Perfectly Wonderful

The last few days have been simply ... wonderful.

A Christmas supper invitation took us down the country roads towards my Second Son's home. The sky was blue, the morning's fog had lifted and left the outdoors covered in hoar frost. It was picture perfect drive.

Our Christmas day was a perfect mix of everything one could hope for. A delightful visit, a most excellent meal and I couldn't have wished for more.

We left home about 2:30 and returned shortly after 9:00 p.m., a perfect amount of time away from home for a short Christmas getaway.

This morning started similar to another recent holiday morning. My Second Son told me he was planning to come over and help me out with a few things around the house. Yay!!

I found myself a friendly neighborhood handyman but he has taken ill. I had a small list of things to do (and the list seemed to grow while my son was here). Installing windshield wipers, a back door light, some blinds and hanging some pictures took care of the time my son had available to tend to my wish list.

I managed to put together a late lunch before he had to leave and I've had turkey bones from yesterday's meal simmering on the stove for the better part of the day. It smells a lot like Christmas around here.

I've taken down our Christmas decorations but they were up long enough. Long enough to breath in the season, take in the lights and add a little sparkle and shine to our home.

It was a low key Christmas. But it was perfect. It was enough ...

Christmas Morning

'Twas the morning of Christmas

and all through our home

nothing was stirring

not even this poem.

No stockings are hung

but I've hidden a few.

I'll top up their contents

in an hour or two.

Me in my pj's

the cats are astir

Kurt is still sleeping,

this rhyme's goin' nowhir ...

Our little family doesn't have any solid Christmas traditions. Gifts are low on the priority list and any gathering of the family is simply a bonus we enjoy as it unfolds. 

"No expectations = no disappointment" was my motto as I tried to raise my family not to set the bar too high on these hyped up holidays.

I woke up to a cat pawing and pawing at me as he vied for my attention this morning. Usually a quick scratch behind his ears will send him off to his corner of my bed in a contented sort of way. Not this morning. He bugged and pestered me until I finally got up.

"It's Christmas morning and he doesn't want me to sleep in!" I thought to myself as I started moving into the day. I thought our kitty cats had somehow enveloped the Christmas spirit and wanted me to get stirring in anticipation of the day ahead.

It turned out their food dish was empty.

I filled their bowl and stepped into the morning. And so Christmas day begins. A day like most others, with a supper invitation tacked onto our agenda.

A morning filled with little gestures of Christmas has set the tone for a day which will, no matter where it goes from here, will turn out to be a perfectly fine Christmas Day.

No matter what your Christmas traditions and expectations may be, I wish you a day which you can unwrap as it comes along and enjoy the small gifts hidden within this day.

Home for the Holidays - Second Day Better Than the First

I have developed a "Go With the Flow" attitude which I attempt to adopt into every corner of my life (renamed "Go With Flo" during a recent holiday with a good friend). I must tell you, everyone should adopt "Flo". She is a pretty good partner to have around no matter where in the world one finds themselves. The theme of my time off during this holiday season is to simply go with "Flo" and if today is any indication, Flo is a mighty fine holiday planner.

My day started with an early morning text that read "Just leaving ... I'll bring breakfast". Now if that isn't a perfect start to a day, what is?

The bearer of our breakfast meal was my Second Son. He was coming over to work on a role play assignment, with his Younger Brother. This was going to be a very good day ...

And it was.

I got to watch the creative process unfold as the two put their heads together to create the backdrop for this videotaped role play assignment. It was like watching a reenactment of their childhood. A car door was a required prop and when a spare car door didn't make its way into the day, massive amounts of cardboard made their way upstairs from my Youngest Son's room.

The props were pure improvisation. The script was followed with acting flourishes which (being on the inside loop), I fully appreciated. Last minute additions of a "drive along" had me in the back seat listening in on my Second Son ad-libbing his way along.

But the best part? Watching my two boys filming a small segment which would be dubbed into the final production (which had been filmed in our downstairs "movie studio"). This particular scene took place in my Youngest Son's car which is conveniently parked in front of our living room window.

I couldn't hear a thing. I could only watch their actions and facial expressions.

The scene was filmed, they stopped and watched the clip and they laughed. It took three takes. Each take resulted in smiles and laughter. The moment the camera was off, they were "on". Smiling, laughing and simply enjoying the process, the moment and each other.

