Reflections, Labradors, and Glimpses of Little Miss

It is a cool morning in August and I (and my hair) are grateful the humidity has disappeared for at least today. School is starting in just a few days and it is the perfect time to reflect on this past summer.

Spring and summer in our little village is delightful, as are most little towns in Southern Ontario, filled with the sounds of cardinals and squirrels (much to the chagrin of our pup) and the smells of lilacs, roses and phlox. I can't help but think of my friend as I write this who dislikes flowery language in books and will close this link immediately.

But oh, I am feeling contemplative today.

Our son has turned into a labrador puppy this summer. No longer soft and cuddly, his hands and feet have grown so much, you can tell he has a growth spurt approaching.  And like the beloved canine, he trips and bangs into things, clumsy with his limbs.

Little Miss, forever the main character of my stories, has walked through a magical curtain. She astounds me with her beauty and self-confidence, neither of which I had at her age, although Mom would say otherwise, and I can't help but stop and study her.

Then, all of a sudden, I see a glimpse of my girl as the green panties she's chosen show through under her yellow lacy dress at her cousin's wedding.  Oh, how the sunshine was her nemesis that day, unbeknownst to her.  Her saving grace was the beautiful bride who drew all attention, as she should. Only her doting, studious Mother noticed and grinned.

Mr. Man, as ever, is his heroic self, taking emergency trips to the drugstore for his cyclical women, bringing home paper products and bars of chocolate.  He arrives, caped donned, with a small bead of sweat on his brow, holding the sweetie at arms length as not to get hurt in the distribution.

He and his trusty labrador descend to the safety of the basement, happy in the company of each other, for the next five to seven days...

Gone are the days of cake baking, food intolerances, and childish questions. Our summer was filled with babysitting courses, vacation bible school leadership, and scoffs at parents.  Gone are the cuddles on mom's lap, and candies as rewards. This summer I found myself looking up at them, chasing them for hugs, and giving money as rewards.  Oh, the heartbreak.

And so begins part two of my life with CrackerJacks and Nutters - the enormous need of humour and reflection as always... but with teenagers. 

Heaven help us all.

It Could Be Worse

Recently, coffee with a friend reminded me of this blog post I never shared.  Written over a year ago, I was just starting to deal with my health in a new way, and was too vulnerable to post it.  But in speaking about processing and handling grief with my friend, today I will share it. 

"Have you ever started your day going in one direction and then have it swiftly changed for you? Was it your health? Career plans? Marriage? So often we ride through our days, just trying to get by, and the Lord can seem busy with someone else. Then other days His presence is so clear and real, and it doesn't matter if you don't get your daily list done: you know what is more important.

He comes in swoops and bounds at times: so evident in the air around us: a smiling face, a section of a novel, similar conversations within a few days. It is at these times that you "hold it in your heart" as Mary did while watching Jesus grow up.

It is when your direction gets swiftly changed that you grab onto the holy times spent with God, even though life comes crashing down.

Driving down the highway to a doctor's appointment this week, I was too overwhelmed to pray. I talked it out instead. Look at me talking to myself in the car. I was preparing myself for whatever God had in store. I've said before I worry, and I was worrying. What if? What if? What if? I imagined the worst case scenario and prepared myself for it.

But instead, I got news that I hadn't planned on. It shocked me. It turned me right around and sent me in the opposite direction. Like in the novel "Saturday Morning" by Lorraine Snelling, God spoke to me and asked, "Do you trust me?"

Even this morning I am second guessing the doctor - maybe I said the wrong thing that brought about her diagnosis? Maybe it was all in my head?

But I know He has me in his hand. He was so real to me leading up to this week. I could see Him everywhere. He was filling me up so I could count on Him within this trial.

And yet, it could be worse. There is always something worse. This is my mantra today. It could be worse.

Perhaps I am in the denial stage. We will see."

I have heard others with this same mantra "it could be worse" and yes, it's true, but lets not diminish the pain we are feeling. And the anger.  I ultimately got so angry I could see red, and I cried and cried, mourning over the loss of the freedom of being healthy.

