Twenty Seven

Twenty seven has forever been a number I considered a good age to be. It sounds like a good age and it was a life-changing year for me. A year of beginning to make good decisions for myself and my family. 

I wrote these words and walked down memory lane for a while, to formulate the rest of what I had in my mind. Apparently I wrote everything I wanted to say before. I will attach those words rather than repeat them.

Today, is my youngest's 27th birthday. This is the last time I will celebrate this milestone year for any of my children. It will not be the last time I think of where my 28th year led.

My children, as individual as snowflakes. Each one's journey vastly different than the other's. 

My youngest has walked a walk I would have never predicted. Her personality has always been quiet and reflective. There is a lot going on underneath the surface. Just because she is quiet natured doesn't mean she doesn't have a lot to say.

It has take a lot of work to get to this age. Life has many more lessons in store. My wish for you, is no matter where life takes you, remember all you have learned along your way. Your foundation is being laid one block at a time. Start from where you are and build the life you most want to live.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life...

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Twenty Seven

Twenty seven always sounded like a good age to me. Twenty seven simply seemed like it was a 'perfect' age. Both in the years that preceded reaching that goal and the (almost) twenty seven years after attaining it.

If someone woke me from a deep, dark coma and asked me how old I was, there is a fairly good chance that my answer would be "twenty seven" because I felt that age for decades. I would be surprised to look at a document that had my age in black and white and it said "forty seven" for all the world (and me) to see. Forty seven?! I would be taken aback for a moment before I realized that the numbers did not correlate with my inner state of aging.

For me, twenty seven was a year of making good decisions. That is not to say it was a great year. It was a tough year. Within a month of turning that magical age, I left my marriage (for the third and final time) and my dad died. Within two months of that same birthday, I moved my family-of-three (me, along with my nine year and four month old sons) to a new province and found a new home, job and daycare.

The drama that unfolded during the first and second month of turning twenty seven was daunting. Ending a marriage can be a volatile time and place. Things got explosive. It got ugly. Hearts and vows were broken, never to be the same again. Sometimes, things have to get worse before they get better. This was one of those times.

It was frightening to start over in a brand new world. I had abandoned a secure and long-time job, friends who knew and supported me, a house that was no longer a home (and a pile of material possessions within it) and my mom and brother. I came to a city where I knew my aunt and uncle (and a handful of cousins who I knew by name only). It was scary and lonely. But it was necessary. That moved changed my life and quite likely saved it at the same time.

During my twenty eighth year, I rebuilt our home. No, I didn't build it from scratch. I built it from within. The collection of donations which furnished our new home became serviceable items to eat, sleep and sit on. My life had been stripped bare and it was so plain to see, all that really mattered were my children. We were tucked away in a safe and quiet oasis of 'starting over'. It was exactly where we needed to be.

That twenty eighth year was the foundation on which everything that followed has been built. It was solid. It was a year of making good decisions. The benefits were yet to be seen and there would be some more rocky times to follow. But the year of being twenty seven was the basis on which I was rebuilt. It will forever go down in my own personal history as being my most life-changing year.

When my Oldest Son turned twenty seven, he was just starting a course which rerouted his life. He learned a trade which enabled him (not only) to pay his own way while he went to school, but it resulted in a job which has provided him the lifestyle to which he has aspired towards (quite likely, ever since my twenty eighth year, when he lost all of his worldly possessions, friends, community and family when I uprooted him from a life which was killing-us-softly). Twenty seven was his turn-around year.

At the same time, my nephew (who turned twenty seven, five months before my son) was taking some of his first steps towards his own personal goal. He was pursuing his career in comedy. He has taken that ball and ran with it. He is my hero. Not due to his success and fame. Simply because he pursued his dream and made brave and bold decisions to keep pursuing it. I would say he has done pretty well (but then again, I am pretty biased). To me, success is in the pursuit of your dreams - not necessarily attaining them. He started to make this choice his reality in his twenty eighth year.

Yesterday was my Middle Son's twenty seventh birthday. He has had some pretty lofty hopes and dreams. He has gone boldly where he has never gone before. Time and time again. Before his twenty eighth year, he started his own company. He gleaned an education from that experience which I challenge any university to rival. There is nothing like Life Experience to teach you things you will never forget. He bought and (with the help and support of His Girlfriend of many, many years) has moved onto their farm. They are building a 'life' quite literally from the ground, up. He has picked himself up and carried on, despite the odds. He  has experienced more in his first twenty six years than a lot experience in a lifetime. Because he is not afraid to try.

My son is heading into his twenty eighth year with a lifetime full of his own experiences. These very experiences which have taught him so much, have also left him a little gun shy. He has made a few adjustments to his life-as-he-knows-it and is also on the precipice of restarting something new (from an old experience).

Even though My Son is in a vastly different place than I was (or his brother or his cousin) as he steps into his twenty eighth year, I have a good feeling about this. Especially as I recall my own twenty eighth year as the foundation on which the rest of my life that followed, was built.

In my humble opinion, age twenty seven is a very good place to start. Happy Foundation Building Year, My Son. I can't wait to watch your year unfold.

She Called Me

 She called me out of the blue. Just like it was a regular, ordinary Sunday.

"Where are you?!? How are you?"

"Home," she answered as if there is no where else she could possibly be.

She said something that made me feel she knew what I had been through since I last saw her. She understood but I believe she thought I could have been stronger.

"I'll come to see you. Right now!!"

She told me not to come. Not yet ... she was fine.

There was more to the conversation but I can't remember the details. She was okay. She had spoken to my sister. My son had called her. When I asked him what her number was, he looked at me incredulously and replied her number was the same as always (why wouldn't it be?). 

This must be a dream I kept telling myself over and over. But it isn't. Because I'm not waking up. It must be a dream ...

Then I woke up. It was the day before my birthday. She always called on our birthday. I got to hear Mom's voice. She was a day early but she called.

I opened my eyes and remained in the moment. She called me. She is okay. She has been watching over me. She is home. But I cannot come. "Not yet," she told me.

She is home ...

21 Years

Twenty one years ago today, my youngest son was born. As I woke up this morning, thinking of this anniversary, I scrolled through my own personal archives and thought about my own life at the age of twenty one.

By the time I was 21, I had been married, had a baby, divorced, had worked at a bank for three years, bought a townhouse and then remarried my ex-husband. My siblings were ages 32, 30 and 16. All I remember about my actual birthday is that my brother gave me a special birthday gift to commemorate my 21st birthday. Mom was 53 years old; Dad was 56.

I lived a very sheltered and protected life until I married. I had a lot of life lessons thrown at me in a short period of time but thanks to a strong and supportive family, I weathered the storms and came out standing. I had lived a lifetime by the time I was 21.

I look at my youngest son and I see myself before the world started teaching me "all I needed to know". I look at my younger self and the words young, naive and impressionable come to mind. If someone had told me what was to come, I may have locked myself in a room and never come out. I wouldn't have thought I could handle it.

