late night plays

a wish for me, from you

 Although it is not my intention for this post to come across like the Gwyneth-in-a-pink-dress-Oscar-acceptance-speech,

I must warn you, it might have that feel.

Please forgive me if I forget anyone, I have so many to thank.

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For me, the changing of the calender year brings with it wishes for things I could have done better and things I hope that I will. I'm talking about relationships, parenting, health, work; the same things most people put on their lists. 

When I come to this space, my wish for the year ahead is harder to describe.

I am here because others wished it for me, even before I began to wish it for myself.

You see, I live my life in a land of believers, motivators, cheerleaders. And whether they know it or not, they pushed me to step into this space; to own it, to grow it, to share it. 

They are:

• the feisty and fiery Mama of Many who was the first to tell me to take flight with a tiny, blue bird and who has given me so many opportunities to use my editor's pen. You were my first and will always my best. 

• a generous Gummy Mummy who dragged my reluctant self to meet-ups and tweet-ups and finally to the amazing Blissdom 2011 conference. You are the most selfless cheerleader and friend.

• the live-outside-your-comfort-zone skater who once said to me when I asked her to wish me luck, "You don't need luck. You are an amazing writer." I hope you know I took that note, folded it up, and tucked it into my heart.

• the beautiful writer who so candidly shared her hopes for herself and told me to create my own. I will forever be grateful that I sat down at your table.

• the should-be-hacker-for-the-FBI-baker who patiently gave me hours and hours of her time to help build this blog. There are a million more hugs where those came from.

• the extraordinary artist (who really needs to establish her online space) behind my logo, my blog banner, my widgets. You are one of my most treasured friends.

• the editor and writer who gave me IRL experience with a side of friendship. I've learned and laughed.

• the besties, Kitty, Gretha, B. You have been lifting me up from the very first moment we met. 

• the many, many online and real-life friends who take the time to tell me when my words have brought a smile, a tear, a memory. I appreciate every comment. 

• my parents, I could not say it better than Gwyneth herself. You have created a family that loves you and each other more than anything. You should be so proud. 

• my sister, who never fails to let me know which of my posts have made her cry and who firmly believes I should pursue a career in writing pet obituaries. You are simply the greatest.

• my husband, who broke his promise never to read this blog, because he didn't believe me for a moment when I said it wouldn't be worth his read. I can't say anything because the swell in my heart is too big for words.

• and my children, who bring my words to life. You push me to look closely at myself and the world, because I want both to be nothing less than the best that you deserve. 

I don't know where this will lead or who's behind all those page views. But I do know I'm here because of my believers, motivators and cheerleaders. And because of that, I think I'll stay.

Happy 2012. May your wishes and the ones for those you love come true. 

 

 

a holiday season without the jingle

...of dog tags, that is.

This will be the first Christmas in 13 years that we are celebrating without a furry family member and it's definitely casting some sadness on the festivities.

Just over three years into our relationship, my guy and I adopted an unruly runt of a Labrador Retriever from a farm about half-an-hour north of the university we were attending at the time. Years later, I still can't tell you what we were thinking. I know I was in love with the idea of sharing a dog and I suppose my guy was in love with me. We were both dog people, having grown up with dogs, but we were also full-time students and while our peers spent their lunch hours in the student pub, we took turns going home to walk the dog.

Our runt, Shamus, was small only in size. He had a very large personality and a humungous heart. He failed obedience school (twice) but never failed to come when we called his name. He wanted to be on top of us, beside us, with us every minute of the day. And despite the fact he once chewed through all four legs of a kitchen table so that we came home to a Japanese-style dining room (seriously, the table was kneeling height), we felt the same way about him. 

I remember the first few nights we had him home. We had the hot water bottle, the towels, the noisy clock, the laundry basket; everything he needed to settle in for a good night's rest. But true to his style, he didn't want to sleep anywhere that wasn't one of our armpits. And so my future hubby curled up on a futon and settled in with our pup for several nights. No doubt it was around that time I was convinced he should also be the future father of my children. 

Shamus was a naughty dog, but we saw his inner sweetness and tried our best to ignore the rest. We fell into dog ownership comfortably. In fact, we got so comfortable we had a mutual lapse in judgement and decided he needed a friend to keep him company when we couldn't be with him. 

And not just any dog. Oh no. Future-hubby was settled on getting another big dog. The hyper, needs-to-be-stimulated-unless-sleeping kind of dog. We found our pointer, Leroy Brown, at another farm on the outskirts of that university town. He had been living in an outdoor pen for several months with some of his litter mates. It was almost winter and being a breed that cannot manage the cold, they needed to find him a home.