I snapped a picture of the two of them in my head and quietly "photo-shopped" my Firstborn Son into the frame (he is presently holidaying somewhere near the equator). 2018 will officially be "The Year my Boys Became Brothers".

It started with Son One and Son Two taking on the West Coast Trail together (along with one girlfriend and an aunt to add more stories to the tale). Long story short, they survived. And so did their relationship.

Fast forward a few more weeks and it was the Family Reunion of Great Brother Bonding. My three boys did such a fine job bonding, they adopted a Fourth Brother to the mix. There are many fond memories that accompany this story but in the interest of brevity, I will simply say there was a new dimension added to the brotherhood of my three boys, who span twenty years age difference from youngest to oldest (my "adopted son" fit snugly right into the middle somewhere so he was obviously a good fit).

This Time of Great Bonding was enhanced by a decision made (quite possibly while "under the influence", but the act itself was carried out while all were stable and of sound mind) to go sky diving together.

I wasn't there to witness the event but there is ample video and photo footage available to prove it took place.

These events have been interspersed with communication between my three sons where I have not been the middle man. They are making plans among themselves and I hear about it afterwards or when I am invited to join.

My boys are becoming "brothers".

Coming from a family where my siblings mean the world to me, watching this bond very tenuously start to form warms my heart from the inside, out.

There are sixteen years between my oldest sister and my younger brother and our bond is strong, true, tried and tested. It is the real deal. My siblings are THE best gift Mom and Dad gave me.

It is a small wish, but if dreams were to make wishes come true ... this is truly the wish I would like to bestow upon my family of three (four, if we count my adopted son).

May this bond grow in time, may it develop an elasticity to adapt to the many changes over the years ahead and most of all, may they strive to strengthen that which is in its early stages.

There is truly no better gift than the way this day unfolded. I am grateful ...

Home for the Holidays - Day One

I have just sat back and savored my first day of holidays. How does one spell relief? "A-H-H-H-H!! Home. Truly, there is no place like it.

I am not one who is wrapped up in the Christmas hype. I prefer to "gift" when I see a need, a want or a wish I can fulfill. I prefer to "cook" when the stars align and I have food in the house and company over at the same time. I do NOT prefer to "bake" at all, but I don't mind buying a few shortbread cookies. And writing ... "this" is where today's story begins.

I have all but stopped writing. I felt like I was wielding a poison pen and spewing raw emotion and negativity. So I stopped cold. I didn't blog, I didn't journal, I rarely email and I no longer write my weekly letter to Mom. I thought my thoughts had dried up and withered away.

Then I wrote one Christmas card.

The magic of feeling like I was sitting down and visiting the person I had addressed the card to returned. My pen flew across the page without thought or design. I just sat back and visited. And it felt a little bit wonderful.

I refused to turn this card-writing thing into a job, so I just wrote as names came to mind. I didn't make a list. I simply wrote. I wrote seven cards. Then I quit. I sat down a few mornings later and wrote four more cards. Then another. Then a few more. And another today. It not only "didn't hurt", but it actually felt good to sit and write. Very good.

In the spirit of the holidays, I (finally) decided to bring up our (very small) Christmas tree today. I brought out a favorite decoration.

Then my collection of angels. And one string of lights. Then I sat back and simply enjoyed the flavor of Christmas which has now been lightly sprinkled around the house.

Good enough!

I have spent my first holiday of the season accomplishing a few minor tasks. If I can just keep puttering away throughout this holiday, I may be able to start tackling more as the days gain momentum.

I am over the moon to be home for the holidays. No pressure. No worries. Just putting one foot in front of the other and savoring the moments as they arise.

It was a good day. I cannot wait to see what tomorrow brings...

Heaven ... Right Here on Earth

I know I have been talking too much when I wake up in the morning and I have nothing left to say. I have no leftover words at the end of my days to catch up with me in the morning. I am blessed.

My old life was one where I was immersed in children, parents and routines with spaces to think generously dispersed throughout the day. Spending my days with a house full of children ages 1 to 4 years old left me quite alone with my adult thoughts as I manoeuvred us through our daily routines.

There were those moments under the sun though. The moments where I sat back and watched over my little people while they played contentedly. On many occasions the phrase: "THIS ... is heaven right here on earth" wafted easily through my thoughts. A small group of children playing in harmony - it is a wonderful thing.

I juggled routines, behaviours and personalities. We played a little, went outside when we could, had lunch, settled into our pre-quiet-time routines and then there was the other heaven-right-here-on-earth moment. Quiet time!

