Finding 40 to be Fabulous

Earlier this year I reached a life-changing milestone when I celebrated my 40th birthday.  My years of being a 30-something are now behind me and it feels oh-so-right.  I am at a really good place in my life just now.  I'm content with who I am and the life I've lived that has shaped me into being who that is.

In the weeks leading up to my 40th birthday, I spent time reflecting on what being a 30-something meant to me.  My 30's included giving birth to, and raising five amazing boys that challenge me, amuse me, and fill my heart to bursting.  They were years filled with being stretched to new proportions in love, patience and flexibility {both mentally and physically}.  More often than not, my time, my physical body, and my needs were not my own.  They are days I treasure beyond measure but they are also days I am content I am no longer living in the midst of anymore.  It didn't take me long to realize that approaching 40 was something to be embraced because all I have lived is imprinted in who I am now.

It was that final nudge I needed to strip away my concerns over what others might be thinking of me so that I can instead more fully embrace what has taught me, shaped me, and informed the person I am.  I am married to the love of my life. I am learning to discover and pursue my passions. I have sailed through many happy times, waded through struggles, suffered loss, dealt with sickness, known rejection, met people who have inspired me, felt the sting of loneliness, and learned that I need friends.  I know how to laugh at what tickles me, and how to cry when it hurts.  I've learned that there are times I should speak up more boldly and that sometimes it's okay to be silent.  I am a person who craves time alone, likes routine, could waste all day reading, is challenged by learning new things, and likes to talk {a lot}.  I struggle with self-esteem and self-confidence.  I am quite content to remain home for days on end.  I am very pleased that I am evolving from night owl to morning person.

Although it's been a slow process, I am learning to like who I am and change the things that don't make sense anymore.  I am a work in progress that has taken 40 years to get here but I finally feel I have something to offer the world {or at least the people close to me}.  I wouldn't want to give up any of the days of learning I've lived that have brought me here right now.  And for that reason alone, I embrace this new phase of life.

Writer's Jam - Day 20

Laptops and notebooks spread across the dining room table as each writer claims a space for herself.  An eclectic mix of mugs scattered throughout add comfort.  Laughter abounds.  Stories spill over from both voice and keyboard.  Sometimes the staccato music of tapping keyboards and scratching pens is heard.  Sometimes it is the harmony of story-tellers telling their stories.  The setting is Monday night's Writer's Jam.

Sitting among this group I am still getting to know, I feel welcome.  I feel accepted.  I feel comfortable.  These are not feelings I have often while in a gathering that includes people I don't know well, especially not in a group so newly formed.  Only three weeks old and attendance has been slightly different each week since we all come as life permits.  But the level of comfort remains the same whether they are already friends of mine or someone I've only met that night.

The common theme that draws us all together is our love of words.  Our desire to express ourselves through written words bonds us.  Most of us blog, but journalling, story-telling and poetry are all part of the words we spill out.  We come as we are, bringing what we're working on, and plan to write.  Sharing is optional.  Laughter is essential.

We've been brought together by Alanna Rusnak, author of the lovely blog SelfBinding Retrospect and aspiring novelist, when she put out the call looking for fellow writer's to join her in this blog post. She offers us a space to write without distractions from our regular life.  She's pulled together people that share a similar passion.

It has already become a place where sharing that I write, tasting the idea of calling myself a writer, and offering understanding to fellow writers is all part of the evening.  It is safe.  Knowing that the others sitting near, laughing and working alongside me, each understand that sharing my words is something I hesitate to do even as I desire it.  Sharing my words might expose my very most vulnerable parts to reveal deep hurts. hopes and passions.  The comfort of knowing the others around me may have similar trepidation about sharing their writing gives me a boldness I didn't expect.

I'm beginning to see that what I write matters simply because I wrote it.  It's not necessarily all about relevant content or how a reader perceives it, but more about the act of practicing a craft.  I almost feel ready to own the title of 'writer'.

Click here to see the rest of my Write 31 Days series:  Simple Gems

Burdened With Inadequacy

There is a little piece of truth I hide from myself.  I keep it covered over just beyond the edge of my mind.  Once in awhile, when I'm not careful, it pops up and forces me to see it.  It's only there for a fleeting moment before I avert my gaze and cover it once again so I don't have to face it.

To be candid, if I face this truth full on, if I take it out and examine it, then I will not only have to do something about it, I will have to admit that I have failed.  And one of my biggest fears is failure.

This little piece of truth is not really all that little.  And I'm pretty sure that more than likely what I try to hide from myself is not at all hidden from anyone that knows me.  It's definitely not hidden from God.

But yet, I continue to deceive myself that as long as I don't look at this truth full on, it is not so.

The truth?  I cope.  

That's it.  I cope.  I spend each day getting things done that can no longer be left undone.  I feed people because they require sustenance to live.  I get children up and out the door because they have some place they have to be.  I attend appointments to keep us healthy or looking civilized.  I work because it is income.  I volunteer because it is the one last thread I am trying to hold on to that connects me to a world outside of my home.

