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.

Did You Know...

...that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month?

I didn't.

And that saddens me because my nephew, Jake, was diagnosed with Stage 4 Neuroblastoma at the age of 4 and received multiple treatments over a 7 year period before he lost his battle at age 11.  Neuroblastoma is a childhood cancer.  Throughout those seven years I learned A LOT about cancer, chemotherapy, blood counts, medications, and just how amazing pediatric cancer nurses and doctors are among so many other things cancer-related.  I even learned that a gold ribbon symbolizes support for pediatric cancer and I have one I can pin on my shirt.  But I was never made aware that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month.





I know that April is Daffodil month, October is Breast Cancer Awareness month with a pink ribbon symbol, and November finds mustaches sprouting everywhere changing the face of men's health. I've walked the track and lit candles at a Relay For Life and cheered on those shaving their locks at Cops for Cancer. Each of these events and awareness campaigns make a huge impact and mean a lot to me personally because people I love have been impacted by cancer.  So how did I miss September's campaign about something so close to my heart?

I'm not even sure how I became aware that September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month actually.  I believe it may have popped up somewhere in one of my social media feeds at some point along the way.  So now I am informing myself more about it and want to make others aware of it as well.



Did you know...

 - pediatric cancers are unique from adult cancers

- pediatric cancers are most often found in the blood, brain or bones

- pediatric cancer is the leading cause of disease related death in children (www.cancer.ca)
 
- in Canada only 3% of all cancer research funding is directed toward childhood cancer research

- there are 10,000 children in Canada living with cancer

- 1,500 children will be diagnosed with a pediatric cancer this year

- 1 in 5 children will not survive

 - survival rates for childhood cancer patients is now over 82%! 

 - 2 out of 3 survivors live with long term side effects (www.childhoodcancer.ca)


To get started finding out more information and ways to donate you can check out the following websites and videos:

Videos 
Childhood Cancer Canada Whiteboard Video
SickKids - Childhood Cancer

Websites
www.childhoodcancer.ca
www.cancer.ca


Maybe you can help me spread the word by sharing posts on social media to make others aware.  The children fighting these diseases and their families need all the support we can give them.

I know.  I was part of the family team that helped care for Jake when he was home from the hospital. All the prayers and love that were directed toward Jake and his family through a really tough time has never been forgotten.  Jake will never be forgotten.  He was one of a kind.



1. www.cancer.ca, Childhood Cancer Statistics, 2016 [Sept 21, 2016]
2. www.childhoodcancer.ca, 2016 [Sept 19, 2016]

When Your Baby Is No Longer A Baby

Things are slowly beginning to take on a new and different shape around our home.  The cupboard no longer has a shelf designated for just sippy cups.  Smaller bowls with cartoon designs have been replaced by a stack of small fruit nappies.  There is no longer a diaper bag just inside the door ready to be grabbed as we slip out the door.  And there are no booster seats or high chairs pulled up to the table.

Even the toys are taking on a different form.  Each room has its own collection of Lego, stacks of books and various forms of building toys and trucks.  Gone are the Mega Bloks.  There isn't a Little People bus to be found.

Although the shapes of things have changed and roles are beginning to alter as each of the boys grow older, there are some fundamental parts of our family that will always remain the same. The twins will always be the oldest, or 'the big boys' as I call them. Sweet Evan will always be our very middle boy. Nicholas, our most determined boy. And Dylan is our baby.


A few weeks ago our baby turned 4.  Just like all parents we asked ourselves how so much time had passed so quickly.  He's so clearly not a baby any longer but there is still just enough little in him to help take the sting of his growing up away.  We celebrated with his choice of birthday supper - spaghetti and meatballs.  His brothers gave him our traditional simple birthday gifts - chocolate bars.  He was a happy little boy.

My sweet boy, Dylan, is quick to smile, spreads his love around freely with hugs for people when he greets them, and he is always excited to head out to do something.  He tells me he loves me at least 15 times a day.  He loves big.  He expects everyone loves him in return.  He plays hard.  His biggest fear is squirrels.

And each night when it's time to be tucked into bed, I stand just outside his bedroom door with his little arms wrapped around my neck.  He calls out good-night to everyone in turn and waits for the response he clearly anticipates. He almost always includes his beloved pets Kacy the dog, Minnie the cat and Red Bandit the guinea pig. Then his little head snuggles in to my shoulder, his thumb pops into his mouth and he tells me one last time he loves me as I carry him into his bed. 

Even though the number of years say he might not be a baby any longer, he will always be my baby.  

A Stolen Moment

Sweet Dylan, my baby.

Big blue eyes with the longest eyelashes that brush his soft cheek.  Soft blond hair that once hung long in wispy curls now cut to reflect the boy he is becoming.  Rosy full lips smile sweet and plant warm kisses.  Lanky in leg and arm, he stands tall.