We all have different lessons to learn, new roads to travel and challenges that are unique to each one of us.

I look at my son and I am pleased. I like him. I like his style. I like his quiet demeanor which masks the deepness of his thoughts and his perspective of life. I see bits and pieces of the best of the people within his world intertwined within him, mixed with the essence that is "him" and I enjoy the person he has become and is becoming.

My biggest concern is wondering how he will weather the storms of life. He has had some tests but I know there will be more. He is a sensitive soul. He watches the world around him, listens with his whole being and his interpretation of life as he sees it opens my eyes.

None of us can predict the future that is headed our way. My biggest wish for him is that no matter where life takes him, he will have the ability to weather life's storms and come out standing. I want him to feel the strength and support of family. I hope he feels safe within his world and will always know he has a soft place to fall here within our home and family.

He is the youngest of three brothers with a twenty year age span which separates them. What I am liking best about the age he has become, is that he is starting to "catch up" with his older brothers. His brothers and him are doing things together which is starting to forge a stronger bond in their brotherhood. I didn't "catch up" with my older sisters until I became an adult and now the years that separated us don't even exist. I hope this bond grows and strengthens over the years to come.

They say that joy is doubled when it is shared and sorrow is halved. In good times and in bad, it is good to know you have a support system in place to cheer you on, cheer you up and encourage you through whatever moment you may be going through.

The wish I have for my youngest son is a wish I share with all three of my boys. I wish them a strong sense of themselves, grounded in what I hope is a strong sense of family. I wish for roots to ground them, while reaching for the stars and retaining the ability to hope for the remainder of their lifetime. I wish them a solid community of family, friends, support systems and a resilience that will carry them through the rough patches life will inevitably throw their way.

I believe one of the best gifts Mom and Dad gave me is a strong sense of family and community. Mom and her story-telling led to the gift of collecting family memories which was the best way to infiltrate myself within the family and get to know everyone a little bit better. I was 47 years old when I started collecting family stories and history. It was then, when I started to feel my roots strengthen enough to hold me solid no matter what storms came to pass after that time.

The moral to this story is: No matter what age you are presently at, you must hold onto the belief that the best is yet to come. The best comes veiled in so very many ways and it is seldom a straight path. If you didn't have the struggle, you wouldn't appreciate the outcome. The best outcomes usually came after the hardest struggles.

You've come a long way, my son. I believe in you. I see your strength and though I wish I could wish only good things for you, I know the best parts of my life were a result of the hardest of struggles. Hold onto that knowledge and let it ground you when the going gets rough. Keep looking up, my son. The best is yet to come...

Happy Birthday, Mom

Birthdays were never a big deal for Mom. I don't think she particularly enjoyed a day that brought attention to her advancing years but I would imagine she didn't mind the contact from family due to the occasion.

We only surprised her once. One surprise party on her 65th birthday was one too many but she was young enough to survive the shock and tell us to never EVER do this again. So we didn't.

Fifteen years later, we asked if she would be agreeable to a gathering of the families on or around her birthday. We tried to take the focus off of "birthday" (my brother jokingly interchanged the word "extravaganza" in its place) and with Mom's blessing and input, we had a most excellent gathering of family and friends.

We collected hand written memories and/or pictures in place of gifts, amassed them in a binder and it was a gift Mom enjoyed for years to come.

I can visualize the pictures in my mind. The year was 2008, everyone was in good health and Mom was surrounded by her sisters, brothers in law (who felt like brothers to her), family, family, more family and friends.

She danced to the song "Could I Have This Dance" with my cousin, who had danced to this song with his bride on his wedding day.

There was a program which was light and easy, we had a few family soloists who sang some of Mom's favorite songs. It was a fun, easy and memorable day. I'm so glad we have the memory to hold onto.

Mom's funeral was very similar to that special birthday memory.

The year was 2017. She was the sole member of her family left. Her sisters, who were all alive on Mom's 80th birthday, predeceased her. A brother-in-law and two sisters-in-law had also passed. Looking at Mom's 80th birthday pictures, I see the life in everyone's eyes that was extinguished during the years that followed.

I remember the impassioned letter I wrote to a family member who couldn't attend the occasion due to their beliefs. They celebrate wedding anniversaries but not birthdays. There were no more wedding anniversaries for Mom, since Dad died thirty years before Mom. We were gathering family and friends in good times and my unspoken plea was "Please celebrate Mom with us while she is here to enjoy the party".

I didn't sway their decision. But I tried.

I'm so grateful for the memory of that special "Extravaganza" celebration of Mom's life. The joy of that day lives on and I believe we brought a piece of that most special occasion into our final good-bye to her.

When you live a joy-filled life, it is easier to smile at all the memories as your days wind down to an end. I think of the laughter that surrounded what would become Mom's final year. I remember thinking how disrespectful it must seem, to be laughing in the hospital corridors while others were facing life and death situations. Little did I realize at the time, that was "us". We were walking through Mom's final days with her. Although it was heart breaking at times, it wasn't a sorrowful time because we had an arsenal of good thoughts, memories and a mighty spunky mom who made things as easy as they could be.

It was her final wish for us to simply be with her. She would rest, wanted to hear our voices and laughter.

One of my favorite pictures of the day. Maybe not the best pose, but it captured the essence of the day. "Familiarity and ease among family and friends"

Mom, with her sisters and Dad's brothers

Mom, with Dad's brothers. This is such a good picture of Mom and I can still hear her voice saying "They were like brothers to me" (and I can also hear the voice of Dad's brother echoing the sentiment)

"Could I Have This Dance" ~ the grand finale of what was a most excellent day

Thanks for the memories, Mom. They are a gift like no other...

Happy Birthday, Mom

I know birthdays were never really your "thing", right Mom? Mother's Day was your holiday. Your birthday? I don't think you really enjoyed bringing attention to your age. This one would have been another milestone. There could have been a party in your honor...

I'm so very grateful for all the gatherings, celebrations and reunions we had, when we did. Upon your request, your 65th birthday surprise was never to be repeated, so your 80th birthday reunion was done on your terms. It was a marvelous day. I recently leafed through those pictures...

Ten years ago and so many people who were in those pictures with you are gone. Whispers of memories of you, of them, of the day and all the collections of stories before, during and after your birthday "extravaganza" waft peacefully through my mind as I write these words.

Your clock is chiming 8:00 as I sit here with my second cup of coffee, writing to you. I can hear our good-night conversation in the hallway from all the times I slept over at your place. You would always suggest, "Shall we say 8:00?" as we set our wake up time for the next morning.

I thought of you when the clocks turned back in the fall. I smiled as I knew you would be pleased you did not have to endure another winter of daylight savings time. Last winter you said you went to bed on Saskatchewan time and woke up on Alberta time. You had "beat the system". Or you were simply tired? Either way, you endured.