He found a home and we found ourselves with another ill-behaved dog. He did a bit better in obedience school but we lost a few couches, an armchair and countless shoes to his exuberant personality. Thankfully, because we were students, most of that stuff came from the local thrift shop.  

We did get one thing right. Our dogs were immediately inseparable. As much as they loved to be with us, I think they relied on one another's companionship even more. 

There is a lot of work that goes along with being dog owners. The endless walking. The early wake-ups. The poop scooping. The barf cleaning. The furniture replacing. The vet visiting. The dog food purchasing. The kennel boarding. The carpet cleaning. The obedience training. 

But we bumbled through all of it together. We brought four babies into their home and each time a shift was surely felt. They took it all in stride. They forgave us even when we didn't deserve it. And they loved us just as much. 

Shamus passed away last fall and within the year, Leroy's health declined significantly. He passed away almost exactly a year later. One never seemed the same without the other. I can't even describe how hard it was to say our good byes or to guide our children through the experience of losing these beloved family members. 

So Christmas will be very different this year. There won't be any top secret trips to the pet store with piggy bank money in hand for gifts to put in doggie stockings. There won't be a dog running through the house with a holiday ham in its mouth (true story). And there won't be a wrapping paper shredding party after the gifts have been unwrapped. 

But there will be gifts under the tree the night before (think wrapping paper shredding) and chocolate in the stockings (turns out our dogs weren't allergic and had quite a fondness for it) and there will be memories.

Many, many memories.

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Consider a holiday donation to your local humane society or animal shelter in honour of your loyal friend

 For families helping their children say good bye to a pet, I highly recommend Saying Good bye to Lulu

400 words about things i love

This post was inspired by similiar lists on Schmutzie and The Kids Are Alright.

There's more to me than meets the eye. 

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dim sum + road trips + Christmas music + the smell of dry leaves + flannel sheets on bare feet + the way my kids colour spread-eagled on the floor + baby kicks from the inside + luscious pregnancy hair + night owls + catching my toddler lip syncing to the radio in the rearview mirror + DVD box sets + ketchup chips + my iphone + dimples on the backs of my kids' hands + the way my dad squeezes tea bags with the back of his spoon + anne murray + my mom's homemade congee + the sound of mah jong blocks sliding around on a table + visiting my alma mater + the feeling of sand being pulled away from under my feet by a wave + backwards waves from babies + my beautiful husband + having a sister + sending cards + receiving cards + feather pillows + crunchy snow under big boots + new friends + old friends + choirs + fried tomatoes + cousins + campfires + books + baths + chai + alice munro + Irish folk songs + concerts + kissing + someone else brushing my hair + finding the perfect gift + watching the perfect gift being opened + surprises + sad songs + margaret laurence + chocolate milk on cornflakes + love notes + photographs + breastfeeding + soup + weddings + the Chinese new year dragon dance + anything a la mode + happy endings + film festivals + my aunt's dumplings + going to school + learning something new + motherhood + gratitude + friendly strangers + carol shields + seaside towns + my in-laws + when my parents hold hands + midwives + snow lying still on branches + thank you notes + bento boxes + listening to my husband sing + being married + family dinners + newborns + etsy + contact lenses + sarah slean + watching my daughters dance + listening to my son play the piano + crushes + itunes shuffle + bbq bits n' bites + tutus + boat rides + date nights in our family room + Soho + meryl streep + clouds in a blue sky + Cape Cod + tea + book stores + picture frames + argyle socks + regina spektor + my husband's nose + duvets + the internet + scott speedman + corduroy + stews + cauliflower + recitals + picking my kids up from school + being moved to cry + hugs + dreams + lattes + when good things happen to good people + singing in the car + perspective + a cappella + grapefruit halves with sugar on top + writing + laughing really hard + a warm house on a cold day + my life + me

***

Apparently, I could have summarized the things I love into: family, food, Canadian talent, and goodness; but that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun.

Go on. Give it a try.

What are some of the hundreds of things you love?

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the A, B, C's of toddlerhood

My first three children were born in the span of four years. And on the eve that our third said goodbye to toddlerhood, by blowing out three candles on a cake, I got pregnant with our fourth. 

When I read about a call-out for the Toddler Carnival at PhD in Parenting, I thought, "Yep, I've played in that big top and swung (wildly) from that trapeze."