He is a boy who deeply loves all within his world.  Each day he tells me how he loves me, often he folds me in a close hug while telling me so.  He fully expects we return the love and basks in being doted on by his patient older brothers.  And they do.  And we all do.  Because he is our Dylan.

But please do NOT try to make him do what he has set his mind against.  Then you will meet the stubborn Dylan that hides beneath a blanket or sits sullenly showing you only his back.  A boy who feels love so deeply also feels hopes shattered just as deeply.

Recently a busy morning began with Dylan visiting a JK class in preparation for school days in the fall.  Attending his brothers' doctor's appointment followed where we sat waiting an hour.  The early afternoon was spent helping Daddy in his workshop.  A boy, still only three, full of life, sometimes needs a rest on a day so filled with busyness.

Eyelids drooping, thumb found its way into his mouth.  Sleepy Dylan refusing to lie down or sit to read a story.  Resistance beginning to waiver, allowing me to snuggle him close against my chest while standing and swaying a rocking rhythm perfected from many days practice.  My off-key rendition of 'Hush Little Baby' sung as a mantra echoing many nights gone by.  It is a version of the lullaby only my children appreciate.

Arms trembling with the holding of him.  Legs cramping from the swaying.  Back aching from the weight of him.  Voice cracking with the singing on repeat.  Until his lovely eyes flutter closed to rest in slumber.  Until his frowning face relaxes into sweetness.  Until his body softens into mine.

I stay holding him close and remember him daily sleeping in my arms: the snuggles and cuddles, the nursing, the days when I was his world.  Sweet, sweet memories cherished in every mother's heart.

Some days mommy knows best and has to push hard to meet her little ones' needs.  This day it was to
help him fall asleep.  And in the toiling through the refusing and crying and complaining and pushing of it all, mommy got the best reward - a moment stolen from the past.  A stolen moment of rocking her sleeping baby.

Keeping Too Much Stuff Makes Clutter

I have a tendency to keep...well, everything.  It is probably one of the things I struggle with most.  I am a huge saver of things that may be used, or may be needed, or may be of use to someone.  Rather than fill our space and home only with items that are of use to us now or have a specific purpose of use, I have filled it with things that may be useful.  Some day.  By someone.  It. Just. Doesn't. Make. Sense.

If I had some noble reason for saving it maybe it wouldn't feel like quite such a burden weighing on me.  But I don't.  It is simply an inability to part with stuff.  Not because I want the items or think they are particularly useful.  Not even because it makes sense to keep it for any reason really.  Being a saver of 'stuff' has become a millstone.  

The trouble with all this stuff I save for use at some indefinable time is how much it hinders us from being able to enjoy our space in comfort and ease.  There is clutter and piles making some areas difficult to organize because they are overrun with too much.  The result is unrest for all.  Things cannot be found easily or quickly.  Mess is left because putting it away is not simple. 

As the accumulation has happened, in a way, I felt somewhat of a spectator watching it grow.  There have been some very legitimate reasons why I haven't tackled the problem head on over the years (we had five babies in 5 1/2 years) as well as some lame excuses (I just don't know how to deal with it).  Although I have turned a blind eye to it at times, the need to do something has never been far from the surface of my mind and I have spent vast quantities of time thinking about my problem even though I have never quite tackled the problem itself. 

I know there are two root reasons why I keep stuff.  The first is my list of "What if's..."  What if we need it someday?  What if the boys want to play with it again?  What if someone else could use it?

The second reason is emotional attachment.  If any of us have used the object or my children made it, played with it, touched it, I feel I must keep it.  Even mysterious tiny bits and pieces must be kept in case something we've used needs that part to fix it.  Or, what if one of the boys find a need for it in one of their projects.

Rationally I know none of it really makes sense or is a good reason to hold on to an object.  But that is the thing, it's not something that is rational.  It is something that is emotional.  Something that is an ingrained part of me that is not easy to change because it cannot be thought through.  It is felt.

Most of the time I am able to assess the items I see as excess and acknowledge they are unnecessary for our home, yet I keep them anyway.  Again, in my time spent thinking about it rather than doing anything about it, I believe my emotional attachment to things stems from two things: 1.  learned behavior and 2.  Decision Fatigue.

With the first, learned behavior, I watched my mom make do with little for much of the time.  As a result, she saved as much as she could so she could offer things to help her children.  She doesn't want us to have to live as she did for so long.

The second, Decision Fatigue, is the direct result of being mostly responsible for making many decisions on an ongoing basis for many little people and being sleep deprived a great deal of the time.  As decision-making has never been a strong skill for me, the overload and overburden with so many littles caused my ability to make decisions about anything not pertaining to daily living to shut down.

But the biggest thing I've learned through all my soul-searching about my inability to part with stuff is simple.  My action, or rather my inaction, is impacting my children in many negative ways.  They are learning by my bad example.  And ready or not, I need to start making some serious changes in my behaviors so I can set a much healthier example for my children.