Speaking of "endurance", I do believe we are (still) enduring the longest, coldest winter season in history (they do say it's been the coldest winter in 100 years). Our first snowfall was on November 3rd and here we are. It is April 4th and there are still snowbanks all around us. It's -16 degrees at the moment (feels like -23 with the wind). The wind has been so cold. The snow has been around so long.

It has been the longest, coldest winter I can remember.

I smiled and thought of you when the clocks moved forward this spring. I think of you and the many conversations we had about the lengthening of the days, even when it still felt like winter all around us ...

I spotted two rabbits yesterday and they were in no hurry to disappear from view. They frolicked and played together in the snow for a while, then each of them went their separate way and found something to nibble on, in their own separate patch of grass. The tips of their ears were dark and there were a few splotches of brown on their back. The rabbits appear ready, willing and able to usher in the spring weather.

Your mom must have been pleased to have a "spring baby" when you made your way into this world 90 years ago. Although things still appear dormant, there is a stirring of "things to come" underneath the snow banks. We will blink our eyes and soon enough our world will be restored to full technicolor once again.

That is exactly how I am feeling, as I type these words. I feel a stirring of life within me again. I lost it for a while. The long, cold winter has mirrored the way I have felt inside. The blanket of snow that has enveloped our world these past five months has insulated the world in this dormant state, much in the way I hunkered in close to home and "insulated" myself from the world outside these doors.

I think I'm starting to thaw. As I watched one of those rabbits rolling around in the snow, shedding some of its winter layer of white fur, I felt the desire to shed some of my protective coat as well.

It is spring. Whether it looks like it or not. New life is on the horizon. It is time to shed our winter coats, find a spot in the sun, look up and beyond the winter behind us. Things will look a whole lot different by Mother's Day. Your day.

I felt you and Dad all around me this past Easter weekend as I tended to your taxes. Easter was traditionally the weekend Dad chose to come home to get his taxes done. Easter became synonymous with "income tax time" and through no plan or design, it quite accidentally ended up being the day the accountant asked me to drop by and pick up your completed tax return. Life has come full circle.

The circle has brought us to your birthday. All of your children will be meeting up this weekend and I'm pretty certain your name will be brought up a time or two as we reminisce and reflect upon the life you and Dad gave us. Thank you for giving us "each other". We couldn't have done this any other way. We have leaned on, guided, supported, listened and shared so much together. Mom, I would be absolutely lost without "family". They have been like oxygen to me - necessary to support my existence.

Although I miss you, I wouldn't have wanted "last year" to go on any longer than it did for you. Thank you for staying with us for as long as you could. Thank you for everything, Mom. Don't stray too far from me, okay? I'm so grateful for all the memories I have to sustain me. I still feel you "have my back". Thanks for that, too.

Happy birthday, Mom ... wherever you may be.

Changing of the Tides

The tides are ever changing within the little world we build ourselves and the bigger world around us.

My youngest son turned nineteen yesterday. Our entire little family unit met at a licensed restaurant to celebrate the day he turned old enough to drink. Not that any one of us had a drink, but it was a favorite restaurant in the past so the day the youngest member of our family was old enough to join us, we stepped back in time. Back to a place we have visited many times before.

Only you can't step back in time. The restaurant didn't feel the same. The food didn't seem to taste quite as good. The magic of discovering and enjoying something new together didn't translate well when we tried to recreate the scene.

Earlier in the day, my youngest son and I went to see a movie. Going to the movies together is something we did often when he was young. We don't do it so much any more. His birthday themes often revolved around a super hero, a movie theme or going to see a movie. We walked down the corridor of the theatre and I had a flashback of a time when I was taller than he was. When I was the one who drove us to our destination. When he looked to me for that which he was not old enough to do on his own.

Those days are gone. But we still walked down the same theatre corridor, we cashed in on our movie coupon which included popcorn and drinks. We watched "Wonder Woman" together and I looked to him to hear his take on the movie.

Gone are the days when he was a young, innocent little boy who was easily impressed by any super hero movie. These days, he looks to plausible plot lines, directing, special effects and forms his own opinions according to all he has learned along the way.

I refrained from "passenger seat driving" as we made our way to our destinations yesterday. It seems like only yesterday when he was learning to drive and my coaching was required. He hasn't been driving that long, but I now feel relaxed in the passenger seat and my purpose was simply pointing out a parking spot and directing him down a new road to a new destination.

He is a working man now. He drives his own car. He pays his own bills. He has his eye on a future which includes further education so he may backtrack a little before he moves towards a future of complete independence. But the tides have changed. I feel it with every step I take.

Before we parted ways, we took a family picture. The first picture was typical of our family. Each one of us standing close together, but independent of the other. Hands in pockets or hands at our sides. Each one of us a separate entity, but there is a feeling of unity. The second picture, my middle son grabbed hold of us and pulled us close. There is a true sense of joy in each and every one of our faces as we nestled in together and felt the physical closeness of a family united.

Two pictures are worth two thousand words.

Yes, we are strong and independent on our own. But united, we are stronger, more resilient, happier and I do believe we each feel a little more secure knowing we have each other's back.

The Wide Open Door of Friendship

A few weeks ago I made a public declaration that I wished for more "depth" within the conversations in my world. I felt I was living in a superficial world and I was depleted by having to try so hard to sustain a conversation. Mere days after that blog post, the depth I was looking for was everywhere.

I have been inundated with attention due to my birthday this past week which has spurred on a great deal of contact with those who touch my world. It has been a little bit incredible because the depth of the conversations and visits I have had has been a gift.

I have a few friends that I see once or twice a  year. We always part ways promising to get together more often but life happens and the next thing we know, we are celebrating one or the other or both of our birthdays with the hope of "doing this more often" during the (next) following year.

Each time we get together for that annual birthday supper, I quietly wonder "Are they just doing this to be polite?" "Have we drifted apart and out of each other's lives to hold a conversation?" Even friends I see more often than that get busy and I always fear the day when we may realize we don't connect on the same level that we once did.

Then it happens. We get together and share nourishment and "coffee" (or a coffee substitute) and the words flow effortlessly. The next thing I know, three or four hours have passed and it has felt like the blink of an eye.

These conversations are real and deep and two-sided. Each and every time I sat down with a friend, I heard myself monologuing and I knew it had to stop. Then before I knew it, it was my friend's turn to take the role of being front and centre within our conversation. It worked both ways. I could feel the act of being listened to and I know I was captivated as I listened to the other end of this conversation.

Our lives are so multifaceted and diverse that I found a parallel existence within each and every conversation I had. One of my friends has a son a year younger than me and each of them were going through a similar "crisis" or time of great challenge at the same time this past spring. And the very day we spoke, they had an almost identical out-of-school experience. My friend looked me in the eye and said, "How do you handle this?" "What are you going to do?" and I answered honestly and in real time. Because that very conversation awaited me the moment I got home. Even though our sons are practically the same age, this is her oldest son. This is my third and youngest son. I spoke from a place of making many errors along the way of parenting. The timing of our annual supper was eerily impeccable. There was no one else I would have rather been talking to that evening and the feeling felt reciprocated.

