joe is, in reality, one of the most friendly, jovial people in the neighborhood.

That being said, he does have quite a loud, boisterous voice. And Ciaran is obviously threatened by it. Also, the boy seemingly has an aversion to the name "Joe".

My husband has a cousin also named Joe and he could be "neighbor Joe's" twin. They both wear baseball caps on a regular basis, sport mustaches and bellow speak in a very outgoing manner.

One day a few weeks back, as Ciaran played in the front yard with Tony, he caught sight of neighbor Joe outside his house and ran to hide behind the car, all the while yelling at the top of his lungs, "Oh no, it's Joe! I don't like Joe!"

Tony tried to tell him to keep it down or Joe's feelings would be hurt, but Ciaran shouted even louder, "Joe's not a good name! Joe's not a good name!!"

On Halloween night, while we made our rounds around the hood, Ciaran squeezed my hand hard when we approached Joe's awesomely-decorated house. "Not Joe's house, Mom," he stage-whispered. Well, at least he didn't scream it at the top of his lungs. We moved on to the next house.

But Joe was not to be avoided. As we went about our trick-or-treating business, we bumped into him and his little boy at every turn. Which did not make Ciaran a happy camper. And it certainly didn't help matters when Joe took to howling like a werewolf each time he saw us.

When we returned home, Ciaran helped Tony give out candy, and who was the first trick-or-treater to show up at the door? Joe with his son, of course.

On the plus side, The Man now has a name! I no longer have to use the empty threat of having the call The Man, or even Santa Claus when Ciaran acts up. Nope. All I have to do is utter the "J-word" to make him listen, get his PJ's on, or clean up his toys.

So much for thinking I'd never use fear to get my kid to do stuff. Sometimes it just gets to that point. And it works, for now, anyway.

Alienating the neighbors one at a time...

The other day, I did something I never thought I'd do - I let a complete stranger into my home. She caught me off guard, ringing the doorbell on yet another chaotic evening for me and the boy.

On the night in question, I was making a pizza, entertaining Ciaran by letting him "help" grate cheese, and cleaning up all the bits that didn't make it to the pizza. As usual, cheese ended up squished between tile grout, on chairs and in pretty much every little nook & cranny in the kitchen.

So, swearing under my breath at this unwanted interruption, I'm frazzled and not in the most welcoming state of mind as I answer the door. Especially since the woman standing there is wearing what appears to be one of those phony-ass-looking gas company badges whose logo doesn't resemble the company I deal with. I've heard stories about these door-to-door "sales associates" scamming people and I'm instantly suspicious.

She senses my wariness, asking if she's "caught me at a bad time." What I want to say is, "Bitch, I'm covered in cheese and pizza sauce, my kid's running around on some kind of sugar high and there's a burning pizza in my oven, so no, now's not the ideal time to drop by unannounced." But, instead I mumble something about "having a late dinner" and follow it up by the world's most insincere "can I help you?"

She introduces herself and explains that she's a neighbor from just down the street so I let down my guard. Somewhat. After the wackjob neighborhood I recently moved out of, I'm still paranoid of people showing up at my door, even if they seem harmless enough. Anyway she apparently works part-time for a water heater company and wants to tell her neighbors all about some amazing 4-day only promotion being offered.

Wonderful. 

As I'm trying to think up some excuse to get out of this conversation, she's suddenly inviting herself inside to have a look at our water heater. And, because I'm a total pushover and can't think of anything to say to avoid the current situation without sounding rude, (and god knows I don't want to offend a neighbor), I let her in. But not before I ask her which house she lives in. Not that that would help me if she did happen to be some crazed serial killer posing as a hot water heater salesperson. Cause that's what is actually going through my head at this moment.

We head down to my war-zone-resembling basement to examine this heater that I've never given a second glance, Ciaran clinging timidly to my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my some of my husband's tools sticking out of one of the many boxes strewn about and decide that if it comes down to it, I'll grab a hammer for protection.

But, of course there's no need for it. She's deeply engrossed in the inspection of the heater and begins this whole spiel on how there's lead in our pipes (turns out there isn't) and that the heater is too old and we really need to take advantage of this wonderful offer she's only telling her neighbors about.

Then, something horrifying happens. Ciaran, my dear, sweet little son starts giggling uncontrollably and while I'm asking him to please not be so silly, the lady is trying to talk to Mommy, I suddenly burst into laughter. I try to cover it up, pretending I'm just laughing at him laughing, but I really can't stop. The poor woman is still pitching her product to me, but I'm in hysterics. The more I try to be serious, the more absurd the whole thing seems and I just can't pull it together. It's like I'm 11 again, and my younger brother has made me laugh during church and I know it's inappropriate, but that just makes it all the harder to stop.

I really need to start getting more sleep.  Buy hey, on the plus side? I haven't gotten any more salespeople dropping by.

Wasn't That a Party!

Over this past weekend, something totally unexpected and highly unusual happened. Our new neighbors not only spoke to us, but invited us to a friendly neighborhood barbecue.

Now, to you this might not seem all that unlikely, but seeing how we've recently escaped Shantytown after 13 hellish years, I'm still shell-shocked and even slightly suspicious when people are so...well, nice.

The minute we moved into our new house, we were greeted with smiling faces and friendly waves, some folks even stopping by for introductions and welcomes.

There were even a couple of "Well, if you need anything, we're right down the street", which is a very neighborly thing to say, don't you think?

I mean  I know, and they know, that the chances of me actually ringing their doorbells "needing anything" will probably never happen, but after living suffering next to the riffraff from our old hood, I appreciated just hearing it.

So, when Sandra across the street casually mentioned that she was hosting a Canada Day shindig on Friday evening and that we should stop by, we took it with a grain of salt and politely said, sure, we'd try.

I never dreamed that part of the street would be shut down with pylons, kids playing soccer in the middle of the road, a row of barbecues lining Sandra's driveway. Enough wine and Coronas to rival an all-inclusive Mexican resort filling her garage.

And we certainly never expected 2 lovely neighbor ladies to come knocking; persuading us to join in the fun taking place right outside our door.

So, despite my usual shyness of new people and trepidation of taking part in such things, I decided to throw all caution to the wind and embrace it.

And though the music was ear-splittingly loud, and not the kind I usually listen to, and kids ran amok, people danced in the street, and fireworks went off like cannons all around us, we did meet some really cool folks of all ages and walks of life.

But the best part? In the moment of that crazy, unexpected evening, I finally felt like a part of a community. And I have to say it felt pretty awesome.

Ciaran's new favorite neighbor helping light his 1st sparkler

Ciaran & Mommy (unable to take a picture with open eyes - especially drunk)