The Best Place To Be {Is Spending Time Together}

 The weather was predicted to be -20 Celsius with large accumulations of lake effect snow flurries piling up on us that day.  The permission form had been signed and returned granting permission for Evan to join his class in a day of outdoor activities including bird watching and snowshoeing.  Arrangements had been made for the youngest, not yet in school, to spend the day with my mom, freeing me up to join Evan on his class trip.


After enduring the previous week of sick in our house, I had ended up with a really nasty sinus cold.  I felt miserable!  There was no way I really wanted to participate in anything so...cold and uncomfortable.  Winter and I have a bit of a love/hate relationship.  I love its beauty.  I love how the world is covered in a beautiful blanket of white concealing the brown and bare beneath it.  I love that winter is a time of slow down and stay home all warm and cozy.  On the other hand, I am not a fan of being cold.  Nor am I a fan of driving on winter slippery roads. 

With careful consideration I made sure Evan wasn't aware of my lack of enthusiasm for joining him on the outing.  After all, I was looking forward to spending the time with my Evan, it was the cold itinerary and nasty sinus cold that had me bemoaning the fact I had so readily agreed to accompany him.  Since snowshoeing is a winter activity I enjoy, I knew it would be alright.  Still I just did not want to.

Checking the forecast for a final time the night before, Evan and I laid out extra layers of clothes to wear beneath our snow clothes, packed a hearty lunch and had our backpacks filled with only what we would need to carry.  I pulled my warmest snowmobiling suit out of the back of the closet and found myself a cozy toque to pull over my ears that would meet my soft scarf.  I was not going to be any colder than necessary.  I carefully planned the limited time I would have in the morning and went to bed a little earlier than usual.  All the while I was still apprehensive about the following day predicted to be one of the coldest we had yet experienced this winter.

Although the morning held a few challenges that started the day offtrack, the day turned out to be nothing like I had envisioned.  The sky was a beautiful clear blue and the sun was shining brightly.  There wasn't a snowflake to mar the brilliance.  Oh, it was definitely cold!  But we were in an area sheltered by trees for most of our outdoor time.  It was only when the strong, cold wind blew at us that our cheeks smarted and we burrowed a little deeper in our snow gear.  Spending part of our time indoors making bird feeders and learning about different types of birds before heading out to find them also helped keep us warm enough.

Throughout the day Evan leaned close to me, beaming all his happiness in my direction with his sweet gapped-tooth smile.  We held hands both while we walked and wore our snowshoes, even though it was awkward and hard.  Our chairs were pulled close whenever we sat doing crafts or eating our lunches.  Evan was not letting a single moment of our time together be wasted.  We'll always have our memories of our day in the snow to share together.

It was so worth spending every moment of the day trudging through snow and shivering with cold!  Even though it felt like the last place I wanted to be, it turned out to be the best place to be.

Some Weeks Are Hard

Weeks of sick are hard.  Days blur.  Bodies filled with limitless energy, lie still.  Growing boys, changing day by day, reflect their younger selves as they lay with stillness.  Loud boy voices subdued with no energy left to squander.  Each boy has his turn with tears and moans and pleas to make it stop.  Night time rest disrupted to tend to ailments suffered.


Hours disappear in the busyness of tending each need in the makeshift sickroom that was once our living room.  Favourite blankets line the couches and chairs making cozy where little bodies nestle.  The television plays movies and shows chosen to whisk sick boys from the misery they feel to worlds where all is right.  Tired eyes heavy with weariness watch the screen

 without reaction.  Sleep claims still bodies.

Mommy moves between them: rubbing backs, touching hollow cheeks, kissing hot foreheads.  Sippy cups with straws are pulled from the back of the cupboard, refilled as soon as it's empty, encouraging parched lips to receive another sip.  Light foods are offered to empty tummies refusing any nourishment.

Some days one or two children venture to school.  The bus rolls up for just so few feet to wearily climb its stairs.  The tired boys returns at the close of the school day, exhausted from energy burned before bodies are fully restored to that of the days before the sickness started.  Back to the days when life was normal.  Normal seems so long ago.

Slowly, day-by-day,  boys become more active.  Tummies stop rebelling.  Throbbing heads clear.  All boys sleep the night through, feeling as they should and resting deeply.

Until finally, a week after it all began, the living room is again filled with log houses and trucks, not blankets covering still bodies.  Boys yelling and playing drown out thoughts, not the television.  Fights break out as they work out different ideas, not cries from feeling awful.  Life is back to normal.

Twins and Teamwork

Our two oldest are fraternal twins.  They share a birthday, they share a room and Lego, they share clothes, they share common interests, and they share friends.  But they do not look alike.  Nor are their personalities remotely alike.

When I need someone to fetch me something when I'm arm-deep in the middle of a task, I ask James.  He knows where everything is!  And if he doesn't, I can explain exactly which shelf/box/bin it is in, or which colour/shape it is, and he will find it.  He's been like that since before he turned two and would help me by getting a diaper or a fresh sleeper for our newborn Evan.

