Lovin' the CRA

Over the past few years, I have come in more contact with the Canada Revenue Agency than any other form of bureaucracy at any other point in time in my life. Happily, it's not because I'm in any specific trouble. We seem to be locked in some sort of therapy with one another: we're in touch because we don't entirely understand each other. I ask questions of them. They respond not with answers, but with questions of their own. We somehow fail to find a common ground of understanding.

Almost all of this miscommunication has happened with the International Tax Office. The office seems to be made up of some of the most well-meaning, genuinely nice people of any government office I have ever come across. I perceive them to come undone because of the insane complexity of what they're trying to achieve: namely, taxing one who does not live in the country by rules that vary base on which country he (or she) is currently residing in. There is a published set of guidelines and, rather distressingly for honest but simple people like me, another set of unpublished policies that only come to light when you controvene one of them. So, I remain in correspondence with the International Tax Office over a couple of points that surface on an officer's "to-do" list every 8 months or so. However, to deal with the current iteration of our misunderstanding, we still need to get to the bottom of some questions I posed to them back in January, 2007. Those answers seem difficult to clarify. I remain unable to answer the questions they have for me while the International Tax Office remain unable to answer the questions I have for them. The policy for impasse seems to be to bury the file... until eight or so months later we re-exchange our confusion in the politest of terms.

Ange, however, took our CRA confusion to a whole new level. She once received the Universal Child Care Benefit. We left for England and she asked it stop. It didn't. She held the cheques. 6 months later they informed us we shouldn't be receiving it. She sent back the cheques. Seemingly end of story. But then Ange re-applied for the same Universal Child Care Benefit on returning to Canada. This caused some confusion at the CRA and we were forced to re-visit this cheques issued and returned thing again. Unlike their friends over the in the International Tax Office, the very nice people in the Tax Services Office recommended regular, multiple applications for the same benefit. After some back and forth, it all seemed to be mostly resolved... in as much as Ange and I were, at least, not in trouble and probably would just get the benefit...though they might hold a little back until they had thought it through. This was all confirmed in a phone conversation. And then they sent us a letter.

So, I will lay out the letter for you and we're going to play some "interactive blog" again. The rules are simple. You tell us what the hell they mean by the following letter. If you're right (and this may take some time to be resolved), we'll either have you by for dinner or send you sweets from Vancouver.

The letter:

This is further to your telephone conversation of May **, 2009 with ****** *********, an officer of the Appeals Division.

We have considered your objection for the year shown above and have concluded that the determination has been correctly issued.

Therefore, as agreed recently, we hereby confirm the determination under subextion 165(3) of the Income Tax Act.

Yours sincerely,

So, the question is: are they saying, "No, no, you were right all along!" Or are they saying, "No, despite your appeal, you're wrong."

Have fun with it. We do.

A different perspective on this morning

It's always a little tough to garner what a one year old is thinking, but if you take the combination of facial expression and noise and stir in a little "fill in the blank", I expect his feelings on a typical morning, after a week without mum goes something like this:

5:50am
Whoa, it's light in here. I should get up.
I'll call out for mum: "Eeeehhhhaaaa? Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck. Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa?"
Nothing? What a bother. I'll just get myself up. If I can just stand up. Stupid sleep sack. What the hell are they thinking putting me in this thing? I can't stand. It gets caught under me and twisted. They're creating claustrophobia where it doesn't yet exist. Damn it. Okay, I'll just drag myself up using solely my arms.... screw it. I'll sit. Where is mum? (*slightly louder:*) "Eeeehhhhaaaa? Tuck, tuck, tuck, tuck. Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa?"

Ah, I hear mum coming up the steps.

Dad? This is ridiculous. Where's mum? You can get me out of this sack and give me a drink, but I'm on the look out for mum.

No. Don't try to cuddle me. Where is mum, anyway? What have you done with her?

6:02am
You're trying to change me already? You think I'm going to make this easy on you? No way. You just try and do up that nappy. I can see you grimacing and I can outlast you.

Okay, okay: blowing on my tummy is pretty funny. Okay, stop it. No, not really. Do it again. Okay, stop.

Heh! How did you get that nappy done up? You won't fool me so easily next time.

6:07am
Right, dad is going to get my clothes. I'll go when he not looking. If I do the half walk, half crawl crab maneuver I can get out of the room and half way down the hall before he has picked out a pair of trousers. Anna will know where mum is. "Annanananana?" Sleeping? "Mmmmmmwhhhhhhaaaaa? Ah. Ah. Ah. Ka."

Doesn't she know it's time to get up and dad has lost mum?

6:18am
Breakfast is on! I'll have a banana please: "Nananana" Good. And a piece of toast: "Aaaaannnnnnhhhhhh!". And whatever you're drinking in that cup. Alright, water in my own cup. Consider yourself warned, dad, put that cup within my reach and it's mine. In fact, put anything within reach and not only will I take it, I'll eat it.