The grieving process still circulates as symptoms arise and I am reminded of my epilepsy.  Doctor's appointments, EEGs, powerful, expensive drugs will forever be in my future.  But most days I am in acceptance.  If it doesn't get worse than this, I can handle it.  That is my mantra now.  Still not the best mantra, but it is my reality.

And still, I know He holds me in His hand.

What Erin Forgot

 I recently pulled a book off the shelves of the library, took it home and after reading the first chapter, took it back.  This doesn't happen very often.  What Alice Forgot, is about a 39-year-old woman hitting her head and losing ten years of her memories.  She forgets her marriage, her three children, and anything that went on between the ages of 29 to 39.

Can you imagine??  Forgetting your children?  Or if you do not have children, look back on the last decade of your life and run through all of the changes that have happened. Your job, or jobs.  Your relationships, friends...bad dates.  Places you've lived.  People you've met.  Any wrinkles?  Weight gain?  If I woke up today, I would be shocked by how long it takes me to get out of my arm chair.  And why the heck am I making cakes, instead of teaching math?  But I digress.

Another book, Remember Me? by Sophie Kinsella, is about a young woman waking up in the hospital having forgotten three years of her life.  She discovers she is in extraordinary shape (she can do the splits), is the boss of her company, and is married!  This book, perhaps because it is more entertaining than disturbing, I did not put back on the shelf.

Both my mother and I, at different times, experienced the eery feeling of deja-vous when we read the first chapter of Remember Me?  The idea of losing ones memory for exactly three years is not too far from home.

Although when I woke up I couldn't do the splits.

I joke about my husband being a superhero: an insurance salesman by day, a secret caped crusader by night, Mr. Man.  But really, he has had to be.  Less than a year after he marries the girl of his dreams (ahem) she is rushed to the hospital with what is called a tonic-clonic seizure (previously grand-mal) and wakes up without any memory of the previous three years, forgetting him, their wedding day, and their life together.  

He says he was just happy I wasn't a vegetable.

When the attendant asked me if I knew who Mr. was, I said his name was Robert.  

His name is NOT Robert.

I seemed to know he was important, though, and asked him if we were married.  Strangely enough, I seemed okay with the fact that we were.  We are?  Okay, well then, on to the next thing.  Why does my dad seem so old?

It must be because Mr.'s so darn cute.

We've been married eleven years now, (I remember ten - ha, ha) and have been through a lot together.  And even though I will never be able to do the splits, be the boss of a big company, and never planted a yard full of sunflowers (you need to read the book), our story will always be pretty interesting.

But it's still not funny when I call him Robert.  

Memories of a Living House

It’s silly to some that a house could be a living being; a place filled with voices and glimpses of memories, resting on deep, deep roots.  It can take years to build such a place, and sometimes you don’t realize it has been created until it is gone.

            We were met with shaking news yesterday. Our childhood home had been destroyed by fire.  Although my parents had moved out while I was in University, it was still in their possession, and it was the last place I lived before I “grew up”.

            The place was thick with memories: the sound of screaming fights between sisters; the smell of mom’s meatloaf; the rough feel of the front railing that I was supposed to sand.  I can picture the laminate kitchen floor, and the back entranceway with all of dad’s ball caps hanging above the door. There was the wood trim Dad had brought to its original glory, the TV room where Lord knows what was hidden under the couch, my sister’s room where guinea pigs multiplied, my brother’s room where the ceiling fell in, and my parent’s room where the most significant discussions in my life happened while mom folded laundry.

            The big front window was where my friends and I hid on our last Halloween night after egging several cars that drove by.  Mom physically kicked my butt and said, “The dumbest thing you can do is come here to hide! Now they know who you are!”

I had to wash the neighbour’s car the next morning.

            Dad built us a “fort” outside, too sturdy to be any fun.  The maple trees filled our yard with bright orange leaves each fall.  We played soccer and baseball in the backyard with our cousins every summer.  Watercolour paints, brushes, dry muffins and a cup of tea surrounded mom regularly at the dining room table.