When I need someone to help take care of one of the younger boys or do make something caring for someone, Morgan is the man to go to.  He takes responsibility and caring very seriously.  When they were tiny toddlers in our first home just beginning to toddle around, Morgan would always wait expectantly for me to hand him two sippy cups or two snack cups - one for him and one for James.  He was never happy unless he knew James had exactly what he needed too.

I love watching and learning the intricacies of each one of my boys and what makes them who they are.  Often they still baffle me, but knowing them the best I can helps me parent them individually.  Just like every other parent out there, I need all the help I can get along the way on this parenting journey.




Along with having twins came a whole set of unique child rearing attributes that I definitely found to be different than raising the three singletons I have.  And it's not only because they were born six weeks premature - that's a whole other experience that comes with it's own set of unique challenges and circumstances.

There have been many significant moments throughout their lives that are simply because they are twins.  I remember when they were about eight weeks old I had them lying side-by-side beside me when I noticed they were clutching each others' hands.  I pulled their hands apart to see what would happen and within a moment their hands were joined again.  Then there was the first day James walked across the floor on his own at 13 months.  Within hours, Morgan was toddling right behind him for his first walk alone too.  They each cut their first tooth on the same day.  I'm going to refrain from mentioning the times that being twins got them into mischief though - that's a whole other post.

Through it all though, I think one of the most significant attributes I've noticed about them being twins is their teamwork.  From the moments early in their lives when one boy would drop a toy and the other would hand it back to him to their quiet moments in their room now when they take a toy apart and figure out how to put it back together.  Teamwork takes them places.  Morgan bolsters James's self-confidence when they are in a new, uncertain situation.  James organizes Morgan.  They split up their cleaning and chores to cover more in a shorter timeframe.  They challenge one another and encourage each other to do better.  They make a great team.

The school they attend emphasizes a specific virtue each month of the school year.  At the end of the month there is an assembly where a few students in each class are recognized for how well they display that virtue in their daily lives.  The virtue for January was Teamwork.  James and Morgan were chosen in their class along with one other boy.  Besides being proud of them, I had to smile to myself.  It's not the first time they have received recognition for this virtue and I highly suspect it won't be the last time. 

Twins make teamwork easy.

From the Sidelines

I watch them out there every week.  Skates laced tight, helmets on snug.  Concentration etched deeply on their brows as they manipulate their feet and bodies while maintaining their balance.  Arms and legs working together to achieve careful unity.  Week by week subtle improvements might be visible in one boy while another seems to still be struggling to balance properly when lifting a foot or turning precisely.  Some weeks one child will almost dazzle when he suddenly masters skating backwards.

Tonight is different.  The regular stations situated at each corner of the ice rink are left empty.  Rather than barriers, drills and practice, the ice is clear for a free skate.  It's beautiful watching them.  Amidst the skaters, small and big, skills vary over a wide degree.  Among our four boys alone, abilities and enjoyment are wide ranging.  Two short months of weekly lessons have brought dramatic changes for each of them.

Slowly their steadiness increases as their confidence grows.  From the sidelines I cannot differentiate which inspires the other - does confidence bring steadiness?   Or do they feel more confident when they achieve a greater level of steadiness?  Either way, the blossoming of success is wonderful to watch.

It was a good decision to enroll them in skating lessons this year.  When they began their abilities were mainly remaining upright and making forward momentum.  James and Morgan have quickly progressed gaining speed, fluidity and skills.  While Evan is progressing at a much slower pace, he's acquiring his own set of skills and is able to do much of what he is shown even if it is in his own awkward way.

But tonight was Nicholas's night to shine!  His determined, solid little body usually makes him appear as a tin soldier on ice skates - legs straight, arms pumping rigidly at his sides.  The moment his skates hit the ice tonight, there was a difference - he glided.  It was the first time I'd watched him move so easily across the cold surface.

At times like this I love sitting on the sidelines.  They learn, grow and accomplish while I have the great privilege of simply watching them.  So much of parenting is teaching and shaping little ones and all the joys and trials that come with it.  But sitting on the sidelines, ahhh, that provides lovely, (almost) uninterrupted moments of watching them experience their life.

Halloween - Day 31

Excitement builds as the day progresses.  Chores are done without complaint.  A friend drops by with early treats.  Costumes are donned for a first run through.  Pieces are found; incomplete costume parts are made.  Face paint is picked to make the costumes complete.  Trick or Treating time is soon to begin.

An early supper of fruit, cheese and crackers is spread on the table to nibble on while we prepare to face the night.  Tummy's don't need to be too full tonight as plenty of treats will be eaten later.  There are certain times through the year I don't limit the amount of treats and goodies they eat.  Halloween is one of them.