The stories and relate-able tales I have to tell are long and varied and specific to the friend who sat before me. Each one of us opened up and told our story honestly and without filter. Our conversations were filled with a sense of trusting the other guy with your whole self. There were no holds barred. We were real with each other and the conversations took off and became meaningful, deep and they made my knees shake.

I am absolutely blessed with friendships which transcend "Facebook" and virtual and superficiality. I may not see them often or talk like a wide open book each time our paths cross but I think we both know the door is always open.

I wished for it and it came. "If you open the door to friendship, they will walk through and enter." The key word is "open". No holds barred. Trust, honesty, vulnerability and openness are good ingredients to add to a conversation you want to go below the surface.

My friends, you are such a big part of me. Even in your absence, knowing our next conversation will pick up where we last left off is all I need. I hope you feel the same way.

Best of Intentions Without Action = I'm Sorry!

I had the greatest of intentions. I thought all the right thoughts. I bought all the right cards. I had it all mapped out. But then I forgot to follow through.

I have (almost) forgotten everyone's birthday this month. I did remember my Middle Son's birthday. We haven't done anything to commemorate it yet. But I sent him a text ...

Yes. That is it. I sent my son a "Happy Birthday" text. I wrote a little blog that was more about 'turning twenty seven', than it was about My Son. I printed off some things that marked his progress on their farm. I didn't thoughtfully put it altogether in the shape of a gift. I simply handed them to him with little fanfare or excitement.

My words were something to the effect of "Here - I printed these off for you. I meant to do something kind and thoughtful with them. But I didn't. So here they are."

I have been up to my shoulders in getting this family book project completed. I was supposed to be done. I was planning on feeling free as a bird and effortlessly soaring in a gentle breeze right about now. Instead, I am still obsessed with fine tuning right down to the wire.

I write a letter to my mom every week (almost) without fail. This past week? I failed. I didn't even remember I had forgotten until it was Wednesday.

I should have phoned her. But I was feeling stressed. Mom picks up on these things when they don't even exist so I didn't dare call when I wasn't on my A-game. She would know. So I didn't write. I didn't call.

I thought I would call on the weekend. She called first. I was in the shower. I called back. She had to get off the phone. She had company all weekend. I was busy all weekend (until Sunday). We didn't chat last week. Nor did I have a letter in the mail. I have one beside me this morning. Maybe this week, I should send two ...

I was sitting with a friend at a house concert Saturday night (the 20th) and acknowledged that one of our mutual friend's birthdays was coming up. She quietly mentioned "It was on the 8th..."

The moment she spoke those words, I remembered that I forgot to call or touch base with the friend who was sitting right beside me on her father's birthday. I had it all 'planned'. I wanted to take a little road trip and get out of the city in and around that date. But the book overruled everything. I didn't remember until it was four days too late. I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing.

I was feeling very good about offering to do a good deed for another friend. I didn't have time to go out for coffee last week but asked for a 'rain cheque'. She wasn't available when I was, during the week. Then she called as I was running out the door Saturday night. As we talked, I recognized something I could do for her and I offered.

All I did, was polish up her resume and write a cover letter. I called her to confirm some details Sunday morning and we agreed to (finally) meet for coffee and I would bring it with me.

I was feeling a little less hard on myself as I was (finally) doing the right thing and giving something of myself ...

We sat down and talked for quite some time when I found out it was her birthday. I felt like a schmuck.

I did all the right things but I forgot it was her birthday.

I have her birthday card and a birthday card for my other friend (whose birthday came and went two weeks ago) sitting in a drawer.

I came home and had a talk with myself. I am simply not a big celebrator of birthdays, occasions and holidays. It just isn't my style. My kids will vouch for me. Their therapists will back them up.

I made it my mission many years ago, to make an effort to act in thoughtful ways throughout the year and not save it up for special occasions. For the most part, I have succeeded. In fact yesterday, I did all the right things for all the right reasons. I gave a little piece of myself without realizing it was my friend's birthday.

I would much rather be on the receiving end of a kindness for no special reason whatsoever. I have received gifts or cards that felt like they were give out of duty and obligation and I could feel it within the card.

So, my friends, I apologize. My heart, my thoughts and my intentions were in the right place. Unfortunately 'that place' at the moment is called my dresser drawer. It is full to overflowing with good intentions.

I really need to rid myself of this book project so I can tend to my friendships. That is, if my friends are still calling me 'friend'...

Twenty Seven

Twenty seven always sounded like a good age to me. Twenty seven simply seemed like it was a 'perfect' age. Both in the years that preceded reaching that goal and the (almost) twenty seven years after attaining it.

If someone woke me from a deep, dark coma and asked me how old I was, there is a fairly good chance that my answer would be "twenty seven" because I felt that age for decades. I would be surprised to look at a document that had my age in black and white and it said "forty seven" for all the world (and me) to see. Forty seven?! I would be taken aback for a moment before I realized that the numbers did not correlate with my inner state of aging.

For me, twenty seven was a year of making good decisions. That is not to say it was a great year. It was a tough year. Within a month of turning that magical age, I left my marriage (for the third and final time) and my dad died. Within two months of that same birthday, I moved my family-of-three (me, along with my nine year and four month old sons) to a new province and found a new home, job and daycare.

The drama that unfolded during the first and second month of turning twenty seven was daunting. Ending a marriage can be a volatile time and place. Things got explosive. It got ugly. Hearts and vows were broken, never to be the same again. Sometimes, things have to get worse before they get better. This was one of those times.

It was frightening to start over in a brand new world. I had abandoned a secure and long-time job, friends who knew and supported me, a house that was no longer a home (and a pile of material possessions within it) and my mom and brother. I came to a city where I knew my aunt and uncle (and a handful of cousins who I knew by name only). It was scary and lonely. But it was necessary. That moved changed my life and quite likely saved it at the same time.

During my twenty eighth year, I rebuilt our home. No, I didn't build it from scratch. I built it from within. The collection of donations which furnished our new home became serviceable items to eat, sleep and sit on. My life had been stripped bare and it was so plain to see, all that really mattered were my children. We were tucked away in a safe and quiet oasis of 'starting over'. It was exactly where we needed to be.

That twenty eighth year was the foundation on which everything that followed has been built. It was solid. It was a year of making good decisions. The benefits were yet to be seen and there would be some more rocky times to follow. But the year of being twenty seven was the basis on which I was rebuilt. It will forever go down in my own personal history as being my most life-changing year.

When my Oldest Son turned twenty seven, he was just starting a course which rerouted his life. He learned a trade which enabled him (not only) to pay his own way while he went to school, but it resulted in a job which has provided him the lifestyle to which he has aspired towards (quite likely, ever since my twenty eighth year, when he lost all of his worldly possessions, friends, community and family when I uprooted him from a life which was killing-us-softly). Twenty seven was his turn-around year.