            For me, as for any teenage girl, my room was sacred.  When voting for who would get the large attic as a bedroom, I won by sheer tidiness (not the case anymore) as my sister continually got lost in her belongings.  For years I arranged and rearranged the furniture in my gigantic room, blasted rock music to the rafters after a bad day at school, and cried my eyes out when rejected by a boy.  I would sit at the bottom of the stairs and gab to my girlfriend with the phone cord stretched through the crack in the attic door so my mom wouldn’t hear.

            I chose my path in life here, I found Jesus Christ here, and I stood at the front door in my awful prom dress with my awful prom date and got my awful photo taken (which is now destroyed) here.

I played the piano every night while my parents patiently pretended they could sleep through it here.

            And I spent endless hours sitting on the front porch ironically wishing I lived somewhere else, and was born to a different family here. 

Such is the life of a teenage girl.

            With a faith that promotes not looking on the things of this world, I believe the Lord gives us beautiful things because He knows we need love, enjoyment, comfort and safety.  As I look on the pictures of the melted siding, the broken wooden scalloped tiles, and the smoke billowing out of what was once my room, my heart is broken. 

I know tomorrow I will get over it and realize it is just a house.  But today I will mourn. 

Man, I loved that house.

My List of 2011

It's taken me three days to absorb the idea that we are in a new year. Life has continued in it's busyness, and although we celebrated thoroughly, I woke up this morning, three days late, ready to start afresh, and look at my future with a new plan.

When I was younger I used to keep a diary. I've looked back on them recently and laughed at all the "important" things in my life at the time. Dreamy boys mostly. LOL. Times have changed, certainly, but the one thing I always did on New Year's Eve, and on each birthday, was recount the special things I had gone through leading up to that date.

Many blogs I have been following list the crafts they've done, or the posts with the most "hits". Fun, certainly, but lacking substance in my opinion. Even in my teenage lists, it was friendships, accomplishments in my education, and places I'd travelled that were most memorable. As well as the significant moments in my family's life.

I won't bore you with my list, as I'm sure most people will actually click to the next blog to look at the furniture that's been weathered, or the best handmade cards made in 2011. Just know that on my personal list, you'd see things like my children's accomplishments, family losses, and personal goals achieved.

Of course, perhaps in my next post I will list 'The Best Coffee I Drank' or 'Things the Dog Ate' in 2011. That would definitely bring on the post "hits"!

Our House

The first time I saw what is now our house, I said, "Ugh, it's yellow, keep driving!" And we drove on. But our real estate agent said we'd best check it out. I think she knew it was all we could afford. And Mr. Man could actually stand up in it.

Nobody had actually done anything to the house in about 15 years, and it was falling apart. The bank had foreclosed on the house from the previous owners which made it sell at a low price, but, oh, the cost of taking it on! The bushes were growing over the front door, the porch was rotted through, the back mudroom smelled of cat pee, and everything was SO DIRTY!

And, to top it off when we went to move in we discovered that during the showing, an area rug had been put down to cover up a bald patch in the staining of the wood floor. Hours of work that we hadn't counted on.

So why did we buy the house? A big, beautiful backyard, and three cheerful crabapple trees. It was a secret garden amidst a ramshackle dwelling. The pixies were there, they were just asleep!

We have been here eight years, and like so many other home-owners, there are projects that have never been quite finished. Unpainted trim, mismatched door handles, and that one drafty wall that just never gets fixed. Things, I hate to admit, that will probably be left until it is our turn to show the house for a new buyer.

But, Mr. Man, his tool belt, his friends, and their tool belts, have done amazing things to this place. One bathroom (with no shower) has now become two and a half (with two showers); we now have two kitchens (one beautiful family kitchen, and one smaller, cute kitchen for the cake shop). The house has almost doubled in size, and the floors are all (mostly) level.

Yet, now as I look around the house I see paint that needs repainting, windows that need repairing, and a dog that needs...well that's another story. The upkeep never ends. The kid's toys are strewn about, and their fancy drawings cover every inch of the fridge and bulletin boards. Our secret garden has turned into a jungle of bicycle helmets, Tonka trucks, sandbox toys, and broken sports equipment.

But isn't this what we signed up for? To fix up a house and then to live in it? Pets, kids, accessories...all of life's wonderful messes!

