Aug 13

On the day after our ninth anniversary….

There was a time when I wouldn’t have been happy with a simple trip into town on the subway…

…to eat dinner at a simple pub and make silly faces at the camera and laugh with the kids…

…and to stroll through the city after dinner and enjoy a fountain…

…and to ride the carousel with the kids before we head home early to put them to bed.

But last night it was enough. It was good enough to celebrate our family…

…and the fact that after nine years we’re still laughing together and enjoying the good and simple things in life.

I love you hubby.

Oct 11

If, without prompting of any kind, your child sits down before going to school in the morning and writes out a class roster which she takes to Kindergarten (without your knowledge or permission) in order to conduct a survey of her classmates to find out who likes (and doesn’t like) peanut butter and comes home with the results of her informal poll.  And if she had remembered the names of 18 of her 21 classmates and scrawled her mangled check marks besides names to indicate “yay” or “nay”.  If all these things had happened, you might have a Type A personality.

Oct 9

First means that the first time I held you in my arms I was terrified. Excited, happy, and scared. Simultaneously delighted and completely overwhelmed.


First means that your parents will always be just trying to figure out how to be parents. It means you will have parents who don’t really know what they are doing and are just making it up as they go along.

First also means that you are on an epic journey along with the people you call mother and father. Learning as you go.  Discovering the joy of many firsts together.  The exhilaration of first steps, first bike rides, and first dates will always be an extra special part of our bond because it is our first time, too. 

First means that you will often bear the brunt of the blame, be striving to meet high expectations, and feel that you always have the most restrictive rules compared to your counterpart. We notice you too much. I know this because I was first, too.

First means that you get the kind of undivided attention and concentrated vigilance in your first few years of life that only the first gets. It means you were our first great passion, the object of unending fascination and scrutiny.  We noticed everything. How could we not? 

First means, whether right or wrong, we sometimes claim your accomplishments and successes as our own. Because in some small way, your victories are ours, too. First means privileges and first means responsibility. First to delight me in ways I had never imagined. First to open my heart to sacrifice and the absolute fulfillment of you walking around holding my heart in your tiny fingers.

First. My first joy. We walked over the precipice of parenthood together, you in my arms. I gave birth to you and you birthed motherhood in me. First means you are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.

Second means that the first time I held you in my arms I was confident and in love.  I had already learned how to be a mother and I could relax and enjoy you more fully.

Second means your parents might be over-confident, thinking they know just who you are and not always recognizing your unique and distinct gifts and challenges.

Second means your parents are more experienced, more relaxed. Second means a little more freedom a little earlier.

Second means you might sometimes dwell in the shadow of your sibling. You were not first. You will always be second. You may sometimes be disappointed in what you will interpret as your parents’ lack of enthusiasm over your achievements.  This is not the truth. But simply the harsh truth of resources spread thin.

Second means you are in the unique position of being a constant surprise. Every time someone thinks they know you based on your family history, you will be able to startle them with how very special you are. Second means your difference is part of your charm. Second also means that you might be the same. But never a duplicate. Because the second time we appreciate so much more how fleeting every moment is.

Second means you might sometimes feel overlooked. Forgotten. Second means you will think you can get away with things because of this very problem. You won’t be getting away with them. We are just much cooler than we appear. Or we have become so after a few years of experience.

Second means that “it’s not fair!” will be an important part of your vocabulary.  Second means that even as I write this I am analyzing every word to make sure I do right by both of you. Don’t think that I resent this. It is just so very important to me that you never feel that second is somehow less. Because second is such a complete and utter joy. First arrived and granted my wish, making me a mother. Second arrived and reminded me why I made the wish in the first place.

Second. My second joy. We discovered the fountain of contentment together, you in my arms. I gave birth to you and you birthed peace in me.  Second means you are the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.

Oct 3

I was part of the way through a post about the amusing differences in brand names and product sizes and shapes across the border but I just wasn’t feeling it. Here’s where I’m really at: missing home.  Family-home. Friends- home. Saskatchewan -home. Even – gasp! - Ontario-home.  (File that under “Things I Never Thought I’d Say”!)

It’s always like this after the first month. I know you are probably saying Wait-Haven’t you been in the USA for three months now??? And you are right. But after spending the first two months in one city and then moving to another city for the last month, we have essentially started over twice.  