At the same time, my nephew (who turned twenty seven, five months before my son) was taking some of his first steps towards his own personal goal. He was pursuing his career in comedy. He has taken that ball and ran with it. He is my hero. Not due to his success and fame. Simply because he pursued his dream and made brave and bold decisions to keep pursuing it. I would say he has done pretty well (but then again, I am pretty biased). To me, success is in the pursuit of your dreams - not necessarily attaining them. He started to make this choice his reality in his twenty eighth year.

Yesterday was my Middle Son's twenty seventh birthday. He has had some pretty lofty hopes and dreams. He has gone boldly where he has never gone before. Time and time again. Before his twenty eighth year, he started his own company. He gleaned an education from that experience which I challenge any university to rival. There is nothing like Life Experience to teach you things you will never forget. He bought and (with the help and support of His Girlfriend of many, many years) has moved onto their farm. They are building a 'life' quite literally from the ground, up. He has picked himself up and carried on, despite the odds. He  has experienced more in his first twenty six years than a lot experience in a lifetime. Because he is not afraid to try.

My son is heading into his twenty eighth year with a lifetime full of his own experiences. These very experiences which have taught him so much, have also left him a little gun shy. He has made a few adjustments to his life-as-he-knows-it and is also on the precipice of restarting something new (from an old experience).

Even though My Son is in a vastly different place than I was (or his brother or his cousin) as he steps into his twenty eighth year, I have a good feeling about this. Especially as I recall my own twenty eighth year as the foundation on which the rest of my life that followed, was built.

In my humble opinion, age twenty seven is a very good place to start. Happy Foundation Building Year, My Son. I can't wait to watch your year unfold.

Sixteen Years

Sixteen years ago, at 10:36 a.m. a baby boy was born. Sometime in and around 24 hours later, I got to take that little boy home and keep him. And now? He is old enough to drive.

Enter a boy that I didn't know that I needed, never expected but wanted more than life itself. He has helped me change my world.

He is my sitting-in-a-sunbeam-child that I often write about. He is the one who finally slowed me down and showed me how to be a mom. I wanted absolutely nothing more than to stay home and raise my own child, and be there for my (then) 11 year old son in a way that I never was and never could have been for my (then) 20 year old son.

Each of my children was raised by a different mother. Each one of those mothers is housed inside of my body. Oh, how I have evolved over the years.

One word of advice to any 17-year-olds out there. Seventeen is pretty young to start a family. You think you know a lot of things. Most of all, you know what you can do, will do and expect to do. I can only tell you my experience, but most of the things that I knew at age seventeen? I still don't know 36 years later.

Raising a baby when you are still growing up yourself works better for some than for others. I was one of the 'others'. I had a lot of growing up to do before I was capable of simply being the best mom that I could be at that time.

In a life where I look back and say I regret very little? The one thing I wish I could redo is to be a better mother to my firstborn son.

My second son was born in the prime of my life. Twenty seven was the year I started making good decisions for myself and for my family. My feet were firmly planted on the ground and I was starting to see the life-we-should-be-living. That was the direction I was headed shortly after the birth of my second son.

Transition is not always easy. We had some challenges and upheavals but we came out the other end of a trying time in a much better place.

Life is a process of learning as you go. I took what I learned from raising my oldest son and put that knowledge to work, raising my second. Staying home to raise him during his teen years was (what I believe) a life-altering decision.

I would not have had that sitting-in-the-sunbeam-moment (where life came into such clear focus) if it were not for the birth of my youngest son.

By following my heart and truest calling, I was calmer and simply more of who-I-could-be to my family. I invited the world into our home (I opened my daycare) and my youngest and I navigated the waters of life within a safe and controlled setting.

We encountered bullying, tattling, cheating, lying, unfairness, unkindness and the whole gamut of life-in-the-big-scary-world together. We also shared all of the good stuff. The simple appreciation of quiet, after a busy day. Friends were made that walked alongside him throughout most of his elementary school years. My little boy navigated the pressures, demands and perks that came with school life like a pro.

I have always credited his exposure to the real world within our home and in a safe environment, to his successes.

Now, look at him. He is almost grown up. He is two years away from graduating from high school. He knows the direction that he wants for his life to go when he finishes school. He has made new friends easily within this new world of high school. He is happy. He is kind. He is responsible. He is honest. He does not litter (Honestly!! Just last week he handed me a piece of clear plastic the size of my little fingernail, telling me "I don't want to litter"). He is respectful. He may be quiet but he is deep. If you get him talking about something he is interested in, you may not get a word in edgewise.

I have often said that it is as if he has taken a good, long look at the people within his world and taken the best of each person and enveloped that into his character. I am grateful that I can look at my son and see that he has taken what I loved about his father and weaved it into the core of his being.

We are all a tapestry of genes, who we are, who we meet and how we interpret and incorporate it all into our personal perspective and personality. I love that my son has taken the best of the best and woven it into the tapestry of his life. I have also seen this very same trait incorporated into my other children's lives as time has evolved.

Each one of my children is becoming who-they-are-meant-to-be. When I see glimmers of myself (that don't make me flinch) within the core of their being, I know that they have incorporated a piece of me into their 'best self' as well and they simply make me proud to be their mom.

P.S. Small disclaimer: I also see some of the 'worst of me' woven in just as deep and that keeps me humble. Oh, so very humble!

"Happy Birthday Old Dog New Tricks"

I chose the name "Old Dog New Tricks" when I signed up to join an on-line daycare forum last year. I was pulling my hair out just a little bit and I thought that chatting with people who walked in my shoes would help me see things from a better perspective and perhaps learn some different/better coping mechanisms.

I never did have time to complete my thoughts and submit my question into the great big world of cyber space. Instead? I simply went with the flow of things and (sort of) figured things out as I went along.

Anyway (back to the title of this blog post), I woke up to a greeting from this forum entitled (you guessed it) "Happy Birthday Old Dog New Tricks". Those particular words all put together in one succinct phrase made me go "Hmmmm..."

Today is my birthday. I am not one who places great value on these non-events but the subject line of that particular email put a different spin on my outlook this morning. This year, I shall look back on the year that 'this old dog' just lived and see what 'new tricks' I've learned.

My Daycare World has come full circle. Only the circle is bigger and perhaps a little more three dimensional this second time around. Or perhaps it is 'me' that has grown.

Oh, I am still a far cry from the Mary Poppins figure that I see in my mind, as being the ultimate fun-loving care giver. The difference is that I forgive myself for not being able to do all, be all and encompass all aspects of perfection that I picture in my mind. I do the best with what I have ... and when I have a bad day, I stand up, brush myself off, examine how things could have been better, go to a quiet place in my mind (and in the house) and wake up the next morning determined to make it a better day. This is the best that I can do.