After clothes are layered beneath the costumes for warmth, accessories are added and makeup applied.  Pictures are taken and we head out the door.  A Mystery Man, a pumpkin, Robin Hood, a dinosaur, and a black and white cat all load in the van.

Driving to town we trudge up the streets.  Small boys walk diligently on through drizzle and rain, knocking on doors Daddy says are okay.  As wee legs tire and fingers grow colder the little ones climb in the van that is warm.  But the twins keep Daddy walking, and standing in the wet, until home and dry beckon warmth.

Dylan fell asleep well before the last doorbell was rung.  Evan and Nicholas sat sorting candy in their seats in the van, enjoying some while we waited.  The three went straight to bed, exhausted by Halloween.  But James and Morgan's fun was still running high.  A good snoop through their loot, a few treats to eat, and off to bed they went.  

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

Thank you for joining me on this journey through Write 31 Days.  I'm so glad I accepted this challenge.  It's really helped develop my love of writing and making it part of my every day.  Starting tomorrow, November 1, I will be starting my next writing journey of NaNoWriMo so I can continue writing daily.  I'm so excited! 

On Being a Writer - Day 30

Sometimes staring at a blank page disheartens me.  The words I thought I had in me before I sat down have vanished.  I have nothing to offer.  The blank space, sitting empty, taunting me to fill it up is as intimidating as standing before a crowd of people and feeling I am paralyzed to open my mouth.  My fingers sit poised over the keyboard but I cannot strike the keys.  I cannot string together the individual letters that will form words into sentences to convey my ideas.  There is nothing.

It's a difficult conundrum.  To write is the very act of...writing.  It should be simple really - make words flow together into sentences to express an idea to share with others.

But writing, that is something entirely different.  When writing is something born of yourself, created in your imagination alone, and something others may {potentially} read, it takes on a whole new significance.  It becomes not just words and sentences expressing an idea, it becomes a piece of your soul exposed to the world.  Even if no one else ever reads the words put into print, once it is brought to light, the writer becomes unshielded.

Displaying my own vulnerability by writing, then sharing it through this blog leaves me feeling naked.  Thoughts formed in my mind and shaped by my words are available for others to examine and judge.  Every time I hover over the post button, I pause feeling a wild moment of panic.  As great as I desire to share my writing, my desire to keep what I compose private is stronger.

Write 31 Days has moved me forward in my journey as a writer.  Joining a writers group has motivated me to quit hiding.  I enjoy weaving words and expressing myself in ways I would never achieve verbally.  I have journeyed through this challenge, apprehensive at first and gaining boldness along the way.  I'm finally embracing writing as one of my passions and owning it.  I can call myself a writer and not feel I need to justify why quite as strongly as I did at the beginning of this month.  I feel I have proven to myself that I do have something worth sharing.

I have also decided to take the plunge into NaNoWriMo!  I am joining all the other aspiring authors attempting to write 50,000 words in the month of November.  Writing every day has become a habit I look forward to; I don't want to lose the momentum and rhythm I have come to enjoy.  NaNoWriMo is the perfect opportunity for me to continue practicing my newly adopted craft.

I wonder what November will bring.

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

The Truth - Day 29

Capturing elusive moments throughout these days of writing for Write 31 Days allows to me be selective as I tell my tales.  (See my landing page here to learn more about this challenge.)  Some of what I've recorded have been experiences with others.  Other times my impressions or memories have been the focus.  Always they are the moments of greatest significance that I reflect on at the end of the day.

Daily expectations to seek out moments finds me slowing down, taking time to reflect, considering why or what a moment means.  It's been good.  Appreciating simple actions and kind words creates healthy perspective.  Finding significance and beauty in all types of experiences forces me to remember why all this daily hard and messy life is being lived.  They are all split seconds that lay the foundation of who we are as a family, and as individuals.  Not big flashy moments but the hugs, chats, smiles and laughter shared together that make all the hard, worth it.

For our home, there is far more mess than there is beauty.  Always the housework needs to be done as there are crumbs on the floor and dust on the shelves.  Scattered wherever you look are toys, books, trucks and Lego.  Always Lego!  Dishes need washing.  Baskets of clothes, both clean and dirty, move throughout the house as good intentions to wash or fold are left waiting.  Toilets need brushing.  Summer clothes need storing and winter clothes need finding.  Organization is lacking!

For our family, there is often more frustration than there is harmony.  Boys are disagreeing.  Mom's instructions are ignored.  The most insignificant of things has caused a fight to break out.  Boys run, still yelling, even after being told to stop being so loud.  Always loud!  Parent's raise voices to be heard over the din as they try sharing together some of their day.  Reminders are given.  Items are misplaced and time is spent looking.  Then looking some more.  Tantrums happen.  Frustration is felt by all.

Still in the midst of all that going on, the most important things are never neglected.  The children are clean and tummies are full.  The house is warm.  There are clean clothes aplenty even if socks from the sock box are matched as we head out the door.  We read together (most days).  Hugs are given.  Sorry's are said.  Laughter is shared over silly jokes or misspoken words.  I love you's are shown, not just spoken.  Thoughtfulness is extended.