For crying out loud: no, I won't have anymore applesauce. Alright, I'll have some applesauce, but only if you let me have the spoon. I'm going to get the spoon. Put that near my mouth and... I've got it. Hooray (*spoon flies about and food lands everywhere*)! What the? Where is the applesauce and why are my trousers wet? And while you're answering questions, what did you do with mum?

7:24am
I am glad to be down from the table.

Is that Anna? Let's walk, dad! You hold my hand. Baby steps... okay, big, leaning forward at crazy angle steps.

Forget Anna, there's the cat! Dad, have you seen that there is a cat living in our house? Oh my God. A cat. I need to touch the cat. I need to touch the cat. I need to touch the cat. Get over here cat. Two hands. YES! Sweet little kitty cat.

Why are you whimpering, cat?

No! No!!!! No, dad: don't take me away from the cat. I love her. You... can... grab me... but I'm not... letting... go... of the cat. SEE? I still have her! She's coming with me. And what the hell does "gently" mean anyway?

7:27am
TV? Movement. The pretty colours! They're so... beautiful. Oh, the music. It's... it's... it's in my soul. My feet are moving. My butt. I'm going to fall down! I may have lost my balance, but I'm right back at it. I'm up!

Where did you go, dad? Mum wouldn't leave me here alone. What's Anna on about breakfast. We've already eaten. I'll just go over and explain.

I'm almost at the kitchen... knock at the door. I'll need to do one of these turns that I've been practising. It's wide... but successful. All right door, here I come.

OMA!! Hooray! Dad, look, it's Oma! "Mamamamamama"

Speaking of which, Oma: are you aware that dad lost mum? Do you know where mum is?

7:45am
Dad seems to be preparing to leave. I can tell by the kisses. Stop kissing me dad. You're embarrassing me in front of the cat.

Alright, you can kiss my neck because it tickles.

Now get out of here. Oma is here--and while not mum--she's infinitely more competent than you.

I'll wave at the window.
Now go.
Bye. (*waving, using most of his body*)

People who rock

Jaqcui. A dinner arrives at the house, with wine, the kids are entertained and then the dishes are done. Throw in an extra couple of hours of adult conversation? Jacqui rocks like Def Leppard.

Erika, Harley and Hudson. Two meals over at their house (only a couple doors down) with full kid entertainment included, daily phone calls to see if they can help out and generally making this week thoroughly enjoyable. Considering we've known them all of three weeks, I am reminded daily that they rock... like Van Halen.

Oma and Opa. Of course, Oma's ongoing care is sincerely appreciated... but the Saturday afternoon/evening gardening, dinner and bedtime help was sincerely appreciated. If only the Canucks had made the evening better for Opa. They rock, but in a more mellow Bon Jovi ballad kind of way.

Anna and Caleb. With questionable parenting, haphazard meals, keen but uncreative imaginary play from dad and a whole lot of missing mum, the two of them are amazing. Amongst a whole lot of cooperation, Caleb has even pretty much learned to walk. They rock AC/DC style.

The weekend has drawn to a close. We made it to all of our appointments. Anna's ballet on Saturday was pulled off. Anna is the most focused ballerina of any of the other 3 year olds. She takes dancing seriously. If they added some mermaid content to that dance class, it would be a drug for her. Church this morning was pulled off mostly successfully. One kind lady saw me struggling to herd the two of them and briefly collected Caleb. He was entirely unimpressed, but it served a useful conditioned learning exercise: "ignore dad's pleas to go in a certain direction and there's no telling who will pick you up." We even made it, on time, to meet Erika, Chris, Sophie, Brita, Andrew and Elliot for coffee and play-park time. Sunshine, slides, dirt and dogs. All the ingredients to entertain Anna and Caleb.

So, where do we stand?

Melt-downs: 0. I remain proudest of this. I nearly had a melt-down because I couldn't find Anna's ballet shoes. It's funny what nearly becomes your undoing. It took nearly an hour and most of the house was flipped upside down, but they were found. I was stressed and grumpy. I may have been less stressed and grumpy were it not for the 4:50am wake up Caleb pulled on me that morning. I have now resolved not to get out of bed until 6:00 unless it's truly frantic crying. This morning, I lay awake and listened to Caleb from 5:15 til 6:01. Mum's jet lag is going to be appreciated in the mornings!