When people marvelled at my ability to run a daycare, I had only two words to respond to my capability as a daycare provider: "Quiet time"

I miss Quiet Time.

My role these days is much more interactive. I am challenged in new and improved ways. My most satisfying days are the days where I hear laughter ringing in my ears after I walk away from a conversation.

Quiet Time has been substituted with Laughter.

It is not a bad trade off. Not bad at all...

I think back on my last "good day" spent with Mom. Interspersed between the mundane, the ordinary, the serious and our routine chatter, there was laughter.

What I remember most of all is the laughter. We laughed in the face of what we both "knew" was on the horizon.

While Mom was in the hospital and the realization that we were near the end of her days dawned upon us, I remember the laughter. I recall thinking how disrespectful we must sound to those who were dealing with life and death issues. Until I realized "those people" were us.

We shared those moments together and the memories I have to hold onto is laughter generously interspersed with some tears. One was as healing as the other. Extreme emotion has to go somewhere. Tears can get the best of me at times but I choose to laugh. If it was me lying in a bed at the end of my days, I would choose to hear laughter over tears.

Laughter is a gift. Savor those moments. When the dust settles at the end of your day, listen quietly. Do you hear laughter? Can you feel joy? Do you hear those little moments that make your heart sing?

Look for your little moments of "Heaven right here on earth". If I could find them in the middle of a challenging daycare day, I'll bet you can find a moment here and there yourself. Perhaps that is why when I feel blue, I tend to look upwards. I feel like one small speck in the universe when I look skyward. It helps to keep "life" in perspective.

Look for what brings you your peace. Even if it is fleeting. Grab it. Remember it. Hold on tight and remember it. It is those "heaven right here on earth" moments that we need to focus on.

Simply Grateful

Thanksgiving. My favorite holiday of the year. The day has come and gone. I'm looking back on the weekend in my rear view mirror. And I am grateful.

Grateful for the many invitations that came my way. As overwhelming as it felt in the moment, I talked myself down and simply stayed still and quiet. Cancellations, changes and modifications allowed the past weekend to unfold as it was meant to be.

Grateful for the one small task that was asked of me. "I was wondering if you would do the stuffing..." I panicked at the thought. I haven't made stuffing for years. Stuffing is the second "recipe" of Mom's that I can make instinctively. The secret? You can't have too many onions. And you go by the way it smells. In the end, it smelled like Mom's. And it was good.

Grateful for my weekend guest. Having company pushed me out of my state of idleness and into a (more) productive mode. Having company forced me up and out of bed (when I would have normally "Netflixed" the morning away). Having company was good.

Grateful for the activity filled weekend. I live a very sedentary life. This past weekend I hiked the Beechy Sand Castles for a few hours one day; walked the paths by the river the following morning; then strolled through my son's hay field later that afternoon. It felt good to move. 

Grateful for a family Thanksgiving meal (that I didn't have to cook!). My entire family sat together at one table. We were joined by my sister-in-law (my sons' aunt). We were family. We were together. We were united.

Grateful for a "normal". And most importantly? Grateful for the harmony within our small family unit. 

I am grateful. Simply grateful.

It's Been a While ...

The last time I wrote here, I wrote about rabbits. I was determined to write about that which was sunny and bright; thoughts that were thoroughly digested, interpreted and had a moral at the end of the story. I wanted to write about light and easy. But I wasn't "there" yet. So I stopped writing.

If you can't say something good, don't say anything at all. Or as Mom told me her own mother's words of wisdom (in a rather hushed tone, because these were not her words and she didn't speak in this particular *vernacular): "Don't give up your guts".

Mom's words continue to waft freely through my thoughts. She was pretty wise, so I've been listening. There is a time to be quiet. This has been that time.

It has been okay. I have been busy. Life has been committed. I've been places. I've done things. I'm planning to do more.

I've been with people. I've been alone. I've travelled. I've stayed home. I've planned. I've laid back and gone with the flow of plans others have made. I've worked. I've idled.

What I have learned about myself right now is:

I prefer to be alone. Home is my favorite place to be. Planning is okay but it isn't what it used to be. I prefer to be idle.

When I am home, I do very little but gather my strength do what must be done. I numb my thoughts with food, Netflix and sleep. This fuels me in a manner where I can function. It soothes me. I am content. I am okay with this state of idleness.

