Finding Your Place

In the past few weeks, it has become very apparent to me that there is a definite place that we are meant to "be".  This year DD2 is in her "place".  Between her theatre group and her enriched programming, she is simply shining.  DD1 has found her "place" in swimming and although she spends most of her free time in the pool, she could not be happier.  My DH has recently switched jobs and is wildly happy.  And then there was me.  I have been giving my "place" a lot of thought lately and short of winning the lottery and pursuing my interests full time, I haven't quite been able to determine where I should be.
Today I had my moment.
There is much about my job that I like however, it is usually overshadowed by all sorts of passive aggressive nonsense.  In short, it is often ruined by the adults in the room.  This afternoon I entered a very lively kindergarten class, prepared for a loud and energy filled couple of hours.  While it was loud and energy filled, I had a remarkable session with a little boy who just filled the room with happiness.  Despite his difficulty sitting still and slightly off kilter group participation, he was happy and engaging and really just what I needed.  We laughed as we played playdoh dinosaurs, cheered his success as we used the computer, and shared a moment of unhappiness as he passed the tv in the hallway (seriously though, who puts a tv in a school hallway??).  It was the best 90 minutes of my entire week.
Perhaps my place is right where I am and if I stop looking for something more, I just might be able to settle in and enjoy it.

Beware the Speed Wobble

I have been told that I have control issues.  And I suppose that I would agree that I do like things well-ordered, planned ahead, and organized.  I really  really like things that way.  So yes, I guess I'll cop to being a control-focussed person (note the absence of the word "freak" in that sentence).  Usually I use my powers for good---keeping on top of work commitments, after school drop offs and pickups, and who needs what and for when.  It generally does work for me (from my perspective at least).

However, once every so often I get reality smacked with things beyond my control.  I must admit, I have a tendency not to handle it so well and have been known to end up in a bit of a speed wobble (for those unfamiliar that term, it's my hubby's term for that pre-event panic state that sends me running crazily through the house trying to complete tasks while simultaneously warding off assistance by being unreasonable).  Today's news about the hubby's visit to the cardiologist was just one of those moments.  After a few moments of pure panic I settled in to a resigned anxiety and as I was at work, I was unable to wobble even just a little bit.  Upon reflection I do feel sorry for that little boy that I treated just after I received that phone call.  Normally I would have been way more tolerant with his patience-testing ways but today I sent him back to class when he got a bit more than I could take.  I believe I might have even used the term "little stinker" in his presence.  Okay, so maybe I did wobble a little bit after all.

A very wise man (my dad) once (okay several times) said to me, "Gill, don't worry about things you can't control, it's wasted worry".  Today those wise words saved me from control chaos.  As I type this and reflect on the day it seems that if I am to live more in the moment and enjoy the journey, I must focus on what can be changed and let go of what cannot.  Not in a 12 step kind of way but in an everyday control-centred, non-speed wobbly, moving forward sort of way.

Leopard Print Love

This week has been uncommonly draggy and I've really been a Debbie Downer.  Not sure why.  The weather is wonderful (could we ask for any better really?) and things are rolling along as they always do but still, something just seems to be niggling at the edge of my mind.
Luckily I have a fantastic friend who understands my mopey mood and planned a fantastic mid-week adventure for us.  Now, let me ask you this, who can be one bit bummed when sporting Pink Leopard print nails?  Thanks Sue, you make me happy :)

Seasons of Love - RENT Original Broadway Cast

Measuring One Day

My latest ear worm comes from the musical Rent.  Several years ago (almost 20 I think)  I saw this musical in Toronto.  At the time, I was working in a downtown Toronto hospital and spent much of my time working with people living with HIV/AIDS.  This musical spoke to me then and, for many different reasons, continues to speak to me today.  

