Seasons In The Sun

Wiping down the toy tonight, I got caught up in the enjoyment of a baby riding it. Momentarily horrified as it occured to me i may not have video footage of either child riding it :/ but still felt joy at the remembering. That rollercoaster of emotions led me back to the happy duty of making it nice for the next little one. πŸ™‚

Hoping the mom who thinks she is buying it from me will spend that money on herself after I give it to her instead, maybe in a store that does great things for its community. #closetcoutureboutique

My family has been so blessed by the generosity of others, and I believe moms who help other moms are among the most beautiful creatures on the planet! Encouragement and a bit of a break every now and again are all any of us are asking for, so I get a lot of enjoyment out of being that person to somebody every once in a while. It’s humbling when total strangers open their hearts and tell you their story or offer a hand up. #mommiessupportingmommies

Next phase at home: storytelling and dramatic play! Sooooo excited to be making a puppet/dress up theatre…and the fact that it is my original design is pleasing to me πŸ™‚ I am glad I didn’t rush this project, and so thankful for almost an hour alonnnnne in the dollar store this weekend! Which enabled me to find the funky facade. I will post a quick tutorial but am still allowing the process to unfold organically!

Watching my eldest as she chooses her spots, works hard at post-secondary, and has a sweet boy by her side. Β Trying to focus on it being about her…because it is. My happiness for her far outweighs any negativity I may associate with her upbringing, mom guilt, feelings of inadequacy, Β or simply the yearning to relive so many precious moments with her. I always relied on her more than she did me, in ways. She saved me.Β 


Goodbye to you my little one, you gave me love and helped me find the sun.

So bizarre, to be at both intense stages at once: goodbye sweet baby, goodbye sweet child. Please promise me you will love you, Β as I do you. Amen.


Yesterday’s Post

I meant to write this yesterday.

So for years as part of my memory-hoarding, I have collected rocks and shells. Actually a rock collection is one of the very first things i recall creating in life. My treasures were kept in an old purple and silver kleenex box tipped up on its end, under the sink in our downstairs bathroom. i loved the “marbly sparkly” ones…still do. we travelled a lot when i was a child, so having the starfish from a Bahamas trip in 1976 is pretty special to me πŸ™‚ (more about that trip later as it was very formative)

Keep in mind i have moved ALOT. Like 5 times in 6 years as just a small example of how often i moved. My rock collection that I started up again as an adult has been around!

A few years ago, i inherited someone else’s rock and shell collection…my dear brother-in-law Bruce it seems, the shared the same affinity πŸ™‚

And as much of a wannabe-scrapbooker that i may be, what can you really do with ROCKS? i do have a few strewn about the home, including the worry stone Jen gave me and a few polished pretties i bought as talismans for my month-long trip to Nova Scotia in 2007. but i have never found anything that satisfies me as a way to honour them all properly. for the record, Bruce’s were kept separate for a period of time, but then they were blended into my collection and who knows which are which now πŸ™‚

When the girls were babies (more Bryce than Maddie), they were encouraged to play and chew on the larger rocks and shells; we kept them in a dollar store tin with cute bunnies on the outside. they would get dumped on the playmat and rolled around, held in chubby little fists and drooled all over.

Bryce loves loves loves playing in her garden in the dirt. watering the plants, digging holes and filling them with water. yesterday was mild enough that we could get out and see what the thaw had uncovered out there, among the assorted dinosaurs, Hot Wheels and plastic shovels. i had thrown the remaining 20 or so rocks and pieces of coral into the garden for her; figuring i could keep an eye on them and she could explore their beauty.

As we were digging holes and chatting, it came to me. the perfect way to honour these rocks and stones. (nod to Chantal Kreviazuk) i started burying them at different points and depths, and will continue to do so as they get dug up. i will sit back and watch as my sweet ones play and dig and discover them all over again, just like i did and their uncle did.

i don’t think any scrapbook or shadow box would have the same effect πŸ™‚

My Dirty Little Secret

i remember it like it was yesterday, how my addiction began. i was at work, my very first office job. i was a new mom, a single mom, working two jobs to make ends almost meet. (they never met)
my job was fairly stressful, as was my existence – but i had become accustomed to stress. little did i know i had over a decade of constant, intense stress ahead of me! but i digress…back to the problem i set out to finally reveal here tonight, once and for all.
the calendar was one of those “page a day” desk calendars, with the plastic base that would tilt it up just enough so that you could read it when seated at your workstation. it was tiny…smaller than a pack of smokes (i still smoked). pale pink, the pages thin, with pale lettering and pretty borders on each page. also on each page was an inspiring quote. each morning i would come in, rip off yesterday’s page and throw it in my recycle bin.
one day, i didn’t want to get rid of it. whether the quote had any special meaning to the date i don’t know, but the quote was one i felt compelled to keep with me. like a talisman.

being a new mom (Big Girl would’ve been 3), i had a gazillion photographs, and had already started to compile a good-sized collection of buttons-on-string necklaces and fingerpainted masterpieces, those lovely prized possessions that can make any stress go away just by looking at them. so when i saw this quote, on this dainty piece of paper, it made me think, “i could put this in a scrapbook”.

that was fifteen years ago.