I have discovered that one of my most favorite places to be is nowhere.

I savor the spot when I am in between destinations. Driving down a highway or all checked in at an airport awaiting a flight's departure and the feeling of weightlessness in mid-flight as I have flown off to a few destinations. I love looking down into the clouds below and marvelling at the orderliness of cultivated fields below.

When I cannot be in between destinations, I tend to find serenity by standing at the living room window watching for rabbits or birds or simply staring up into the sky and looking upwards. If I'm not in a plane looking down into the clouds, I find myself on the ground, looking up. I am looking towards the heavens to see what can't be seen. But simply feel the calmness of being in that particular moment. And it is good.

I am searching. I'm looking for answers. My answers. I am trying to find my way around this new terrain I am wandering through. The ground is solid, there are few surprises, a few forks in the road but mostly I seem to feel comfortable with the path I am on. But it is a path which has a feeling of going nowhere.

I truly believe that is just a feeling. Not reality. I believe this state of relative predictability is temporary. I can already feel the landscape changing. It is uncomfortable. So I come home to eat, sleep, turn on the TV so I can tune out my thoughts. So I can get up and do the next day all over again.

My live has a feeling of the movie "Groundhog Day" where Bill Murray wakes up to the exact same day, day after day after day.

I tend to feel like I have little control over the outcome of the day. I spend ten hours of every weekday with my two seniors. One, whose body is starting to betray them and as one symptom is relieved, it comes at the expense of another symptom superseding the first complaint. The second, who is fighting to remember things. "What day is it?" is one of the easiest questions to answer. But there are so many more...

Life as I know it revolves around these two souls. I am teetering on a very precarious ledge. I know enough to savor each memory, each laugh and each day like there may not be a tomorrow. But the repetition is eroding my spirit.

So I go home and replenish my resources so I can wake up and live the same day all over again.

I feel anxiety and depression taunting me, reminding me they are laying in wait. I have joined a group where they teach us where these thoughts stem from in, order to have the tools to confront and battle them. I feel like I am in the beginner class where I need to be in an advanced one.

I am sitting within a group of brave souls who are where I used to be. I am painting this group with a very wide brush because my opinion of "where they are" is based only on those who are brave enough to speak. I am not one of those courageous participants so I have no right to voice my thoughts. But I have "been there and done that". I have fought my way back after divorce, separation, heartache, raising children, career challenges, Mom's ill health and eventual death.

I found a passion to fight for at the end of each of these life altering events. I found a new, stronger, feistier me at the end of each path. I found courage within. I was grounded in family, friendship and support. I have not lost any of the above ... except for my "passion".

I wrote that paragraph and dug out the book I have which may ignite the spark I'm missing. "The Passion Test". I received this book at a time when I was living a passionate life and thought to myself, "Who needs this? I could WRITE a book on the subject myself!" It's too bad I didn't act on that thought because now I am the person who needs to crack open the cover and research this topic a little.

It feels good to purge one's own thoughts now and again. Am I "giving up my guts" here today? Maybe. But only because I feel quite safe on the other side of where I have been. I know I'm headed in the right direction. I simply have to find the courage, energy and motivation to take one step in a forward direction and I will be better than where I have been.

Here is exactly where I am at in this moment in time. Writing in this blog spot with my 4th cup of coffee; The Passion Test at the ready; and yes, I am dreaming of home renovations (thus the Bath Fitter pamphlet); and a whole stack of birthday cards:

And just to prove my thoughts are not all sombre and dark, I actually laughed out loud in the birthday card section of the Co-op store last night when I found THE birthday card I would send myself:

If I was looking for a "sign" that Mom was watching over me and wanting to tell me to lighten up, THIS would be it! It is time to get over myself and stop pushing cats around in strollers. Whoops! Too late. Been there, done that:

Everything is okay. I am surrounded in a world I cherish and am totally grateful for. As I take one tentative step into this Thanksgiving Day weekend, I am shifting my thoughts towards gratitude and away from the responsibilities I must face before this day is done. There is stuffing to be made, carpets to be vacuumed and so much more. 

Today's mantra for myself:

One forward step at a time. Just move yourself in a forward direction. ONE step at a time (and pull out the Stove Top Stuffing boxes as a back up plan).

We can do hard things. ONE forward step at a time!

*Vernacular: The language or dialect spoken by the ordinary people in a particular country or region.