So. Here we are, one month in (in the current city). And I have the blues. Par for the course.  After the boxes are unpacked and the routine is sort of established, the loneliness sets in. Unfortunately, we are finding it much more challenging getting to know people here than when we moved to Ontario last year.  The hubby’s school was a very social environment last year, lending itself to making new friendships. I found some convenient groups to be involved in and was lucky to meet some people who were also new to the city and eager to make friends.

It does not feel like it’s happening as easily this time. However, memory fades the initial struggles very quickly.  I keep asking myself if it was this hard last time?  Thinking back, I know there were days when I was really lonely. Maybe it was this hard. But we are really missing the fun of hanging out with other adults. And, despite joining some groups, we are having trouble finding other adults who are interested and willing to hang out.  So there’s that. 

For me it’s such a process of getting familiar with a place that really goes a long way to making me feel “at home”.  It’s coming. But not as fast as I’d like. And, as always, days and days of rain only makes me feel the world is a gray and dismal place. And I don’t mean “gray” in the comforting “let’s all just get along” sense, either. Being in a different country, feeling everything is just a bit off, never knowing exactly how things work or when I’m going to use the “wrong” word, is contributing too. Let’s just say it’s a perfect storm of circumstances and headspace that are mixing up a super-cocktail of gloominess around our house these days. We’re beyond tired of always being the newbies and we just want to make some friends already, which is the one thing that you just can’t rush through. 

I am so TIRED of going to parks/school/lessons and feeling nothing but cool indifference from the other moms. I know people don’t usually want to go out of their way to make the new kid feel welcome.  It’s uncomfortable for them, too. And I know I have a responsibility to try to open up, make conversation, blah blah blah. But wow, is it hard these days!  I was lucky enough to get to know the mom of one of Avery’s classmates who just happens to live really close to us and she has been nothing but warm and friendly and the only thing keeping me from completely going off the deep end while dropping off/picking up Avery from school. But I can’t make one person my social circle. And I can’t direct all my desperate friend-needing energy at one person. That’s totally unfair. I am really trying to keep the hope alive that I will be able to break through the frosty exterior and get to know these other parents at school/lessons. But it’s not going well.

There’s nothing we can do but keep going. Keep trying. Keep saying “hi” and making small talk where it is received. Keep on keeping on. The next step is going to have to be church. Not that we are opposed to church. But we have often been tagged as “black sheep” in church settings because of our views and it causes an understandable reluctance to throw ourselves back into that setting. But church is often a good way to get to know people. So I guess that’s the next experiment in our friend-seeking journey. All of this is a very good reminder to me that a little friendly small-talk may go a looong way in another person’s life and that I need to give a little extra when new people show up in my various social circles.

The great news is that I am just two weeks from seeing my very best friend in the world for the first time in two and a half years! Time, money and distance have kept us from spending any time together and our last (very short) visit was just days after Kieran’s birth, and right smack in the middle of my BFF’s move from Saskatchewan to BC so neither of us were in any condition to bond. I think it’s safe to say we are both losing our minds with excitement! It’s the light at the end of the tunnel for me right now and it’s so good to have something to look forward to in the near future!

Sep 27

We went apple picking last weekend and I am totally feeling nostalgic because this weekend we are drowning in rain.

I’ve never been apple-picking before for several reasons. First, we have never lived in an area where the land was such that it could sustain an entire apple orchard (One or two apple trees in a yard, yes. Orchard? No.). Second, we had friends back in Saskatoon who gladly supplied us with more apples than we could ever want for free.  

So when I saw the price tags of our idyllic apple-picking adventure I may have cursed. Loudly.  But still, it was a lot of fun. The only disappointing part was that the picking is over way too quickly. All that’s left after that is to eat as many apples as you can so as to get more apples for your $25.  Between the four of us we definitely ate another $25 worth. It’s amazing no one vomited. Seriously. AMAZING.


Kieran literally walked between the rows of trees picking up apple after apple off the ground and taking one bite before letting it drop and moving on to the next one.  Awesome. 

OMG. Couldn’t you just DIE from the cute?