i am here to tell you that after fifteen years of collecting and squirelling away every little personal momento and pounds of card stock and pretty embellishments, and after spending a small fortune on things like stencils, scrapbooks, photo paper, googly eyes and stick-on jewels, i am actually making an effort to bring it all together in some “crafter’s delight” homage to my existence on this earth.
i have the stub from every concert i’ve attended, a bajillion greeting cards given to me by those i love, newspaper clippings dating back to the mid-80’s, programs from my dance recitals, every report card and piece of artwork ever created by my firstborn, and lots of other silly things like – oh – fortunes from almost every cookie i’ve ever broken open. it is really scary.
not as scary as the fact that i have lovingly added to that by buying the materials to pretty it up! which is not as scary as the fact that i have spent hours trying to organize it, only to abandon the project because it’s too overwhelming, or i get sidetracked by something more immediately gratifying, like life.

in these 15 years i have moved 6 times. let that sink in for a moment. i have traipsed this crap all over the place, SIX times! that’s a special kind of crazy, let me tell you.
i have so many wonderful memories, waiting to be showcased – and i finally got smart. by starting with what is happening at present in my life, instead of trying to go back and recreate. i am going to relish and honour what is happening right now, and at the same time create a momento for my girls of our fun times. then once i’m in the mode and have confidence in my ability, i can reflect and remember the long-ago times without feeling guilt or trepidation.

it feels like a good metaphor for how i’ve decided to LIVE.

it’s in the details

So we are en route to my in-laws, and had stopped at a friend’s farm.

They knew we were coming but weren’t going to be home. Bryce loves cows and so they told Jeff where their feed was, and how to get them to come etc so that Bryce could have a cow experience. Very nice; all went to plan. They also left the house open so I could pee. I’ve been in there before, so knew my way around.

So I go in and I’m hollering “hello hello” just in case one of their grown kids was upstairs and would be freaked by some random toilet flush πŸ™‚

Their house is lovely from the outside; lots of overflowing window boxes and ivy, old brick and a nice breezeway out back, where you enter. It is also surrounded by various projects in the works; a new garden path being built, old lawnchairs around a fire pit.

Inside it’s plywoood floors painted grey, pieced together with area rugs and some old but very comfy-looking couches, beside a storage area/mudroom. This is what I see when I go in the back breezeway door. Then walking ahead, kitchen on the left and bathroom on the right. The bathroom is big-ish; very high ceiling and large tiled shower area with a window but no tub. Laundry basket filled with clothes and a bottle of body lotion thrown on top, bottle of bleach next to it. Floor and walls need a wash but aren’t covered in grime, just dusty. Lots of crap around the sink; they use old Christmas tins (tall rather than wide) as toothbrush and brush holders, also dusty. Makeup bag on counter. Huge eyeshadow palette and hand towel left on closed toilet lid.

So. Obviously a lived-in home, no real pretty “form” to it inside. All function.

As I turn to go into the bathroom (still yelling hello in case), I look quickly into the kitchen. Then ruminate on what I glimpsed as I sit…

It’s something you would see on Pinterest…a quirky idea to add colour and fun. But because this house is so lacking things of this nature, I’m worried that instead it is there because it’s being USED.

It’s a simple flower vase in the centre of the table, and in it are 6-7 dollar store FLYSWATTERS in various colours.

As I exit the bathroom I detour to have a closer look, because I HAVE to know. Luckily, every one of them spotless!

So cute.

(this post has caps because it was copied from an email i sent while a passenger in the car)

been a long time since i’ve rock and rolled…

they call me Honey Shoo Shoo

my absence has been mostly due to the fact that i now have two kids under two at home, but i was also VERY discouraged when the “What To Expect” blogging gig didn’t pan out. ends up by the time i finally got around to harassing them about why my submissions weren’t getting put up, they had cancelled the program. i was mad at myself for my procrastination, mad at them for their seeming bullshit answer of “oh we don’t check our emails very often”, and both were enough to kill my inspiration for a while. BUT i’ve done some writing recently, and have decided it’s time to get back on mah horse πŸ™‚

first off, please forgive me for not using caps unless i am trying to make a point or really feel it’s necessary. i am often typing one-handed, and i figure if ee cummings can get away with it, hell so can i!

obviously being a mom is the centre of my universe, so those bored by mommy blogs probably won’t want to follow me. and while i totally aspire to be a super-organized, exceedingly crafty, and wise-beyond-words mumma, i often fail at all of them. so even if i were to gain a follower or two they would soon see that i’m just as disorganized, lacklustre and clueless as they are and immediately stop. however – i am told i can write (and i say that as a kind of disclaimer, like please don’t blame me; i’m just going by what others say), occasionally funny, and if nothing else can be counted on to always be REAL. Dr. Phil would like me, i think. but i’d rather be on ellen…

anyway it feels good to start this thing back up and if you’ll leave me a comment or two it always brightens my day πŸ™‚

unexpected gift

When I look back to high school, I picture myself as most people probably see themselves at that time in their life: awkward, angst-ridden, feeling out of place and angry with much of the world.
Tonight I was given a most unexpected and lovely gift, from someone who literally hasn’t seen me since those days: her memory of me. She described me as a loving and open person, saying she could clearly remember me thoroughly enjoying my life, my incredible laugh and – this part is the one that floored me – my integrity.
I would be *extremely* flattered if someone who spent time with me as an adult said this, because it is something I would truly like to be remembered for. But to think that I had that quality as a teenager, enough that it was memorable to someone is just really awe-inspiring!