I have far more positive moments within my days than ever before. They may be crazy and hectic and loud and overwhelming at times. But I work with children. These moments are fleeting. I am learning to become more childlike in some ways. A child can cry like their heart is broken in a million pieces one moment. The next? They are back, living in the moment and joyous in whatever they are surrounded in. They don't hold grudges. I am learning from them. Bad moments don't last forever. The echoes of love, laughter and security reverberate long after the moment passes.

The words from a friend has known me for 'forever' ring through my mind. "You sound happy". We were talking to each other in the midst of a particularly trying day. My Daycare Day was challenging me but I was not defeated. In the midst of that very moment, she heard the difference in my voice. I am happy in this little world I have created for myself and my young charges. I am happy.

Last week is a week that may have taken me down in a different time and place. Not because of the week, but because I would have been looking too far ahead and thinking "I can't do this for forever". The reality of life is that 'forever' is unknown to the wisest of men. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring so I will not willingly bring 'forever' into my day (most especially when I'm having a tough one). I simply must get through the day. I admit that at this very moment in time, I have a bit of a heavy load. But I trust that one of three things will happen. I will get stronger as I adapt to the added weight. Or I will get wiser and find a way to lessen my load. Or 'life' will happen and the choice will be taken out of my hands and things will simply work out. They always do. Always.

The motto of this past year of mine would be the phrase from "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" - Everything will be all right in the end ... if it's not all right, then it's not yet the end.

In the midst of the worst of times, it is hard to hold onto and believe this little morsel of wisdom. But from the lessons that life has handed out to me, I have found this to be true.

I have had better years. I have had worse years. But I don't know if I can say that I have had a year where I have felt the serenity and trust that comes from simply believing that so many things in my life are completely out of my control. If I do the best with what I have... If I live a life which is enveloped in love, laughter and security.. If I do these two simple things and trust that all will work out in the end ... I am happy.

This old dog is learning some new tricks. The best trick of all is truly trust that it will all work out in the end.

“Most things don’t work out as expected, but what happens instead often turns out to be the good stuff.” - another nugget from The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

Fifteen Years

The end of an era? Or the beginning of a great new one??

My Youngest turned 15 years old this week. Yesterday, he got his learner's (driver's) license. Today, he is polishing up his resume and could officially begin looking for a job. A few weeks from now, he will have completed his first year of high school ...

How did it go from this ...



... to halfway-to-grown-up so fast??

As if sensing my unease with the way this all seems to have happened so quickly, he assured me that he will still be living at home for quite a few more years. "By the time I finish university, I will be in my twenties ..."

University!?! Yes. He knows what he wants. And he plans to go after it. He has a plan. He is fifteen years old. And he has a plan!

He is a deep and insightful thinker. Within our family unit, he comes off as quiet and a bit of a recluse. Yet if you engage him in something that he is interested in, he can hold up his end of the conversation and you may not have the chance to speak once he builds his momentum.

My 'little hayseed' ...

... has turned out to be full of great ideas and promise.

He doesn't yet 'see' what has to be done in and around his world.

His focus is on his own living space and he takes care of his belongings (and vacuums when the cat hair gets too thick). His Older Brother is encouraging him to take ownership of some of the outside maintenance and this is more than His Brothers took on at this age and stage of their lives.

I believe 'tunnel vision' is very normal for this time in one's life. I never tried to fight it with my older kids because I remembered all too well, what it was like to be that age. 

Children copy what they see ... 

... perhaps My Youngest saw far too much vacuuming in his formative years. He is a tiny bit 'allergic' to vacuuming now.

He has grown up with pets. He has learned to be caring, gentle and kind. He has felt the unconditional love of a cherished furry family member.

He sat by the sidelines and earned the title of being The Chosen One from our Senior Cat (Andre) ... and has finally taken on the pride and responsibility of being the one who fought to adopt our Junior Cat (Ray).

He knows what it is to love someone the way a parent loves a child. Without condition. Without end.

Our 'guard dog' Sheba keeps her young person away from the danger of the stairs around the corner ... 

... we never know what is around that next bend in life. But we know that we can handle whatever we are given when we have loved ones at our side.

My children are gifts. To me. To this world. To those that they bring into their lives. Each and every one of them.

My fifteen year old son gave me the give of appreciating the many blessings that parenthood has bestowed upon me at a time in my life when I was finally open to receive these many gifts.

Every time he advances through an age or a stage that I have gone through twice before, I am given the gift of 'multiplying it by three'. I was too young, too hung up on appearances and perfection, too stressed and trying too hard to figure out who I was as I raised my older children. My Youngest has known a calmer and a more experienced 'me'.

I will continue to expect the unexpected as my fifteen year old son rounds the bend and takes on the challenges that life will toss his way.

May the seeds we have planted along the way, carry him where he needs to go.

It Just Doesn't Get Any Better Than This

Some weekends stand out from the rest. It can't be planned or expected ... but when it happens without design you just sit back and enjoy the ride. This past weekend was exactly that.

I tended to that-which-needed-to-be-tended Friday night. From delivering flyers, to grocery shopping; to cleaning the house and doing laundry. By the time I sat down to enjoy the moment at the end the day, I could barely stay awake to enjoy it. But in those few conscious moments that I had I thought to myself, "If I accomplish nothing else this weekend ... I have done enough."

I woke up to a perfect Saturday. A morning with My Son; and (with My Son's assistance) an afternoon tending to that one last item on my Odds & Ends list; delivering papers (the last item on my to-do-list for the weekend); then going out to a movie and refreshments with a friend.

Sunday morning quickly arrived and I was anticipating the lunch date I had with another friend when the doorbell rang and the next thing I knew, I was on the receiving end of a 'cheesecake delivery'. As I was getting ready to go out for lunch, the phone rang and the next thing I knew, I had supper plans. I came home from supper and found an email message from a friend so I replied to that message with a phone call.

One thing led seamlessly to the next. Each visit, outing, encounter was positive and uplifting. Ties with good friends were strengthened. I could fully savor and enjoy each visit without worrying about a clock ticking the time away and being committed to anything that interfered with the moment that I was in.

It was one of those weekends where an unexpected gift was around every corner. The gift of friendship. The gift of family. The gift of living in the moment with childlike innocence and feeling 'it just doesn't get better than this'. And then it does.

The Party

Yet another post coming to you 'live' from My Youngest's 13th Birthday Party hotel sleepover (man!!! I'm loving this Netbook computer and free Internet access).

Have you ever had those occasions where each and every thing flows easily from one thing to the next? That was yesterday.

I had the day mapped out in my mind. I knew what I needed to get done before The Party began. I knew what I hoped to get done. I was fortunate enough to wipe the entire list clean before the 3:30 Party Time.

The entire Party Experience has been easy.

My Youngest was able to invite each and every one of his closest friends. He chose a movie that everyone enjoyed. They swam all night. They ate, they drank, they played ...