For the last twenty-nine days I have stolen time from these hectic days to record the best parts of this chaos that is made beautiful simply because we are living it together.

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

Kindness - Day 28

Kindness.  The concept is simple - to act in a thoughtful way towards another.  It's a word that requires energy involving forethought and genuineness.  The gesture invokes an emotional response in the person receiving the kindness; and often, in others who witness the kindness

I have tried to teach my children to be kind to one another and those around them.  However, they are boys.  They become distracted so easily and are completely unaware of opportunities to show kindness to those around them.  They can be loud, in the way, swinging things or suddenly jump when it's least expected.  They keep me on my toes and my reflexes quick.

I try to extend kindness to others.  Sometimes I find myself very much mired down in the care and the needs of my little ones and I miss my own opportunities to act in kindness.  It feels like I am letting others, and myself, down when this happens.  Others may not know that I saw a need and tried to meet it only to not succeed, but I do.

Once when we were about to go in the arena, I missed holding the door for someone because I was carrying two bags containing skates and helmets.  I couldn't get there fast enough to help.  Instead, someone held the door for me as I ushered my crew into the building.   It wasn't the first time a situation like this has happened; I'm sure it won't be the last time.  I felt humbled.  

I am a physically capable, independent person.  I feel I should be able to do for myself and my children.  And I want to do for others as well.  But the reality too often is that I need a helping hand.  Over the last nine years I have slowly started to appreciate help and kindness when it is extended to me without feeling guilty for needing the help.  That is the biggest obstacle - not feeling guilty.

The kindness of strangers has been remarkable the few times my mom has gone out during these last months when her mobility has been less.  Doors are held open so she can go through.  Chairs are vacated to allow her an easily accessible chair to sit in.  Papers are brought to her rather than her having to move to them.  Even now, as she is able to walk with just a cane, people jump to assist her in any way they see.  I am touched by how thoughtful others are.  I hope I react as readily when I see someone that could have a door held open or are in need of a chair.  

Again, for me, it's reminiscent of my nephew Jake.  Oh, the kindness showered on him!  It often overflowed to those of us with him and could be overwhelming!  He, of course, took it all in stride in his usual Jake fashion.  We were uplifted.  Of course there were the people that rudely stared at a bald child who was obviously a cancer patient.  And when he was weaker, there were those that would step in front of his wheelchair or not move so we could pass without bumping his chair.  Bumping anything meant causing Jake pain.  But kindness overshadowed all of this.  I remember people who were compassionate and kind.  People who cleared the way for Jake, or held doors open, or made Jake smile.  

Yes, kindness invokes an emotional response, even in those only witnessing the kindness.  

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

Friends - Day 27

The day stretching before me was scattered at best.  Other than a plan to visit my mom and feed my family, there was no plan.

In recent weeks, my regular day-to-day at home has been returned back to the haphazard chaos of not getting things done.  Although I had expected it, knowing I would be gone almost daily to help my mom as she recuperated, my dislike of the disharmony once again has surprised me.  I have put a lot of energy into making over some of my habits and instilling workable routines and structure into our home over the last number of months.  The changes had been needed for a very long time and I relied on them heavily.

Putting some of the new habits and routines on hold temporarily has left me feeling a bit lost at times.  I know what needs to be done, I know what I should do.  But fitting in any extras above meal-making, laundry, basic care needs of my family, and work doesn't give me much time to tackle anything of significance.  When I have a block of time without a plan, I flounder.

In typical fashion when I feel at loose ends, I began cooking.  As most meals have been my go-to easy meals lately, I settled in happily to make a lovely mushroom soup from scratch for lunch.   My phone rang just as I was about to add the last ingredients.  A thoughtful friend was inviting me to visit a local craft sale with her.  Again, I floundered.  Indecision about how to use my time most effectively is a true struggle for me these days.  I wanted to go with her, not because of the local event which hadn't even made it onto my radar, but because I realized as soon as she invited me that I am craving time with my friends.  How did she know?

Pulling myself together, I quickly checked that Luke hadn't made plans to go anywhere.  I put the finishing touches on the soup and set it to simmer so it would be ready for the boys.  Then I made as short of work as possible of making myself presentable to the world beyond my door.  In other words, I got out of my yoga pants and brushed my hair into a more controlled pony-tail.  She still had to wait a few minutes before I was ready to go.

We were together for only a little more than an hour, but it was a rejuvenating hour.  We wandered around the small craft show together with her daughter.  We talked about the things on the tables, things we've bought before, or use regularly.  We admired artwork and handwork.  We bought a few things.  We ran into people we knew and chatted with them.  We laughed.  We were just...friends.  She was a bit of refreshment for my soul.