This morning the glut of the week's work nonsense, home responsibilities, and dreary weather came to rest on my shoulders from almost the minute I rose from bed.  As I wearily prepared my cup of coffee, Seasons of Love popped into my head.  For those of you who are familiar with this song, you'll already know the line from the lyrics that I am talking about.  Now I have no intention of measuring my life in cups of coffee but I truly did need a mind shift this morning.  I went to You Tube and soon the song was filling the kitchen again and again (which explains why it's become an ear worm today).  Turns out DD2 needed a mind shift too and soon we were singing along, sans musical accompaniment (which incidentally did not shift DD1's mood to the positive).  

Have a listen (I'll post a link in the blog to follow this one) and consider how you want today to be measured....

...3 cups of coffee

...110 kilometers driven

...8 hugs received

...6 "i love you"s given

...2 moments where i chose not to say something unproductive (i know, can you believe it??)

...4 opportunities taken to make things better for someone else

that's mine so far.  what would yours look like?

Four Legs and Fur (lots and lots of fur)

As I've already admitted, I love change in all its shapes, sizes, and forms.  This year, change is coming to our family on four legs.  After much consideration, we've decided to get a Bernese Mountain Dog.  I know what you may be thinking.  In fact, I've heard most of it already.  I've never had a dog.  Do I know what I'm getting into?  What about my furniture?  All of these questions, and many more, have raced through my mind over the past months and weeks.  Yes, I've never had a dog but I hadn't had kids before either and that seemed to work out okay (well, so far anyways).  No, I don't really know what I'm getting into but then again, who ever does (and if we did, would we ever really do anything?)?  And as for furniture....well, that one does concern me a bit but I don't really intend to let a 100 pound dog lounge on my sofa.  

This is the year I have decided to let people outweigh the "stuff" in my life; to focus on my family more and on "things" less.  The dog is just a small step (okay, maybe a large step) in this direction.  I have been told that I'm not a "dog person" although quite frankly I am not sure what that means.  It's true, I don't have an "I love my dog" bumper sticker on my car nor do dogs adorn my sweatshirts but I am pretty sure I have a good handle on the care, desire, and love needed to bring a dog successfully into my family.  

Today we met the breeder and her four wonderful dogs.  There are actually four dogs in this picture but one you can't see because it's laying across DD2 and resting her head on DD1's feet.  I am sure there will be many "Plan B" moments in this particular life change however, I am looking forward to the journey.

Fifteen

Fifteen years ago today I said, "I do" and married the man with the "sparkly eyes".  So many great things have happened in those years--we've had two beautiful children and grown our family into something I am proud of today.

Currently my husband is canoeing his way through Killarney however, he had these beautiful flower sent (via a friend as delivery girl--thanks c) to let me know he was thinking of me.  So thoughtful.  Tonight, as I watch my favourite guilty pleasure TV show (ANTM), I will toast him and our fifteen years together.

Three Little Birds

Practical meets motivational.  While searching for a new way to keep our keys organized, I stumbled upon these birds in a beautiful home store in Midland Ontario (it's called Saturday Morning and you should check it out if you ever pass that way).  There were many practical options (my usual choice) but I was drawn to these smiling-beaked critters because they seemed a little cheery somehow.  It was my first of a few home purchases that were made specifically with face value happiness in mind.  (and fyi, they do hold keys via a magnet on their throats)

Everyday I pass these birds at least 50 times and I swear, nearly each time I pass them a little Bob Marley passes through my mind.  "Don't worry about a thing, cause every little thing's gonna be alright...."  I like having these "three little birds" by my doorstep and hope that they continue to bring a smile to my day in the weeks and months to come.

Gratitude

Today was the 10th anniversary of 9/11.  Of course, you'd have to live under a rock not to know this.  It's been everywhere this past week---on the radio, on the tv, and weighing on minds all around the globe.  I admit I have been listening, watching, and thinking too.