Aug 22

What five year olds are good for:

-unrelenting optimism and enthusiasm
 -convincing a two year old brother to breastfeed a doll while bottlefeeding they’re own “baby”
 -small household chores (FINALLY! THANK THE SWEET BABY JESUS!) like picking up toys and clearing and setting the table
 -keeping you humble
 -making one feel loved with 45 drawings a day that say “To Mommy From Avery” and by saying frequent spontaneous “I love you”s
 -appreciating the simple, fun things in life like swinging really high and pink bubble gum and staying up past bed time
 -anticipation and the pure joy of reaching various exciting events
-creativity and imagination 

What two year olds are good for:

-sweet snuggles
 -helping one appreciate curiousity
 -empathy and concern – like a few weeks ago when I was overcome with frustration and stress and sobbed on my hubby’s shoulder and Kieran ran to me and patted my arm, saying “Tay (It’s OK) Mama! Tay!”
 -delight and wonder
 -standing on the outside of the glass shower door and watching mommy shower like it’s the freakin’ olympics and then throwing toys in the toilet while mommy shrieks, but is helpless to stop you unless she runs around naked and dripping wet
 -hiding the sticks that are part of the frame of a toy tent – we have yet to find them – suspect they endedup in the garbage without our knowledge
-very satisfying giggles

May 7

You’ve been on my mind a lot lately.  As I drive around the little town that bears memories of you on every street corner I can’t help but remember you.  You spent almost your whole life in this slow-paced town and I see your face everywhere I go.  When I visit with the people who knew and loved you, when I walk past the places where we had “coffee” and the pioneer cemetery where you took us to wash our ancestors gravestones, when I remember walking to the post office to pick up your mail and spending an entire day making noodles in your garage on 3rd street or the church you attended or the hospital where you died I am overcome with a sense of gratefulness for the time I had to get to know you and sadness for the years that I wish we could still have had together.

I took my children to visit your grave today.  I needed to see where you are, even though I know that you aren’t really there.  I haven’t been there in quite a while and I wanted to feel close to you.  I wept sorrowful, hot tears as I watched my kids run around by your headstone.  I know that I have no right to feel this way, but I can’t help feeling as though my kids have missed out on something really special.  They have a wonderful relationship with my mother, their Oma.  But I so wish they could have known you.  I remember you well enough to know exactly how you would have interacted with them. You had a child-like spirit and children always loved you.  I know they would have loved you, too.  It makes me sad that they will only know you as a smiling, gray-haired lady in a picture.  But my daughter has finally grown big enough to wear the sweater you knit. One of the last ones.  It seems unfair that hundreds of children in this community have worn your sweaters and yet only one of my kids will get to wear one – even you would probably raise an eyebrow if I dressed my son in a pink sweater.

I think about you often and I miss you profoundly.  Not many people are natural teachers the way you were.  And not many people have as positive an outlook as you did or knew what it was to love as selflessly as you did.  Not many people had as much respect for people from all walks of life as you did.  I am trying to learn the lessons you taught.  I fear I will fail and disappoint you.  But I am trying to remind myself that you were one of the few people in my life who I rarely felt that I had disappointed. You always told me you were proud of me.  You taught me to hold my head high and to live with compassion for others and with hands open to the gifts this world has to offer.  You would laugh if you read this.  You would shake your head with your jowls quivering and point your bony, crooked finger at my and say “Ech! You’re a silly girl!”.  God, I really miss you.  But there’s something comforting about feeling your presence here in this small part of the world.

Love,
Your granddaughter

May 5

Can I just say that I am really enjoying the last few weeks/months of Kieran’s babyhood.  I tried to enjoy him a little more than I did with Avery. The first time round I was so stressed out from lack of sleep and the pressure of not knowing what I was doing.  This time has been a bit better.  I’m less stressed from worrying about doing things wrong.  But I’m still pretty tired. Avery was a consistently bad sleeper til she was about 8 or 9 months. Kieran has been an inconsistent sleeper which is almost more frustrating because every once in a while he’ll have a great night and then the next night will be terrible and all the nights after that will be terrible, too, and I just want to slit my wrists.  He is 11 months and I keep thinking we’ve GOT to hit that hump some time where he’ll magically start sleeping through the night just about every night.  I need that to start soon.

But I have realized that his first birthday is looming on the horizon already.  In fact, it’s more like it’s rushing at me like a sugar-crazed toddler on a tricycle, and I am not sure I’m ready for it. He’s losing his “babyness” so quickly.  So while I’m here at my parents house, just chilling, I’m trying to savour his delicious chubby baby thighs and his fat little neck and cheeks. I nibble on baby for breakfast every morning with eggs.  So good!  Maybe it’s because Avery has had some kind of a growth spurt recently and has shot up to become a gangly-legged kid and not just a preschooler any more.  Maybe it’s because Kieran is figuring out how to pull himself up to a standing position or that he’s rapidly learning how to walk or that he is starting to climb the stairs with the reckless abandon of a toddler, or maybe it’s just that right now I have time to pay more attention, but it seems to be going even more quickly than I thought possible and I know that in a year or two it will be very hard to conjure up the memory of what he was like at this age and that even the little video clips I take with my camera will seem to be of a different child altogether.  So I will continue to munch on baby whenever the opportunity presents itself, as long as the baby is available.