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

A Boy and His Dog - Day 26

We are greeted in the driveway before we even leave the van.  Three black and white dogs, still puppies, jump and bark their welcome in a frenzy of wiggling bodies and wagging tails.  Opening the door slowly, pushing them back with the bulk of metal, clears just enough space for me to enter the throng.  I try to pet each black head individually even while the noses another is between my hand and my mark.  After a moment, I feel I have successfully made contact with each ball of energy and hope they are slightly calmer before opening the sliding van door to let Dylan out.

It never works.  

Opening the door while Dylan is still strapped in his car-seat, the puppies stand waiting expectantly while I unclasp the buckles.  As soon as he is free of his seat, before his feet even hit the ground, he is swarmed.  When he was smaller, a little less sure of himself, he would hide behind my legs.  Now he is in command.  He tells those dogs to stay "down!".  Once the commotion of wagging tails, lolling tongues and rooting noses subsides, we begin making our way to my parent's house.

The short trek from van to house can often be distracting for a boy of three: Papa on the tractor, cats to catch, a toy to retrieve.  Always there is Missy.  She faithfully walks alongside him, leaning her head against him wherever he stops hoping for another pet, another hug.  I love watching them together, two peas in a pod, full of energy, affection and fun.

Missy has claimed Dylan for her own.  She tolerates his rough loving play.  She sits waiting expectantly for him to come back out the door.  She follows him wherever he wanders whether on a lead or freely beside him.  She loves him.  She is loyal.  She forgives him for leaving for long spaces of time; he forgives her the neediness she oozes.




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Pumpkin Carving - Day 25

The fire crackles in the corner stove.  Smells of fresh cut pumpkin blends with fresh cut wood.  The boys murmur quietly to each other, each at their own pumpkin, working intently pulling pumpkin guts out.  Every once in awhile Luke's power saw buzzes loudly, deafening us all for the moment it takes to make a cut; the whir of the drill fills the silence in between.

Every couple of years pumpkin carving has grown a little bigger in our family as we add another pumpkin for another boy to claim as his own.  This year I considered having all the boys carve only the one Big Max pumpkin I grew in our garden.  Not only did I think it would be a little less...well, less everything, but my pumpkins didn't produce all that well.  I only ended up with one Big Max carving pumpkin and three small pie pumpkins.  Fortunately our friendly neighbours had a big bunch of pumpkins to share and the boys happily picked out far more than we needed in a variety of sizes.  Needless to say, each boy had their own pumpkin to carve this year again.

Incorporating some fun pumpkin carving and seed counting homework Evan had with our family tradition prompted the afternoon in Luke's garage.  Dylan napped, Evan planned and counted, the boys each waited their turn to start.  Luke continued to work at his project, pausing to carve the pumpkin faces while I sorted plump white seeds from gooey, stringy orange slime.  The boys each settled in, elbow-deep, concentration mixed with offbeat boy-humour.

Dylan awoke and joined us, blinking sleep from his eyes.  His uncertainty quickly gave way to handfuls of pumpkin chunks.  Nicholas perched on the side of the table balancing precariously so his strong arms could reach further.  Evan methodically counted his seeds.  The twins grew bored and challenged each other to lift Dad's tools and pieces of wood a little higher than the other.

An easy clean up.  Seeds roasted.  Marshmallows bobbing in hot chocolate.  Chairs gathered in front of the toasty warm fire.  A perfect way to spend a cool autumn afternoon with daddy in his shop.

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A Good Visit - Day 24

Sitting in the hospital bed, her eyes bright, surprise on her face.  She welcomed Morgan with a smile and asked immediately for a hug.  His hesitation was slight.  I could tell he was trying to reconcile the frail woman he has come to expect with this woman before him.  I was trying to reconcile it myself.  In typical Morgan fashion, it didn't last more than a second before he leaned over the edge of the bed and nearly squashed her.  She laughed.  It sounded good.

It's been a couple of weeks since Morgan last saw his Dema.  {Dema is the name Jake, my nephew, chose to call my mom 22 years ago and it's stuck.}  School, life events and her stay in the hospital has limited his opportunities.  After dropping James off at a friends house on my way to the hospital, it just seemed right for Morgan to join me today.  We stopped at Tim's for two coffee's and one hot chocolate before we made the walk through the quiet, Saturday afternoon corridors of the small local hospital.

I sat with her yesterday for awhile and saw how well she was doing considering her reason for being in the hospital.  Today she surprised me by looking so much different, more vital somehow.  It took me awhile to explain the difference to myself.  She moved easily.  She talked freely.  She laughed gently.  She did her leg exercises and I helped the way she's taught me to further her work toward achieving more bend.  She drank her whole coffee.  She talked of being hungry!  Hungry!  She hasn't wanted to eat anything since her surgery over six weeks ago.