Thirteen. It is the cusp of growing up. It was perfection (to me) to celebrate the occasion by simply allowing 'boys to be boys'.

How Did He Grow Up So Good?

I hit the snooze button on my alarm this morning. I dozed an extra 15 minutes ... then 20.

I wondered why My Youngest's alarm wasn't sounding. It never did go off, but within minutes I heard his drawers opening and closing. He was up and getting ready for the day. By the time I made it to the kitchen, he was making his lunch. When I went to toss his swim gear near his back pack to remind him to pack what he needed for his field trip today, his back pack was already packed up and ready to go.

It's a small thing ... but the big thing, is that 'this' is who My Youngest is! He is going to be 13 years old tomorrow and I really like the person he is growing up to be.

Yes, yes I know. I've done this twice before. I know that life (and kids) can change when you least expect it. I have no idea what is around the next corner (and please don't tell me ... I like to be surprised). But we have had 13 very good years. No matter where things go from here, I know that we have a solid foundation built. No 'big bad wolf' is going to blow this house down!

What is the difference?

Is it me? I have been a completely different mom to each and every one of my children. I look at my children and I see reflections of the person I was when I raised each of them. They are each special and unique in their own ways.

Was it because I was a stay-at-home-mom? We brought the world into our home as I ran a daycare for the first 11 years of My Youngest's life. We dealt with stealing, cheating, bullying, fighting, lying, fair play and many of the aspects of life before My Youngest walked out into the big, scary world of public education. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I believe this made a big difference.

Is it the gene pool? My Youngest is a mixture of a 'different set of genes' than his older brothers. His dad is a good guy. Solid, logical thinking and intelligent. We never argued. We may not have seen eye to eye on everything. But we never fought. I can quite honestly say that I feel that I have never argued with My Youngest. Amazing.

Is it because he has the good examples of his Adult Brothers that have set the bar? He looks to his brothers and see the men they have grown to be. His Brothers have set a very good example for him. They are good citizens, they are doing well and when life knocks them down ... they get up and keep on fighting. They treat me with respect. I believe My Youngest looks at his brothers and is simply following their good example.

Is it because our home is a home? It is (and has always been for him) a safe haven from the world. He heard me when I was extremely (over the top) upset ... once. It rocked his world. I've never done it again. But my older sons? I was an emotional basket case more times than I remember during their growing up years. Our home has evolved into the oasis it has become. My Youngest has lived in a close to idyllic world within our home. That can only be a good thing.

Is it because he has chosen good friends? Friends are so important. Feeling the need to bend and sway from what you have been taught ... just to fit in, is something that a person at any age encounters. Peer pressure. It's everywhere. As a child, it is tough because you haven't the life experience that has taught you to always remain true to yourself. I have listened to My Youngest when he talks with his friends. He treats them with respect, but he doesn't take any guff. I hear the 'daycare me' in My Youngest ...

There are many, many ingredients that are added to the mix when raising a child. As it is with baking a cake ... you can have all of the right ingredients, but if the measurements are out of whack or if the oven temperature is too high or too low or if you over or under cook it ... your cake doesn't turn out the way you intended.

I remember My Oldest being very young when I lamented to my mother-in-law "I wish he came with an instruction manual". I didn't have the recipe back then. I still don't.

There is a lot of trial and error when it comes to raising children. We do our best with what we've got and hope that simply loving them enough will help adjust the inaccuracies in that 'recipe' that is still a work in progress.

I love each and every one of my children for the individuals they are. I see who I was when I raised each and every one of them. I get them.

It's not a case of 'third time lucky' for me ... it is a matter of 'three times lucky'. Thirteen is considered an unlucky number. But with the luck I have on my side, I foresee only good things. I'll update you again in a year.

P.S. This is from last year's birthday post "A Most Wonderful Day"

She's No Ordinary Mother ...

My mom. It is interesting to hear the adjectives that people use to describe her. Feisty, spunky and most recently "a real sweetheart". She's no wall flower. People remember her.

She's 4'10" in stature but she's a force to be reckoned with. Threaten a loved one and you'd swear she was 6 feet tall. She's one protective Mother Bear.

She's strong and mighty. There is little that she has been afraid to tackle in her life - whether it is a daunting job or facing up to a life that she didn't expect. She is fearless and forges on, through thick and thin.

"Strong as steel, her faith and pride; She's an everlasting shoulder; She's the leaning post of life." ('An Eagle When She Flies ~ Dolly Parton).

Today is Mom's birthday. A day just like any other ... but special because we are fortunate to celebrate it with her. She is a gift. She makes the world a little brighter because she's in it. She's not your ordinary mother, grandmother or great grandmother. She's unique and special. Just the way we like her.

Happy Birthday, Mom.



"But she's an eagle when she flies ..." ~ Dolly Parton

Happy Birthday, My Friend

I have a friend who has many gifts and talents. One of those many talents, is knowing people so well that she can take a 'nothing' day and turn it into a gift.

My Friend draws little or no attention to herself. She's a little dynamo that knows how to draw out the best in people. She is beyond perceptive and looks far below the surface and discovers each person's special gifts. And she acknowledges them. 

I'll never forget the first time that I received a hand written note from her. She wrote individual cards to a group that she was training (I was one of the ten (?) in that group). I didn't know that she would become My Friend at that time. I read the words she wrote and I was surprised. I was quiet in those days. I didn't speak unless I was spoken to. I didn't contribute to our class discussions. How she could see what was lying dormant within me was astounding. I believe that she is directly responsible for helping me become who I was all along. And she does this for everyone.

My Friend has compassion that is far reaching and has touched many. She quietly just does what needs to be done. She sees a need and she fills it. She isn't looking for public praise and acknowledgement. She is simply a good citizen to each person that crosses her path.

She walks into a room and sees more than a nameless people. She sees personalities and quiet 'needs' within those who may be alone in a room full of people. She engages people in conversation and you see them light up before your eyes.

She takes care of others. She has her own quiet battles but selflessly turns the other cheek to those and takes the energy she does have and uses it for the better good.

It is no surprise that her parents are amazing and wonderful people. I have felt 'adopted' by her family each and every time I have walked into their home. Her parents gave selflessly of themselves and raised an incredible family. And my friend finds it an honor and a privilege to be able to help take care of her parent's needs as their health has faltered.

Today is My Friend's birthday. My words cannot begin to describe My Friend. But I have tried. To paraphrase why, I have used a comment that my friend made when I blogged about birthdays:

"Funny thing about those birthdays ... some people like the attention and others would rather not have anything focused on them, and some say one way when they really mean another. We try to look at it as a celebration day - not necessarily a birthday but a day to honour the individual - could be any day for that but just easier to pick a birthday so we know everyone gets honoured. We really should honour the people in our lives as much as some people all these unknown actors, music stars, public figures, etc ..."

My Friend, this is your 'Celebration Day'. May you feel peace within, as you deal with whatever life has in store for you. Today and all the days that follow.