Mar 29

Well, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, change is in the air for our family. My husband has been accepted into the twelve month MBA program at the Richard Ivey School of Business at the University of Western Ontario.  It has been a long time coming as he has been studying for the GMAT (Graduate Management Admissions Test), and then travelling to write the test, and then filling out applications to Ivey, doing interviews with Ivey, and then the anxious nine days of waiting to hear if he was accepted.  Those of you who knew we have been waiting on this have my eternal gratitude for not kicking me in the teeth because of my constant uptightness in the past week.  It’s amazing my brain didn’t melt and leak out my ears from all the energy being created by my frazzled psyche. 

Anyway, now that we know, we can start the stressful chaos of selling our house and moving to a completely new place. You, my faithful readers, can expect many cranky and whiny posts in the future about all the work of packing/cleaning/selling/moving/being a single parent (the hubby will likely go out several weeks, if not a month ahead of me and the kids).  I apologize in advance for this. 

After the move I will probably collapse into a weepy puddle when I really hits me that I am without a single friend in a strange place where my husband will be extremely busy and I have two small children and people mispronounce “pants’ as “pay-ants”, so that will be fun, right?

So I will hope for cheery and encouraging comments from you all.  I will defend my prairie homeland to the best of my ability while residing in this foreign land of rock and trees.  Stay tuned for more information.  Ivey has two programs running simultaneously and we have yet to firmly decide whether we will go for the May or the September start date.

Oh yes, and did I mention how very proud I am of the hubby and how much totally deserves this after how hard he has worked? Because I am and he does and he did.

Feb 23

It’s been one of those days.  One of those Bad Mother Days.  One of those days when I question why the hell I ever had kids.  One of those days that I fear Child Protective Services would swoop in and remove my kids from me with great haste if they saw what kind of a mother I was today, or the thoughts going through my head.  One of those days when I question whether my kids will ever actually grow into fully functioning adults.  When I question my ability to raise them into said adults. 

Dinner was bombed by the temper tantrum that wouldn’t quit.  My husband is away tonight and for some inexplainable reason I chose to try and feed Avery food that she DOESN’T LIKE.  “I don’t like that Mommy. Yucky. It’s yucky and I don’t like it.  No Mommy. I don’t like it and I don’t want to eat it.” And. So. On.

For some reason I just didn’t want to lose this battle tonight.  Instead I chose to muster of the energy to fight for two straight hours.  It ended with dinner being spilled on the floor (not completely intentionally) and a spanking and crying and weeping and gnashing of teeth and a partridge in a pear tree.  Well not so much that last part.  But Oh My WORD was there not enough drama in my life? Clearly not. 

I didn’t even deal with her until the baby was put to bed. And then we talked about exactly why she was being punished.  I was angry and frustrated.  Why can’t the child just eat what is put in front of her?  WHYYYY???  When I told her I was very, very sad that she wouldn’t eat her dinner she throws her arms around me, saying “It’s ok Mommy!” 

I let this go on and on and I could have stopped it at any time. I could have prevented what I KNEW would turn into a nightmare by picking something more palatable for her on a night that I have no backup.  But no, I didn’t.  And I was cold and mean.  And I spanked her.  On her rear where she has bad rash that I had totally forgotten about.  That sound you hear?  That’s the sound of karma winding up to kick my ass.  Yes, she is three and she is going to have these tantrums. But today? I could have done better.  So her willingness to comfort me was heartbreaking in the most bittersweet way.

I bathed her and got her ready for bed. And then we just cuddled on the couch until she fell asleep in my arms.  Which was beautiful and peaceful. I so rarely get to hold her when she’s sleeping anymore.  And now I will have myself a good little cry and hope to do better tomorrow.  It’s so hard to know when to fight and when to let it go and which battles are going to turn your child into a drug-addict-deadbeat-loser and which are going to mean absolutely nothing in the grand scheme of things. And it’s also hard to know when you’re just taking out your stress on the child because you’re having a bad week and you aren’t grown up enough to know better. 

Maybe tomorrow I’ll know better.  Please don’t report me!

« Previous Entries