Morgan and I stayed for as long as we could before I had to return home to make supper for the ones we left at home.  It was a good visit.  Later, as I was filling Luke in on how much improvement I saw in mom, it finally dawned on me.  She looked more like she did many, many months ago.  Since before this difficult year of health troubles and mobility issues.  And pain.  So much pain.  Yes, today she looked like I expect her to look.

My mom looked young today!

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

Autumn Leaves - Day 23

Rustling leaves.  Screeching boys.  Scrapping rakes.  Crunching wheels.  The sounds are amplified today as the wind blows gently.  The blue sky seems magnified by a brilliant sun.  There is peace hanging over us in the yard as we work together.

Trees surround our home.  Shade in summer gives way to the yellow magnificence of leaves painted by the hand of Autumn.  Whipping winds have ripped leaves from the trees and piled them knee-deep in corners and recesses around our yard.  Leaving the piles amassed will cause slippery messes for us to face through the winter and spring to come.  Contrast between our accumulation of messiness and our neighbours yard made pristine by diligent work spur us to at least attempt removal of some of the mass.

A day off school for these energetic boys of ours provides extra time to be outside raking today.  Leaves are raked into a pile.  Then jumped in.  Leaves are raked back into a pile again.  And jumped in again.  Third time around sees the leaves piled into the wagon.  Dylan's small body sits atop the pile packing it down as his big brothers pull it into the bush.  Pushing the leaves off the wagon means one more chance to crawl through the pile.


Leaves clinging to pant legs and shirts, sticking out of shoes, mashed into hair.  The smiles on their faces say it all.  Raking leaves in a way as only the young would do.


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Waiting - Day 22

Today was a tough one.

It didn't start that way.  In fact, when I woke this morning, I was looking forward to the plans of the day.  Mom has physio on Thursday.  And we had plans to change up our usual routine so she could attempt claiming back a little of normal life again.

After a positive doctor's appointment this past Monday, Dylan and I had taken Mom out for a pizza lunch.  Other than physio and doctor's appointments, Mom has only been away from home once since her surgery six weeks ago.  That was to vote.  Beginning today she had hopes to venture out a little more. Today she planned to join me in walking around the small local grocery store to help pick out the groceries she and Dad need.  Even if they didn't need anything, she wanted to use the flat, smooth indoor surface to do some extra walking and enjoy a change of scenery as well.

Shortly after the boys left on the bus this morning, Dad called me.  He explained that mom had had severe pains up her side and in her chest.  He had taken her to emerge at 1 am.  Tests have confirmed she has blood clots in her left lung.  She chose to be admitted to the hospital so she can be treated and monitored there.  I believe she made a good choice.  She has a lot of pain; they can help monitor her treatment.

I spent a good portion of the day waiting to learn more information, where mom was, what would happen.  I've paused to pray.  I've passed information on to my siblings.  I finally talked to Mom after 2 pm.  She sounded exhausted.  She was unable to take deep breaths because of the pain even while on pain medication.  She wanted to sleep.

It wasn't until after 7 pm when I was able to take her a small bag of necessities she requested.  Stepping into her room I saw her lying still, sleeping peacefully.   I expected it.  She's a tiny woman and the hospital bed dwarfed her making her look much more so.  Leaving the necessities where she could easily reach them, I sat and watched her sleep without waking her.  She'll know I had been there.  I hope she felt my prayers over her.

Receiving that phone call this morning has shaken my world a little bit.  Unexpectedly I was faced with my mom's mortality.  I had to catch my breath.  I had to figure it all out again and put things back inline.  It's not quite working yet.  The day's proceedings, for me, were reminiscent of more than eleven years ago.  Those days were not about my mom, but about my small nephew, Jake.  Childhood cancer controlled his, and all of our lives, for over seven years.  While he was at the hospital fighting, we were at home.  Waiting.

It's been over eleven years yet the smallest similarities can trigger memories of him and his battle.  I'm so very thankful that each of those hard memories is outshone many times over by all the good, fun, full-of-life memories of the eleven years we had with Jake.

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Connecting - Day 21

Surrounded by a crowd buzzing with excitement, we stood in the midst, sharing our stories.  Merrymaking all around us; laughter in abundance, stories being told, children run yelling.  And yet all the noise and commotion was simply a murmur in my ears.

Together we bent ever so slightly forward, bodies comfortably angled.  Intent.  Listening.  Straining close enough to hear every word. Our raised voices absorbed by the throng beyond the knot we formed.

We've known each other awhile now, talked and laughed many times before this.  But it wasn't until this time, standing together among the crowd, that I learned of life experiences that have shaped her.  I also had the chance to share some similar stories that make me who I am.  Stories filled with different circumstances and people involved.  Yet stories so similar because of how they have shaped us.

And even in that moment, I didn't feel the full weight of it.  I was simply in the moment, hearing a story I didn't know, filling in details that hadn't made it to my attention before.  I began to view my friend with new respect knowing now what she's lived.  Our stories unite us for I saw a glimpse of me, in her.


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