So let's chat about survival. But first, some disclaimers about how good I've had it:

• all of my toddlers slept in their own beds and through the night
• they all sat at the table for meals
• never had a biter or a hitter
• also haven't had a runner 

If you're feeling like you want to spit on me or roll your eyes behind my back, read on.

I have had (in public places, sometimes with raised voices (theirs and mine), and always on repeat):

• noodle arms and legs (especially when trying to get somewhere in a hurry)
• the plank (while attempting to avoid car seats and/or strollers)
• the tortoise (how loooooooooooooooooooooooong can it take to get your shoe on already?)
• and finally, the "I don't care if my underwear are wet, doesn't bother me one bit!"

Each of my trips through toddlerhood has churned out a wiser and stronger version of myself. I've made mistakes (oh, have I!) but I've also come to a better understanding of these pint-sized wonders.

Here are my top three survival tips (taken directly from personal experience):

Act your age: you act yours and let them act theirs

• when your sweetie is unleashing his toddler-wrath because you dared to zip up his coat, resist the urge to throw yourself to the floor and join in. seriously, he'll use that material for the next round
• if you bring an 18-month-old out for sushi with your childless friends two hours past toddler bedtime, don't expect it to go well and don't expect those friends to be in any hurry to invite you and your she-totally-goes-with-the-flow-most-of-the-time-toddler out again 

Be: what you want to see 

• use kind words and kind hands
• use your best manners with them and everyone else
• be generous 
• let them see you doing things that make you happy
• let them see that being with them is one of the things that makes you most happy
• smile (a lot), laugh (a lot) and don't be afraid to cry when your heart hurts

Compassion: it's not easy being small in a big world

• get down on their level as much as you can
• if they need you to stop what you're doing for a hug, do your very best
• sometimes a quiet "I know" is exactly what they need to hear
• forgive and forget the unsavoury moments (yours and theirs) and celebrate and remember the great ones

Tantrums and toilet-training can make toddlerhood feel like a really long road trip that at times leaves you claustrophobic and car sick. Roll down the windows and breathe in all the good stuff. And don't forget to watch for all the beautiful scenery that hides in the moments that pass so quickly you'll wish you stopped and took more pictures. 

 

 

 

 

who let the raccoon in the house?

First let me tell you at the height of what was supposed to be my best years (read: pre-babies), I didn’t do much to “strut my stuff”.  I am a jeans-&-sweats kind of gal and still can’t manage to look sexy or feminine in any kind of heel that isn’t attached to some kind of boot.

So added to the fact I work from home, it’s a given my kids rarely see me dolled up.  I’m a not-so-shiny poster gal for the “Stay-at-home mom can’t get out of fashion rut” headlines we so often see.

This past weekend was my husband’s holiday party and the first chance to get my sparkle on since our youngest babe was born. I went so far as to book an appointment to get my hair blown out and my make up done. But thanks to a barrage of swim, dance and hockey classes loaded on top of back-to-back birthday parties, I only managed to pull off the blow dry.

I boldly asked for the “Hollywood” blow out, which for those of you who aren’t aware, means I was supposed to step out of the salon with a crown of hair reminiscent of J-Lo. It didn’t work out. Because, as my stylist gently pointed out, the fact I haven’t had a haircut in over six months was a bit of a hindrance.

I ended up looking more Shirley Temple than J-Lo, but still had about 10 minutes to slap on some make up and pull myself together. Now understand, I have never mastered the art of applying make up and go straight to places like Sephora where I’m able to make use of one their uber-gorgeous tour guides.

Sadly, my tour guide couldn’t make it to my bathroom that night. So I did my best to re-create what she had shown me in the store.

I ran downstairs and was met with four tiny, dumbfounded expressions. Even our babysitter wondered who had stopped by the house. I leaned in to kiss the baby goodnight and she promptly burst into tears.

On our way to the party, I brought up those tears and how sad it was she didn’t want me to leave. Hubby reassured me she’d be fine and then changed the subject (or did he?) by telling me how fetching I looked with my fancy dress and raccoon eyes.

Raccoon eyes?

I should have known.

The next morning, I asked our oldest how the baby had done after we left. She matter-of-factly replied, “Oh she was fine. She wasn’t sad you were leaving, Mommy. She was afraid of your eyes.”

Here’s my plan for next year’s party: spend entire year practicing how to walk in heels, get hair cut no more than three months before big night, slip Sephora girl a wad of cash and beg her to follow me home. 

This is attainable in a year, right?