Somehow, most things get done.  But they aren't usually done until they have to be done.  And then, they usually aren't done as well as I would want them to be done.   

And that is where I feel I fail.  Because I would like to do this thing called motherhood well.  I would like to do this project of homemaking well.  But I don't.  I dream, I plan, I attempt.  I fail.

I would like to have myself and my family and my home organized with a working routine established.  But I don't.  I would like to have all our meals planned ahead so I'm not scrambling by 5 pm.  But I don't.  I would like to have a cleaning schedule I follow faithfully so I am not up late the night before someone is coming over clearing piles and vacuuming.  But I don't. 

As I struggle with this seemingly endless burden of wallowing in unaccomplished failure, I have begun to ask myself a few questions.  Questions like, where did I get the idea of what our home and life should look like?  Who am I trying to be like?  Do the things I feel I should be doing better truly need changing?  Where does this burden of inadequacy and failure stem from?

I have no answers yet, maybe I never will for some of my questions, but I have started on a journey of trying to uncover who I am vs who I think I should be.  I have a feeling it's not going to be an easy journey.

And I really don't think I am alone.  I think feelings of inadequacy and failure is something that a lot of women struggle with.  Maybe if we stopped comparing ourselves to one another and supported each other instead we might just reshape our worlds.

On Teacups and Friendships

Life's busyness doesn't always leave room to enjoy the simple pleasures of life.  Drinking tea from a proper teacup and saucer.  Enjoying dainty treats made by hands other than your own.  Laughing.  Savouring the moments with friends made special through shared life-stories, hurts, triumphs, fears, laughter and joy.  Deepening friendships newly made.

With the many to-dos waiting to be done and the varied lists of needs yet to be fulfilled, it's too easy to get caught up in the getting-it-all-done.  It's too easy to be caught up in bearing daily life burdens alone.  It's too easy to mistakenly think we are each the only one with these many demands on our abilities, on our resources of inner strength, on our oh-so-precious time.

But it was in the enjoyment of a tea party amidst a roomful of women of all ages and stages of life where I was reminded that I am not so alone as I sometimes delude myself into believing.  It was in sitting with my dear friends that I was refreshed after a day made long by my own unkind, unprompted emotions.  It was in the sharing of burdens when I was nudged to remember I am not the only one facing these daily struggles of motherhood and cooking and loving and cleaning and dreaming and praying for these families we are entrusted with.

It was a tea party with fancy hats, delicate teacups and saucers, a fun photo booth and friendships.  We smiled.  We laughed.  We talked.  We shared.  A few of us even shed a tear as we listened to the life story of a woman made wise with embracing life as it unraveled before her.  A story permeated with her trust that God would see her through both difficult and joyful times.

The day began with bearing emotional encumbrances alone.  The day ended with a hot cup of tea infused with gentle reminders that I am not alone, that I am not the only one traversing this road of motherhood and womanhood.  

Enjoying a cup of tea is all about slowing down the hurry's and the have-tos of the day to enjoy the moment.  It is savouring the delicate aroma wafting from the warm amber liquid before that first lovely sip of infused flavour.  Mingling our hearts and time with our friends infuses our joys so the harshness of life is lessened.

My Days of Tomorrow

There was nothing that stuck out significantly to indicate that this night's established 'tucking-in' would be different from any other night.  The floor of Evan and Nicholas's room was finally clear of toys and after lighting the Cars stoplight nightlight, I pushed play on the CD player to hear the introductory notes to the theme song of their bedtime story CD.  I wished both squirming boys 'sweet dreams' mixed with 'I love you's' while giving multiple snuggles.

Turning off the overhead light I slung Dylan into his customary place on my hip and made only a feeble protest at taking him with me down to James and Morgan's room.  It's not that I don't want the munchkin with me, it's the busyness that trails alongside him I could sometimes do without.  To say he is distracting is an understatement.

Entering their room, I immediately knew Morgan was upset.  Only their sleepy faces peered at me from their mounds of handmade quilts, overstuffed pillows and various plush and hard toys.  While James's eyes lit up with pleasure at seeing his baby brother to say 'night-night' to, Morgan's red-rimmed eyes threatened to spill unshed tears.  Dylan pushed away from me wanting to be swung to the floor, forward momentum immediately propelling him in his climb up and over Morgan so he could get a drink from the nighttime water cup sitting on the bed shelf.

I stepped up onto the ladder for the top bunk and brushed a kiss across James's cheek. His skinny arms twined around my neck to hold me close so he could return the kiss and nuzzle his cheek against mine.

"'Night mom," he said.  "It was a good day today.  What took you so long?"

"I had to help your brothers put some things away,"  I answered.  "Dylan and Nicholas dumped out the Lego and dinosaurs."