This morning I awoke to my nine year old snuggling in bed with me, showering me with kisses and exclaiming, "I love, love, love you mummy!".  It was the loveliest way to greet the day that I could possibly imagine and it made me think about how grateful I should be for these wonderful moments.
As the girls and I watched some of the tv programming (youngest actually turned down her cartoons to hear the live stream on the computer), there were tears (on my part), lots of difficult questions and some pretty big realizations for the kids.  It prompted a few spontaneous and loving moments and changed the way we faced the day.  For my part,  I baked two types of muffins instead of the one I had intended to make because, of course, my two girls like different kinds.  Such a little thing I know but they've marvelled at it all day.

Ten years ago, with a three year old at home and 8 months pregnant, the shock and horror of 9/11 left me feeling rather helpless and somewhat hopeless.  At the time it was hard to imagine bringing a new baby into a world that was so shrouded in fear.  Today that "baby", along with her sister, reminded me of how wonderful our time together can be if I let go of my plans and go with gratitude.

Our Lazy Days Just Keep Going

I have come the realization that our family is lazy.  L-A-Z-Y.  Worthy of caps and an extended pronunciation.  This summer I tried desperately to break from the laissez faire attitude of my family members.  I spent countless hours filing papers, organizing closets, decluttering countertops, and tending to the gardens (well, maybe not the front one but I am blaming my back for that).  I had hoped that my endless rants about cleaning up after yourself and pointing out the loveliness of the fresh clean spaces would have some influence.    Was it too much to hope that within one week of me returning to work that our home wouldn't dissolve into an episode of hoarders?  The answer came in the form of a simple request today.  When asked to pour a glass of lemonade (the pitcher had been in the fridge all week btw), DD#2 discovered that the well chilled rubbermaid pitcher contained only air.  Seriously.

Starting with a Single Step

Today I wore long pants for the first time in a few months.  You may have had this moment before too--you know, the one where you get them on and up your legs and then silently pray they will fasten without looking obscenely tight.  As luck would have it they did fasten (hooray) and could be worn without being offensive.  I was off to a good start.  However, 10 minutes in it was becoming apparent that this was going to be a sausage link kind of day.  You know, the sort of day where the thighs of your pants are so snug that you feel like your legs are enclosed in sausage casings.  The sort of day where every step reminds you that you need to take some action.  As I write this, I still bear the marks of my waistband even though the pants were removed over an hour ago.

You see, I've had quite a lovely summer of over indulgence.  Starting with a butter free for all (I could eat dairy in France for some reason so I did go a bit crazy) in Paris and ending with a final Gin and Tonic on the patio on Labour Day.

(this was the beginning of the end for me....and yes, I did eat that hockey puck of butter pictured on the plate.  it was worth it just to finally have the chance to embarrass the hubby in public and besides, it tasted heavenly)

Tonight I decided to go for a walk.  Let me just say that I find walking as exercise incredibly boring.  I personally would find it much more exciting if someone randomly threw a ball into your path and raced you to it.  I am, and always will be, a sport kinda gal.  Seeing as schedules don't allow for me to play sports as much as I'd like, I really need to find an activity that I will be motivated to do.  I tried running but years of competitive sport have done a little damage to my joints and I'm good for a few days of running so long as I don't need to raise myself from the toilet the next day.  So walking it was and will continue to be.

To make the most of my journey I decided to do a little garden recon instead of listening to music (plus I do have a habit of singing along rather loudly that disturbs those around me).   Did you know people use toilets as planters?  Disturbing.  I did, however, gather a few ideas that don't involve bathroom items and actually enjoyed taking a few pictures of plants that interested me.  And I returned home a bit happier than when I left.  Perhaps this spring I'll finally dig up the garden in the front.  One step at a time.

Happiness is a Choice

First day of school.  Shiny new backpacks (check), nutritious packed lunch (check), perfectly selected outfits (check), and a positive outlook for the year to come.  And then we made it to school.  DD #1 immediately was lost to me in the crowd--she's entitled, she is 13 after all.  DD#2 stayed a little closer as class assignment chaos began.  

