late night plays

the right thing

My driver's license was only a few months old, when my sister and I climbed into my little red car to head to the mall. I remember my dad had just come home from the night shift and was wearing pajamas and slippers.

As he often did, he must have been watching from the front window as we pulled away.

I had a lot to learn about the proper use of rear view and side view mirrors, and so it was that I clipped the front bumper of our neighbour's parked car, while reversing from our driveway. There was a crunch and a slight lift of both cars. My sister yelped and I put the car into drive. She rolled her window down to look for damage. There didn't seem to be any, so we made the split-second decision to keep going. 

Imagine the horror, when we caught sight of our stone-faced father plowing through the food court in his slippers. 

You get back in your car right now. You drive home and you knock on our neighbour's door and you tell him what happened!

Though I have no doubt my shaky driving skills were more than enough to scare him, my driving was never the point of our later discussions about the incident.

His greater fear was raising kids who didn't do the right thing. 

And now that I'm a parent, I get it.

This past weekend, my 11-year-old daughter put my 17-year-old self to shame. 

She did the right thing.

Even though the circumstances were no fault of her own, she still made the harder choice. 

Truth? I wanted to let her off the hook.

She didn't deserve the heartache that I knew would come.

She sat and watched the team she has trained with for months and months, while they performed in a competition. Even though she couldn't participate because of an injury, she cheered and clapped and let her cheeks flush with joy on their behalf.

It was only when we were alone, that she let the tears of disappointment fall.

I wanted to let her stay home, even though I knew it contradicted the very essence of team. 

She's just a little girl, after all. 

But it turns out you don't need age to have wisdom.

And the heart that dances across stages and brings me to tears, is the very same one that kept her in that seat—a good heart.

The right heart. 

 

 

 

 

 

Related articles

fashionista

REPEATER: back to the river

start with a plan {giveaway}

Confession: I miss, drop, and forget things on my must-do list. And I do it often. There are many nights I climb into bed with a book—when I should be doing so many other things—because I have no idea where to begin.

So I let myself off the hook and I don't start anything. 

And it's okay. 

We are constantly working on finding a rhythm as a family of six, with one out-of-the-house breadwinner and one in-the-house-wanna-be-writer. I've learned to prioritize what our family needs most.

We have a messy house, but we get the homework done.

We don't make our beds, but we eat really well. 

Truthfully, it's not easy to manage even that much sometimes. I rely heavily on reminders and props.

• We have a gigantic wipeable homework and activities board that everyone in the house is supposed to use to stay on track. 

• I plan our meals for the week so that we eat well and keep the grocery shopping from being an exercise in random cart-filling.

Glowbaby offers a wide range of parent-approved products that help the most disorganized find their domestic Zen. The Organized Family Menu Planner is perfect for our always-hungry crew and the tear-away grocery list (no more writing on the back of the kids' artwork!) saves me from running back for butter. 

And on those nights that I slink up the stairs and hide under my covers with a book? Well, there's nothing stopping the other grown up in the house from taking over—it's written down, after all.

I'm happy to be giving one of my Canadian readers a free copy of this fabulous (tested and approved) Family Menu Planner. Leave a comment below letting me know how organized or disorganized meal planning and grocery shopping is at your house. It's nice to know I'm in good company. 

One winner will be randomly selected on May 1st.

Make sure to stop by Glowbaby to check out their other amazing products. Next on my impossible must-do list? Memory books times four. Easy, right? 

 

 

 

 

Related articles

love bites {Giveaway}

a house divided

my promise

My little loves:

There are some ugly things happening in the world. You will read this post when those days are part of history. I'm not ready to talk to you about them yet.

But I can't keep you from them forever—I know there will come a time that you see the ugly with your own disbelieving eyes. 

*************

I was in grade two when our family moved to a new neighbourhood. It was the middle of a school year, so I was allowed to finish at my original school. The route from our new house to my old school took me down a long path and through a tunnel that ran underneath a busy road—to keep us safe from traffic.

On the other side of that tunnel, there was a hang out for a group of older kids from a school across the field. At first, they stared. Then they started to taunt. They shouted names at me. Chink. Stupid. Ugly. They wanted me to speak Chinese and pull the corners of my eyes tight, while they laughed and did the same. They threw rocks at me. 

Once I finally told my parents—and I was afraid to, because I knew it would hurt them so much—I didn't walk alone again. But I never stopped walking through that tunnel. There was a park on the other side where we loved to play. There were friends that lived at the top of the hill. There were good things waiting. So we kept going. Always together, but always just the same.

*************

When you were born, I made a promise to surround you with different faces, religions, abilities, and disablities—not to protect you from feeling different, but to show you we can be different and still the same. 

It's not about tolerance, my loves. It's about living with compassion and understanding—for your world and its people—before ignorance or fear or hate ruin the view. 

Always make the choice to look around the ugly to find the good.

On the other side of the tunnel, on the other side of the world. 

In your own neighbourhood.

Mama

xo

REPEATER: lost in the light

Light?

What light?

It has been days upon days of darkness and gloom. 

Let's get warm and cozy, shall we?

Because this guy's voice?

It's like a duvet to me. 

 

 

fashionista

I remember how much I looked forward to wandering through shops filled with pint-sized clothing. Our road to parenthood was much bumpier than I imagined it would be, and being able to touch and ooh and ahh over onsies was one of the tangible signs that we'd made it. 

As we've added more children to our family, hand-me-downs have taken precedence over new purchases. But still, I've always loved the thrill of choosing miniature outfits. 

Our firstborn is the most fashion-forward in our family. And not just because she's about to become a tween (whaaaaaaaaaat? already?????????)—she's just always had a good eye. 

She puts together the most delightful and bohemian-esque ensembles and offers her dear, old mom great advice when it's time to get dressed up. She also inspires her two younger sisters—who are doing their best to follow in her blue, suede moccasins. 

Her birthday is this week, so we've been gathering a few gifts from her wish list.

This year, she asked for a very specific and reasonably-priced hoodie that can only be found in a certain teen-centred store. 

The littlest one and I went there last week for the first time. 

When I caught sight of my three-year-old dancing in front of a row of mirrors to the Justin Beiber that was pumping out of the overhead speakers, I felt something strange.

I felt sad.

There were no pint-sized sections in the store. In fact, the smallest sizes would be slightly big for the girl who sent me there. 

And I thought, how am I already here?

Yesterday, JB decided to spend an afternoon with our girl, so they could choose a couple of things for her birthday. We both believe in the value of having her dad weigh in on what is and isn't acceptable attire at this age—even though she's given us no reason to fret so far. 

They went on their own, without the distraction of mom or siblings, and he sent humorous photos and texts of their adventures. 

{These jean cut-off-jeggings were a NO!!!}

Together, they chose some really nice, parent-approved pieces. They had a lot of fun and came home with stories of loud music, stinky perfume, and having to squint in the dark to read price tags.

Later, after the kids were in bed and we were lying in bed, he told me how nice it was to spend that time with her. 

The space between us got quiet after that, but I know we were connected by the same thought.

How are we already here?

 

 

Related articles

a house divided

REPEATER: back to the river