Pushing at my legs, the small whirlwind informed me it was his turn to say good-night to James.  I stepped sideways off the ladder as Dylan's compact body slipped up the ladder like he had been climbing since birth.  Lowering myself to sit on the edge of the mattress, I rubbed my hand along Morgan's slim back as I leaned over to kiss his cheek.  His beautiful brown eyes filled with emotion blinked tear-soaked lashes.  He glanced at me then quickly away causing a few rogue tears to escape and trickle down the cheek I had just kissed.  He turned his face into the pillow in an attempt to hide the emotion.  Morgan's sensitive soul often causes his heart to hurt.

"Morgan, my boy, what's the matter?"  I asked him.

Inhaling deeply, he bit his lower lip before answering.  "I was just thinking tonight about when we grow up.  What are you going to do when we grow up?  I mean...", he paused, his big eyes turning to me with absolute anguish in them, "...someday we're going to grow up and then you'll be home all by yourself all day.  And dad is at work all day.  And you..."  another pause as he buried his face in the pillow again.  The next words were muffled by both the pillow and the emotion he couldn't contain. "You'll be alone all day and you'll have to do all the work yourself.  We won't be here to help you."  Looking at me again his long, dark lashes had matted together, the tears still brimming.   "And I just don't know what you'll do when we're all grown up!"

I ran my hand down his soft boy cheek.  Our bodies shifted as Dylan clambered between us, his elbow caused my glasses to shift sideways and his knees dug into Morgan's chest and arm.  I adjusted my glasses back to their rightful position before scooting Dylan off of Morgan.  Dylan began burrowing into the blankets, his feet bumping the wall and his head colliding with Morgan's shoulder.  I gently brushed those heartfelt tears from the cheek of this sensitive child and cupped my hand under his chin to turn him to face me more fully.  My mind fast-forwarding to days where floors are free of Lego, laundry piles have dwindled, to-do lists are checked off and the walls ring only with echos of laughter and screeching.

"Morgan," I said as I lowered my forehead to lean against his, "those days are a long time in the future.  We don't need to worry about them just yet."  But even as I said the words, I didn't fully believe them myself.

A long heart-to-heart kept our heads bent close until we finally brought our quiet chat to a close by lifting our burdens for the future in prayer.  He gave me a small smile, his eyes now drooping heavily with sleep.  I tucked the blankets more snugly around his shoulders before straightening myself to do the same around James's sleeping form.  From the doorway I looked back over my shoulder to make sure both sets of eyes were closed.  Turning out the overhead light, I left them sleeping peacefully to discover what trouble Dylan might have found when he left the room ahead of me.

I can only trust that there was soothing balm for Morgan's hurting heart in the words and prayers we spoke.  I can only pray that he always remembers those precious moments when we shared our worries of the future together, even if they were in the midst of chatter, busyness and bumps.  Because sometimes it doesn't matter what else is going on, there is a heart that needs tending to right now.

May those lonely days of the future never be fulfilled.  May the days of the present instead be as full of laughter and noise and dirty clothes and laid aside toys that the gusto of five boys bring with them.  And may all the fullness of life today spill forever over into my days of tomorrow.

A Canadian Winter

Snow!  It's definitely what winter is all about this year.  Snow and cold.  A true Canadian winter with piles of deep snow, huge snowbanks and plenty of snowstorms.

Personally, I like being storm-stayed at home when the winter winds are howling and the lake effect snow squalls are, well, squalling.  The forced isolation is a nice reprieve from the constant expectations of daily life.  It's an extra holiday from school for the boys.  Lovely wood heat makes our house cozy.  We are all tucked safely at home without anywhere to go or anyway to get there.


Near the beginning of January the first massive storm system moved through our area and shut everything down.  It extended the Christmas vacation from school for an additional three days.  The temperatures were a numbing -25º C (-13º F) with a windchill of at least -35º C (-31º F).  The snow piled up deeper and deeper.

When it finally stopped storming, it was time to dig out.  Friday afternoon Nicholas was already outside helping Daddy clear the deck when the big boys got off the bus.  Before they had time to get out of their snow clothes I sent them out to help shovel.  Under daddy's supervision, they worked hard dumping snow over the railing where a snow ramp formed from the ground below to the top of the deck railing.  Shovels were quickly abandoned to be replaced by sleds when they realized what they had constructed.  Daddy held the sleds in place while they scrambled up, over and on so they could fly down the ramp, across the backyard all the way to the edge of the trees.

Dylan and I watched through the sliding doors in the kitchen while I made applesauce pop tarts.  They were a yummy treat added to the expected cup of hot chocolate when they all finally came in. 

Although we hadn't set out to teach the boys a life lesson that day, they experienced the satisfaction and joy of playing on something built by their own hard work.  Weeks later the ramp is still there waiting to be used whenever it's not snowing too heavily, blowing too hard or just too cold to be outside playing.