TV time: Disney is once again my undoing. After a great week, Anna deserved a "movie night". She chose "Tinkerbell". I didn't actually watch it all the way through, but the plot was something painful. The fairies are responsible for spring. Tinkerbell nearly ruined it all, which would have meant no spring. Tinkerbell fixed the problem by believing in herself or some other such rubbish. I could go on about the flaws in the plot and the underlying inconsistencies in the movie, but I won't. I'm not the demographic they were writing the script for. Still, we watched it twice and there were fairies talking to mermaids in the bath tonight, meaning they've got into Anna's head. Other than that, it was spotty and inconsequential. Mainly filling a few moments while I ran off to chase down Caleb or throw him on the potty.

Getting out of the house: In spades. Video store, Safeway, ballet, park, Hudson's house, garden, church, coffee shop, different park, Hudson's house again.

Eating well. Possibly not. I'm trying to diversify from fish sticks, chicken nuggets and tuna: Anna's staple meat choices. While successful in diversifying, I've been less successful in actually getting Anna to consume much of the alternatives. Caleb eats most things, but he has also somehow managed to consume an unbelievable amount of applesauce in the past week. He likes it and I'm not creative.

Minimizing sugar: There's been a lot of hot chocolate this weekend.

Teaching and creative out-letting: Not really. I haven't stifled the imaginary play, but I certainly haven't introduced or taught anything.... except that Caleb's primary motivation to walk seems to be to kick the soccer ball (other than chasing the cat). This bodes well for my ability to meaningfully participate in his childhood play. I'm so much better at soccer than I am at mermaids and fairies.

Getting something non-kid done: I very nearly ran around the lawn with the lawn-mower. Apart from that, most dishes are cleaner than when we last used them. Mostly.

Need sleep. g'night!

4

I'm writing 4 on day 5. In other words, things are starting to unravel slightly. It's the little things that start to mount up. Last night, for instance, I was too tired to start folding laundry and just pushed the ever growing pile onto the floor. Incidentally, the cat was pleased with the new bed and slept on the clean laundry last night, meaning cat hair will be a feature of most clothes for the next couple of weeks.

Speaking of little things that do my head in. Anna takes a special vitamin supplement every day. In Alberta, the health-care system provided it for free, explaining that is was cheap and as her reason for needing it was so rare, they were pleased to just supply . In England, it was provided for free by a health care system that doesn't charge for prescription for anyone under 18. In BC, it's $50/month. My work plan to cover prescriptions only covers 80% after a $25 deductible, so if we get the biotin monthly, they actually only cover about $18 on $50. Ange's coverage is better, but they won't cover first because I'm older. By 3 days. Ridiculous. As we sort out process, we were eventually able to get a prescription for more of this vitamin. Unfortunately the doctor wrote down 4mg instead of 5mg. A single mg is pretty inconsequential and, even if it were, Anna has been taking 5mg for the past 2 years. Why the detail, you wonder? Because by writing down 4mg, the pharmacy can't issue the 5mg capsules which are pre-made. They have to make a special liquid concoction off-site. We managed to get the doctor re-issue the right prescription, but this special, "For Anna Only" bottle, had been made. So, for an addition $10 to us, I get the inconvenience of this stupid liquid stuff that has to be used before its shelf-live expires.

This all leads me to this morning. Out of our regular powder vitamin, I pull out the bottle this morning amidst the chaos of getting the kids ready. It's late, I'm not dressed and everything feels like it might go off the rails. I pull out the syringe they provided with the bottle to measure 8ml and get as far as the opening of the bottle, only to discover.... that the syringe is too large for the opening of the bottle. It's not a big deal except for the fact that I am so tired I can't even think how I'm going to measure 8ml out of the 2cm bottle-top with my 2.5cm-wide syringe. I may have cursed audibly. I fumbled around for a few minutes trying get my brain around this simplest of problems, eventually finding an egg cup. I poured in the liquid, measured the 8ml and poured the rest back into the bottle. I spilled at least a ml or two, meaning I've now created a new problem I get to deal with later in the month: I'm going to be short of this stuff down to spillage. I suspect they didn't factor that in when they were making this stuff up.

Anyway, here goes the measurable:

Melt-downs: 0. Jacqui came by with dinner last night. She saved me from melting down. The kids, however, are gold.

TV time: Poor. I relied on some show on CBC in the morning called Mechanical Animals for a few minutes to pull myself together. I am very suspicious of this shows innate worth. In the evening, we watched half of Curious George, which is so good it almost doesn't count as tv time. Except for that it does.

Getting out of the house: By 7:55am, baby.

Eating well: Done. Jacqui brought good food. Veggie chili. You have to know it's packed with veggies. Caleb ate more than Anna, he was so pleased with it.

Minimize sugar: Same as yesterday. None on my watch.

Teaching and creative out-letting: They were in the care of professionals, so I have to believe some of that happened. It may, however, have been undone by Mechanical Animals. Tough to say.

Getting something non-kid done: I had a non-kid conversation with Jacqui. She also did the dishes from dinner. I did nothing before 10pm and nothing well after 10pm.

Sleepishly, out.