I Hate When You Tell Me That

Source of photo: parade.com

I loved being a Mom. I loved the never-ending ‘why’ questions. I loved the snuggles; the bedtime stories; even the tantrums. Because I truly felt I was playing a role in helping my kids become whoever they were meant to be. My kids are all grown up now and while I do love getting to know the amazing people they are becoming, I do miss those days of being… well, their everything.

Ode to my Father

Mom, Dad, my little sister on top, and me – the constant worrier – below,
not trusting that Dad had her protected, too…

My Dad and Mom were, respectively, just 22 and 23 when I was born. They had not planned on my arriving quite so soon: while they were respectably married when I made my tiny appearance, I was nonetheless way too early to be anything but a shock to them. Dad was attending university at the time, and Mom was working as a clerk at a local department store, to help make ends meet. Dad was spending way too much time out with his drinking buddies and Mom was spending way too much time at home alone with her growing belly. Nonetheless, when Mom started bleeding mid-pregnancy, they both held one another and wept, already enamoured with the little lump that was growing in my mother’s womb. Ever after, they would lovingly call me their ‘little whoops’ and cry as they told me how devastated they were when they thought they were going to lose me. My timing may have left something to be desired but I always knew I was very much wanted all the same.

A Lesson on Symbolism and Love

I vividly recall my first encounter with symbolism. I was in grade one, and my teacher read the class a poem about trees, ‘wearing dresses of white and dancing gracefully in the wind”. It had just snowed that day, and as I walked home after school,

Not Today (Hold On)

She stood on the stool with the noose around her neck and wondered why it was so difficult to let go, now that she was here.

My Daughter Isn’t Ready to be a Grown-Up

My daughter isn’t in any hurry to have a ‘real’ job. She’s not in a hurry to join the workforce; to make a name for herself; to carve out a niche in the world. To be a grownup.

Mom, Can I Come In?

Falling in love when your kids are teenagers can be… awkward.

The Last Temper Tantrum

My daughter was so quiet, in her first two years, that at one point a family member confided worriedly to me that she was afraid my daughter ‘didn’t understand French.’ I had done a lot of reading about children simultaneously learning two (or more) languages, and I knew – if this person didn’t – that my daughter understood what was going on around her, and very well, at that. “It will come”, I would tell the family member, with more confidence than I felt. “Some children are on a different timetable than others.”

A Few Things You Should Know About Me Before We Get Married

I hate to cook. I mean, really, really hate to cook. Given the choice between cooking for four people or washing dishes for 100, I will take the dishes, every time.

The Barn

My husband and I go to this wonderful place a few times a week to visit with a good-sized group of friends.

“Mom, Don’t You DARE…”

When my children were in elementary school, they had a great many wonderful teachers whom I still think of fondly.