I can still see the pixies behind the bushes; the treasures beneath the toys. We live in a happy house, a noisy house, and a well worn house. And I don't even mind the yellow siding...much!

The Death of Cable

So we've decided to shut off our cable. At least, we want the cable turned off, but the company's not going to do it for another three weeks. Luckily, my kids believe everything I say, and they have not been watching the TV. So this is what has been going on around here:

1. The kids made a brilliant treasure map for Little Miss's lost yoghurt cup. (In the door, past the couch, over to computer, then to the piano...)

2. Mr. Man built a large sandbox in the backyard. It still needs sand, though...

3. Mr. Man is presently building himself a Mr. Man workshop in the basement. Extra tall.

4. I've dusted off some old CD's. Other than that, my behaviour is just the same :)

5. The TV/DVD player is being used as a CD player.

6. We now have play-dough, magic markers, hot wheels cars, and wooden blocks all over the living room floor, which had been put away for more room to watch TV.

7. We made muffins, and ate them. All of them.

8. I no longer hear the whine, "oh, can't it wait until this is over..." when I ask anyone to do something. Things are finally getting done.

9. Little Miss turned a delivery box into an airplane with hot pink ribbons out the back. Then she turned it into a bird. Then back into a box. Then her brother tied up her Barbies with the hot pink ribbon.

10. We still watch movies as much as we want (we're not crazy), but I was tired of having to quickly turn the channel as an inappropriate commercial came on for perfume, or underwear, or other things that seemed to need sex to sell it.

"Why is she taking her clothes off?"

How many more times can I say,"she must've been hot," before they catch on?

"Mommy, he said a bad word. O, he said another one..."

It doesn't help when the word "underwear" is considered impolite in my daughter's' world.

We actually only got cable when our son arrived, so we had something to watch while I was breastfeeding, but the kids are at that age now where they are absorbing EVERYTHING and it is time to turn it off.

So how do we spend this cable money? We could pay off some debt, save for another trip, put it away for an emergency fund. There's always the kids' education funds...

And then it came to me. "I know! More internet!!"

Changes

As I approach September, it is always a new start for me, perhaps from years and years of school, both as a student and a teacher. So I find myself, in this "new year", reflecting on what I've spent my time on and whether it was worth it; and whether I will do it again next year.

After a few days of contemplation, I still have no idea.

I have enjoyed my friends more - especially since the warmer weather hit. We've had sewing nights, chats over coffee, last minute potluck dinners, and some "women in business" boosting sessions. A couple of girlfriends are starting maternity leave soon, which frees them up (in a way) to spend time together. Others will go back to work or will hibernate (as I am prone to do) throughout the winter.

It has been a busy cake year. Lots of new fads coming through and I kept up with them. Crazy new ideas each week (can you make a severed head out of cake - yes!) Bridal Shows are another sign of a new year, and vendor request forms are knocking at my door. Which will I do? Which benefitted me in the past? Do I want to do so many wedding cakes, or should I switch to pies instead? [snort - just kidding!]

And, of course, the family. The kids' schooling is big, important, and VERY BUSY. Fundraisers, pizza days, school trips, homework...it just keeps going. (Sigh) And now we start it all over again. Mr. Man is hard at his work, possibly contemplating whether his year was worth it...but not having the option to change it just yet. (Wait for that million dollar lotto, honey!)

Sometimes changes come when you least expect it: sometimes good, sometimes bad. In our town there has been news of new job promotions, old friendships rekindled, a successful soccer season and new puppies adopted. But alas, many shops are closing in town, businesses failing, basements flooding, and several cases of cancer in our little community.

Life is certainly about constant change, and thankfully, some of it is within our grasp. Do we change things up or do we leave them just the same?

One of my favourite friends says, "If you can't change anything, at least you can change your furniture around!" Just last week, following her example, my six-year-old son moved his room around during a boring afternoon. He pushed each piece of furniture around, huffing and puffing. He had it all planned out in his head and gradually got the job done. There was a big smile on his face as he looked at all he had accomplished. Hands on hips, he gave a happy sigh.

Perhaps I do not need to change too much about this upcoming year. We could just see what happens? Perhaps I need to let the chips fall where they may... but I think I'll choose the colour of them first.