The Afterglow

I hope the magic doesn't fade after I write this ... sometimes the best part of a memory is holding it near and dear to your heart and not tainting it by taking it apart and looking at each individual piece of a most incredibly special 'whole' ...

I cannot neglect to mention the 35 days that preceded Saturday night ...

It all started when my sisters treated me to a 'Hair Make-Over Day' and a fun-filled Sister Day last month. They surprised and shocked me when they had already paid for the cost of my hair make over in honor of my upcoming birthday. Surprise!

A few weeks later, my good friends treated me to an Overnight Adventure. It came with only instructions as to what to pack, a vague outline of the day so I knew what kind of shoes to bring and a timeline as to when our adventure began and ended. They treated me to an overnight stay at a Bed & Breakfast - in honor of not only my birthday ... but my dream of running a B & B myself one day. It was an amazing adventure, a precious day with good friends and a peek at what life could be if I continue to follow my dreams. Surprise!!

Fast forward to this past Saturday night.

Unbeknownst to me, there had been a conspiracy going on behind my back. The strategy began in September. A date had been chosen to execute the plan and normally The-Girl-Who-Is-Always-Home-On-a-Saturday-Night would not mess with the game plan.

A dance event came up unexpectedly 11 days prior to D-Day. Who knew that my desire to dance with my formation team would set off a sequence of events to make the final execution of this plan such a challenge??

Can you imagine my surprise when I walked in the door after our Dance Performance ... to find 22 guests awaiting my (tardy) arrival?!?!

The complete and utter surprise was superseded only by finally focusing on the guests that had been part of the conspiracy. I blinked once and focused on my own children. I blinked again to realize that it wasn't one of My Sons in focus, but My Brother ... who was standing in the vicinity of My Sisters and My Mom (so that's where she had been, as my overactive imagination had 'found' her in a hospital emergency room when I couldn't reach her on Friday) !! One by one, I found a Cousin ... then Two More. A Friend ... and then Another. And my Aunt ... (and of course, all of their spouses).

Surprise!!!!!

There is something about a happy surprise that simply takes your breath away. You walk in the door, expecting an ordinary moment and poof!!! In one millisecond, you don't have time to consciously decipher what is unfolding in front of your eyes. There are less than zero expectations. Anything could happen from that moment on and it would be a delightful revelation because you were expecting to come home to ... 'what you expected'.

The evening was a delight. My only regret? Is that I was late for my own party! The hour that I lost with my family & friends, but gained with my dance friends having one quick drink (of pop ... no alcohol for me because I was driving home and supposedly going out for a drink with My Oldest Son).

As the evening came into focus, I had the opportunity to visit with my guests. The conversations were not long enough. I didn't get a chance to spend enough time with everyone. I barely spoke to my own family (hoping/knowing that they would be the last to leave), I thought we would have ample time to visit later ... and the next morning and 'forever' ....

Approximately 210ish minutes from the onset of the Biggest Surprise of My Life ... I was transported back to my reality. I was alone with my memories, cards and emotions of the evening.

As I quietly reflected, I found a representation of every facet of my life in the guests in attendance.

I 'found' each and every member of my immediate family. Need I say more? This is the family that is there for me when I don't even know I need them. This is the family that knows me better than I know myself. This is the family that I cherish, respect and love with all of my heart. They were all there ... as always.

I found my first-ever friend (we lived a handful of miles away on the farm where I spent the first 9 years of my life). My friend and I have reconnected on many levels this past year and the easy friendship, way of thinking of rapport grows with each and every encounter. This year has been sprinkled with opportunities to strengthen our childhood bond.

I found my newest forever-friend (not only a person that represents my friend in real-life ... but a friend that I met through dancing!). This friend is not only a warm, friendly, interesting and a person that I treasure as a friend ... but she represents the first time I reached out a hand in friendship at the dance studio. Our budding friendship has encouraged me to continue to take risks and get to know 'the people who touch my life' better.

I found a cousin from my dad's side of the family (not only an amazing person who is my cousin, but him and his wife represent the very first bond I started to make with my cousins when I moved back 'home' 23 years ago).

I found two cousins from my mom's side of the family. These cousins are a delight and a breath of fresh air. I love being in their company ... but in addition to that, they 'represent' their sister, who is probably my closest cousin-friend (who, due to her beliefs could not attend a birthday celebration). It was a perfect 'gift' to enjoy the company of these cousins.

I found an Aunt from my mom's side. Not only was this aunt representative of her side of the family, but she was the only family I really knew when I first moved to this New City several decades ago. Plus I had the opportunity to get to know her even better as she provided many memories, reflections and perceptions of her life as I have collected memories for both Mom and Dad's family stories.

The only family member who was not represented in person, had managed to find my way into my mailbox. An Uncle from my dad's side had mailed a birthday card, which I received one day prior to this gathering. An uncle I have become extremely close to ... a 'piece' of my dad. I have never received a birthday card from him before ... Christmas? Always. Birthdays? It was like he 'knew' that it was important that he was with me on such a special occasion.

The emotions ... the words ... the afterglow ...

I'm in a most wonderful place this morning. Thanks to my Brother who was The Mastermind of this occasion; my Children who were his Co-Conspirators; and my Sisters and Mom who added all of the special touches to make this An Evening to Remember.

And the pictures that follow represent the physical mementos my guests left behind:


Please note that the milk, margarine, eggs and yogurt were the only things that were in the fridge when I left the house earlier that evening!!



I am overcome with appreciation and wonder. I am in awe with the special people in my life and a 'Milestone Birthday' which gave My Brother an opportunity to gather 'my life' together for one evening under my very own roof.

"Thank You" doesn't even begin to cover it ...

Turning 50 is Not For the Weak of Heart

I require a full night's sleep and fresh, morning thoughts to write about this one. But this little video clip will give you a preview of a blog post coming soon:

I have the best family and friends in the world.

In the mean time, this is an informal 'Thank You to the Good People in my Life':
(a brief commercial message (sorry) precedes the most appropriate song for my thoughts today)

Marking TIme

My Middle Son turns 23 year old today ... he's done a lot in those years.

He's tried out a handful of 'careers' and each job has been a stepping stone to the next. Some of the correlations are more illusive than others, but where he is today is a direct result of all of those connections.

He's a guy that sees what he wants and goes for it. He's had his eye on the ball ever since I can remember (and most especially after he received that first pay cheque).

He's creative, unafraid to dream and fearless when it comes to going after those dreams.

There are learning curves every step along the way. If we use every experience - good or bad - as a lesson, we have the opportunity to become very wise.

School doesn't teach one everything they need to know in life. Living life to the fullest, daring to pursue your dreams, picking yourself up and carrying on will teach you lessons you will never forget.

At age 23, my Middle Son has learned a lot. I see him putting each lesson to use as he strategically plans his next step.

You have only just begun, My Son ... I can't wait to see what you make of your life.