Let me just say, and I am wandering a little bit here, that having teachers come out and read their class lists aloud on the school yard is just shy of crazy.  In what world do they imagine that 500+ nervous and excited kids will remain quiet so they can hear their name called?  And what if you don't know what the teacher looks like?  How do you know where to stand to hear the news?  Ah well, I digress.  Let's just say it was madness.

As I was saying...DD#2 did not hear her name called and by the time we figured out what class she was in they were already in their classroom.  So in we went.  We stopped at the door to check out the situation.  Split class (okay, no problem there), good teacher (yay!), only two girls from her grade in the class (not so hot), both girls are girls who are historically not so kind to my child (oh no).  Then the tears came.  After a few minutes she was calm enough to go inside and join her class.  I had a few quick words with the teacher, who was sympathetic and understanding.  As I went to leave, DD was nowhere to be seen but when a little effort was made, could be seen crying in the cloak room at the back of the class.  Heartbreak.  Complete heartbreak for her and for me.  I won't even begin to go in to detail as to how difficult it was to leave her there, in a place where she so clearly felt uncomfortable.  But leave I did.  That's the thing about a job where you don't work in the summer....you must report for work on the first day of school with no exceptions.

It was a long day of worrying, venting to my colleagues (sorry about that if any of you stop in to read this), and talking to the school LST.  I wondered what sort of mess there'd be to mop up at the end of the day.  How could I be positive for my clearly unhappy child?  

3:30 came, as it always does, and I was anxious.  What child would walk through those doors?  Sullen.  Tearful?  Rebellious at the injustice of it all?  I was prepared for anger, for sadness but unprepared and startled by the happy, bouncy girl that came out of the door.  She had had time to reflect on things and decided that she could "make it work".  She chose to embrace the possibilities and opportunities that this uncomfortable place held for her and made a choice to be happy.  I have a lot to learn from this remarkable child.   Maybe she should be keeping this blog.  Clearly she excels at Plan B.

Change Junkie

I'm a bit of a change junkie.  Give me a chance to break out of the rut and I will jump at it.  In particular, I try to look at each new school year as a chance to change--we change our routines, we change our clothing (insert huge sigh here at the thought of wearing long pants), and we have a chance at changing ourselves just a bit.  Starting a new grade at school always felt like a bit of a reinvention and certainly having the summer off with kids gives me the "start of the school year" optimism for my life as well.

This year I am vowing to change how much control work will have over my life.  I am determined to let go of the garbage and cling to the good.  One day at a time I suppose, starting with tomorrow.

This year the girls have found their "thing", the one activity that makes them feel competent and a part of something bigger than themselves.  I am so excited to see what changes this confidence brings to their lives and will try to embrace the 6AM swim practices and 5 to 7 day play rehearsals with the enthusiasm my kids deserve.

Sappy but sincere.

Following Instructions

I hate to read and follow instructions.  Absolutely detest it.  Although I admit my plan of "visualizing" the finished product doesn't always work out well (insert an example of almost any household do-it/build-it-yourself project here), I stand by my approach.  Well, at least I did.  I am trying to alter my life plan after all.  Today's challenge:  Read and follow instructions to the finished product.  I decided to play it safe and choose a recipe to follow.  Simple enough in theory, right?

Tonight's choice:  Mediterranean Couscous Salad.  And I swear I tried earnestly to follow the instructions (as one can while sampling a nice moscato wine) however, I began to feel very limited by the black and white recipe before me--imagine a roasted vegetable couscous salad with no portobello mushrooms?!  Confession time...I added the portobellos.  And they were delicious.  Perhaps this change in approach to life is going to be harder than I thought.

Life is All About How You Handle Plan B

In an effort to try to keep my sanity this school year, I am going to try my hand at blogging.  I am hoping that keeping a public reflection on life might help me to remember how to live in the moment and enjoy the moments (big and small) along the way.

A quotation that has stuck with me over the years is this, "Life is All About How You Handle Plan B".  Let's see how handling plan b goes for a 40 year old married mum of two who works four days a week out of the house and seven days per week in it.